“I think staying on the ground floor would be easier for both of us.”
“True. Although if you’re hiding from someone, I can’t imagine a better place to do it.” He shrugged. “I hardly ever go up there myself.”
She took a good long look in every direction and didn’t spot any assassins lurking nearby. Of course, if they were decent assassins, she wouldn’t see them. They’d already bungled the job once. This time, they might send someone who actually knew how to shoot. She still had trouble believing the last guy had missed her. Twice. “Speaking of hiding, think we could go in through the back door?”
“That’s the plan.”
She was pleased to hear this, despite having felt so much safer when she was alone in the mountains. At least out there, she could hear someone coming from a long way off. In the city, there was too much noise and too many places to hide. Anyone walking along the street or standing inside a doorway could be gunning for her. Even Aidan had managed to sneak up on her, although she doubted many assassins would use the same mode of transportation.
He steered the speeder around to the rear of the building, which, not surprisingly, was also festooned with ostentatious ornamentation. After parking the speeder relatively close to the door, he turned to face her. “We can figure out where you’re going to stay later. Right now, I just need to get you inside. Then I’ll fix us some dinner. Dunno about you, but I’m starving. After that, you should try to get some sleep if you can.”
She opened her mouth to comment and wound up stifling a yawn instead.
He grinned. “Apparently, that won’t be a problem.”
* * *
Aidan wished he’d been better prepared to care for a convalescent for an extended period of time, but he hadn’t the first inkling that he would be faced with such a task.
Damn visions.
He still had hopes that she would allow Giklor to treat her. In the meantime, he felt he had to do more than provide her with food and shelter and pat her hand in comfort.
Splints, bandages, painkillers, even antibiotics… Not for the first time, he found himself wishing his mother lived nearby. She would know exactly what to do for Sula, and she would have the supplies with which to do it. Thanks to her influence, he did have a few herbal remedies on hand, but if there was a magic potion for mending bones, he’d never heard of it.
If Sula had been Zetithian, the splint and two or three days of restorative sleep would’ve healed the fracture enough that she would’ve been able to walk by the time she awoke. For a Terran, however, about the best he could do was give her willow bark tea for the pain and chamomile tea to help her rest. Arnica cream applied to the tissue over the break might help with the bruising. Turmeric and pineapple were both good anti-inflammatories. He was pretty sure he had some turmeric in the spice rack, and pineapple was easily obtained from the local market. He also had a tube of Derivian ointment that would heal any minor cuts and scrapes practically overnight.
Guess I’m better prepared than I thought.
Following a brief survey of the surrounding area to prove there were no obvious onlookers, he popped the canopy and climbed out of the speeder. He hurried around to the passenger side and gathered her up in his arms as carefully as he could. As before, she put one arm around his neck. Her hand on his bare skin jolted his already alert senses, and he inhaled yet another whiff of her enticing aroma.
If she’d been sexually aroused, his cock would’ve swelled to its full size in a heartbeat. He felt everything but that. She was clearly right for him. Whether the reverse was also true seemed doubtful.
If I’m nice enough to her, maybe she’ll kiss me again.
If she did, he had every intention of ensuring that his lips would be her target, even if he wound up with whiplash from turning his head too fast.
The back door of his house slid open as he approached.
“Don’t you lock your doors?” she asked, sounding a tad apprehensive.
“Trust me, it was locked. The house, um, knows me.”
“I see,” she said. “Nice feature.”
He nodded. “That’s about the only upgrade I’ve made. It had a palm lock originally. Comes in handy when I’m carrying groceries—or damsels in distress.”
Aidan was still working on getting the door to react quickly enough for him to fold his wings and glide in, but he’d caught a shoulder on it enough times to know he could run faster than it could respond. Flying in would’ve freaked the neighbors anyway, although they’d seen Val swooping around enough that they might assume it was him.
“I’ve never thought of myself in that light before.” A short, sardonic laugh didn’t entirely alleviate her grimace. “I’ve always been the independent type.”
Clearing his throat, he allowed himself a slight smile. “I’ve noticed.”
“No need to rub it in,” she said, grumbling.
“Didn’t intend to.” He carried her through the kitchen and into the main sitting room. “You can rest here on the sofa while I get dinner ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
“A glass of lemonade would be lovely. Thank you.”
He put her down on the sofa, thinking that if she made the “You’re very kind” comment again, he was going to scream. Nevertheless, he lingered within kissing range as long as he could without being too obvious.
No such luck. Damn.
Perhaps if dinner was good enough, he might get lucky.
No pressure—ha!
Living alone, his meals usually weren’t very remarkable. Edible and reasonably nutritious, maybe, but nothing designed to impress.
He could call for delivery. Damenk’s restaurant district boasted cuisine from every corner of the galaxy.
No. Having food delivered was too easy. And she was from India…
Would she appreciate his efforts to produce authentic Indian dishes, or would she merely tolerate his feeble attempts?
He doubted she would ever be so ungracious. She would probably lie very convincingly while assuring him that his version of chicken korma was exactly like her mother used to make.
Might as well ask.
