Dreams of a Wild Heart

by Danube Adele

  Another set of cabinets had an entire encyclopedia of medical reference books, and I couldn’t help running my finger over the spines. They were fairly up-to-date. At least they would be accurate for some of the basic needs of medicine. As my fingers got to the end of the row of books, I saw there was a book that was leather-bound. It was smaller than the rest, lying on its side. I picked it out and pulled aside the rubber band that kept its pages closed.

  It was a journal. From the previous doctor? Curiously, I fanned through the pages and saw that it was at least half filled. Whoa.

  There was a desk in the corner. I’d missed it before, distracted as I was at first sight of all the equipment, but there it was with a modern office chair behind it. One of the medical books was open to a particular page, held that way by a syringe of all things. It was filled with something, but capped. Just sitting there. From its color, it looked like it was an anesthesia. Waiting. For what?

  Who was this guy? I wanted to see what the doctor had to say first hand. Was he taken just in the same way I was? Who was he? Starting from the beginning, I sat and began reading.

  I’m writing this for anyone who comes after me. It’s hard to know what the future holds, and there are dangerous people surrounding me at all times. I get some joy in knowing that I can write anything here, but none of these meatheads can read. So here goes. As unbelievable as it may seem, this is another planet. It’s difficult to fully appreciate being here because I’ve had to recover from the injuries I received when I was first captured. That’ll teach me to go climbing on my own again. I’ve been permanently cured of my John Wayne attitude. These assholes jumped me when I was camping out in the desert, but I didn’t go quietly. Broke a nose, managed to deliver a few contusions, but there were three of them, and they were all big motherfuckers. Fuckers broke one of my ribs, messed up my face. I still don’t know how I got here, and no one will tell me. If I listen to logic, and try not to let them piss me off, I can remember that if they managed to bring me here, they can get me back.

  I’d had the same thought.

  I’ll need to do some quiet investigation, find out how the hell we were able to jump light years in a few minutes. Reluctantly, I do find that the scientist in me has awakened. I want to know more about how people not only came to be, but have managed to survive on this planet for generations. It’s been hard learning anything. Most of the people are either closemouthed or flat out ignorant of their own history. Education is not something that happens here.

  Time passed swiftly as I read the journal. The guy, and it did sound like a guy writing this, added to it over time, though it was hard to tell the span of time he’d written over. He discussed the king’s illness, believing the king either had heart disease or was diabetic, but didn’t “give a fuck about the bastard.” The king hadn’t liked hearing that he needed to eat particular foods.

  But what the hell do I know? I’m a pediatric surgeon. I can only give guesses as to what the true underlying causes could be of the illnesses coming to me since there are no actual resources. Considering their lack of resources, it might be wise to study common ailments of the Middle Ages, but there is no internet or books.

  He’d been most angered by the lack of education and lack of health practices surrounding the children, some of whom had been brought to him with what looked to be cataracts. Clear symptomology of extremely poor nutrition over important stages of growth and development for extended periods of time, which he was able to see for himself. He documented the death of one toddler he’d treated.

  There was little food. Their education was strictly learning speech and getting to work, which would have been true to the Middle Ages. In his opinion, the culture as a whole was dying out. He’d seen few women, none of whom were pregnant, and even fewer children in the capital city. He wondered if this was a trend in the smaller, outlying cities.

  Other cities? Of course. A nation of people wouldn’t have just one village or town.

  Then I hit pay dirt.

  I overheard talk of a substance called mylunate. The guards didn’t know I was there listening. I believe this is the substance that allows us to move between planets. They were talking about the king having a stash of it. It’s not well-known to the commoners. Anyone I asked from the village was clueless. They barely had a concept of Earth being a different planet. Anyway, somehow, this substance can create some kind of transfer that would allow us to bypass those millions of light years. I’m not sure what it looks like, but they’re getting comfortable enough with me that I can move around the palace pretty freely. No one questions me.

  I’d heard this word before. Mylunate. Hadn’t Frank said something about Tabron having a small amount?

  “Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

  I nearly jumped out of my chair, I was so engrossed in my reading. Even more unfortunate, it was Draxton standing there, a cold smile drifting fleetingly across his face, like it didn’t want to be there either.

