by Cynthia Sax
She’d been so certain she would cure her mother. All she had to do was find the right treatment and all would be well again. Everything would go back to normal.
“The knowledge didn’t matter.” She shook her head. “I didn’t have the proper machines to stop the spread of the disease.” Every planet rotation, the black mass got bigger and bigger, inflicting the most acute agony on its host, swallowing the parent she loved. “I watched my mother die, slowly, out of her mind due to pain inhibitors. If I had the right equipment, I could have cured her.”
Her barbarian rested his chin on top of her head. “You swore it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Except it did happen again.” She breathed deeply, using his scent to combat her recollections. “There were no machines on the battlefield. Sometimes there weren’t any pain inhibitors.” The screams haunted her. “The worst were the children, the babies caught in the crossfire. They were innocent, helpless.”
And they had looked to her to ease their suffering. They had trusted her to heal them. She could have done that if she’d had the devices, the supplies.
Requiring reassurance she’d never experience that feeling of futility again, she dipped her hands into her jacket pockets, curled her fingers around the mini-medic pack. It contained the basics, not much, but enough to perhaps save a lifespan.
“You’ll always have the machines you need.” Oghul’s words held the weight of a vow. “The Refuge will be our home.”
“Our home?” She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. “You belong on Chamele 2.”
“I belong with you, gerel.” His eyes gleamed.
She couldn’t ask him to leave his role. He loved being second-in-command, answering only to his Warlord. “Guarding the walls will bore you.”
“I won’t be guarding the walls.” His lips lifted slightly. “I’ll be guarding your medic bay.”
She blinked, surprised by that declaration. “I don’t need—”
“You do need protection.” He stopped her protests. “And your medics need it also. Some of your patients are violent. You have your gun, but having a warrior in the medic bay would add an extra layer of security.”
She would feel safer with him close to her. “You can’t spend your entire planet rotation in the medic bay. You have to rest.”
“I have to bond with you also.” He pushed his hips forward, pressing the bulge in his ass coverings against her.
Her face heated. “Yes. That is necessary.” She valued their private time.
“I will organize some of the warriors to assist me.” He grazed his fingertips along her cheek, leaving a trail of sensation on her skin. “I’ll guard the medic bay for a shift and train for a shift. We’ll spend the rest cycles together.”
He’d be in charge of the other warriors, have the command he craved. She studied him. “Would that be enough for you?”
“You’re enough for me.” He brushed his lips over her forehead.
He was doing this for her, for them, putting her role before his. Her chest warmed. “Will your Warlord agree to that?”
“I’ll communicate with him.” Her barbarian’s head lowered. “The decision would be best relayed face-to-face but…”
“Then you should relay it face-to-face.” She cupped his scarred countenance.
Oghul’s gaze met hers. “The voyage to Chamele 2 takes sixty-two planet rotations.”
They couldn’t be apart for that long. The need for each other’s touch would be unbearable.
She would have to make the trip with him, leave the Refuge, temporarily relinquish control over her medic bay and her patients. That prospect didn’t appeal to her.
But she owed him that effort. He was giving up his planet, his role, parting from the warriors he considered to be his brothers.
His sacrifice was permanent. Hers would be fleeting.
“The Refuge is our home?” She needed that assurance.
He nodded, the lights accentuating the blue in his black hair. “The Refuge is our home.”
Her lack of access to the machines and supplies she required to save lifespans would merely be temporary. They would be returning to the settlement.
“Then we’ll travel to Chamele 2.” Once she said the words, she knew it was the right decision. “And you’ll communicate with your Warlord face-to-face.”
Her barbarian stared at her. “You’d do that for me?”
“I have to accompany you.” She hid her emotions under her dry tone. “You require a medic at least once a planet rotation.”
“I require my medic three or four times a planet rotation, more if she’d allow it.” He squeezed her ass. “Can’t you feel how much I need my medic?”
The hard length of him prodded her stomach. Her desire spiraled upward and she bit back a moan. She wanted him too.
She couldn’t have him. “This is a respectable medic bay.” Some of her rules had to remain in place. “Keep your need to yourself.”
For some reason, that made him laugh. Which caused his leather-clad cock to rub against her. The male was driving her wild.
“Why are you here?” Her question came out sharper than she anticipated, her sexual frustration overwhelming her civility. “The shift isn’t complete and you don’t appear to be injured.”
“I’m not injured yet,” he murmured.
“What does that mean?” She straightened. “Do you plan on getting injured?” Who was her barbarian fighting now? “Don’t challenge Kralj. He’s all-knowing, all-powerful. You can’t defeat him and he’ll view your challenge as a form of disrespect and kill you.” The no-killing rule didn’t apply to the Ruler.
“Would that upset you?” Her barbarian grinned like a fool.
“Of course, it would upset me.” She shook her head. “I can’t heal you if you’re dead.”
“You care about me, gerel.” He chuckled. “Admit it.”
She did care about him.
“I’m not admitting anything.” She glared at him.
“Only an idiot would challenge Kralj.” Oghul tapped the tip of her nose and she blinked. “He requires warriors to fight enemies outside of his terrain. I’ve volunteered to lead my males into that battle.”
