by Lea Kirk
Graig’s mouth pulled into a grim line, and Alex turned back to her patient. “Gryf? Can you hear me?”
He nodded, breathing through his mouth.
“Can you tell me your symptoms?”
“Throat burns, my head aches, hurts to swallow,” he croaked out.
She ran her fingers along his throat just under his chin. “Lymph nodes are swollen too. Open your mouth please, Gryf...got it. Okay, close it up.”
“The spots in his mouth, what are they?” Graig asked.
Alex sat back on her heel. “Have you ever seen symptoms like these on Matir?”
“Never.”
“I’m ninety-five percent sure it’s strep throat. If treated early enough, it isn’t serious. At least, not to Earthlings. Unfortunately, we don’t have antibiotics and it is highly contagious, which means all of us could get it. You Matirans are probably most susceptible.”
“I shall wake Dante.”
“Wait a minute.” She tapped her finger against her thigh. “Dante said that all Matirans have the power of a Gift. Are you able to use yours for healing?”
“I am not a healer.”
“Dammit.” She cast a glance toward Dante’s sleeping form. “This should be rudimentary, and I do know what to look for. I just lack the power.”
Graig’s gaze narrowed as if he was considering his options. Then his face relaxed. “I have the knowledge of a first-year healer. I will help you.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. Asking him why he hadn’t told her so in the first place was pointless. At least he hadn’t blown her off, yet. There was still a chance he’d do so anyway and go wake up Dante. She gave him a quick nod and bent close to Gryf.
Blue eyes opened a slit as she explained what she suspected, and how she and Graig planned to heal him. Gryf gave her a vague nod. I’m taking that as consent for treatment. Not that she needed it. Who was left to sue her for malpractice?
At her direction, Graig placed his hands over Gryf’s lymph nodes, and she rested her hand on one of his wrists.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Please let this work.
The faint blue-white glow of Graig’s Gift sprang to his hands and eyes. The familiar gentle tugging sensation of a Matiran’s Gift drew from her reservoir of strength. She’d expected his signature to be different than Dante’s, but rocks? Strong, steadfast and sun-warmed rocks. Big ones. Boulders. How interesting. Were individuals’ Gift signatures based on their personalities? She’d have to think about that later.
She focused on locating the bacteria cells inside Gryf. “There it is, Graig. Can you draw all of the bacteria together and zap them?”
Graig gave her a peculiar look. “I could, but why do you not do it instead?”
A subtle shift of power fluctuated at her core. Was Graig really allowing her to control his Gift?
“Just focus and will it to do what you want.”
Unbelievable. And that couldn’t possibly be approval in his grey eyes, could it?
She gave him a nod, and returned her focus to the illness infesting Gryf. It was so simple. She could do it. She moved through his body, collecting the bacteria until all of it had been drawn together in one location. Then, with one blast of healing heat, she eradicated the illness. She ran a check for lingering pieces. The last thing she wanted was for Gryf to relapse.
“Looks good,” she murmured for Graig’s benefit.
Graig grunted acknowledgement. “Now withdraw like you have seen Dante do.”
Easy enough. An odd quivering sensation tickled inside her chest like a feather. Okay, that’s weird. A force inside surged through her, as though a dam had broken and the torrent sought escape from the boundaries of her physical self. She tightened her grip on Graig’s wrist as a small strangled noise passed her lips. Gryf gasped raggedly, and his eyes popped open wide. God help her, she was free falling into them. What the hell was happening?
A wrenching sensation of vertigo jolted her. Graig had severed the healing connection as he physically dragged her away from Gryf. A guttural moan of tragic despair welled up and escaped her as black spots filled her vision. Dammit, I’m going to faint again. She looked up at Graig for help, but found fear in his grey eyes. Had something gone wrong?
“I am sorry,” he murmured. He touched his finger to her forehead. A roar filled her ears and the blackness swooped in.