  “What do you want?” I asked, glad that the desk was between us. And if need be, I could throw the fucking medical book at him. It weighed ten pounds and could do some damage. But wait! I had a syringe! Was that why it had been left out? Protection? I palmed it, ready to give him a knockout shot.

  I could also just as easily draw a syringeful of air and give him a pulmonary embolus or something else that would fucking hurt like hell and possibly kill him besides.

  “I came to see if you were ready for dinner?” He moved with deliberation across the room, dragging a hand along different surfaces, casually knocking supplies off the shelves. A deliberate act of terrorism to incite fear. He was stalking me, his eyes never breaking contact. Then he was close enough to sit himself comfortably on the edge of the desk, effectively cornering me. My heart palpitated. This guy wasn’t here to play nice. Calm, keep calm. Keep thinking.

  “I’m waiting for Tabron.” Firm. I needed to keep my voice firm and not hesitate. Guys like this jumped on any sign of weakness.

  “That’s where you’ve made your mistake, love. You picked the wrong Brausiian.”

  I made my smile a pitying one. “Don’t be a sore loser, Draxton. I’m sure the right girl is out there for you somewhere.”

  “Maybe you just don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “Maybe I don’t care. Tabron is my choice, and I’m very, very satisfied.”

  “You should have picked me.” He grasped my hair and yanked my head back. “You will change your mind.”

  “Let go or I’ll kill you.” I shoved the tip of the syringe into his thigh. His eyes widened when he felt the sting. “I only have to depress the plunger and laugh while you collapse at my feet. Now, asshole!”

  “What is that?”

  “Would you like to find out?”

  After a moment of deliberation, and a glance at my thumb on the depressor, ready for action, he likely realized he was at checkmate for this round. He let go and stood up. I allowed it, letting the needle come out of his thigh, but holding my syringe like a dagger. I didn’t trust him not to make a sudden move.

  “You won’t always have that.”

  “Thanks for the warning. Maybe I will.”

  Just then, Tabron appeared in the doorway across the room. Relief hit me instantly. He was here, a look of murder on his face as he took in the scene. Me, holding the syringe for protection. Draxton cornering me. Tabron might not like our situation, but I could see he was going to protect me.

  “You lost, Draxton?” His low, gravelly tone warned Draxton to back the fuck away from me now.

  “Just keeping the lovely doctor company since she was all alone, pup. I would hate for something to happen to her.” Draxton moved back toward the door with a careless grin on his face. “She’s a piece.”

  There was the barest sound of a growl that rumbled from Tabron’s chest. “I would hate for
something to happen to you.”

  “Are you threatening me, Tabron?”

  All this male testosterone flying around the room was making me nervous. How would the king handle a brawl between his men over a woman? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out, as cool as it would have been to see Draxton eat his own teeth. Quietly sticking the syringe on the medical book once again, I pushed past Draxton, who was facing off with Tabron across half a dozen feet of space.

  “I was just assuring him that I was very happy with you.” I went to Tabron, put an arm around his waist and leaned up on my toes to kiss the corner of his lips. “I was telling him he didn’t need to worry about me.”

  “Stay away from her.” Tabron stepped in front of me.

  “Unless—” Draxton gave me a heated look, “—she decides to come to me.” Then he walked out the door.

  I made a fist. He would find me and do what he wanted and just claim that I was asking for it. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. Stay the hell away from me, asshole,” I called after him.

  Aquamarine eyes turned on me, full of ire. “Stop provoking him. He is dangerous to you!”

  “Did you hear him? He was basically telling you he was going to come after me! Besides, I could take him. I know how to defend myself. You know that. And you haven’t seen all I can do.”

  His arms squeezed me almost painfully as he shoved me against the wall with surprising speed. I couldn’t move, and I knew he was trying to prove his point. Roughly, with his face inches from mine, he said, “He isn’t going to come at you when you’re ready, and he might not be alone. You think highly of your skills, but any one of us could have taken you yesterday. We’re trained, and the command was to not hurt you. Do you remember that? You spend your days healing the sick. We spend our days training to kill.”

