Dark Cure

by Cynthia Sax

  “See that you do that.” She flashed him a smile.

  Those lips would be pressed against his by sunset. “Stay here, gerel.” He turned and strode toward his males, his heart filled with determination.

  Ships hovered above his head. They would have air coverage. Those missiles should take out the heavy artillery.

  Oghul drew his guns, the weight of them feeling right in his hands. His warriors did the same, following his lead.

  “My gerel is waiting for me in the Refuge.” Hulagu walked beside him, kicking up sand with each step.

  His brother’s gerel would never appear on the battlefield. There were too many males present. “You can focus on defeating the enemy.”

  His brother couldn’t afford to split his attention between fighting and his gerel. Hulagu lacked experience, was rash, reckless.

  “We’re fighting together.” The male shook with excitement. “You’ll see my skills before you leave.”

  Hulagu didn’t yet know his older brother would be returning to the Refuge. Oghul wanted to tell their Warlord first. Their leader had earned that display of respect.

  “I saw your skills in the ring.” He had fought Hulagu in several mock battles. His brother had improved but had much more to master. “Stay alive.” He didn’t want his brother to show off, take unnecessary risks. “Your gerel needs you.”

  When Chamele males die, their gerels often perished also. That was how tight their connection was.

  Gisella might survive his passing. Oghul tilted his head. Their bond was new. Hulagu had been with his gerel longer.

  He would ensure his younger brother lived, wouldn’t leave his side until the fighting was over. No one would grieve a Chamele loss this planet rotation.

  They approached the wall of sand.

  Dare, the silver-scaled Dracheon warrior, was leading the assault. Oghul, desiring to be in the midst of the action, claimed the spot to his right. Hulagu stood on his other side. Ariq, Oghul’s best warrior, took the third position at the front. His friend would keep his gaze on Hulagu also.

  The rest of the Chameles positioned themselves behind them. Oghul looked over his shoulder and met Qulpa’s gaze. The older male nodded, moved nearer to Yesun.

  The youth was more experienced than Oghul’s brother but still made mistakes. Qulpa would ensure he didn’t die from one of those errors.

  Kralj was coordinating the Refuge forces from the settlement, using all of their observations to make his decisions. That a being was poking around his brain, seeing what he saw, hearing what he heard, unsettled Oghul. He’d have to grow accustomed to the experience, however, as he was staying on the planet.

  Attack. Kralj pushed that thought into his mind. The wall of sand fell. Oghul ran forward, shooting before he spotted the enemy.

  Zondoo. The modified humanoids were fast. He had to move at top speed to keep pace with them. And they were as skilled as he was. They bombarded the unprepared Humanoid Alliance males with projectiles, downing some of them before they could draw their weapons.

  A projectile skimmed Oghul’s right arm, leaving a trail of pain. He returned fire, hit the human between the eyes. The male fell, his arms and legs gyrating.

  Oghul twisted his body to avoid another projectile, shot that human in the left eyeball, blowing out the back of his skull. His opponent toppled, blood spraying on the white sand.

  As they fought, his brother’s shots became wilder and wilder. Sweat dripped down Hulagu’s face. A projectile clipped his side.

  “Son of a Gechii.” He dropped one of his guns.

  “Retrieve it.” Oghul shifted to the right, protecting his brother with his body. “I’ll cover you.” He shot another enemy male.

  The other Chameles repositioned to absorb the gap in their line. Hulagu scooped up the fallen gun. They forged forward once more.

  A projectile grazed Oghul’s cheek, leaving a painful groove in his skin. He shot that male and two others.

  His gerel had been correct. The humans weren’t incompetent. On their own, they had adequate skills.

  Fighting as a unit, however, they were a disaster. They resembled a newly formed force, leaving holes in their defenses, not covering each other’s backs.

  With the exception of Hulagu and Yesun, Oghul and his males had fought together for solar cycles. He knew what the warriors would do before they acted and they could predict his actions as easily.