Her damn barbarian had volunteered to risk his lifespan and for what? Glory? Male pride? Her fear for him increased her anger. “You are an idiot. That isn’t your battle.”
“These enemies are threatening the Refuge. You live in the Refuge. It’s my battle.” His chin lifted. “Plus, it will be fun.”
“It will be fun for you and work for me,” she grumbled.
Gisella wanted to order him not to go, yearned to tell him that the self-healing, heavily enhanced, almost-unkillable modified humanoids could fight instead of him. Most of them didn’t have mates, or gerels, as the Chameles called them.
But Oghul was a warrior. She covered her concerns with a glower.
That was his place in the universe. He hadn’t asked her to leave her role. She couldn’t ask him to leave his.
Fuck. She hated that.
“When is this battle happening?” How long did she have to prepare for it?
“We’re fighting this shift.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “They’re likely waiting for me.”
Once he left, she would be waiting for him…as her mother had waited for her father.
“How long will it last?” Would she be spending endless rest cycles alone, staring up at the stars, wondering where he was, if he was alive, safe?
“It won’t last long.” He wrinkled his nose. “The enemy is human and they are incompetent.”
“You’re fighting the Humanoid Alliance?” Her stomach twisted into knots.
He nodded.
“They aren’t incompetent, you big barbarian.” She punched him in the chest as hard as she could.
That hurt her. It didn’t injure him. He didn’t even flinch, his muscles hard as rock against her leather-clad knuckles.
“Those humans conquered most of the univ
erse, killed countless beings, countless warriors.” She hit her warrior again. “Don’t underestimate them.”
He caught her wrists. “Be still, gerel.”
She pulled on her hands.
He didn’t release her. “I said, be still.” He shook her, his fingers like metal bands around her skin, the power in his hold and the command in his voice turning her on. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Says the male determined to kill himself.” She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see her emotions.
He blew out his breath. “I would never underestimate my enemy. That’s how warriors die.”
He pulled her arms behind her back, surrounding her with his form. A calmness enshrouded her. His warmth engulfed her. His scent filled her nostrils. His chest rose and fell against her breasts, a gentle steady caress.
“Stay in the medic bay until I return.” His gaze locked with hers. “And I will return. I’m not dying this planet rotation.”
“I wouldn’t allow that,” she muttered.
“Yes, you wouldn’t allow that.” He dipped his head, sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, the tug of that flesh felt down to her pussy.
She opened to him. How could she deny him? This could be their last kiss, their last embrace. Damn him.
He stroked into her. She curled her tongue around his, trying to hold onto him. He tasted good, like determination and strength, and she wanted to believe in him, believe he could keep his vow by sheer force of will.
She had lived too long, seen too much to do that. He could die in this battle. The next time she saw his gorgeous body, it could be battered and lifeless, covered with gaping wounds, not merely old scars.
He kissed her until her head spun and her flesh throbbed. When he pulled away from her, a plea almost escaped her lips. She ruthlessly quashed it.
Viewing the battle as his gerel wouldn’t increase his chances of survival. She had to evaluate the situation as a medic would. “I’m not staying here.”
Every stride between her barbarian and a medic could make a difference between him living or dying. She had to situate herself as close to him as possible.
“I’m coming with you.” She lifted her chin. “Once the fighting is done, the healing will begin.”
He frowned. “It’s dangerous.”
“It’ll only be dangerous for me if you lose the battle.” She met his gaze. “Defeat the enemy and don’t die.”
She would give her warrior one more reason to stay alive.
Chapter Ten
Many Chamele females had participated in the succession wars. Oghul had fought beside them, faced them in combat. He was accustomed to seeing females on the front lines.
But they were warriors, trained to kill. They weren’t medics, trained to heal.
And they weren’t his brave selfless gerel. Gisella had placed herself in danger to save the Palavian, a stranger. She’d take greater risks if he was in peril.
He couldn’t make any mistakes in this skirmish, couldn’t give her a reason to storm onto the battlefield, armed with her medic pack and tiny gun.
His shoulders shuddered. The mere possibility of that happening horrified him.
“I’ll defeat the enemy.” He couldn’t assure her he wouldn’t die. If the choice was saving his gerel or saving himself, he’d trade his life for hers with no hesitation. She was his to protect.
“You do that, barbarian.” She balanced on her tiptoes and kissed the scar on his chin.
That show of affection from his constantly-concerned-with-professionalism female surprised him. He froze, intrigued, wondering what she’d do next.
That delay was a tactical error. She escaped him, sweeping out of the chamber, prompting him to jog to catch up with her.
His little medic stormed along the corridors, an unstoppable force he didn’t seek to slow down. He was dragged along in her wake as she barked at other medics, forming a response team, gathering the items they would need.
Those beings obeyed her without hesitation, running to complete the tasks she’d assigned them. Not one medic questioned her. His gerel’s word was law.
She was a badass. Oghul’s lips curled upward.
“Follow me,” she told her team. “And I’ll follow you.” She gazed up at him, expecting him to lead them.
“You’ll walk by my side.” That was where she belonged. He grasped the large medic pack she’d stocked with supplies.
