by Celia Kyle
Based on the growl in the warrior’s voice, she didn’t think assisting was exactly what he meant. She took a step closer and dropped her voice. She couldn’t help that Preor had superior hearing, but she’d try to speak as quietly as possible. The entire floor didn’t need to know everything. “Triem, they shouldn’t hurt him. He…” Called her shaa kava and then left to go search for his mate. “We’re both adults. What we choose to do together is our own business. It doesn’t concern—”
“Not concern?” A flutter of pale blue replaced the hint of pink, scales flowing over his skin. He closed the distance between them, dropping his voice low as well, though she didn’t think it was so they wouldn’t be overheard. It was a harsh whisper, the Preor version of yelling at a female. “Elle, you are family to Defense Master Zadri. You are a friend of Preor. In the eyes of every male, you are a Preor female. To treat you in such a way—”
He broke off, spitting out something in Preor that she couldn’t translate, but she got the gist.
“Triem, it’s fine.” The muscles in her cheeks ached, and it took everything in her to keep the smile in place. “Humans have passing affairs. They can come together for a physical release and move on.” She never had, but she’d overheard enough conversations at Daven Bio. Her smile slipped, and she turned it into a rueful grin. As long as she didn’t grimace, she was fine. “I’m just embarrassed that you walked in on us like that. Our species,” —some anyway— “is shy about our bodies.”
Triem shook his head, more blue coming into sight. It slipped down his neck and across his shoulders before traveling the length of his arms. “No, he used words only meant for Preor females. Females who are familiar with our ways. Shaa kava is not for your kind.”
The pain struck deep and Elle jerked back, her whole body aching as if she’d been slapped. No, that wasn’t enough. As if she’d been beaten. As if the large Preor had hit her with his closed fist.
Air escaped her lungs, gusting out in a raspy breath, and the urge to curl in on herself nearly overwhelmed her. It nearly had her dropping to her knees and curling into a ball and…
Not for her kind.
Charlie’s reaction to her agony was immediate, his small claws grasping her clothing and repositioning himself on her body. They’d been together so long that she hardly even noticed when he changed position anymore.
She did, however, recognize every nuance of the sounds he made. Including the one that signaled his thirst for death. Because she hurt.
Triem wasn’t to blame, though. It was her own fault—her mistake that she’d believed in something that didn’t exist.
“Shhh… Charlie, it’s fine. Hush.” She unhooked him from her shirt, his back legs on her shoulder and his front clinging to the neckline of her top, poised to attack and more than ready to take on a massive Preor. “Calm down. Hush.” She lifted him to eye level. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t, and he knew it as well as she did.
Elle pulled Charlie close, tucking him against her neck beneath her chin and closed her eyes. His grumbling wasn’t audible, but the deep rumbles traveled through her, the small vibrations dancing along her nerves. “It’s fine, Charlie. Ready for work?” She tipped her head down and moved him slightly away from her until she could drop a kiss on his furred head. “Huh?”
The quasti glanced over his shoulder and glared at Triem—Triem who valiantly stood his ground even though she could practically taste his fear of Charlie.
“Elle… I simply meant—”
She waved him off. She was done with conversation for the morning. She just wanted to dive into her work and lose herself in a sea of financial reports, purchase orders, and employee complaints. She’d even take a death threat or two. Anything to keep her from thinking about Triem’s words and Ivoth’s actions.
Hard thumps reached them, the sound of the others joining their small trio and quieting whatever Triem “simply” meant.
She pulled her “professional” smile back in place and turned her attention to the newcomers—Argan and Brukr. “Are we ready to go?”
She wasn’t going to address Radoo’s and Ivoth’s absences.
Argan narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, his scarred gaze searching hers as if she held some sort of secret. One second stretched into two, and by the third she found herself feeling the need to squirm beneath his hard stare. She was frozen beneath his scowl, and she waited to see what he’d have to say about the subject. She held her breath and waited for his questions—or comments, but he stayed silent and merely switched that glower to Triem.
