by Lea Kirk
And she managed to vomit on his boots with unprecedented precision.
How had he been fooled into believing the worst was behind him? There had been something in the woman’s eyes; an unspoken promise that all would right itself because she was here. Clearly he had misread the situation. Taken in by a pair of bronze-flecked brown eyes, framed by lashes as dark as her hair. If only he had moved on to aid the next Terrian, his eye would not be swelling now.
He exhaled a deep sigh through his nose, then bent to wipe the watery mess off his boots with Alexandra’s discarded hood.
The one she called Nicky glared at him as he held Alexandra’s dark hair back away from her face. The youth’s body language bespoke familiarity of, and protectiveness for, her. Between that and his brown and bronze eyes—the exact match to Alexandra’s—there was little doubt these two Terrians were siblings.
What a fortuitous coincidence for both of them to be incarcerated together in this deplorable slave hold.
Gryf paused mid-wipe. Or was it? The stench of Vyn Kotas playing them all contaminated the air.
He straightened and shot a frown in Commander Graig Roble’s direction. The scowl on his senior security officer’s face was directed toward Alexandra. Her head now rested against Nicky’s knee, her anger clearly spent.
“So who the hell are you?” Nicky asked.
Ah, so Terrian teenagers could be as belligerent as their Matiran counterparts. He must remember to apologize to his mother for any grief he may have caused her, provided he ever saw her again.
“Gryf Helyg, senior captain of the Matiran Guardian Fleet, captain of the Guardian Fleet Cruiser Atlantis. And an unwilling prisoner of the Anferthians, like you.”
“You mean you’re not with the freakishly tall green guys?”
Gryf winced at the question, then squatted, bringing his eyes level with the boy’s. “Most assuredly not. Unless you believe my crew and I incarcerated ourselves in this small, foul-smelling cell of our enemy’s slave ship for an entire week just to trick you.”
The Terrian youth studied him for a drawn out moment, as if he believed that was exactly what they had done.
Gryf released another sigh. “And you are?”
“Nick Bock.” The young man hesitated, then extended his right hand.
Gryf stared at it. Terrian social protocol was not his area of expertise. Why would it be? Interacting with the Terrians was not supposed to happen during his life time. Yet it had, and if there were to be any chance at establishing positive relations with these people, he must act. He gripped Nick’s hand in his own.
“It pleases me to make your acquaintance, Nick Bock.” Had he done it right? The Holy Mother had a wicked sense of humor, placing him on the front lines of this long-awaited, yet premature, reunion.
Nick tugged his hand, and Gryf released his grip. “Will you aid me in moving your sister to the wall, Nick? There she will be more comfortable while she awaits attendance from our healer.”
“No.” Alexandra’s voice was a breathless murmur. “I’ll do it.”
This would not go well for her. “Your determination is admirable, Alexandra. At minimum, please accept my help as you take your feet.” Her will might be as unbending as Tallinese iron, but she would need assistance to rise.
Gryf held out his hands to aid her, but Nick gripped her by one elbow. “I’ve got her.”
Of course he did. Gryf compressed his lips and gave Nick a curt nod. Alexandra’s body unfolded as she rose, long and lean, her feminine curves subtle under her loose clothing. If she stood to her full height, the top of her head would be even with his eyes. But with her head bent and shoulders hunched, she just reached his chin.
If only he could wrap his arms about her and allow his Gift to flow, comforting and strengthening her. But he had known her for mere moments, and to touch her so was a disrespect best avoided. He had no desire to have his other eye purpled.
Yet, had he not always known her? Not in reality, but in some deeper way? He drew his brows together; this conflict between convention and emotion was vexing.
Alexandra’s legs buckled, and Nick’s grip on her slipped as she pitched forward. Gryf moved quickly to catch her before she hit the floor. Protect her. Again, that voice in his mind—the same one he had heard earlier when she had rested against his chest. As a Guardian, he was already duty bound to protect her. So why did the voice ring with the authority of an official order from the Admiralty?
