“No,” Kalen replied.
“I have the right to refuse a match.” Not many males did, but it happened.
The medic sighed heavily and Rohn could feel the burn of a disapproving glare. “Not sight unseen. Have the decency to look the female in the eyes and then send her home. I will not do your dirty work for you.” The call disconnected.
Fuck.
Growling with frustration, he entered the medical bay. A large, circular space, examination tables ringed the room. The occasional partition allowed for privacy.
He spotted Jaxar immediately, kneeling at the feet of a Terran female. The engineer had a hand on her calf, stroking the length of her leg. She looked down at him, smiling.
Rage filled Rohn and he failed to understand why. He did not want a mate and planned to send her home immediately. He should not be upset at the sight of her enjoying the company of another male. In fact, it would be best if she did move on to another male, another match. If she already found an agreeable replacement, then she would not be too upset when he sent her back.
She was lovely, with a warm bronze complexion, like she was made to be caressed by the sun. Long, loose curls hung over one shoulder in a dark wave. She wore a skirt, which was pushed up, exposing her captivating long, lean legs. He could imagine them wrapped around him. The leg Jaxar touched was a shining white, different from the other. An injury, then. It did not matter. The contrast in the artificial material against her skin spoke to strength and made her appear more elegant.
He did not deserve such a beautiful mate, and she would be better off without him.
But the sight of Jaxar’s hand on her calf.
Anyone but Jaxar.
Rohn growled, snagging her attention.
She turned towards him, and her face softened into a smile. He recognized her then, changed by the years, leaner in the face and more herself, and wholly unmistakable.
Nakia.
Possessive pride surged in him, that his little friend grew into such a lovely female, and that every male in the room stared at her with longing. She was vulnerable and alone and his to protect, his instincts insisted.
“Do not touch her!” He clamped a hand on Jaxar’s shoulder and roughly pulled the male away. The foolish smile did not falter on the engineer’s face. This was a joke to Jaxar—laughing and touching another male’s mate. Rohn wouldn’t have been surprised if Jaxar had misrouted his messages, causing him to leave Nakia waiting.
His annoyance grew, his tattoos burning bright with his heightened emotions. Jaxar was always pulling practical jokes, but stealing his mate was too far.
“Finally,” the idiot said.
Fury rose at the male’s insolent tone. Rohn grabbed Jaxar by his topknot of hair, pulling the male’s head back sharply. With throat of his rival exposed, Rohn fought the urge to sink his fangs in and rip his throat out. It would be gruesome but satisfying.
No, the sane part of his mind supplied, females did not like blood.
Shame. If anyone deserved to have their blood decorate the medical bay floor, it was the mouthy engineer. Instead, he gripped the base of Jaxar’s horns. The male thrashed and twisted, but he could not shake Rohn’s grip.
Jaxar threw his weight backward, slamming into Rohn’s chest. Together they stumbled, knocking into a cart and sending the contents to the floor. Vials shattered and glass crushed underfoot. His foot slipped in the fluid but he maintained his grip on the offending engineer.
“Cease at once!”
Rohn ignored the shouting medic, all his attention focused on Jaxar, which is why he did not see Kalen jab him with a needle.
“What did you do to Rohn? Will he be all right?”
“I administered a paralytic. He will be immobilized for ten minutes. Consider it a time out.” A foot kicked his side, not a crippling blow but one that would elicit a response, such as a fist to the jaw. Eyes open and staring at the white ceiling, Rohn could only groan. He would make Kalen pay for this.
“Do not think of retribution,” Kalen warned. “This is my medical bay, a place of healing, and I will not have two idiots fighting.”
Nakia leaned over him, concern in her eyes. She was lovely with her velvety brown eyes and red lips. He wanted to express his admiration and to explain why he had to send her back, but all that came out was a gurgling groan.
“Is that color normal?” she asked.
Kalen leaned down, pressing two fingers to Rohn’s throat, then opening his mouth. Rohn’s tongue lolled uselessly, blocking his air. “Stop fighting, idiot,” the medic scolded, then rolled Rohn over to his side. A bit of broken glass dug into his cheek. He tried to protest the change in view but appreciated being able to breathe easier.