~ * ~
“What do you think?” Dante already knew the answer, as surely as Graig must. He gazed down at Alex’s unconscious form on the floor at his side, his fingers resting on the pulse point of her wrist. Her face was paler than he had ever seen and her dark hair in disarray. Gryf lay in a similar position on the other side of Graig. Something had happened between them, and until he figured it out, it was prudent to monitor them.
“We have a problem,” Graig replied in Matiran, his voice pitched as low as Dante’s so as not to disturb the others pretending to sleep nearby.
After the initial excitement, the others had retired—Nick only after securing a promise to be woken up for regular updates on his sister’s condition.
Dante released a soft sigh and shook his head. “With the two of you, when is there not a problem?” Did his friend have any idea how his presence comforted him?
Graig’s mouth twitched. “Was it not your job to keep us out of trouble, oh, my elder?”
“How did I ever get sucked into the Helyg/Roble vortex?” This was a question that had plagued Dante for a decade. And still he had no answer, nor any desire to end his brotherhood with either of these men.
“Shall I summarize?” Graig offered.
“Please do not.” Alex’s pulse fluttered beneath Dante’s fingertips.
“Gryf’s pulse is fluctuating,” Graig murmured at the same moment.
“Alex, too. Anim tros—soul mates.” Heavenly Mother have mercy, could it be? It had been centuries since the last pair of anim tros had been brought together, presumably by will of the Holy Mother. If only Ora were here. She had been a treasure trove of information and facts on the mysticism.
At least he was not alone in this, though Karise would understand the implications quite well. If she knew. But for now, the fewer who did the better.
A V formed between Graig’s brows. “But to what end?”
There was always a reason why two souls joined in this manner, but the only one he could think of drove a blade through Dante’s belly. “Do you remember the words of the Profeti?”
Graig’s expression turned skeptical. “The Prophecy of the Guardians dates back almost twelve thousand years. Most consider it to be a legend, myself included.”
Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. “As do I. There must be another reason.”
“Or perhaps we are wrong and they are not anim tros,” Graig suggested.
“Perhaps. Their attraction may be driven by their hearts and not their souls.” If only the evidence did not indicate otherwise. “Regardless, something is between them and we must do what we can to protect them. Eventually time will give us the answers we seek.”
May the heavenly Mother protect them if Kotas so much as suspected. He would kill them both.
Chapter Eight
Gryf watched Alexandra from the corner of his eye. She had healed him. Granted, it was through Graig’s Gift, but what they had done had worked. And this morning he had awoken to the most amazing sight: Alexandra leaning over him, her curtain of dark hair framing her face and her beautiful eyes clouded with concern. Then they cleared; and she smiled—radiant as any celestial body. He had yearned for her then, for her to press her lips to his in a kiss to last until the end of time. But she had not, much to his regret. That was her choice to make, and he must respect that.
But even now, hours later, he desired her company. Never had he been so drawn to any woman. What was it about Alexandra that gave him thoughts of eschewing all ingrained traditions and expressing himself to her? In her culture, men were free to approach women they were interested i
n, but the mere thought of doing so to her was distasteful. He would not disrespect her.
“You are staring,” Graig murmured in Matiran.
Gryf drew his brows together, then aimed a narrow-eyed gaze in his friend’s direction. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, a rather large problem.” Graig kept his voice just above a whisper. “Your attentions will get her killed.”
A chill went through him. That was a sobering fact. Frustrating, but sobering.
Graig moved a fraction nearer. “As your friend, Gryf, I see how this Terrian woman has affected you like none you have known before. She is intelligent, beautiful, and somewhat vexing. If you seek her invitation, I recommend you get her out of here.”
“Escape, you mean?”
Graig gave him a single nod. “You know as well as I that Kotas will come for her. As he will come for each of the Terrians.”
A muscle twitched in Gryf’s cheek. The traitor had already come for Dennis. If he took Alexandra…. Fire flared in Gryf’s heart. This must not happen. Damn Kotas to each and every hell.
