Dark Cure

by Cynthia Sax

  “You’d give me mechanical fingers?” Qulpa’s head lifted. “You’d do that for me?”

  “It’s easy to do.” She sighed. “One of your Chamele medics can do it…if they ever arrive.”

  Oghul’s lips twitched. She was clearly not impressed with her Chamele counterparts.

  “I prefer that you do it.” Qulpa’s voice was soft. “You’re the medic I trust.”

  Oghul looked at the male. He trusted Gisella, a human medic, over one of his own kind?

  “If that is okay with your warrior, of course.” Qulpa must have misinterpreted his reaction.

  “You don’t need anyone else’s permission.” That revived the fight in Oghul’s gerel. She scowled at the male. “I take on the patients I want to take on and I want to take on you.”

  “Once we replace your lost hand coverings.” Oghul added that requirement.

  “I’ll need the mechanical fingers also.” She tilted her head back and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “Don’t your medics realize response time is critical?”

  “It might not yet be safe.” He reminded her.

  “I’ve seen multiple ships fly by us.” Her eyes flashed. “It’s safe for those beings.”

  “They’re warriors.” They were trained to take risks.

  “I’m a medic.” She countered with that obvious truth. “In my experience, warriors, even enemy warriors, avoid killing medics. Shit. Your enemy, whoever they are, avoided killing us, beings they thought were warriors. They could have easily finished us off. One missile would have done it.”

  She was correct. Oghul caught Ariq’s gaze, his males having gathered around them. His best warrior’s head dipped. He agreed with Gisella’s conclusion. The enemy had sought to down them, not kill them.

  “The rogue warrior and his crew must have stolen one of our ships.” It irked him that they were shot out of the sky with one of their own vessels.

  “No ships were reported missing.” Ariq relayed information Oghul already knew.

  “Then they must have recently stolen it.” Gisella waved her hands dismissively. “The point is…they didn’t seek to kill us. The crash, however, could have ended our lifespans, especially as no medics have responded to it.”

  “Medics aren’t sent into dangerous situations.” They weren’t trained for that.

  “I could be sent.” She met his gaze.

  His gerel had served on battlefields, healing wounded warriors. She had the necessary training, would be the best being for that role.

  But his protective nature wouldn’t allow her to take it. “I’m not risking your lifespan.”

  “You had no issues with me becoming your ship’s medic.” She frowned. “How is rescuing crash victims more dangerous than flying into battle with you?”

  “I could keep you safe if you were on my ship.” That wasn’t logical, he realized, especially as they were sitting amidst the remains of that ship.

  His gerel thankfully didn’t point that out. “Then we respond to the emergency situations using your ship.”

  It was his turn to frown. “We’ll require our ship for our own missions.” They had to guard Chamele 2.

  “Will some of those missions involve patrolling the air space above the planet?” She glanced upward once more as yet another ship passed overhead. “It would have taken them mere moments to pick us up.”

  His lips twisted. It was frustrating watching the ships pass, knowing they had pain inhibitors and other supplies on board.

  “Your ships contain almost all of the equipment anyone would ever need to heal another being.” His gerel presented her case. “We wouldn’t have to return to a stationary medic bay until the end of the shift. It wouldn’t interfere with your own missions.”

  “Once the traitor warrior is caught, there won’t be much to do.” Ariq, his best warrior, sided with Gisella. “Responding to emergencies would give us some excitement.”

  Oghul doubted they’d lack excitement. Chameles enjoyed fighting too much for that to occur.

  “It would require a skilled pilot.” Qulpa’s eyes gleamed. “We’d have to respond quickly.”

  “Not too quickly,” Gisella murmured.

  His little human would be the only medic on board. The rescued Chameles, if injured, would have no choice. They would have to allow her to heal them.

  And she would be by his side. He could ensure she didn’t rush into a situation too dangerous for her to survive.

  “I’ll consider it.” He would consult with their Warlord.

  “Yes, you consider it.” His gerel’s tone was dry.

  He would wager she knew he would agree to her plan. It was the perfect solution. They could hold their distinct roles yet spend every shift together.

  Neither of them would have to make sacrifices.

  They waited for a rescue. Now that the skill-sensitive tasks had been completed, Oghul could be his gerel’s surrogate, carry out her commands.

  He helped the other warriors bind their wounds while she supervised them. Every few moments, he scanned Yesun with the handheld. That reassured his little medic her patient lived, breathed, didn’t require any additional assistance.

  The youth couldn’t move. The bindings prevented that. But he didn’t open his eyes either. His silence served as a reminder to everyone. The danger hadn’t completely passed.

  The other males talked, entertaining Gisella with stories of battle. She shared some of her own war tales, having seen almost as much combat as Oghul had witnessed.

  The warriors appeared impressed with her knowledge of their domain. They gazed at her with growing respect and admiration.

  Oghul’s spine straightened more and more, pride filling his chest. She fit into his team, was powerful and intelligent, brave and kind.

  And she loved him. He had heard her whispered words as they plummeted with their ship toward the planet’s surface, had held that confession near to him when he thought they might die, cherishing it more than anything he’d ever possessed.

