Sandy soil scattered under his fingers as he clambered down and the sharp edges of brittle rock sliced his palms. His female hung by the vehicle’s safety harness, unconscious. Blood matted her short hair into a lumpy mess.
Wasting no time, he wrenched the door open, the battered metal not wanting to comply. With a utility knife from his pocket, he sliced through the harness. Roughly—instinct shouted for him to be gentle but there was no time—he grabbed her arm and pulled her free. Perhaps he should have assessed her injuries, but he detected the unmistakable bitter odor of leaking fuel. Her head bounced against the door frame as he pulled her free.
With no time to worry about fractured ribs or the distressing trickle of blood from her nose as he positioned her across his shoulders. Using one hand to keep her in place, he scrambled up the slope. More rocks and dirt crumbled away as he climbed.
Another blast shook the ground, sending him sliding back down into the pit. Acrid smoke and burning fuel grew stronger. Time was running out. Growling, determined to protect his female, he sank his fingers into the red soil and clawed his way out.
Coming over the top, he rolled Vanessa onto her back. He had some notion to catalog her injuries and determine if it was wiser to bring her to Medical or summon a medic to their location. Humans were too fragile, and he was no medic. Though he had once argued with a stubborn medic that bodies were just another type of machine, he knew enough to recognize that he knew nothing.
A boom erupted from the pit, followed by leaping flames. The heat scorched his back as he shielded the prone Vanessa. They couldn’t stay there. That much was obvious.
Using his comm unit, he informed Medical he was bringing in an injured Terran casualty and carried Vanessa to his vehicle. He desperately hoped that his efforts to help had not injured her further.
Vanessa
Vanessa was warm and clean, snuggled under blankets. The mattress was a dream, like a cloud, and she didn’t want to wake because being awake meant pain. A familiar disconnect separated her mind from her body, a comfortable haze that could only mean drugs, which meant a hospital, which also meant pain. The haze wrapped around her and dragged her back down into oblivion.
Who was she to resist?
Fevered dreams seized her.
Lizards with golden skin prowled about her, searching. The rank stench of algae clouded her senses, then twisted into a bright, antiseptic scent. It was wrong, it was wrong, and she shouldn’t be there. Van’s heart thudded so loudly she was positive they could hear it, so she ran, knowing it was the wrong thing to do. The pounding of her heart became the pounding of her feet on pavement as she ran away from the long-ago chaos on the freeway and away from her parents and home, another child lost in the confusion, and toward the unknown.
A warm hand squeezed hers, anchoring her, no longer lost but found. A gentle voice told her she was safe.
She believed him.
Van drifted awake, aware of voices arguing nearby. She wanted to tell them to quiet down, but her tongue was coated in sand and didn’t want to comply.
“Your help was no help at all,” a male voice said, his tone sharp and irritated.
“She would have perished from exposure or fire if we waited for you,” another male snapped back. Van recognized that voice. It was her mechanic, Jaxar.
“Did you try to put the fire out with your face? You look ridiculous.”
“What part of a bomb blast do you fail to understand?” Jaxar asked.
“Go get cleaned up. Field hospitals are hard enough to keep sterile without your filth.”
The voices growled, like dogs trying to assert dominance. At least that’s how it struck Van. Havik never liked the comparison. Didn’t stop it from being true, though.
“The female is not your mate,” the unknown male said, compassion seeping into his voice.
Mate? That pierced through the haze. Van tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy and her arms might as well have been tied down with lead weights.
“She is my responsibility.”
A pause. A murmur that almost sounded like sympathy. “The female is safe for the moment. You cannot protect her when you are injured and exhausted.”
“My injuries are superficial.”
“Perhaps. When she wakes, do you wish to greet her with a face covered in grime and dried blood?”
“It is not mine,” Jaxar said, his tone shifting from argumentative to acquiescence. Such a funny word, it probably had French roots, even though it didn’t have anything to do with water despite sounding like aqueduct and that’s when Van realized she was highly medicated and should probably go back to sleep.