~ * ~
Alex sat in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. Cripes, did Gryf ever look somber. What was Graig saying to him? Maybe they were working on a plan for escape, even though escape was unlikely. She shifted on the floor, snugging her bottom more comfortably into the corner. Their corner. She still liked the sound of that...and the time they’d spent talking, remembering, sharing.
Graig moved away, and Gryf pressed his thumb, index and middle fingers to his brow. She’d seen this gesture often enough in the past two weeks, and had learned it was the way they prayed.
Gryf lowered his hand to his side and his gaze met hers. One white eyebrow quirked upward, like a silent request for permission to join her here. Her heart fluttered. He must want to be with her, maybe to talk out whatever seemed to be bothering him. Even if he just wanted to sit quietly, she wouldn’t mind. She liked having him around, as though weathering his illness together had somehow changed the dynamic of their relationship. She patted the floor next to her in invitation.
She gave him a smile as he lowered himself to the floor to her right. “Praying, Captain?”
“Always. And it is Gryf, remember?”
“You haven’t been Gryf all day.” Except when you first woke up and looked as though you might kiss me.
“I know.” He leaned his head against the wall. “My apologies, Alexandra.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come down on you.” It wasn’t his fault he led a life with dual roles, one as captain to his crew, and the other as Gryf. Could she live with sharing him with others? Would she ever have the chance to find out?
She lowered her gaze to her raised knees, then back to him. “Gryf, I need your promise. I know it’s a lot to ask, but no matter what happens to me, please get Nicky out of here.”
“Alexandra….” His eyes were bleak, but she had to know that someone would watch out for Nicky if she couldn’t.
“Promise me,” she whispered. “He’s all I have left of my family. If something happens to me, swear that you’ll take him with you if you find a way out of this prison. Don’t let him become a slave.”
Counter arguments rose in his eyes, and she gave him an unrelenting glare. He had to understand that she wasn’t backing down. He sighed, and shifted around to face her. “Give me your left hand.”
“You’re not going to use your Gift to change my mind, are you?”
Gryf lowered his chin and raised an eyebrow at her. “Your insult is unintended, I am sure.”
Ouch. Yeah, she knew better. There were limitations to the Matiran Gift, and mind control was one of those limits.
“I’m sorry.” She extended her hand as requested, and he enfolded it between his. The strong, capable hands of a trusted leader—and a caring man. She stared into his eyes, her lips parting.
“Veni. Forgiven.” Without breaking eye contact, he raised her hand...to his lips, not his forehead as Graig had. His warm breath feathered across the back of her hand sending a thrill of goose bumps up her arm.
Oh, my. She swallowed. Karise had clarified Matiran traditions between the sexes. Women made the choices about who they did or didn’t wish to have a relationship with. A man could express interest in a woman, but if she didn’t reciprocate, he must accept her decision as final.
But, oh my god, was she ever interested. Was this his way of telling her he was also interested? Or was he just being polite?
Get a grip, Alex. As if relationships weren’t complicated enough already. Now she was thinking about going intergalactic. Had she lost her ever-loving mind?
“This is how Matirans bind themselves with a vow.” Gryf shifted so his hand cupped her elbow. “In the name of the Holy Mother, I do vow to you, Alexandra Bock, to do everything within my power to get your brother, Nicholaus, out of this prison and to safety. I further vow to do no less for you. So be it.”
“Ah, so be it.” Please let that be the proper response. A mild tingle wrapped around their joined arms and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Wow. What was that?”
“That was the vow being sealed,” he replied. His roughened fingertips slid down the smooth skin of her inner arm, and heat shot through her lower belly.
“So.” She cleared her throat. “W-what happens if you can’t keep your vow? You don’t die or something, do you?” Oh, god, she was such a dork. What a stupid question.
Amusement lit his eyes and he shook his head. “It is honor that will help me keep my vow, Alexandra, not the threat of death.”
“Oh. That’s good.” Focus, Alex. Focus. “I, um, have a feeling that a vow is much more to you than the average promise. I will do everything I can to help you honor this one.”
