by Celia Kyle
Yet in the next breath, she pelted him with another round of growls and tears. “What took you so long?”
Then she bounced back to happiness and soft smiles. “You’re such a breath of fresh air. I can’t believe you’re here.”
Zyriq knew females were difficult to understand, and truly comprehending their emotions was a far-fetched idea. That said, there was something different about Baila’s temperament. This was not the female he had kissed goodbye after a night spent exploring each other’s bodies.
He stroked her cheek, a trivial gesture that he hoped would calm her enough to cease the rapid changes in emotion. Perhaps then they could speak, and he could discover the cause of her distress. If another had harmed her in some way—physically or emotionally—he would gleefully hunt the one who had injured her. Who had dared injure a female connected to House Rukzahl.
The moment that thought left his mind, another surged. What if this was some sort of illness she contracted from visitors to Ark Station Zeta? It was a horrible thought that tortured his brain—one he didn’t wish to believe—but he couldn’t allow himself not to investigate the possibility. Not when one of Morea’s best healers was so close on Warking’s Blade.
Zyriq did not hesitate to act. He scooped her into his arms, cradling her close against his chest. He would ensure no harm came to her as he returned to his ship. He would protect and care for her at all costs. He was a warrior of Morea and none would pull her from his arms.
Except, once he held her close, more of her body was revealed to him. It appeared that Baila had more curves now than when he had departed—specifically her swollen, round belly.
Zyriq nearly dropped her to the ground, slowing just enough so she could take her own weight rather than crumpling to the station floor.
“What is this?” He pointed at her roundness. “What has happened?”
Baila did not have the chance to respond because suddenly that mound… moved. Not quickly. It gradually shifted position to the right and a larger lump rose from the upper curve.
“It is moving!” He stared at it, eyes wide, and he remained on alert as the changes in shape continued. “What is in your stomach? Is it a parasite? A disease?”
Yes! Zyriq clung to the idea of a disease. Her behavior was due to an illness. He had been told humans suffered from too-mers and they could be deadly. By the stars, Baila’s too-mer was massive.
“I will have our healer cure you of this disease. It will be removed, and you will no longer have a reason for tears.” Not all Moreans cared for aliens, but Adhoe would follow orders regardless of his personal feelings toward humans. Even if Zyriq had to invoke his power as first son. His will would be done.
“Remo…” she whispered and then snapped her teeth together. Her demeanor quickly changed, her face flushing red—so warm he nearly felt the heat. She stepped closer to him, finger pointed and poised an inch from his chest. She prodded him with a single poke. “Removed?” She jabbed again. “Disease?” She dug her nail into his flesh. “Parasite?” She screeched the last word.
Zyriq realized he should summon additional warriors to assist him in securing Baila. It was obvious she was out of her mind with this illness. He prayed to the stars Adhoe could cure her.
“You’re what happened to me, you idiot!” More snarling and she curled her lip like any fearsome Morean warrior.
“Me?” Zyriq frowned.
“Yes. You.” She growled and moved closer once more. “I was on a pregnancy block but for some reason your magical purple sperm still managed to do the job. I’m pregnant, asshole.” She huffed once the words were out and stood there glaring at him, her chest heaving with her every breath.
“How do I know the young you carry is mine?” He put distance between them and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at Baila. He had hoped she was different from others he had spent time with, but this was not the first time a female had claimed to carry his offspring.
“Seriously?” Baila’s lips parted, her eyes going wide. “Look at me.” She pointed at her mid-section and lifted her thin top, exposing more of her stretched stomach. “I’m turning purple. Like someone else I know.”
Zyriq stared at Baila’s skin, her starlight paleness now replaced with… the color of his own flesh. Her human skin matched his own, the hue spreading and covering her belly. As if his young wished to turn its dam into a Morean.
Baila carried his young within her body. His. Young.
Bless the stars and may the night be forgiving. He had not dared to hope his feelings for Baila were so deep after such a short time, but… The proof was cradled within her womb.
“And I’m only two months along. How am I already this big?” Her tears returned, the redness in her cheeks transforming from one of anger to one fueled by sadness. Curses still dripped from her lips, but Zyriq was still caught by the new truth she had revealed.
Baila carried his young. Healthy young based on the constant motion within her stomach. A little warrior that he could teach. Zyriq would pass on all his knowledge of war and battle, preparing his son to take his place someday as first son. Just as Zyriq would eventually take his father’s position.
But that was not a thing to discuss now. Not while emotion rode her so heavily. Stressing her further was not good for the young one.
Baila opened her mouth and cursed him again. Stating he was the butt of a monkey and a walking titty twister. Zyriq did not know those terms but he agreed with her. Pregnant females must always be catered to for the health of the young one.
He expected the growls and snarls to continue, words he’d gladly listen to from her, except just as quickly as she blew up, she fell silent. He did not believe silence was a good thing. He furrowed his brow and kept his attention on her, cataloging every twitch of her expression. Which meant that he saw the moment all blood fled her face, making her as pale as death.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and strength fled her, sending her slumping toward the ground. He snatched her to him once more, catching her before she could collide with the station’s hard flooring. He cradled her close and pressed his ear to her chest, ensuring she still breathed—still had life. Then he retreated and watched the rise and fall of her chest, assurance that she was simply unconscious, not dead.