“Decorated in the blood of your enemies is not as attractive as you think, or so my mate tells me.”
The world was too loud and too bright.
Van turned her face into the pillow to hide.
“Oh, good, you are awake.” The blanket was roughly yanked away, and the bed rose, moving her into a seated position.
Van blinked, a sleepy crust thick on her eyelashes. Someone pressed a water cube to her mouth. Guided by instinct, she chewed, and the water burst over her parched tongue. She had questions, but her throat hurt. Her everything hurt.
“Save your voice. I know what you will say.” A Mahdfel with a plum complexion stood at the side of her bed. His hair was shorn on the sides and the longer hair on top pulled back. He wore a white coat, the universal sign of a doctor. “I am Medic Kalen Halse. Do you remember your vehicle being hit?”
She nodded, then winced as her brain bounced around her skull.
“Do not do that,” the doctor said sharply. She tossed him a sharper look and he huffed with amusement. “You have a concussion. Headache is common, as is nausea, poor coordination and balance. It will pass. Your ribs, however, are bruised. You are very fortunate. No lifting for a week. Rest.”
“I can’t,” she croaked.
“You can and will.” He paused. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Vanessa. Van.” Her throat hurt and she had never felt so thirsty in her life.
The doctor handed her another water cube. “Not too much or you will be nauseous, and it is hard enough to keep this area clean.”
She looked around the field hospital as she sucked on the gelatinous cube. Every available bed was full. She recognized a few faces, including those who were meant to be safe in shelters. How had so many gotten injured? That last round of bombing must have been serious. Groans and whimpers filled the space, adding in the beeps and hums of machines, the medics barking orders, which all added up to a general cacophony of noise that hurt her head.
“My heart,” she started, desperate to summarize her medical history in as few words as possible, but only tapped her chest.
“I located your medical records and examined your existing conditions. The proper medication has been administered. You have suffered no ill effects,” the doctor said.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“As you can see, we are at capacity. Other than monitoring your concussion, I have no reason to keep you.” He paused, then glanced over her shoulder. Van didn’t want to twist to see what had snagged his attention.
“You don’t want to discharge me by myself,” she realized.
“Unless you have someone who can take you to your domicile and provide supervision—”
“My mechanic,” she said, surprising herself. She should have asked for Esme, or Trey and Mateo. Hell, even Gabe, not some muscle-headed alien she just met.
“Oh, yes, Jaxar.” Kalen frowned. “He brought you in and has not left your side, despite orders to the contrary.”
The idea of him standing guard over her while she was unconscious pleased Van and she didn’t know why. Okay, she had a suspicion, because it was nice to be cared for, to feel as if she mattered.
Even though Jaxar would reject her once he learned the truth about her. “Where is he?” she asked.
“I told you she woul
d want to see me!” Jaxar pushed past Kalen to get to her bedside. He reached for her hand but pulled back, as if afraid to hurt her.
Oh, that adorable man. She was the one who was going to hurt him. It was selfish to lead him on, but hadn’t she earned the right to be a little selfish? She had a hell of a day and just wanted someone to hold her hand and make her feel safe. The Mahdfel excelled at the overprotective coddling and it should have been Havik, but she’d take a stranger.
Van reached for Jaxar’s hand, appreciating the rough feel of his skin against hers, and said in a rough voice, “Thank you for saving me.”
“I will discharge you if you agree to my stipulations,” Kalen said to both Van and Jaxar. “One, rest. No activities in bed other than sleep.” He tossed a pointed look to Jaxar, who nodded. The doctor ran through a brief list of how to care for her head wound and bruised ribs, what medicine he gave her and ended with, “Return to Medical if the headache does not abate.”