“Your help has been, and will continue to be, invaluable to me. Words cannot express my gratitude.”
Well, damn. She’d read too much into that kiss on her hand. It was gratitude, not interest, he was expressing. She looked away across the cell in case her disappointment showed in her eyes. Nothing had changed, except now Dante and Graig stood in the middle of the cell casting furtive glances at her and Gryf. Nothing to see here, boys. Keep moving.
There was only one thing to do—pluck up her defenses and carry on. She pursed her lips and looked back at him. “I think you should know something. The four of us...the Terrians, I mean...we don’t blame you for what happened to Earth, Gryf. Dennis didn’t either, he’d want you to know.”
A crease appeared across his forehead, and she raised her hand stop any counter-arguments. He would hear her out. “I know. I get that you feel responsible for what’s happened, and I completely respect your feelings. However, it wasn’t you who put this plan into motion. It wasn’t you who betrayed your fleet, or your people, or even my people. And it definitely wasn’t you who broke your oath and sold out your honor so cheaply.”
She paused for a breath. “I’m not telling you to let it go, Gryf; you have too much integrity to do that. What I am saying is that we believe in you, in your honor and in your integrity. And if we survive this, I assume that you will have some sort of accountability hearing on Matir. Expect us to be there. Expect us to stand up for you to clear your name.”
The look in his eyes was unfathomable. Without breaking eye contact, he raised her hand to his heart. Was it her imagination, or had their breathing synchronized? The fingertips of his other hand brushed her cheek, and her heart pounded in dramatic response. He was so close.
“Again, I thank you,” he murmured.
This was way more than appreciation. What would his lips feel like if he kissed her?
“Captain, someone is outside,” Karise hissed from the door.
Damn.
Regret flashed in Gryf’s eyes, then the efficient Senior Captain Helyg was back. “Stay behind me please, Alexandra.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. The last thing she wanted was attention from whoever was coming into the cell. She let him haul her to her feet a
nd tuck her behind him, his hand lingering in hers for a fraction longer than it should have. Fighting the urge to cradle her hand to her heart, she nibbled her bottom lip.
The whoosh of the door opening was followed by the click of booted feet—two sets of them, if she wasn’t mistaken. Then the doors closed. That’s different. She threw a quick glance at Karise, who stood nearby. The lieutenant commander wore an expression of surprise, curiosity, and mistrust on her face. Not the sort of reaction Kotas or Haesi would generate, that’s for sure.
Alex leaned to peek over Gryf’s shoulder. The green-eyed Anferthian woman who had brought them food and water many times, stood just inside the cell door. Her heavy black hair was pulled back exposing her rounded ears. The Anferthian male accompanying her wore his hair similarly, except his ears were hidden beneath his wheat-color locks. Neither Anferthian appeared to be armed. The female addressed Gryf in a language Alex couldn’t understand. Whatever the woman had said generated immediate sounds of protest from the Matirans in the cell.
Gryf quelled them into silence with a look. “Dante,” he said, beckoning the healer with a flick of his wrist. He turned and placed his hand at the small of her back. “Wait with the others.” He guided her toward Karise as Dante separated himself from the group. The two men joined the Anferthians.
Alex shifted from foot to foot, listening to the hushed voices conversing in a harsh alien language. Who was this woman and what did she want from Gryf? Clearly, none of the Matirans approved of the situation. Heck, she didn’t like it much either.
“Her name is K’rona Zurkku,” Karise whispered as the female Anferthian handed a small envelope to Gryf. “She is a factoress...the equivalent of a lieutenant commander. The man with her is Mendiko Gari, also a factor.”
Alex acknowledged this new information with a nod. Gryf opened the envelope, his eyes flicking back and forth as he read the contents. His expression changed from rigid aloofness to flabbergasted amazement, then he passed the letter to Dante. A moment later the healer murmured, “Holy Mother.” Dante didn’t sound upset, just surprised. Gryf took the letter back, and tucked it back into the envelope.