And why in all the hells was he hearing voices in his head at all?
He lifted her in his arms. “I will not let you fall, Alexandra.” And he meant it—to the letter. A strange warmth eased into his chest, soothing, yet with an edge of anticipation as though a wondrous event would soon occur. Similar to the feeling he got as a child the night before Spring Festival.
Gryf sat her against the wall, cushioning the back of her head with his hand. The heat penetrating the thin fabric of her pink garment was a worrisome development. Could she be ill? If she were, his crew and the other Terrians were susceptible. He cast a glance around the cell and spied Dante attending the little Terrian boy.
“Chief, this one may be fevered.”
Dante did not look up. “Worry not, Captain. Terrian body temperature is marginally higher than our own. Keep her comfortable. I will be there momentarily.”
Nick laid his palm against his sister’s brow, then shook his head. “No fever.” He leveled his gaze at Gryf. “What the hell happened this afternoon? Why are we here?”
Bold and direct. This must be a family trait. At least Nick used his words rather than his fists. How could Gryf respond without appearing evasive? “All your questions I will answer, Nick, once our healer has tended your people. This is my word to you.”
The young man appeared skeptical.
Graig materialized at Gryf’s side and handed him a water-soaked wad of grey cloth.
“What’s that?” Nick jutted his chin at the dripping cloth.
“Water for your sister,” Graig explained stiffly. “She is severely dehydrated. While Captain Helyg tends her, Nick, you may come with me. You have minor injuries which need tending.”
The young man’s eyes darted from Graig to Alexandra, then back. “Why can’t we do it here?”
“The only medical supplies the Anferthians allowed us are in Lieutenant Commander Zola’s custody.” Graig turned on his heel and strode in Zola’s direction.
Gryf understood Nick’s reluctance. Trusting the safety of his sister—possibly the only family left in his life—to a virtual stranger would be the last thing anyone would want to do in such a situation. If ever there was a moment to create trust between their peoples, it was now. Incarceration would be a living nightmare otherwise.
“On my honor, Nick, I will care for your sister until you return. I swear her safety.”
Nick’s mouth twisted with apparent derision. “You mean, you swear to keep her safe.”
So much for establishing friendly relations. “That is what I meant, yes. My apologies for brutalizing your language. I strive to achieve improvement.”
Nick’s expression hardened even more, but in his eyes lurked resignation that he did require aid. “Just don’t get any ideas. I won’t be long.”
Gryf watched Nick make his way across the cell to where Graig waited. Alexandra was a treasure to the young man, and Gryf would not betray Nick’s faith by treating her as anything less. No matter how obnoxious the boy proved to be.
Turning his attention back to the Terrian woman, he pressed the water-logged cloth to her lips. “Alexandra, here is some water. Drink.”
As she sucked on the cloth, the tepid water dripped over his fingers. Her pale skin was so different from the standard Matiran blue. He glanced at the other Terrian woman nearby. She was as dark as Alexandra was fair. How must it be to live in a world with such a variety of exotic skin tones?
The darker woman’s gaze met his, and she narrowed her eyes. There was no helping the anger and mi
strust the Terrians carried. This day they had suffered so much with no understanding why. They would understand soon enough, though.
Alexandra turned her head to one side. “I’m okay.”
Gryf focused his attention back to her, but her eyes remained closed. A light spray of freckles dusted her cheeks, and the slight bump at the bridge of her nose. Even through the streaks of dirt, blood, and dried tears, she was an alluring young woman. Much younger than his thirty Galactic Standard cycles. No doubt she was too young to understand the burden of his failure to her people, and to his. It was clear she held him accountable for the destruction of her home world, and the massacre of her people. And rightly so.
Her head lolled, and Gryf raised his other hand to cup her cheek. If touching her was supposed to be crude and disrespectful, then why did it feel so natural and right? By the Holy Mother, cease this irrational behavior! He lowered his hand.