“You have harmed her further,” Argan accused.
Triem’s eyes widened until the whites showed. He backed away from Argan and pointed at himself. “I? I did not lay a scale or claw on her.”
“Yet you injured her.” A puff of smoke floated from Argan’s nose.
“How did Triem injure you?” Brukr snatched her concentration from Argan and Triem.
“What?” Her smile slipped and she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“No.” The blue-gray warrior shook his head. “He has injured you further. What did he do, so that we may punish him appropriately?” Brukr sighed and she figured punishing the young Triem was something they did often. “I do not see new wounds on your body. Is it a heart hurt?” He scanned her from head to foot and then jerked his head in a sharp nod before turning to Argan and Triem. “It is a heart hurt, Argan. Beyond Ivoth’s hurt. We shall take them both to the training platform and drop them—”
Argan paused and turned to nod at Brukr. “Radoo is in transit with Ivoth. He can wait and take Triem at the same time.”
“Excellent.” Suddenly she had Brukr’s attention again. “We shall—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand, trying to silence Brukr.
“—proceed to—” He was one tenacious warrior.
“I mean it. No one is—”
“—your office.” Definitely determined.
“—getting dropped off the training platform.”
And Brukr was still going. “Delaney joi Zadri indicated she would be delayed—”
“I said stop.” She wasn’t sure how loud she yelled the words, but Charlie made sure they were heard. In his own way, of course. He let out a roar, one that rivaled any full-grown Preor’s, and it had the males freezing in place. As one, they focused on her, each male in various stages of shift—wings fluttered, eyes bled yellow and red, and chests broadened.
Elle swallowed hard and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly while she fought for calm. “As I was saying…” She repeated the movement, drawing in air and exhaling while counting to ten. “Triem did not hurt me—heart or otherwise. He just told me a few hard truths, and I thank him for that.” She tipped her head at a restrained Triem— restrained by Argan’s forearm pressed against the male’s throat. “As for Ivoth, I’m an adult. What I do—or don’t do—is at my own discretion. Your intervention is not necessary.”
That earned her three dragon-fueled glares, but she ignored them. If she didn’t address it, it didn’t exist. When her father taught her that saying, it had more to do with ignoring “lesser” people. Elle let the sentiment have a broader application.
She straightened her spine, shoulders back and neck elongated. She was the picture of grace and feigned serenity with an edge of Earth’s strongest steel. Unbreakable perfection. That was what her father demanded, and that was what she now portrayed. “Now, if we’re done here, I’d like to go to work.”
Unfortunately, unbreakable perfection shattered with a handful of words from Argan. “Healing Master Chashan needs to inspect your injuries.”
Elle flicked her attention to her hand and gulped.
He wanted to inspect her injuries.
Injuries that didn’t exist.
Didn’t exist because they were fully healed.
And she didn’t know why, because it wasn’t Charlie’s doing. No way. Charlie wouldn’t have been able to heal Ivoth if he’d c
ared for her during the night.
Elle should be overjoyed and yet… Yet a pit of dread settled in her stomach.
She dug to the depths of her soul and put on the performance of her life. Complete with a wide smile, bright eyes, and bouncy voice. “I don’t think we need to bother Chashan…”
“We do.” They spoke together, the same tone and determination in each of their voices.
They did.
She didn’t.
Just her luck, they won.
13
Nothing she said got her out of going to the makeshift medical setup in one of the condos on the first floor of Preor Tower. At some point, medical had been housed in that same space before it’d been relocated. And, according to Brukr, it was no trouble to relocate a medical platform to the tower for her.
They literally relocated an entire ryaapir unit to Preor Tower. For her. She mentally shook her head. In one breath Triem told her there were things not meant for her kind, and in the next, they moved a delicate healing device because it was too dangerous for her to leave the building. At least until the shooter was found. She didn’t want to think about what the Preor would do to a prisoner who’d injured one of their own.