Being alive was not enough. Baila needed medical care, and like a true Morean male, he would trust no one but his own kind. Specifically, a Morean who had freely given his vow of loyalty to him.
Holding his precious cargo with utmost care, Zyriq strode back the way he’d come. He retraced his path, strides long and smooth as he rushed toward the ship. He made a mental checklist of tasks he had to accomplish. He would have Adhoe examine Baila, running every test available. Meanwhile, he would construct their bonding contract and order Baila’s favorite foods. The ship would be her new home and he wished it to be a place of comfort.
Zyriq recognized his surroundings as they drew nearer to Warking’s Blade, safety so near. The ship’s doors parted at his approach, granting him entrance without a word. The moment he crossed the threshold, he issued orders to the ship.
“Blade, summon Adhoe immediately. I will meet him in medical with Baila.”
A pause and then the ship spoke, “Healer Adhoe is currently entertaining company.”
Zyriq gritted his teeth. “Now, Blade.”
And this time, Adhoe had better accept his orders to meet Zyriq in medical because stars help him if he did not. Zyriq might just change Adhoe’s schedule so he never had time for “company” ever again.
Chapter 4
Baila decided being conscious was overrated. Her head throbbed and mind screamed in searing pain while she struggled to open her eyes. Only to fail. Again. And again. And again. But that didn’t mean she’d give up. Because as sure as the cafeteria made meatloaf every Monday, she was sure she wasn’t in her own bed. Her own quarters, for that matter. She strained once more, fighting exhaustion while she finally peeled her left eye open. Vision cloudy,
she slowly scanned the room, looking for any clue to her location.
The overhead lights were bright, a stark glare that burned her retinas and added to her pounding headache. She tore her attention from the punishing brightness and turned her head to catalog her surroundings. With each passing moment, her vision cleared, the haze clouding her sight drifting away until her world came into focus. She fought to understand her surroundings, to identify the space that didn’t belong to her.
There was no clutter, no random clothes littering the space, and no box of crackers within reach. Crackers, the meaning to life and necessary to my survival.
Especially the first week after she’d become pregnant. Yeah, she’d heard that some women suffered from morning sickness. She just hadn’t expected hers to be so bad. Like, biblical, apocalypse kind of bad.
So, if she wasn’t home, where was she? Baila crinkled her brow and forced her mind to delve through her memories, pulling up the last events she recalled.
The first thing that punched her in the chest was Bumfuck Egypt. The Luvendi getting frisky, her Vian savior, and then the destruction of every bit of glass in the bar. Then… the fact that she had been fired. Mother fucking asshole. Like Baila was at fault for the bun in her oven. It was all Zyriq!
Zyriq… she’d run into him, hadn’t she? Or maybe it was wishful thinking. She’d ached for him for so long, she could no longer tell the difference. But his image darted to the front of her mind so easily—vividly. Rock hard, chiseled muscles, masculine, hot, seductive scent and, silken purple skin that tempted her to touch—to taste. His voice a deep tenor that vibrated deep in her soul.
She thought she’d run into him last night. Or was it a cruel trick of her mind? One drawn straight from her subconscious.
Because while she’d planned on raising her baby alone, she’d never been so happy to come face to face with her baby daddy. Especially since she was without a job with eviction becoming part of her life in the very near future. ASZ wouldn’t provide employees with housing if they weren’t, well, employees.
But if Zyriq was on the station then… then life might not blow up spectacularly. And if he was on the station, she needed to find him again.
Baila inspected her surroundings again, scouring her mind for the room’s location while she continued to scan. Well, the fact that it nearly sparkled it was so clean told her she wasn’t on ASZ. That and the fact she felt as if she lay on a fluffy Earth cloud instead of on a hard, unbending bed. ASZ didn’t do comfort.
With the second glance, she spied things she hadn’t seen before. Several other beds were scattered around the large room though they were all vacant. Had she been hauled to sick bay on a ship of some kind?
A ship was the most probable answer. It explained the whole cleanliness thing. Plus, she didn’t feel as if she was freezing to death. Ark Station Zeta usually had a few “heating issues,” which allowed the dead cold of space to chill the station. Here, she was comfortable, the temperature almost balmy.
Baila pushed herself upright, grunting with the effort and clutching her rounded stomach with one hand. Movement had her attention shifting to her clothes. And the fact that she no longer wore her own. Instead, she was draped in a pale gown, the soft fabric lightweight and silken against her skin.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet dangling for a moment before she wiggled forward. One grunting nudge had her falling from her perch and landing on the cool deck. Her balance wavered, and she gripped the bed, fighting to stay upright while her body rebelled. But she wasn’t crawling back onto that fluffy cloud and waiting around for someone to solve her problems. She only had herself to depend on and she wanted to know what the hell was going on.
A soft whoosh stole Baila’s attention, forcing her to whip her gaze to a set of doors she hadn’t seen earlier. A stranger stood in the doorway, his wide frame filling the space with his bulk—a bulk that could easily crush her if the newcomer desired.