  His fierce gerel had given him her closely guarded heart. He was already hers. He lifted her hands. She held his soul in her blistered and torn palms.

  As she held so many other lifespans.

  This planet rotation, she’d saved a being they both cared for, ignoring the agony that caused her. A warrior was defenseless against a female like her. He had to love her, cherish her, do his utmost to make her lifespan happy.

  “I love you, gerel.” He blurted out those words, interrupting Ariq’s recounting of an especially bloody battle.

  The chatter stopped in the crash site, the only sounds being Gisella’s gasp and the burbling of the nearby stream.

  “What did you say?” She stared at him.

  “You heard me correctly, my little medic.” He bracketed her cheeks with his hands. “I love you.”

  A blindingly bright smile spread across her beautiful face. “I love you too, you big barbarian.”

  He captured her lips, sealing their exchange with a kiss.

  His males cheered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her barbarian loved her. That revelation continued to warm her heart many moments later when the team of medics finally arrived.

  “I have to debrief them.” She abandoned Oghul’s much-too-comfortable lap and strode toward Yesun. Her legs were stiff.

  Her hopes were high. The youth still breathed. Thank the stars. He should survive his injuries.

  As long as the Chamele medics didn’t fuck up. They surrounded her patient, chattering, their heads bent.

  “You’re scowling at them.” Oghul’s eyes sparkled with humor as he walked beside her. His left shoulder was painted black and blue with bruises.

  “They’re treating him before they’ve asked me what injections I’ve given him.” She said that loud enough for the males to hear. “He could overdose, have a bad reaction, be otherwise harmed.”

  “You shouldn’t have given him anything.” One of the medics told her. “You’re not qual
ified to do that.”

  She drew herself up to her full height, which was aggravatingly not very tall compared to everyone around her. Every Chamele on the crash site was a huge brute.

  Before she could form a reply, her barbarian responded. “The medic you’re addressing has treated more battle wounds than you or anyone on your team has seen. She’s the sole reason my warrior remains alive. Listen to her. She’s qualified.”

  “She’s also clearly your gerel.” The medic said that below his breath.

  She heard him. The Chameles had discounted her barbarian’s support due to her relationship with him. Oghul had predicted that reaction.

  “I injected him with a prolonger and with a pain inhibitor soon after we crashed.” She relayed the information they needed yet hadn’t requested. “He requires another pain inhibitor.”

  “We’ll decide what he needs.” The medic injected Yesun with an unidentified substance. “You’ve done enough.”

  She’d done enough? She saved the youth’s fucking life. “What are your qualifications?”

  “Gerel.” Oghul grasped her arm. “Allow them to perform their roles.”

  “No.” She fought him as he dragged her away from her patient. “I gave Yesun my word he’d live. He’s my responsibility.”

  “He’ll live.” Her barbarian’s voice raised. “The medics know if he doesn’t, they’ll answer to me and to our Warlord.”

  The arrogant medic’s face turned ashen. “Be careful with him.” He cautioned his team as they transported the youth to the ship.

  “I don’t trust them.” She glared at their backs.

  “You don’t trust anyone you haven’t trained.” Oghul’s lips twitched. “I asked Ariq to retrieve a medic kit from the rescue ship. I assumed you’d want to treat yourself.”

  “I have to.” She stomped toward Ariq and Oghul’s other males. “None of the medics are female and I doubt they’ll agree to wear hand coverings.”

  Their touch would hurt her, not heal her.

  A medic was treating Qulpa, injecting the warrior with, what she hoped was, pain inhibitors. The older male had suffered silently while waiting to be rescued.

  “I’m equipping him with mechanical fingers.” She told the medic her plans. “I’ll need his nerve fibers functional for that.”

  The medic frowned at her. “Who are you?”

  “She’s my medic.” Qulpa’s voice was quiet, his tone firm. “Listen to her.”

  The medic’s eyebrows lifted. He said nothing.

  At least one of her patients’ treatment wouldn’t be fucked up. She paused in front of the medic pack set on the ground, dreading touching it. Her fingers ached without any pressure pushed against them.

  Oghul opened the medic pack, rummaged through it. “Here’s a pain inhibitor.” He held one up for her perusal. “I can inject you.”

  “You’ll be my medic?” Her mood lightened slightly, the thought amusing her.

  “I’ll be your hands.” He shook his head. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  She wished everyone on the crash site would do that. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about her patients. “Pain inhibitors will dull my wits.”

  “I doubt that will happen.” He grinned and leaned closer to her. “My males are watching you. If you, a medic clearly in agony, refuse to take a pain inhibitor, what message is that sending them?”

  They would refuse to take pain inhibitors also, might not trust her when she recommended treatments. That would harm them.

  She held out her arm. “Inject me.”

  Her barbarian rolled up her right sleeve. He brushed his fingers over her skin and she trembled. The casual touches while they waited for a rescue hadn’t been enough for her. She craved full contact with him, his naked form against hers.

  Judging by the bulge in his ass coverings, he felt the same way.

  Oghul injected her with the pain inhibitor, the prick barely registering in her brain. She’d been hurting for so long only a serious injury would make an impact.