  He’d miss that, miss them. This last battle with them was bittersweet.

  A missile sailed over his head, the whine serving as a warning. He knocked his brother to the ground. They rolled.

  Oghul gritted his teeth as heat rushed along his form. The hurt was bearable. They were buried deep enough in the sand.

  Once the initial impact of the explosion passed, he jumped to his booted feet and pulled Hulagu upright. His brother’s lips moved. Oghul heard nothing, his ears ringing.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a streak of silver. Dare was attacking the Humanoid Alliance commander, his full focus on his opponent.

  The Dracheon would need coverage.

  Oghul motioned to his warriors. They repositioned around their leader for this mission, shooting anyone who targeted him.

  The gray-haired human must have realized he was in peril. “Males.” His voice cut through the commotion. “Protect your commander.”

  “They’ll have to get past us.” Hulagu yelled at the human.

  Modified humanoids joined Oghul and the other Chameles. They stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle surrounding Dare and the commander, their backs to the two males.

  The humans drew blades and rushed them. Oghul holstered his guns and extended his claws. Fighting with his natural weapons pleased the barbarian in him.

  He swiped his claws across the first human’s neck, decapitating him. The male’s head landed on the sand. His body fell, leaving a barrier for the next human to navigate.

  As the corpses stacked up in front of Oghul, the kills became easier and easier. Blood dripped over his hands, down his arms. His chest was painted crimson.

  His back heated. He turned slightly, glancing behind him.

  Fire flowed from Dare’s open mouth. The Dracheon burned the Humanoid Alliance commander to ash.

  “Son of a Gechii.” Oghul stared at him, awed and envious of that ability. “Remind me never to make you angry, Dracheon.”

  The other Refuge warriors laughed while the remaining Humanoid Alliance males retreated, running into the sand dunes.

  Ariq looked at him. Oghul retracted his claws and nodded, giving them permission to finish the enemy. The males whooped, chasing after the humans.

  The battle was over. He’d enjoyed it.

  “I’ll return to Carinae E soon.” Oghul bumped his shoulders against Hulagu’s, owing him that forewarning. “This was fun.”

  His brother grinned and said nothing. That was unlike him. He was normally talkative.

  But warriors often acted out of character after a battle. Oghul would give him time to recover before discussing his return again.

  In this moment, he had other priorities. He looked backward, spotted a white jacket, and his spine straightened.

  His gerel was picking her way through the dead bodies, her beautiful face set with determination, a huge medic pack slung over her right shoulder.

  Was she searching for him?

  He cuffed Hulagu on the back as he passed him. “I have to go.” Not waiting for his brother’s response, he strode toward Gisella.

  Zondoo. She was sexy, all strength and purpose as she approached him. His cock pressed against his ass coverings. His body hummed with anticipation.

  She finally spotted him. Her gaze met his and her eyes lit up.

  His gerel dropped her medic pack and ran. He increased his pace, jumping over corpses and debris, needing to reach her, touch her, confirm she was safe.

  She tripped over a severed arm, fell forward. He caught her before she landed on the sand and lifted her hig
h against him.

  She grasped his face, her leather-clad fingers splaying over his cheeks, and kissed him, hard, her lips smacking against his. He opened to her. Their tongues entwined, flesh gliding over flesh.

  His little medic tasted good, like herbs and herself, fresh, feminine, unique. Her hands drifted over him as though she was searching for wounds. Healing was an integral part of her, a natural response for his gerel.

  He reveled in those light touches, in the physical manifestation of her caring. Her musk swirled around him, teasing his cock.

  He reluctantly broke the kiss before they progressed too far to stop. “Others can see us.”

  “We’re in the open.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, they can see us.”

  She’d known that when she embraced him, had discarded her no-touching rule for him. His gerel had publicly claimed him. His chest warmed. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

  “I’m counting on that.” She scanned his form, her gaze lowering to his right arm. “You require healing.” She slapped his chest. “Put me down.”