Brown and bronze eyes opened, and he swore his heart stopped. Her soul shone there, and he could not look away if his life depended upon it.
“I might have overreacted,” she said in a rough whisper. “When I hit you, I mean.”
He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “You did catch me unawares.”
“It’s been a rotten day, you know.”
Her lips scarce moved. She suffered, that much he could see. If only he could ease her pain. She wet her lips with her tongue. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I will recover.” How would she react when Dante used his Gift to heal his eye? Or her wounds, if she allowed it?
“My mom says I’m passionate, but my dad says I’m a hothead.” She made a huffing sound that may have been an attempt to chuckle. “I think he may be right, huh?”
“Perhaps they both are right.”
The corners of Alexandra’s mouth edged upward, and the pleasure of making her smile washed through him. Had he taken the first step to smoothing over their rough start? If he had learned anything from years of intergalactic relations and negotiations, it was that success or failure could hinge on the tiniest detail.
“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she said.
Then again, perhaps not. “I will accept that, Alexandra.”
“It’s Alex.” Her eyes drifted closed again. “And thank you for helping me, by the way.”
“It pleases me to do so.” He shifted in preparation to rise. “Our healer will attend you soon. I shall refresh the cloth to bring you more water.”
Without awaiting her response, he rose and strode toward the small spigot, their only source of potable water. It mattered not if she did not trust him. She had respected him enough to apologize for her actions, and that was a start.
Chapter Three
Alex kept her eyes closed and focused on the blessed coolness of wall against her back. As long as she stayed still, right where the captain left her, the pain in her head was less vomit-inducing. No moving, no talking, no throwing up on the nice captain’s boots. And he is nice, dammit. His kindness made it difficult to stay angry. Although, she still didn’t trust him.
And what about the healer? Would he be as nice? Hopefully this person had real medical training and didn’t pull out alien leeches, or something equally archaic.
Don’t be such a nitwit, Alex. Any race with the technology for space travel must have far more advanced medical knowledge than Earth. A fizz of excitement bubbled up in her chest and Alex slapped it back down. No sense in getting her hopes up. Until she knew the full story, these people were as much her enemy as the green aliens.
A soft rustle of cloth next to her reached her left ear. Sounded like someone had decided to join her.
A warm hand cupped her knee. “Hey.”
Nicky. She forced her eyes open. Her brother squatted next to her, his forehead creased. “Hey, yourself.”
“You okay?”
“I’ve had better days. But, yeah, I’m okay.” Hurting but okay. That was more than a lot of people could say now.
Nicky jerked his head toward the man standing to his left. “This is the cell doctor, apparently.”
A new blue alien, lanky and taller than the captain by a couple of inches, gave her a reassuring doctor’s smile, his white teeth a vivid contrast to his dark-blue skin.
Captain Helyg stood at the doctor’s side. “This is the Atlantis’s Senior Medical Chief, Dante Dacian. He is here to help you, Alexandra.”
The newcomer crouched in front of her, knee-joints popping. “Greetings, Alex. It pleases me to meet you.”
“Greetings?” She suppressed a chuckle. At least he hadn’t asked her to take him to her leader.
And speaking of leaders...her gaze followed the lean, muscular line of the captain’s legs up his body to his face. A runner’s body. Did he run track in school like Nicky had?
What a stupid question. They might not even have schools where he came from.
The ice-pick-wielding maniac in her head gave her brain another sharp jab. Ow. Was it too much to hope that Chief Master Medical—whatever—had an aspirin in his pocket?
Dante picked up her wrist to take her pulse, his hand cool against her skin. “You have probably guessed we are not from your planet.”
Well, duh. Wait—was that supposed to be a joke? Did these aliens have a sense of humor? She raised her eyebrows at the man.
“Ah, I take it you have. Outstanding.” There was a hint of amusement in his chocolate-brown eyes as he set her hand in her lap. “We are from a planet called Matir.”
“Mah-tear.” Was his planet as gentle as its name?