  “We can’t show others weakness,” he murmured, drifting his fingertips up and down her arm. “We’re leaders. That would worry them. But you don’t have to be strong with me. And I don’t have to be strong with you.”

  “Your shoulder must ache,” she whispered.

  “It aches like a son of a Gechii.” He chuckled. “Yes, I know. I should take a pain inhibitor also.” He searched through the medic pack.

  “I didn’t say that.” She smiled, some of her agony easing.

  “You don’t have to say it.” He applied the pain inhibitor to himself. “I saw the truth in your eyes.”

  The male understood her. “Velorum syrup would be ideal for my hands but I doubt the medic pack has any of that.” She would insist they source some. “A healing balm would substitute.”

  He found three different types. She read the ingredients and the recommended usage, chose one.

  He sat on a piece of debris resembling a console. “Situate yourself here.” He patted his thighs. “This will take some time.”

  Sitting in his lap wouldn’t be professional but his males had already seen that undignified side of her. Her barbarian’s lap had been her seat for most of the voyage.

  The other males, the medics treating beings around them, didn’t respect her because she was human. She doubted anything she did would be a greater offense than that.

  Fuck them. She perched on her warrior’s knees.

  He pulled her backward. His hardness prodded her ass.

  “I’d have a waiting list of patients if I treated them like this.” She joked.

  “You won’t treat anyone like this.” A menacing growl rolled up his chest. “Your lap belongs to me.”

  Her nipples tightened, his possessiveness exciting her. “I wasn’t serious.”

  “I was very serious. I’ll slice the ass off any male who tries to sit on your lap.” He examined the container of healing balm. “How do I apply it?”

  “Do you want the professional method?” She wiggled, biting back a laugh as he tensed. “Or do you want the sexy method?”

  “With you, both will be the sexy method.” He nipped her right earlobe and her pussy dripped, his playfulness arousing her.

  “Squeeze some on your palms, rub them together to warm it, and lightly glide it over mine.” Her voice was husky.

  He doled out a large dab of healing balm, stroked his palms over each other. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “It numbs the skin.” She was also high on pain inhibitors, her world fuzzy around the edges. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Her rough tough barbarian caressed her hands, his whisper-light touch enchanting her. She leaned into his big form, allowed him to tend to her.

  “The Chamele medics don’t listen to me.” It would be difficult to convince them of her skill if they refused to interact with her.

  “My males listen to you.” He drifted one of his index fingers over a deep wound on her right palm. “You’ll win over the medics as you won over my team.”

  She glanced at Qulpa. The older warrior was looking down at his injured hand, his expression solemn.

  She would give him new fingers, better fingers than the fully organic ones he previously had. He would fly more ships, fight in more battles.

  Yesun would survive…as long as the medics didn’t fuck up. The youth would see his family, his parents, his many sisters again.

  The other males had minor injuries. She looked over the debris. The situation could have been much worse.

  “There were no fatalities.” Her gaze returned to the male she loved. “That’s a miracle.”

  “You lost everything you owned.” Oghul winced. “Including your white jacket.”

  “It’s not lost.” She attempted another joke. “It’s merely in pieces.” She grasped his hands. “As is your ship.”

  “It isn’t the first ship I’ve lost.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “It isn’t the fifth ship we’
ve lost.” Ariq stood by them.

  His wounds had been minor, his assistance with Yesun appreciated. He had followed her instructions precisely,

  “Zondoo.” The male raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad the succession wars are over.”

  “We have to catch the rogue warrior and his males before our kind sees peace.” Oghul scooped her into his arms and rose to his feet. “Our version of peace. I doubt Chamele will ever be without conflict.”

  “Set me down.” She wiggled. “You’ll stress your shoulder, and I can walk. I’m not a weak female.”

  The males laughed.

  “No one would ever call you a weak female, gerel.” Oghul carried her toward the rescue ship. “Save your energy to fight with the Chamele medics. You’ll need it if you want to see your patient.”

  “I have to supervise Yesun’s recovery.” She lifted her chin. “It’s my responsibility.”

  “He wouldn’t dare die on you, Lead Medic.” Ariq chuckled.

  “Thank you.” Gisella interpreted that as a compliment.

  That prompted another round of mirth from the two warriors.

  ***

  It did take all of her energy plus the intimidation of Oghul and his entire team of males to convince the Chamele medics to allow her to see the youth. He had regained consciousness, his eyes glazed with pain inhibitors.

  “I knew you would heal me, Lead Medic.” Yesun reclined on a portable sleeping support, his expression cheerful. He was so damn young, rebounding from his near-death experience with zeal, not knowing how close he’d been to losing his lifespan.

  Gisella sat on the edge of the surface. The sealant had barely been enough to secure his survival. She could have lost him, would never have seen his silly smile again, heard his chatter about his beloved sisters. The universe would have been robbed of his presence.

  “You’re not completely healed.” She covered her emotions with a frown. “No lifting heavy objects until I give you approval.”

  He opened his mouth.

  “That includes a sword.” She anticipated his question. “No fighting. No training.”

  “We won’t take another mission until you’re ready.” Oghul sat beside her. “Rest. Recover. Eat.”