“Is your prosthesis functional?”
“Yeah, it seems fine now,” his mate answered.
“We should monitor the effects of the ship’s gravity on your muscle and bone structure. I have scheduled a follow up in a month.” She agreed. “The paralytic will wear off on Jaxar first. We will wait if he needs to advise you further. Until then, your scans are acceptable and your immunizations up to date. Any discomfort?”
“My head hurts a bit.”
His mate was ill. Rohn wanted more than anything to jump to his feet and comfort her, to demand that the bossy medic do his duty and fix his mate, but he was stuck on the floor, unable to move.
Damn Kalen Halse. Damn him right out an airlock, straight into space.
“Adverse reactions to teleportation are not unusual. Sleep is the best cure,” Kalen said.
Jaxar stirred, the male sitting up slowly, then resting his head in his hands. “Why did you shoot me? I wasn’t the one attacking.”
“I had to make a snap decision. It seemed prudent,” Kalen said in a crisp tone.
“Cheers for that. I could do without the aftertaste.”
“Consider it an incentive to never misbehave in my medical bay. Next time, I’ll have the warlord take your horns.”
“Again, I wasn’t the one who attacked.” Jaxar rose to rose to his feet and out of Rohn’s view. “How is it working now?”
“Perfect,” Nakia said.
“If it gives you any more trouble, come to engineering. Poor design is unacceptable. I’ll take some scans and manufacture a non-malfunctioning unit.”
“Thank you.” Gratitude warmed her voice. Was she smiling at Jaxar? Rohn tried to move but his body would not respond. He should not care if she smiled at Jaxar, he told himself. He was unfit for a mate. He would say as much as soon as he could speak.
Damn Kalen Halse. Because of him, Rohn had to listen to Jaxar speak idly in that way Terrans found charming, chatting about nothing in an amusing manner. It was the one trait of Jaxar’s that Rohn found the most irritating.
In a matter of minutes that felt like an eternity, Rohn was able to sit. His hair and shirt were soaked with the spilled vial contents. He smelled medicinal and required a shower. Kalen plied him with water and a swift rap of the knuckles on the back of his head, like Rohn was a child and not the medic’s elder by a century.
“Will he be all right?” Nakia asked, because she was kind and concerned.
“Only his pride has been injured,” Kalen replied.
She approached him, apprehension visible on her face. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met. During the invasion. You—”
“She cannot stay,” Rohn said to the medic, turning his attention away from her. “Send her back.”
Kalen furrowed his brow. “Are you certain?”
“You said I must meet her in person, so I did. Now send her back to Earth.”
“What? Rohn, no,” she protested. The hurt in her voice tore at him, but he had to resist the urge to comfort her, making promises of never leaving her side. His young Nakia had grown into a stunning female who deserved better than an old male like him.
“Was I not clear?” He used his authoritative tone, the one that sent his crew scurrying. He moved toward the door.
; Nakia stepped directly in his path, her shoulders squared and ready for a fight. “No,” she said. “You will not ignore me, and you are not returning me like… like defective merchandise.”
Kalen nodded at her words and turned his cold, calculating gaze to Rohn. “Your mate had an adverse reaction to the teleportation and requires rest.”
“She can rest here. Tomorrow she returns to Earth,” Rohn said.
“I have no interest in running a hotel. Take your mate back to your quarters.”
Rohn moved to stand toe to toe with Kalen, using his height to full effect. For a moment, he thought the younger male would strike him, or inject him again, but violence gleamed in the male’s eyes. The head of medical was known to be as harsh and inconsiderate as he was brilliant, but he had never struck a patient. Then again, no male on the Judgment had ever refused a mate before.
Rohn stepped back, momentarily ashamed of his behavior by attempting to bully a male with a quarter of his years. “She may rest in my quarters,” he said with reluctance.
Chapter 8
Nakia
What the actual fuck?