She did the same. At first, he thought his independent female was going to insist she could carry it herself, but she curved her fingers around his and said nothing.
He glanced at her. Her face was enchantingly pink.
He had a clever gerel. Others would believe they were sharing the load. In reality, she was holding his hand.
She caressed his skin as they walked, drifting her thumb over his, moving it back and forth, back and forth. Every part of him, including his unruly cock, was conscious of her touch, her scent, her breath. He matched his stride to hers, stood close to his gerel during the transport to the rendezvous point.
They didn’t speak. Words were unnecessary, the connection between them communicating their need for each other, the growing caring his female wouldn’t openly acknowledge.
It was a promise of happiness beyond any he’d experienced. He would sacrifice his role and everything he’d built on Chamele 2 for a chance to obtain it.
And it was a sacrifice. His males were waiting for him when they arrived. Their eyes widened as they spotted his gerel.
Zondoo. He would miss them. Ariq had been his friend since the first planet rotation they’d held swords. Yesun, the youth, was so similar to Hulagu he’d instantly earned a special place in Oghul’s heart.
Every male was like a brother to him.
He would build relationships with other warriors, would have his gerel and Hulagu. Perhaps in the future, he and Gisella would produce offspring.
Those offspring wouldn’t benefit from the Chamele he’d fought long and hard to obtain, the vision the Warlords had rallied him and his males around. Instead, his and Gisella’s sons and daughters would carve out a place in the modified humanoids’ settlement.
He’d ensure they never forgot they were Chameles. His jaw jutted. They would have the pride of knowing their ancestors were fierce warriors.
“Your gerel has accompanied you.” Ariq reached him first, his voice lowering to exclude the others from the exchange. “Are you sure that’s wise, Second? Only trained warriors belong on the battlefield.”
“I’ve seen more battlefields than most warriors.” Gisella narrowed her eyes at his friend.
Ariq’s eyebrows raised. “Has she healed on the battlefield?” He looked at Oghul.
“If she says she has, she has.” He shrugged. His medic was brutally honest.
Her lips flattened. “I have reattached limbs with missiles flying over my head, stuffed intestines back into a warrior so he could kill one more enemy, patched projectile wounds while dodging hostile fire.”
The rest of his males had arrived. They stared at her.
“She’s a warrior,” Yesun whispered, his eyes wide with awe.
“She’s a medic.” Oghul’s concern over his gerel’s participation escalated. “And she won’t be healing while we’re fighting.”
Her gaze shifted to him. “I will do what I deem to be necessary.”
“Healing during the battle isn’t necessary.” He drew himself up to his full height, prepared to tie her up to prevent that.
She gazed at him for a moment. He didn’t back down, didn’t look away.
“In this situation, it isn’t necessary.” She finally admitted that truth. “My team and I will remain on Kralj’s terrain while you fight.” The Ruler had erected a protective wall of sand along his border, the barrier blocking their adversaries. “Once the battle is over, we’ll heal the survivors.”
“You’ll be safe, Lead Medic.” Yesun puffed out his chest. “I’ll protect you with my lifespan.”
&
nbsp; “I will protect her with my lifespan.” Oghul frowned. That was his role.
“No one will be risking their lifespans for me.” Gisella rolled her eyes. “Focus on defeating the enemy. I can protect myself.” She extracted her gun from her pocket.
The other males flinched.
Yesun gazed at her with open admiration.
He had been zapped by that gun, had felt the pain it inflicted. Another warrior would have been wary of it and of the female holding the weapon.
Instead, the youth viewed Gisella as some sort of deity. It both irked and amused Oghul. He wanted his males to like his gerel, but not too much.
“We’re positioning for battle.” Hulagu swaggered toward them, a grin on his unmarked face.
Ariq glanced at Oghul. His concern was shared. Hulagu was young and even more inexperienced than Yesun. He hadn’t fought in the succession wars.
“You’ll fight next to me, brother.” Oghul would safeguard him. “Give me a moment with the lead medic.”
The grins spread amongst the warriors. They wandered a few strides closer to the wall of sand, their backs to him and his gerel.
“No head bashing.” She clucked her tongue. “Brains are difficult to heal.” She paused. “And avoid blows to the heart. That—”
“This isn’t my first battle.” He set down the medic pack, her concern for him warming his chest. “I trust you to heal me. Trust me to protect you.”
She opened her mouth, protest reflecting in her eyes.
“A warrior doesn’t fight to kill.” He met her gaze. “He fights to protect.”
She squeezed his hand and released him. “Try not to injure yourself.” She pulled on her hand coverings, her tone brusque. “I’ll be safe here. Concentrate on the battle.”
He hesitated, not wanting to leave her. The thrill of the fight wasn’t drawing him as it usually did. “Gerel.”
She glanced at the medics setting up around them, stepped closer to him. “Triumphant warriors deserve rewards,” she murmured. Those words were meant for him alone. “You can name yours.”
She was offering him anything he wanted. His mind spun. The possibilities were endless and all of them involved her.
He envisioned his cock in her pussy, mouth, between her breasts. That part of him hardened even more. “I’ll be claiming my reward this planet rotation.”