Chapter 6
Vanessa
“What am I wearing? What happened to my clothes?” Van shuffled over to the table and sat down in the dark kitchen. The power was off, no big surprise. She and Esme kept solar-powered lanterns and candles at the ready as the power went out often enough during big storms, but she couldn’t be bothered to fish them out. She’d be asleep soon. The short walk from the medical center to her bungalow wore her out. Wearing a sleeveless tank top and loose-fitting bottoms, she felt the chill in the air. Someone at some point had undressed and cleaned her. Van found she didn’t particularly care, but that was probably the medication.
“I have them here,” Jaxar said, holding up a white bag. “That is the second time you have asked.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said without sincerity. Jaxar set a glass of water down in front of her and she drained it in a long gulp. The pain meds kept her disconnected from her body and her mind couldn’t seem to hold onto anything. Information slipped through her fingers like sand.
“You need sleep. Which room is your bedroom?”
“Kind of forward of you, big guy, talking your way into a gal’s boudoir on the first date.” Boudoir. Another funny word. She giggled, then covered her mouth because it was rude to laugh, and then leaned to one side in the chair.
Jaxar’s firm hand on her elbow caught her. “Sleep?”
“I’m sorry. It’s the pain meds. Totally removes my inhibitions,” she said, struggling to get to her feet. That fact that Jaxar looked good enough to lick didn’t help matters. He probably had a six-pack, or his six-pack had a six-pack, all rippling abs and hard planes. His thigh was as thick as a tree trunk. Despite his massive size, he moved with grace and precision and complete lickability.
Brilliant. Now she really wanted to lick him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be grumpy tomorrow. Grumpy and sore. A true delight,” she mumbled.
“Promises, promises,” he said in a placid tone.
They shuffled into the bedroom and he maneuvered her to sit at the edge of the mattress. Despite not feeling much of anything, her movements were stiff. Light filtered through the window, highlighting the most agreeable parts of his face. His lips. They looked succulent. Ripe. She just wanted to smash her mouth against his, which was such a bad idea, but it had been so long since she had anything between her legs that wasn’t battery-operated that smashing mouths together seemed like a really, really good idea.
His gaze scanned her, searching for clues to her wellbeing, and paused on her shoulder. The way his eyes widened with recognition was as effective as a cold shower. Desire shriveled, leaving her feeling more lonely than usual.
“That was Havik. He’s not around anymore,” she said. Her eyes watered, not because she missed her stupid ex-husband. Don’t be dumb. This was the meds wreaking havoc—ugh, such a terrible choice of words—with her emotions. She pressed her fingers to the corner of her eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I’m not sad because I miss him. I don’t. It’s just nice having someone care for me.” Being alone was exhausting. Waking up, day after day, having only herself to rely on, knowing that if anything terrible happened, she had only her wits and will to get by, took a toll.
“You’re so nice. Like really, really nice,” she said, unsure why she couldn’t stop the verbal spewing. Brilliant. She sounded stoned. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep. I’m sorry. I know I don’t know you and it’s a lot to ask, but I like you. Thank you for helping me.”
“I like you too. There is nowhere I’d rather be.” He helped her under the blankets.
It was the drugs. That’s what she told herself as she closed her eyes. Tomorrow she’d be embarrassed and deny everything she said. She knew better than to get involved with a Mahdfel. She barely knew him, and he probably wasn’t nice, no matter how safe she felt with him sitting at the foot of the bed. He’d reject her when he learned the truth, just like always.
Jaxar
Jaxar waited until Vanessa’s breaths evened out, indicating she had fallen asleep. He tossed her clothes into a cleansing unit and prepped the load for when the power returned. A fine layer of red dust had settled over every surface in the small house, so he cleaned first with a cloth, then with a broom. The sun moved across the floor, marking time. He checked the cabinets to determine the available sustenance at hand, as his female would be hungry when she woke.
Not his female, he reminded himself. His head might know it, but his heart disagreed. His cock felt as if Vanessa belonged to him. Fortunately, his heart and his cock didn’t get to make decisions. Well, that often. They certainly had opinions.