Humiliation burned in the pit of Nakia’s stomach. Okay, she knew she wasn’t the same person she was sixteen years ago, and Rohn clearly wasn’t the same guy. Fine. They were strangers. She’d deal. But for him to just dismiss her without even a word? No discussion, no explanation, and not even a hello.
Fuck that, and fuck Rohn Ogana if he thought he could treat her that way.
She seethed in anger during the journey to his quarters. Vaguely aware of the curious stares as other Mahdfel warriors passed them in the corridor, she kept her focus trained on the back of Rohn’s head.
He was still handsome. The iron gray hair and the gold metalwork in his horn added to his rough appeal, and that made her angrier. He transcended silver fox and went straight to gray wolf, a more dangerous and infinitely sexier state of being in her opinion.
He moved with a sleek grace that she would never be able to manage, no matter how many hours she spent in physical therapy working with her prosthesis. She might have enjoyed the view of his ass flexing as he walked if not for her anger and secret fear of not being good enough.
No one got to make her feel this way, like damaged goods. She wouldn’t tolerate such a dismissive attitude on Earth, and she wouldn’t tolerate it now. The fact that it came from someone she thought she knew, someone she counted as a friend, hurt but she’d deal.
As the door opened to a darkened room, an overhead light flickered to life. A one-room studio with a kitchenette and a counter at the far end was cluttered with discarded clothes, toolkits, cardboard boxes, machine parts, and empty dishes. An unmade bed folded out from the wall. Mounted weapons decorated the walls, mixed with posters of far-off locales. At least they weren’t posters of naked three-tittied alien chicks. Clearly a bachelor lived here. Thank goodness the room didn’t smell.
“I was unaware of your arrival,” Rohn said. He tossed the clothes littering the bed to the floor and stripped the bed sheets. From an overhead compartment, he produced what were hopefully clean linens.
“Right.” Nakia stood in the doorway, her suitcase at her feet. Rohn’s quarters wasn’t just cluttered; it spoke of a man who didn’t pick up after himself and never considered what it was like to share space with another person. There was no room for her, physically and emotionally.
“I normally sleep on a cot on the flight deck.”
That didn’t make the state of his apartment better.
“Is it my leg?” She clenched her fist, waiting for an answer and expecting the worst.
He looked at her, finally, and his eyes softened. “No.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I am more than my body,” she said, repeating words he said to her years ago.
He flinched, as if she struck him.
What if he really believed that her leg was an issue, though? That the prosthesis somehow made her less able to be a partner. The Mahdfel wanted babies, right? That was what all the anti-alien people said on the media. They just wanted to use human women as broodmares, always barefoot and pregnant, and good for nothing else.
Well, fuck. Did Rohn think that her missing leg somehow affected how her ovaries and uterus worked? Maybe she should let herself be sent to the other match, that Jaxar guy. He seemed nice enough.
She refused to accept nice enough or good enough. She had that before and it didn’t pan out. She wanted to be wanted.
Nakia rubbed the bridge of her nose, wishing the headache would go away. Everything was a mess and she shouldn’t make huge decisions when tired and, frankly, cranky.
Rohn busied himself changing the sheets on the bed. Once finished, he stood with his hands on his hips. “There. You will rest and then you will return to Earth tomorrow.”
So much hung on that moment. Her response would shape their future: either she meekly submitted and went back home, or she stayed to fight for her husband.
Rohn was her husband, but only on paper.
She was exhausted, her head had a dull throb and her stomach still felt queasy. Rohn didn’t want her. Everything from his tardiness meeting her, his harsh first words, and his reluctance to admit her to his quarters attested to this. He’d let her stay the night in his cluttered, messy room, only to send her back to Earth in the morning.
“No,” Nakia said. She strode into the apartment, head high like a queen, suitcase rolling behind her.
“This is not up for debate, female. You cannot stay here.”
“I agree. Tomorrow we’ll see about getting new accommodations suited for two people.” She put her suitcase on the bed and pulled out a toiletry bag. A funky taste lingered in her mouth.
