by Cynthia Sax
Gisella sat in the sleeping support side chair. She murmured needed prompts and corrected possible harmful errors, but otherwise didn’t interfere.
The diagnosis would be the same as it always was. The elderly female would have her liquid and nourishment levels restored, spend the rest cycle in the medic bay. She would use that time to uncover every piece of gossip floating around the structure. Then she’d be released.
“Our patient is dehydrated and malnourished.” Pono finally reached that conclusion. “Other than that, she appears to be healthy for her number of solar cycles.”
“Watch what you say about my number of solar cycles, medic.” Ada-758’s protest was belied by the humor in her tone.
“Medic,” the girl whispered.
Technically, she remained a medic-in-training but a patient wouldn’t know that and Gisella would never correct them. She remembered what a huge deal being called a medic was for a young healer.
“What are you prescribing for your patient?” She prompted her protégé.
“I’m prescribing we keep you here over the rest cycle.” Pono told the elderly female. “You’ll receive injections to restore your nutrients and hydrate you.” She glanced at Gisella.
Gisella nodded. “That’s exactly what I would have prescribed.”
The girl beamed.
“Prepare your patient, give her the first injections, and update her information in the database.” She assigned her protégé those tasks.
The girl buzzed around the chamber, her excitement amusing Gisella. It was a big step to move from trainee to medic.
She’d taken that step alone. Her first patient had been her mother. She hadn’t had a skilled medic overseeing her progress, approving her diagnosis. And her beloved parent’s life had hinged on her decisions.
She didn’t want that experience for any new medic.
“When are you leaving us?” Ada-758’s question pierced her musings.
“I’m not leaving. I’m merely transferring your care.” She explained that to the female.
“You won’t be here for much longer.” The clone sounded alarmingly certain about her prediction. “Your big strong male is a Chamele warrior. He’ll want to return to his planet.”
“He isn’t my big strong male.” That felt like a lie.
“Oh, from what I heard, he is all yours.” The female’s eyes gleamed.
This wasn’t a professional topic of conversation and they weren’t alone. Gisella glanced at Pono.
The girl studied her private viewscreen, looked at the injector gun, looked back down at the device. Her lips moved, making no sound. She was concentrating hard, was likely unaware of anything other than the responsibilities she now had.
“What you’re going through now is similar to what I experienced all those solar cycles ago.” Ada-758 hadn’t moved from the topic of Gisella’s relationship. “I left my community for my male also, ventured into places I’d never been.”
“You gave up your family, your friends, everything you knew, for your male.” Gisella shook her head. That wasn’t a decision she wanted to replicate.
“I did give them up.” Sex was forbidden in many clone communities. Ada-758 had been banished for her indiscretions. “But I gained much more. I don’t regret my choice.”
“You’re now alone.” Frustration made her blunt.
Ada-758’s mate had died. The clone’s happiness, like Gisella’s mother’s joy, hadn’t lasted. They had traded lifestyles they had flourished in, roles they enjoyed for temporary passion.
“When you’ve been loved, you’re never alone.” The elderly female held out her arm for the first of her injections. “As I near the end of my lifespan, those moments with my male are the ones I revisit. They are the memories that warm me, comfort me, give me joy in my solitary moments.”
Gisella gazed down at her ravaged hands. Would her memories of healing others give her comfort when she was older and all alone?
She suspected they wouldn’t be the experiences she remembered. Her final thoughts would likely revolve around a savage, scarred barbarian.
She stood, that truth making her uncomfortable.
“The universe has an interesting sense of humor.” Ada-758 chuckled. “It paired you, a medic, with an accident-prone warrior.”
“Why would you say he’s accident-prone?” Gisella frowned.
“According to the reports I’ve received, he sported gauze around one of his shoulders the last time he was seen in the medic bay.” The clone’s gaze lifted. “And right now, unless my vision is playing tricks on me, blood is gushing from his forehead.”
“What?” She spun around to face the door.
Ada-758’s vision hadn’t been playing tricks on her. Oghul stood on the threshold. Crimson ran down his primitive countenance.
The wound over his left eyebrow didn’t appear to be deep. Head wounds always bled excessively.
She studied the rest of his big form. The gauze on his shoulder was no longer white.
He met her gaze and his lips stretched into an ear-to-ear grin. “It isn’t a life-threatening wound. I can wait until you’re done with this patient.”
“She’s no longer my medic.” Ada-758 cheerfully volunteered that information. “She can tend to you.” There was a pause. “All of you.”
The elderly female must be looking at the bulge in Oghul’s ass coverings. Gisella closed her eyes for a moment, striving to regain her customary calm.
As soon as that was achieved, she peered at her barbarian. “This is a respectable medic bay.”
Ada-758 laughed. Oghul’s deeper-toned mirth joined hers. Blood dripped on the floor tiles.
“I’ll heal you now.” Gisella decided that. She had to separate the two of them before the situation became even more ridiculous.
Pono glanced at her. “I haven’t completed the injections or updated the file or—”
“There’s no reason to hurry.” She stopped the girl’s meltdown. “I’ll inform Medic Shaushka where you are.” Their break must have ended. “She’ll join you.”