  He complied with her order. She gripped one of his hands and they retrieved the medic pack together.

  Beings on her team searched through the bodies for the injured. They glanced at Oghul and his gerel’s linked fingers and their lips lifted into knowing smiles.

  “You were triumphant in battle, barbarian.” Gisella told him as she closed the wound on his arm, her fingers dancing over his skin.

  “Was that kiss my reward?” He never would have requested an embrace in the open from his extremely private human. That was beyond any of his expectations.

  His gerel’s face turned an adorable shade of pink. “That kiss was for me.” She traced the groove on his cheek with the muzzle of the sealant applicator. “The battle was bad. I thought…” She gulped air, her hands shaking.

  Those tremors weren’t due to lack of physical contact with him. His brave little human had been afraid for him.

  Oghul covered her fingers with his, steadying her hold on the medical equipment, preventing her from sealing parts of him neither of them wanted sealed.

  “I didn’t die.” His tone was gentle.

  She blew out her breath. “You didn’t die.” She perused him once more. “But you’re wounded. You’re covered with blood.”

  “Most of it isn’t mine.” He directed her hands to another slash in his skin.

  She closed it. “I—”

  “I have some wounds also.” Yesun stood beside Oghul.

  “Those wounds will heal.” Ariq appeared. The other Chameles were positioned behind him.

  The youth frowned. “They’ll heal faster if Lead Medic treats them.”

  “Second was injured the same planet rotation I was.” Qulpa joined the conversation. “Look at his shoulder. His wounds are healed. Mine aren’t.”

  The warriors around them nodded.

  “I use Velorum syrup.” Oghul’s gerel didn’t glance up from her task. “It accelerates healing, giving my patients an advantage over warriors who don’t have their wounds treated.”

  The males rumbled, not liking that implication. Everyone on his team was very competitive. They had to be. The slimmest edge over an opponent could mean the difference between living or dying.

  “Did you hear that?” Yesun grinned. “I’ll have an advantage over you. I’m going to kick your asses during the next training session.”

  “You won’t kick my ass.” Ariq stepped forward. “I’m having my wounds treated by Lead Medic also.”

  The other males echoed that declaration. All of them were eager to have his little human medic heal them.

  Oghul gazed at her with pride. Other Chameles might never allow his gerel to heal them but his warriors had accepted her as their medic.

  She was now one of them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Her mother had given up her dreams for a male. Gisella had promised herself she’d never do the same thing. She’d never walk away from healing to make someone else happy.

  But when she watched Oghul run into battle, guns in both of his big hands, projectiles zinging around his scarred face, she would have happily traded her white medic jacket for a guarantee he’d return to her alive.

  She would have bartered that away with no hesitation.

  Even now, she resented having to heal his warriors. That was a task she had previously lived for, what she had considered to be her purpose in the universe.

  Yet all she wanted was to be with her male, touch him, kiss him, reassure herself he was alive, healthy. He was her entire focus.

  Fuck. That wasn’t good.

  She scowled as she sealed a wound on Ariq’s upper thigh. Oghul’s chest brushed against her back, that contact calming her.

  Her barbarian joked with his males, communicating in abbreviated sentences and random hand gestures they all seemed to understand. One word, one look caused them to laugh.

  Hulagu was genetically his brother. The younger Chamele was remaining on Carinae E. Her barbarian would have family on the planet. He wouldn’t be alone.

  But he would be parted from his males, the brothers of his heart. Guilt jabbed into her. And he wouldn’t be living on his beloved Chamele 2. His face lit up with every mention of his home planet.

  “Are there any other wounds?” She stepped backward, away from Ariq, which pushed her body deeper into Oghul’s muscular form.

  The males shook their heads and prodded their treated injuries with their fingertips. They had refused gauze…likely for that reason. Her lips twisted. It wasn’t sanitary, but once a patient left her care, she had no control over him.