Tea. He needed tea. His mate—not his mate! —would want something to soothe her throat and he needed the activity to focus his thoughts. Manually lighting the gas cooktop took little effort.
Vanessa already had a mate. The claiming mark on her shoulder attested to that fact. She said he wasn’t around, which he interpreted as deceased, but her eyes watered as she spoke. Clearly, her heart belonged to her deceased mate. He would be wise to not become involved with the widow, but once again his heart and his cock refused to listen.
“You’re new,” a voice said from the front door. A woman, pale and sallow with exhaustion, tossed her bag on a table in the entryway. “Did Van bring home another stray?”
Jaxar swallowed his first reaction of demanding to know who these strays were. Instead, he explained the concussion and need for supervision. He poured two cups of tea. The female sniffed her cup and took a cautious sip. “Well, don’t get too attached. Van’s not like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“You know,” she said with a lazy wave of one hand, “interested.” In the fading sunlight, her skin appeared flushed and perspiration beaded her forehead.
“And you’re an authority on Vanessa’s interests?”
“I’m her roommate and friend, so yeah, random alien guy, I think I know her better than you.” The woman set down the cup and pressed a hand to her abdomen, suddenly even paler than a moment ago. “What’s in the tea? I don’t think it agrees with me.”
She vomited onto the table, emptying the contents of her stomach.
“I will summon a medic,” he said tightly, rearing away from her. He could not allow this female to infect his mate.
“No doctors,” she said, then heaved into the sink. She gripped the edge of the counter and panted, as if waiting for the next wave. “Oh.” She clutched her belly, then ran for the cleansing room.
Ignoring the female’s demands, he contacted Medical. “I have a Terran female who is vomiting. Is it contagious? She has had no contact with my… Vanessa but I fear the abode is contaminated,” Jaxar said, grimacing at the trail of bile on the floor.
“She is not your mate,” Kalen said, his voice tired.
“That is not the issue!” he snapped, but his mind was already spinning, planning. Had a plague broken out on the moon, he would remain by Vanessa’s side. He had no fear of contracting the illness. Mahdfel did not catch common ailments.<
br />
“Relax. Bacteria contaminated the water supply in the shelters. It is not contagious. The female who is not your mate, who is barely your acquaintance, is safe. I’ll send a medic to retrieve the patient,” the medic said, disconnecting the call.
With a glass of water, he approached the cleansing room. Sounds of dry heaving and a bitter aroma filled the air. “Female, do you require assistance?” he said cautiously.
“Oh no. Everything is just peachy here. What do you think?” The female kneeled on the floor before the toilet. Sweat plastered hair against her forehead.
“A medic will be here shortly.” He gave her the glass of water.
“I said no doctors. Typical. You meatheads never listen.” She pulled herself up to the sink and rinsed out her mouth.
The escort arrived. Jaxar recognized him as the younger brother of the head of security. “No available medics,” Lorran explained.
“I’m not going with him,” the female said, still leaning heavily on the counter. “I just need to sleep, and I’ll be fine. I’m already feeling better.” She stood up straight, as if to prove her point, and immediately her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she crumpled to the ground. Lorran caught her before she hit the floor.
“They are all reluctant. Is it me? Do I smell?” He adjusted the female in his arms.
“No worse than usual,” Jaxar replied.
“Ha! Before I go, Medic Kalen says to remind you that this is not your mate and he will not hesitate to sedate you if you turn into an obnoxious pain in his ass.”
He knew. He knew. Vanessa still had feelings for her deceased mate, this Havik, but his instincts still urged him to protect and care for her. “Send him my warmest regards,” he said with a forced smile and set about cleaning and disinfecting.
On his hands and knees, he told himself that he would do this for any injured civilian. He pulled Vanessa from a vehicle about to burn and had an obligation to see this through. Nothing more. Vanessa’s intelligence and sharp wit did not influence him. They had only exchanged a handful of words. She still grieved her deceased mate. There could not be an attachment between them.
Jaxar Page 6