Pono was a medic-in-training. She required supervision.
She leveled a hard glance on the girl’s patient. “Behave yourself, Ada-758.”
“Happy travels, Lead Medic.” The clone female cheerily waved at her.
As soon as she left the chamber, the two females would be talking about her. Gisella stalked toward her barbarian. She would have no secrets left.
“You, come with me.” She brushed past him.
Rightness swept over her and she bit back a moan of pleasure. Now was not the time for inappropriate displays of affection. Ada-758 and most likely Pono were watching her.
Gisella hurried along the corridor, entered the first empty chamber, and waited until her warrior stepped into the space. The doors closed. She locked them, ensuring the two of them wouldn’t be disturbed.
Oghul hooked his arms around her waist and drew her to him. She didn’t offer any resistance, folding her body into his, needing this, craving physical contact with him.
Heat from her barbarian’s form engulfed her. The scent of his skin filled her nostrils. She rested her cheek against his bare chest and slowly exhaled, the tension inside her easing.
Her dependency on him bothered her. She was a medic. He was her fuckin’ patient. She should be healing him, not sating her restless, almost painful, desire for his touch.
“I hate this.” She mumbled that against his skin, frustrated by her weakness.
“I know you do, gerel.” He reached behind his back. “This should allow you to touch your male patients without pain.” He handed her what appeared to be neatly folded strips of white leather. “I assume you didn’t stop treating them.”
Her face heated. How had he known that? “I transferred the care of most of my male patients to other medics.”
“You transferred the care of most of your male patients.” He snorted softly. “Not all of them.”
“Some patients were t
oo dangerous to be reassigned.” She spread out the white leather.
Her barbarian had given her hand coverings. It was a primitive solution but it should work.
She tried them on. Wearing the hand coverings was like dipping her fingers into a stream of warm liquid. They were sinfully soft.
The leather was loose, flapping around her fingertips. She couldn’t operate while wearing them but she could perform less sensitive tasks. “Thank you.”
He had tried to solve her problem and she appreciated the effort.
“Tap here.” Oghul touched her right wrist. “And they should tighten.”
Gisella did that. The leather pulled snugly over her hands. The hand coverings resembled a second skin.
She pressed her fingertips against his chest, avoiding the blood, placing her right hand over his heart. Every beat was conveyed.
She slid her hands up to his neck, compressed an artery there. His pulse was detectable.
“It’s like I’m not wearing anything.” Amazed, she studied the hand coverings.
“The leather is enhanced.” He touched her fingers. “It’s also easy to clean. Care for them as you would care for your own hands.”
She gazed up at him. Emotion swelled within her. “You solved my problem.” She could be a lead medic again, care for every being, male or female.
“I said I would fix it.” His lips lifted slightly.
Blood continued to flow down the side of his face. He was injured, might be in pain. Her first patient treated while wearing her new hand coverings would be him.
“Let’s test them.” She reached for the injector gun.
“No pain inhibitors.” He waved it away from him.
She narrowed her gaze at him. “I won’t view you as less of a warrior if you used them.”
“I’ve been thinking about bonding with you all planet rotation.” His eyes gleamed. “I want to feel everything during it.”
She felt everything pressing against her. He was bare under the strips of leather he called an ass covering. A flick of her fingers would free him.
“This is a respectable medic bay.” She reminded both of them.
“I would never disrespect you.” His lips flattened. “I can wait.”
He wasn’t the being she was concerned about. Her pussy dripped. Her nipples tightened against her flight suit.
Fuck. A male was bleeding and she was thinking about sex.
She grabbed a cleaning cloth, snapped the square to refresh it, removed the excess blood. “How did this happen?”
“I challenged Balvan, the Refuge’s giant green gatekeeper, to a fight and I ran into his fist.” Her barbarian grinned. “I’m fighting Orol next.”
Gisella winced. “He’s the Refuge’s top warrior.” She had helped Orol and his mate’s three offspring enter the world. “You’ll be wounded again.”
She shouldn’t care because Oghul was a warrior and that’s what warriors did. They fought and they died.
But she did care. That irked her.
“I’m my Warlord’s best warrior.” He lifted his chin. “I could win the fight.”
She looked at him, not hiding her disbelief.
Orol had been genetically designed to kill other beings, and for thousands of solar cycles, the modified humanoid had been doing exactly that—ending lifespans before his opponents realized he was close to them.
The fuckin’ male had wings. He could fly.
Her barbarian wouldn’t defeat him.
“If I get lucky and he makes a mistake, I could win.” Oghul shrugged, appearing not at all concerned about his upcoming defeat. “The female you were helping had an unusual name.”
“She’s a clone.” That type of name was common for them. “Her original source was called Ada. She’s the 758th replication of that humanoid.”
“Cloning is banned in the Chamele sector.” Her barbarian relayed that unsurprising stance. Many primitive planets had banned the process, fearing the deterioration of genetic material.
“Cloning on Carinae E is unique.” The brightest minds in the field had designed the programs on the planet. “They are as viable as any other humanoid.”