Show no fear. Those three words had followed her from Earth and played in her mind every day when she was faced with alien customers at BFE.
Show. No. Fear.
This stranger was purple like Zyriq, but that was the end of the comparison between the two Morean males. The newcomer was cloaked in a blanket of aggressiveness, the sheet hiding a bitter aura that coated his skin. There was no missing that twisted expression on his features or the way his scent seemed to be tainted by… something.
And it’d only taken Baila a bare second to see it all.
Baila licked her lips as nerves took up residence in her gut and she took a cautious step away from the male. “Who are you?” He didn’t say a word, ignoring her as if she didn’t exist. “Where am I?” Though she now suspected she was on a Morean vessel. “Can you speak English?”
The stranger grumbled and then grunted, but still didn’t speak to her. He went to a nearby wall panel and tapped a few invisible buttons. The panel slipped aside, revealing its contents, and the stranger dug through the supplies before sealing the cabinet closed once more. He still wouldn’t look at her. He still didn’t respond to a single question.
“Is there something wrong with me?” she whispered, her emotions swinging from anger and frustration to fear for her and her child. Tears burned her eyes and she backed away from the male until her back met the wall. She wished she could disappear inside of it, swallowed and no longer in the newcomer’s presence. His anger was like a physical thing, attacking her with his every breath.
“Do you know Zyriq? Can you at least tell me where I can find him?”
The stranger stared at her, disgust in his expression, and he released a low mocking snort.
“Is something funny?” She should watch her tone. Really. But her temper was getting the best of her.
The alien scoffed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I was asked to heal a human.”
“Huh?” She furrowed her brow.
The strange purple alien continued to laugh and gestured around the empty room. “I was at the top of my class. I have had countless turnings of experience.”
He spat the words at Baila, each one harsher than the last, and she cringed with each one. What had she been thrust into?
“I have earned my position on Warking’s Blade to serve the first son of Morea.” His next laugh had a bitter edge. “Now I am forced to treat a human.”
The alien shuddered with revulsion at the very sight of her, and unease knotted her stomach.
“My family has served Morea for generations and we are one of the most respected healer houses known to all.” Another sneer curled his lips, his gaze enveloping her in a slow inspection. “And now I will have to treat you regularly.” He shook his head. “Zyriq Rukzahl was destined for a worthier mate than you.”
As if she was beneath him—beneath Zyriq.
And really, enough was enough. She’d suffered quite a few emotional blows recently. She didn’t need this stranger adding to the pile. If Zyriq brought her to his ship for some reason—if he felt she needed a healer—she didn’t one anymore. She felt fine. Okay, tired, but still fine. Besides, sticking around while she had other things to do didn’t seem like a very efficient use of her remaining hours on ASZ.
Baila pushed away from the bed. “You don’t have to treat me.” She put her hands on her hips. “Just let me go and you won’t have me stinking up your sick bay any longer.”
The alien paused, eyes narrowed, and a glimmer of excitement sparkled in his purple eyes. “You are not a prisoner, but I cannot lead you to the airlock.” An ugly grin spread across his face. “However, if you were to find the exit on your own, I would not be in violation of my orders.”
She mentally rolled her eyes. “Give me the directions then.”
The quicker she got away from this healer, the better. The feeling of danger, the disgust flowing from this male that sparked her fear, was too much to handle. It was as if he needed one simple hint of a reason to attack her and she wanted to be gone befor
e that happened.
He seemed just as quick to be rid of her, rattling off the directions while he walked to the door he’d used not so long ago. The moment she stepped out, the doors whooshed closed, leaving her alone in the metal-lined corridor.
Well, she’d gotten what she wanted, right? She swallowed hard and pushed down the uneasy squirming in her gut. Though, that could have been the baby getting antsy.
Baila stumbled through the ship, mind replaying the asshole’s hasty directions until finally—finally—she reached the airlock. A single Morean guard stood near the portal, guarding the ship with a wicked-looking blade. A wicked-looking blade she’d love to avoid, if possible.
She rubbed her stomach, soothing the rumbly bundle of life in her womb, and then forced one foot in front of the other. It didn’t take the alien long to notice her, his eyes narrowing as he watched her approach. His gaze swept over her from head to foot, pausing at her rounded stomach before focusing on her face once more.
Baila didn’t slow, trying to breeze past him as if she did it every day.
“Wait a moment, small human.” His tenor wasn’t quite as deep as Zyriq’s. No one was quite like her massive alien. He extended a huge, burly arm to block her path, and her steps faltered.
Pasting a wide smile on her face, she looked up to the man standing between her and home. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m allowed to go.” She waved behind her. “The healer person gave me a clean bill of health.”
The guard quirked a single brow, eyes narrowed.
“Really.” She nodded to emphasize her statement. “You can comm him and ask. His name was…” Something she forgot to ask because she was too busy being scared.
The guard grunted and removed his arm so she could pass. “Fine. Go.”
Baila kept up with her big grin while she silently thanked her lucky stars the alien believed her, and then she stepped off the ship. She couldn’t believe her luck, but she wasn’t about to second guess herself either. She was freeeee…