She should think about what she was going to tell Chashan. She lifted her hand to her forehead, the scrape from the previous day completely gone. Not even a hint of redness remained, the skin smooth as if she’d never been struck by a piece of debris.
As for her other hand… She stared down at the pristine palm and curled her fingers to form a fist before relaxing her hand once more. No hint of the burns that’d caused so much pain. No blisters. No peeling skin. The flesh wasn’t tender to the touch, and the nerves weren’t so sensitive that the slightest brush sent agony down her spine.
Healed. She shook her head, still unable to explain what happened.
Claws grasped the hem of her shirt, and then a soft weight tugged on the cloth—Charlie climbing up her back and not stopping until he perched on her shoulder. G-oo-d.
Elle chuckled. “Some might think so.”
She didn’t.
Charlie climbed down her front, nails catching fabric to slow his hop to her lap. He sat on her left forearm and then hopped to the right, finishing his travels to her not-so-damaged hand. He sniffed—his nose tickling her skin and whiskers teasing her bare palm. That was followed by one scratch of his paw on her flesh—just a gentle brush at first. The second was stronger, a scrape that didn’t break skin but would leave lines of red behind. Then he crawled further onto her hand and… jumped up and down on the center of her palm.
G-oo-d. He even let out a happy little squeak that had her giving him a smile. A real one. One that she didn’t share with too many people.
He stopped and tilted his head to the side, those dark, all-too-knowing eyes focused on her. M-oor peeple now.
“Yes.” She sighed and lifted her arm, bringing him close so he could climb back to her shoulder. “More people now.”
But not Ivoth ever again. It hurt too much.
A hard knock, knuckles rapping against metal, had her looking at the small room’s entry, and then Healing Master Chashan strode through the door, his mate right behind him.
“Shaa kouvi, you are supposed to wait until she grants entrance. What if she had disrobed?” Khaza’s sparkling eyes met Elle’s for a moment before returning a loving gaze to the Healing Master.
“Why would she disrobe?” He frowned and then met her stare. “You do not look like you disrobed.” That was followed by a disgruntled grunt aimed at his mate. “She did not disrobe. Waiting is unnecessary when a female requires medical care.”
Khaza tilted her head back and sighed in a universal sign of female frustration.
“It’s fine.” Elle waved the Healing Master’s words away. Though, if he continued arguing with his mate, maybe he wouldn’t realize that—
“You are healed.” His voice held a combination of accusation and hurt. “You sought another healer?” He straightened, shoulders back and chin raised while his wings slightly rustled. “I am second only to Healing Master Whelon, and he resides on the ship. None other on Earth can challenge my abilities. You stated your ree-lig-on did not allow for full healing. That is the only reason I allowed you to depart with only minimal repair to your hand.” He narrowed his eyes. “Yet here you are fully healed.”
“Chashan, shaa kouvi,” Khaza murmured, her small hand gently resting on Chashan’s tense forearm. “You should ask questions. Not accuse.”
“She is fully healed!” He waved a hand in Elle’s general direction. “As was Ivoth! They sought another healer, and I am—”
Oh, this she understood. A male’s damaged pride could drive him to say many stupid things.
“Healing Master Chashan? I’m not sure how much you know about quastis, but…” She glanced at Charlie. “Is it okay?”
He whipped his tail back and forth, nailing her in the face more than once, but she didn’t fuss at him. She was asking to share more about her friend than many knew.
F-ine.
“The quasti are able to heal others. They call it a song, and—for those they find worthy—they’ll sing a healing song.” She rubbed her cheek on Charlie’s soft fur. “He did that for Ivoth last night.”
Him un-wor-thee.
Yeah, Elle was feeling that way at the moment, too.
“And you?” Chashan pulled away from Khaza and crossed his arms over his chest. “The quasti sang for you as well? His method of healing is acceptable while mine is not?”