“Very well done. Despite our different origins, our internal anatomies are indistinguishable. Only our skin color is different. Rest assured, I am a competent master healer at the highest level.” He paused and furrowed his brow as though a new thought had just occurred to him. “At least that is what the Collegium of Healers decreed, although they may have been trying to get rid of me.”
Well, what do you know. Alex curved one corner of her mouth the tiniest bit upward. “Medical humor, huh, doc?”
Amusement lit Dante’s eyes. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad. Besides, she needed medical attention and it seemed her options were limited to, well, Dante Dacian.
She shifted her gaze upward again. Angry Alien had joined his captain, a dour expression fixed on his chiseled face. Yup, Dante was definitely her preferred health care provider.
“Do you have any familiarity with concussions?” Dante asked.
“I’m a nurse.” Given the look on Dante’s face, nurses must not exist where he came from. “That’s like a doctor’s assistant.”
Comprehension flashed in his eyes. “Then you know in most cases a concussion takes quite some time to heal.”
Oh, boy, did she know. It could take weeks. Sometimes months.
“Alex, our medical knowledge is somewhat different than yours,” Dante said.
Ah, ha. This must be the highly advanced medical technology she wanted to hear about. But why was Dante watching her as if he expected her to jump up and run screaming for the door? She scanned the cell, and frowned. Where was the door?
“While our anatomies are identical,” Dante continued, “there is a Gift we have that your people do not. Our Gifts vary and are as unique as any individual. My Gift is to heal, which I am trained to do at a highly advanced level. I can heal your concussion within seconds with a single touch.”
Her mouth dropped open. No. Freaking. Way. No one could heal with a touch. That was impossible. She cast a glance at Captain Helyg and read the truth on his face. Dante was serious.
“Wait. You mean like magic?” Nicky’s question dripped with skepticism, but at least his brain and mouth were connected. Her mouth was hanging wide open, allowing all the emptiness in her head to seep into the cell. Alexandra Bock, representing Earthlings everywhere. She snapped her lips together.
“No, it is not magic or trickery,” Dante replied, his eyes still on her. “It is truly a gift, and does have limitations. To us, it is as n
ormal as the ability to draw is for some of your people. Some can draw very simple pictures, and others can create pictures with life-like clarity. Does this make sense?”
“Um.” Unease skittered down her spine. “And you want to use your healing Gift on me?”
“I would like to restore the full range of your hearing, heal your concussion and other injuries. If you prefer for me not to do so, I will honor your wishes.”
Nothing but forthright honesty shone in his eyes. Still… “Your gift thing, can you use it to mind read?”
A smile lifted the corners of Dante’s mouth and he shook his head. “No, Alex. Mind reading is a myth.”
It better be. The Matirans seemed genuine, and if Dante could fix her head, then why not? Then again, did she really want someone messing around with her brain?
Dante’s expression grew thoughtful. “Would it ease your fears if I healed someone else first?”
“Well, uh, I….” Exactly who did he plan to heal?
“I could heal Captain Helyg’s eye first.” Dante gave her a humorous quirk of his eyebrow. Oh, right. That.
Dante glanced up at his commanding officer. “Captain?”
“I would be grateful, Chief.”
Captain Helyg moved with confidence and grace as he lowered himself to the floor at her right. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and clutched her hands together in her lap. If she didn’t, they’d reach out and touch his well-defined, grey clad thigh now resting inches from hers.
Good grief! She was reacting as though she’d never seen a man’s leg before. You don’t even like him, remember? She dragged her eyes away from the mass of masculine muscle and their gazes locked. Her thudding heart came to a screeching halt.
How much of her oglefest had he seen? Another hint of a smile touched his mouth. Nice. His bottom lip was just a little bit fuller than his top.
Oh, crap. She jerked her eyes down to her hands in her lap. She’d done it again. And the intense burning meant her cheeks and ears were scarlet. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Yeah, right. What guy doesn’t notice when a girl is staring?