  “Are we healing more warriors?” her barbarian asked.

  She liked that he viewed them as one unit. “The enemy is dead.” The Refuge warriors hadn’t left one of them alive.

  “We won’t have to fight them again.” Yesun, the gangly youngest member of Oghul’s team, grinned.

  The warrior had chattered continuously as she healed him, telling her about the beings he’d killed, sharing his less than raving reviews of the nourishment bars most Refuge residents consumed, and outlining the many, many misunderstandings he’d had with other species, some of his misadventures making him laugh.

  It was impossible not to like him, and she understood now why the other males had come to his defense when they first met. She was already protective of the youth and she’d known him for a much shorter duration.

  “The modified humanoids self-heal.” She explained that fact to the Chameles. The genetically engineered warriors didn’t require medics. “My team can treat the others.”

  They would gain battlefield experience. That might benefit them later in their lifespans.

  Having seen more fighting than most medics, she didn’t require any additional practice treating wartime wounds. She’d done it all.

  Gisella wanted to do something…someone else now. She gazed up at Oghul. “I’m no longer needed.”

  “I disagree, gerel.” He hefted her upward, slinging her over his shoulder. She squeaked. He strapped one of his arms around her thrashing legs. “You’re needed.”

  His males whooped.

  Her face heated from embarrassment. Her pussy grew wet, desire swirling inside her.

  “Put me down.” She slapped his back, avoiding his injuries. Her protest was half-hearted, his dominant actions thrilling her.

  “I’ll put you down once we reach our private chambers.” He walked with her through the battlefield, stepping over dead bodies and pieces of downed ships. “Until then, you’re mine.”

  She removed her hand coverings, placed them in her pocket, spread her fingers over his bare skin. “You don’t own me.”

  That was a lie. He did own her. She belonged to him in all of the ways a female could belong to a male.

  “You own me.” His stride leveled as they entered Kralj’s terrain. “During the succession wars, I fought for my planet, for my brothers, for my Warlord. This planet rotation, I fough
t for you, to keep you safe, to earn my place in your world.”

  The thought of someone killing for her shouldn’t titillate her. She was a medic. Yet it did. Her nipples had tightened.

  “You earned your place with me the instant we met.” She made that confession.

  He had protected her from his own males, warriors he liked, beings he cared for. From that moment, she might not have accepted it yet, but she had been his.

  “And this isn’t my world.” She had no emotional attachment to their current location. “It’s where I’m located now.”

  She’d lived in the Refuge for only five solar cycles, liked many of the beings within the settlement, yet had no ties to the planet itself. It was the medic bay, the equipment and supplies within it, that kept her on Carinae E.

  Oghul, in contrast, had lived on Chamele 2 his entire lifespan, loved his planet with a passion that lit up his eyes and made his face glow. His attachment to his home was very real. It was his world.

  She was forcing him to give that up. Guilt stabbed her insides.

  That sacrifice had to be made…for his sake, as well as hers. She skimmed her fingertips over the scars on her barbarian’s back.

  He could have been critically injured during battle. If that had happened, she would have transported him quickly to the medic bay. There, she had access to the best equipment, a vast selection of supplies. She could save him.

  If the battle had occurred on his home planet, she wouldn’t have the same resources. She could have been forced to watch him die…as she had watched her mother die.

  He would miss his males, but on Carinae E, he’d remain alive.

  She was making the best decision for him, for them. “We could visit Chamele 2 once a solar cycle.” That compromise might ease his sadness. “Would your Warlord agree to that?”

  He’d previously told her the Chamele borders were heavily patrolled. Very few ships were allowed to enter the sector.

  Oghul tilted his head to one side and then the other. “I’ll convince him. You’ll love Chamele…as I do. I’m certain about that.”

  As he carried her back to the Refuge, he told her about the different planets in the sector, sharing stories about his childhood, weaving in tales about the succession wars, information about the three Warlords. His voice warmed.