“What would you like for dinner?”
“Whatever you have,” she replied. “I’m not exactly in a position to be choosy.”
“You’re my guest, so you can be as choosy as you like.”
She smiled. “Believe me, anything would be an improvement over the stuff I’ve been living on.”
He’d forgotten about that. “Something Indian, maybe?”
Her eyes widened. “You have an Indian restaurant nearby?”
“No—well, there is, but that isn’t what I meant. I loved the food when I was in India, so I’ve done some experimenting. My chicken korma may not be the greatest, but I like it.”
Her expression went from incredulous to misty-eyed in less than a heartbeat, making Aidan wish he’d remained within kissing distance. “That sounds absolutely wonderful.”
Aidan had never had what he would call an attack of the warm fuzzies before, but he was certainly having one now. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Her smile was so completely genuine, it altered the way his heart lay within his chest—a good feeling rather than the dip that organ normally took whenever he encountered someone with a disturbing future. That the meal he provided for her would be a step up from her more recent fare didn’t matter. For a smile like hers, he would make this the best chicken korma outside the entire Indian subcontinent.
“I’ll get that lemonade for you and be right back.”
With a nod, he left the room before doing something stupid like kissing her senseless.
He returned to find her brushing dust from her jacket. She stopped as soon as he entered and handed her the glass. She took a long drink before asking, “Think I could
take that sonic shower before dinner?”
“Absolutely. Just let me get the chicken in the marinade, and then I’ll help you with that. I’ll try to find something more comfortable for you to wear too.”
Her smile faded slightly, and her gaze slid from his face to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. “How are we going to do that?”
“Dunno exactly, but I’m sure we’ll figure out something.”
* * *
In Aidan’s opinion, he couldn’t get Qinta there fast enough. He didn’t want Sula to be unnecessarily embarrassed, nor did he want to get himself into an awkward situation. Normally, keeping his emotions under control was easily done—he’d been hiding them from his empathic sister for most of his life—but the feelings he had toward Sula were so new, he couldn’t be certain of anything.
He could, however, help her out of her boots and jacket without causing either of them any untoward distress.
“In the meantime, I think you’ll be more comfortable if we can get you out of your boots and jacket.”
Her stiff nod suggested that even this minor adjustment was enough to cause her some embarrassment.
As she began to shrug out of the jacket, he helped to ease her arms out of the sleeves. Pebbled nipples pressed against the fabric of her gray T-shirt, proving that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He studiously avoided staring, opting to fold the jacket and set it aside. She lay back on the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest, proving she was fully aware of the level of exposure, however minor it might be.
He started on her boots without comment. Unfortunately, this proved to be a source of further discomfiture.
“Careful,” she whispered as he removed the first one. “My feet are kinda sore. It-it might help to wash them. If you could bring me a wet, soapy washcloth…” A beseeching look accompanied her request.
“I think I should be the one to do the washing,” he said firmly. “Not sure you could reach that left one without messing up my bone-setting handiwork.”
After an obvious and thankfully brief battle with her misgivings, she nodded.
“Be right back,” he said.
Upon his return with the washcloth she requested, plus a pan of water to rinse and a towel to dry, he lifted her right foot and removed her sock. The feet of some of the street kids they’d taken in at the orphanage looked worse, but Sula’s were bad enough. Blisters in various stages of healing dotted her feet.
“Mother of the gods,” he whispered. “How were you even able to walk?”
“I’ve learned to ignore the pain,” she said with a shrug.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” he scolded. “You won’t do yourself or anyone else any good by letting your feet rot off.”
She heaved a wretched sigh. “I know. They’re actually better than they were. I didn’t have time to break in my boots before I started, and some of my blisters had already turned into calluses by the time the boots began to feel comfortable. Then my socks started to wear out, and the blisters came back. Thicker socks would’ve helped, but I didn’t realize the problem until I was too far into the mountains to turn back for better ones.”
“When you go back into the mountains—if you go back—we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
If the use of “we” bothered her in any way, it didn’t show. A demure smile accompanied her soft “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I’ll get your feet washed and put some Derivian ointment on those blisters. Should have you healed up in no time.”
“Derivian ointment?”
“Oh yeah. My mother swears by it. Just wish it could cure a broken bone.”
He wiped her foot as he spoke, keeping his eyes focused on his task rather than her grimaces as he washed some of the more sensitive areas. Already, he viewed causing her any pain with abhorrence and longed to give her only pleasure.
His thoughts drifted to how she would look if he ever made love to her, her eyes heavy-lidded with bliss, her lips curved in a sensuous smile.
He’d finished washing her foot and had it rinsed and dried before he realized he was purring. He saw no need to stop; purring didn’t affect a Terran the way it would a Zetithian woman. Most humans interpreted it as an expression of contentment, the way they would feel with a purring kitten in their lap. Nevertheless, as he spread the ointment over her wounds, mere application progressed to a luxurious massage. The soft moan of pleasure that escaped her lips sent thrills racing over his skin. Purring even louder, he applied more ointment to enable him to continue far longer than was strictly necessary to achieve a therapeutic effect.