“That is not what I meant.” Rohn ran a hand over his fragmented horn, as if in frustration. “I reek of the medical bay. I must bathe.”
He touched an access panel, which opened to reveal a cramped cleansing room. The door slid shut behind him before she could speak.
She dug out her toothbrush and waited for her turn with the cleansing room.
Rohn emerged, a towel wrapped low on his hips, and water beading on his chest. His wet hair had a just enough of a messy look that she equally wanted to run her fingers through it to totally ruin any sense or order or brush it down smoothly.
Messy. She definitely wanted messy.
His arms were thick with corded muscles and those abs made her loose rational thought. He even had that line running from his pelvis down to what the towel covered. Swirls of black ink covered his arms and shoulders. The pattern seemed too orderly to be random and must hold meaning. She wanted to ask and memorize the pattern, to trace every swirl and curve with her fingertips.
Her alien husband was gorgeous beyond belief.
He stood in front of her, his golden tawny eyes looking anywhere but her. “Do you mind?”
“Not really,” she said, not really knowing what she said. No man ever made her stupid with lust before.
His horns flushed a deeper color, almost like a blush, and her heart thumped with excitement. Damn, he made her want to lick him all over.
With a weary sigh, he leaned in and reached an overhead compartment above the bed. The towel slipped a bit lower as he stretched and Nakia licked her damn lips like a thirsty bitch. She could reach out and nudge the towel down. She could even tug on it with her teeth and let the towel fall free to the floor. Would he blush then at his nudity? Be upset that his wife wanted to see all of him, to touch all of him?
When did she turn into such a gross old letch? Rohn might be her husband, technically, but it was still wrong to objectify him, she reminded herself. And he wanted to send her away.
That cleared the ab-inspired haze of lust from her mind. She scooted away and went to brush her teeth.
Still steamy from Rohn’s shower, the cleansing room smelled of sandalwood and soap. The narrow room was the shower, with a drain in the center. Holes in the ceiling indicated where the water rained down. The si
nk and toilet folded out.
Charming. At least the fixtures were clean.
“Look,” she said, rinsing off her toothbrush before prepping it. “You were matched to me, and I take that seriously. I get that we knew each other once upon a time, but I’ve changed. You’ve obviously changed.” She shoved the toothbrush in her mouth and scrubbed away the funky aftertaste of the day. Rohn crowded in the doorway, arms folded over his wide chest, watching her. He wore trousers now but was no less distracting. “But I’m not a quitter. That hasn’t changed,” she said, rinsing out her mouth.
She dried off her hands under the hot air dryer. When the cycle finished, she continued to unpack her case. Rohn stared at her, his gaze inscrutable. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he compare her to the awkward teenager of sixteen years ago? Did he see the bit of pudge at her waist? Or did he disregard all of that and only see a nuisance.
She wrinkled her nose at him, and he snorted.
Yup, probably a nuisance.
“If this doesn’t work between us, fine,” she said, “but we’re going to try. We can agree on that much, yes?”
He ran another hand over his horn. “Yes.”
“Good. We have a lot to talk about in the morning but let’s discuss sleeping arrangements. I don’t mind sharing—”
“I have a cot on the flight deck. That is sufficient.”
“Yes, the infamous cot.” Nakia bit her tongue to keep any additional sarcasm under wraps as her new husband fled their bedroom.
With a sigh, she settled into the bed. She meant what she said. She wasn’t a quitter. She refused to beg to be loved, but she would fight for the man she remembered loving.
Nakia woke, finding a tray with eggs, toast, and coffee, still warm, waiting on the low table by the bedside. Rohn had been there, at least to drop off breakfast, but otherwise she found herself alone. Not that she expected a different result, given the way Rohn ran away from her.
She barely tasted the food as she ate, too focused on how much she disliked Rohn’s behavior, as if being married to her was the worst thing in the universe. The Rohn she remembered made her feel special. Admired. She never doubted her self-worth with him, even with a missing leg.
Rohn: Warriors of Sangrin Page 8