“Uhhh…” She swallowed hard, waging a battle with herself in her mind. Say something? Say nothing? Say…
It wasn’t like there was much to say, though. Human doctors had never figured out what was wrong with her.
No-theeng r-ong.
It was nice to think so, but Elle knew the truth.
“It’s not something I talk about, and it’s not something I want shared.” It was a personal failing. She didn’t need everyone to know of her weakness. “Do Preor healers make a vow to keep a patient’s records private? You won’t tell anyone about what we discuss or my health?”
Chashan slowly nodded, his anger sliding to confusion. “Yes, we have our own vows, but Khaza and I took those of Earth, as well. We would never break such a sacred bond.”
Right. She took a deep breath and released it in a gusty exhale. “No one knows why or what caused the problem, but your ryaapir units and human med beds don’t work on me. From what I’ve been told, it’s been that way since I was a baby.”
Hard fix young cha. Charlie patted her cheek.
“But the ryaapir removed the redness before you demanded I cease.” A deep crease formed between Chashan’s eyes.
“Yes, different devices work to a point, but nothing has ever been able to heal me fully.” She tipped her head to the side, giving small Charlie some of her weight.
“Except the quasti.” The Healing Master pointed at her furry friend.
She straightened and nodded. “Except him.”
“And you have been tested to discover the source of this anomaly?”
Anomaly. A nice way to say deficiency. At least that was what William called it—a deficiency, a failing, a weakness that could never be revealed because it could affect Daven Bio’s worth to investors.
“Yes.” Many times, and she hoped he didn’t ask her to recount each one. Each poke and prod. Each drop of blood that’d been pulled from her veins or extracted from her marrow. Or biopsy after biopsy, even though she didn’t have scars to prove the ordeal.
Make young cha b-e-ter. A nudge of his nose was followed by a wave of worry and caring.
“By human healers only? The Preor have human centuries of research and studies to preserve and maintain the lives of our females. We have a great deal of knowledge.”
His heart was in the right place, but she couldn’t bring herself to hope. She’d spent thirty years this way, and she expected she’d spend the rest of her life the same way.
“Humans, the Araimi,” where she and Charlie had first encountered nanites when one of their shields failed. “Tantala…” She’d gotten the Tantalakian flu there and it’d nearly killed her.
“And none…”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I would like a sample of your genetic material for testing. The ryaapir was able to remove the redness. Perhaps with a few modifications—”
She was shaking her head before he even finished and cut him off as quickly as she could. “No. I won’t…” A knot formed in her throat and she swallowed it down, refusing to allow emotions to silence her. “No, I won’t go through a bunch of testing again. It’s done.” She sliced her hand through the air, punctuating her statement. “I’ve accepted and adapted to my limitations.”
“We should at least explore the reason for your spontaneous healing.” He strode to a nearby tray and grabbed a hypo. “Perhaps a genetic mutation has occurred. We should monitor—”
“No.”
Chashan stopped short and narrowed his eyes. “It is necessary.”
“It isn’t.”
Young cha. Charlie clicked his teeth, and she turned her glare on him.
“Don’t ‘young cha’ me. You know…” Those old emotions surged, and she closed her eyes, pushing back the moisture that threatened to overwhelm her. “You know, Charlie.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You know.”
The fear.
The pain.
The cries for her father.
The cries her father ignored.
But Charlie had always been there. Always.
“Elle.” The gentle voice was immediately followed by a wave of calm, and she opened her eyes to find Khaza standing in front of her. “The choice is always yours—”
“Khaza—” Chashan tried to interrupt, but the female snapped at her mate.
“Always. It is a human’s choice, but beyond, it is a female’s choice.” Delicate hands grasped hers. “Know that the Preor wish only to help, not harm.”
So many others had wanted to help, too.
Hurt to help, and she refused to hurt again.