When he finally abandoned one foot for the other, he followed the same procedure, still not daring to look her in the eyes. Her scent had undergone a subtle change. Although not the stimulating aroma of desire, it was nonetheless pleasing to him, making him reluctant to bring such a delightful interlude to an end.
At last, he knew he couldn’t keep going without seeming to take advantage of her situation, and he rose from where he sat at her feet. Gathering up the damp towels, he dropped them in the pan of water before stealing a glance at her face.
Her sweet smile made his heart swell within his chest.
“I’ve never known anyone so kind or anyone with a gentler touch,” she whispered. “You missed your calling as a healer.”
“Must be my mother’s influence.” With his voice still roughened by the remnants of his purr, he didn’t trust himself to say anything further.
“Doesn’t matter where it comes from,” she insisted. “It’s part of you now.”
“I suppose it is.” Not that it mattered. Almost his entire life had been spent harboring secrets, keeping to himself the portents that bombarded his brain and hiding his reactions to them. Something about Sula made him let down his guard, if only for the few minutes it took to bathe her feet. Now the walls began creeping up once more. Stiffening slightly, he gave her a brief nod and said, “You rest easy, and try to sleep if you can. I’ll wake you when dinner is ready. We’ll tackle the sonic shower after you’ve eaten.”
A slight frown creased her brow as her smile faded. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
“Give a yell if you need anything. I won’t be far away.” Far enough to escape her captivating aroma—one that conveyed gratitude as opposed to the warmer emotions that stirred within him and deepened with each moment he spent in her presence. He’d felt the connection the instant their eyes met while he hovered above her.
He had no business purring, whether she would respond to it or not. She was too vulnerable now. Not only was she injured, she had also suffered the loss of someone very dear to her. He might kid himself into believing he couldn’t control the impulse to purr, but he knew he could. He always had. He’d drifted through life, aiding those in need while suppressing any desires of his own.
That was what he had done. What he had always done.
This day was no different from any other.
Chapter 7
Sula didn’t know what she had said or done to alter Aidan’s mood, but the difference was as real as the ache of her broken leg. The very last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him in any way, and she hated the idea of being the cause of his discomfort.
She reminded herself that she didn’t really know him. His mood swings might have nothing to do with her. From what she’d observed, he seemed cheerful enough most of the time, but there was something else there that wasn’t as obvious. Something lurking behind his eyes that betrayed his pain.
Perhaps he was lonely. The sheer size of his house was enough to bring out the latent loneliness in anyone. He claimed to have bought the place with his future family in mind, but was that the real reason? Did he like the openness and the fact that he could lose himself inside those walls? Or did the empty space only serve as a reminder of the family he didn’t have?
To hear him
tell it, his parents and siblings were scattered across the quadrant, if not the entire galaxy. Being similarly situated, she could easily understand how that might affect him. Traveling through space had always made her feel so isolated, so small and insignificant—a feeling that had increased in severity during the return trip without Raj.
After the horrors she’d witnessed on Ecos, with death and desolation all around her and no power to stop it, almost anything would’ve been an improvement. The mountains of Rhylos had brought her solace, despite having traversed them alone. Then she’d met Aidan, for whom she felt an almost instantaneous affinity. She couldn’t decide whether her feelings for him were the result of having been rescued by him or simply because he was the only intelligent being she’d encountered in months.
Whatever the reason, she owed him her life—a debt she could never repay unless she were to save him from certain death. Somehow, she couldn’t see that happening.
She contemplated this as she sipped the blissfully cool lemonade he’d given her, hoping she’d been dehydrated enough that the inevitable result of taking in fluids didn’t happen too quickly. He’d talked about hiring a girl from the orphanage, and in her opinion, the sooner he did that, the better. Aidan wouldn’t have to pay the girl, either. Thanks to her frugal ways, Sula had more than enough credits to cover the cost herself. She was already staying in his house. He didn’t need to pay her caregiver.
She set the glass down and closed her eyes, the constant ache in her leg making her regret her refusal of the Zerkan’s treatment. Most of her reluctance lay in the aftereffects of their healing practices. As a Terran woman from India who was trying to keep a low profile, acquiring a pair of glowing red pupils was inadvisable. Then again, the strange eyes might serve as a disguise—until she’d been identified through some other means.
Sula still hadn’t figured out how she’d been spotted the first time. She’d been in the commerce district shopping for supplies when she heard someone asking the clerk if he’d seen a woman fitting her description. After ducking out of the store as unobtrusively as possible, she ran down the street as fast as she could. She’d just turned the nearest corner when a pulse beam struck the stone exterior of the building across the street. After another beam hit the sidewalk beside her, she darted into the nearest shop, which, fortunately, had a rear entrance and was too crowded to allow her pursuer to get off another shot. She caught a glimpse of him—a tall, grim-faced Terran—as she ran out the back way. Upon finding herself in the midst of a street fair, she threaded her way through the throng and somehow managed to lose him. Although she barely had enough supplies for her journey, she concluded that remaining in Damenk any longer might prove fatal.
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