“Hmmm…” Her barbarian tilted his head.
“Ada-758 has ninety-six solar cycles.” She closed the wound on his forehead. “And shows no signs of decline.”
She removed the gauze around his shoulder. Skin already covered the claw marks.
“I’ve never healed this quickly.” Oghul raised his eyebrows.
“You’ve never been treated by a medic.” Her tone was trite.
“Yesun has a sister who is a medic. She often treats him.” Her barbarian poked at his shoulder with his finger. “He takes more time than this to heal.”
Gisella batted his hand away from his recovering wound before he reopened it. “The medical sealant I used on your wounds has Velorum syrup as a main ingredient.” She had the substance specially fabricated for the Refuge. “It speeds healing.”
“Velorum syrup.” He repeated that as though he was imprinting it on his brain.
She had tried to think of him as a stupid barbarian. A male like that she could easily discard. She could forget him.
But the truth was his intelligence matched hers. And he was as stubborn as she was.
That made him dangerous…to her heart and to her role as a medic.
“Advancements in healing, like the use of Velorum syrup, are important to me.” She wanted her warrior to understand that. “I hear about them here at the Refuge.”
Kralj gathered information from all over the universe. The Ruler shared his medical intelligence with her.
“This medic bay also has the machines and supplies necessary to fulfill my role.” It had everything she required. “I’m not leaving the settlement.”
She wouldn’t place herself in a situation where she had to watch children and babies die from lack of medical resources.
“If that is your choice, gerel, I will honor it.” Oghul didn’t sound happy with her stance.
“That’s my choice.” It had to be that way.
Chapter Eight
His gerel liked her hand coverings. Oghul gazed down at her leather-clad fingers with pride. She still wore them many moments later when they left the medic bay.
He walked beside her, matching her stride, close but not touching. If he touched her, other males might believe they could touch her also.
Then he would have to remove their hands from their bodies. That might upset his little medic.
The Refuge was their home now. She refused to leave and he wouldn’t depart without her. He’d miss Chamele 2, miss his males, but he would survive. The settlement had its amusements.
One of them was currently approaching them.
Balvan, the Refuge’s giant green gatekeeper, lumbered in their direction. The modified humanoid’s gaze lowered to Oghul’s forehead.
Thankfully, it wasn’t covered with the embarrassing white gauze. Oghul had stopped his little medic from doing that. But the sealant was clear. The damage the male had done to his skull was visible.
Balvan cracked his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with humor. The warrior had been a formidable opponent, had defeated him with one solid blow to the head.
Oghul grinned. He looked forward to fighting him again.
His gerel wasn’t as amused with the silent challenge. She slid in front of him, her hands tucked in her pockets, and glared at the gatekeeper.
Balvan’s gaze shifted to her. His eyes widened.
He abruptly pivoted and stalked away from them, departing quicker than Oghul had ever seen the big male move.
His lips twitched. His gerel was fierce. Even the Refuge’s renowned gatekeeper was terrified of her.
“If you frighten away all of my sparring partners, I’ll have no one left to practice with.” He teased her.
“Balvan likes to crush skulls.” She marched toward the beverage outlet. “Did he tell you that?”
He might have men
tioned it once or twice. Oghul opened his mouth.
“I can’t heal crushed skulls.” She didn’t wait for him to answer her question. “The most skilled medic with the best technology in the universe can’t do that.”
They entered the beverage outlet using a side entrance. The warriors guarding it stepped to the side as they approached.
“You’re the most skilled medic in the universe.” He didn’t know much about the role she held but he knew she wouldn’t allow herself to be anything other than the very best.
“There are better medics in the universe.” She surprised him by admitting. “But not many.” She hurried toward her chamber.
He chuckled. His gerel realized her worth.
And she had been clear with him about what she wanted. She preferred to remain in the Refuge where she had the equipment and other resources she needed to heal beings.
Healing was her focus, part of her. Being her warrior meant accepting that.
She might not be able to heal others on Chamele 2. Ariq was correct about that. Their kind didn’t embrace outsiders, were unlikely to trust her with their well-being.
That would destroy his gerel. She would resent being forced to relocate, resent him.
He couldn’t allow that to happen. Her happiness was everything to him.
“Balvan said the Refuge could benefit from more warriors guarding the walls.” That would be extremely boring but it would be a role for him.
“You’d be foolish to consider that role.” She glanced up at him. “On Chamele 2, you’re your Warlord’s second-in-command. Here, you’ll be nothing.”
“I won’t be nothing.” He’d be hers.
She blew out a ragged breath. “Most of the other warriors are modified humanoids. They have thousands of solar cycles of living and Kralj, the Ruler, has fought with them for that length of time. They will always be assigned the more important roles. You’ll guard the walls for your entire lifespan.”
He’d take commands from everyone…until he died. No one would follow him. He wouldn’t be a leader, wouldn’t have warriors reporting to him. That would frustrate him but he’d do it for her, to be with her, to make her happy.
“Why are you looking for roles in the Refuge?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It isn’t because of me, is it? Because once our bond is severed—”