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” His body was so hard against mine. It reminded me that we were going to be sharing a room. This evening. This very one. Was he going to wait for the ceremony to try, or would he expect something tonight?

  Could I get out of this hold? The heat of his body burned against mine, and it felt good. I began to wonder if I wanted to get out of this hold. My eyes sought his lips. Beautifully shaped. Full. When I looked up into his eyes again, I could see that his anger was slowly turning into something else, something that had him getting hard against my belly. My nipples hardened and I leaned forward but then he suddenly let go and stepped away.

  “Don’t be alone anymore.”

  Chapter Eight

  It was not only extremely bizarre, but highly stressful to be one of the sole females in a roomful of large, muscular men who looked like they might actually be capable of raping and pillaging. I walked in and all eyes fell to me. I fought the tremble of fear that quaked inside me. I’m naturally a confident person, but I’m not stupid.

  And the serving wench would likely be helping out this evening with her lovely bosoms.

  For some reason, I was feeling possessive, even though nothing was going to happen tonight. Yes, he had to stay in my room, but he was going to take the floor, even though he didn’t know that yet.

  I dealt with the discomfort by standing up straight, sticking out my chin and walking in with attitude, acting like I owned the fucking place. That’s right, bitches, I’m the boss now. I’m a fucking doctor, motherfuckers. I could put you out with a finger on the right pressure point. My eyes looked everyone over before I turned to look up at Tabron, who had ahold of my arm. What was different this time, however was that his lips were curved into a half smile, like he was proud. It looked like he’d heard my thoughts, and I couldn’t stop the small glow of pleasure at his response. I gave him a small smile in return. He was so handsome when he smiled. A jolt of pleasure hit me.

  “Aren’t the two of you just a pair of lovebirds,” Morten drawled, his voice carrying across the room. “It seems you’ve already tasted the honey.”

  What the hell did that mean? Was that his way of calling me a whore? The smug look on his face seemed to say so. Man, I couldn’t catch a break here.

  Tabron’s smile fell, replaced with focused aggression. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed on the pale man across the room. Separating himself from me, he strode across the room in a deceptively calm manner, then in a single smooth motion, grabbed Morten by the throat, shoving him against the wall. Morten’s eyes bulged as he tried to dislodge Tabron’s grip. He looked around, but no one, not even the king, was stepping in to help him. Tabron was bigger, stronger and angrier.

  Booyah, asshole. This was great.

  Tabron wasn’t finished. “You will say nothing about her. Ever. Do you hear me? If she is ever made to feel uncomfortable around you, I will do us all a favor by squeezing your despicable life from your despicable body.” Then he let go and backed off a step or two.

  “Is this how we run things now?” Morten’s complaint was directed to the king. “We can act like barbarians and no one seems to mind?”

  “If you invite trouble, my boy, be ready to meet it,” the king replied dismissively, mopping his brow with his cloth napkin, leaving Morten flushed with the shame in front of the others.

  “Let’s sit.” Tabron took my hand, pulling me along to one side of the table.

  “Have I missed anything?” Tarra entered the dining room looking flushed and pretty. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I was playing with the horses.”

  “Combing their hair with pretty ribbons?” Bruner said this with a mildly contemptuous tone. I saw anger flash in her eyes, then she gave him a bright smile.

  “Of course, Bruner. Horses deserve to be pretty, don’t they?”

  King Ral’e was finished with the sniping. He seemed to be feeling short-tempered. “Sit. Let’s begin the meal.”

  Tabron filled my plate and set it in front of me again. Trying something out, I mentally offered, thank you, then waited.

  He paused in the act of lifting his fork and looked at me. His words wound through my mind. You’re welcome.

  It was another feast of succulent meat, this time some kind of fowl, in a delicious wine sauce with creamy corn and potatoes. Another flaky dinner bread accompanied the meal. Damn. More carbs, please. And I could again see Raseen and poor little Cyral, along with the other villagers looking so thin, their faces set with the non-emotive look associated with deep hunger and pain. It made it hard to sit here and eat. I was definitely going to have to take something, hide it somehow and pass it along. At least Raseen would be able to give it to Cyral and his little friend. I might not be able to help everyone, but I could help one. With that thought in mind, I picked up my fork and took some bites.

  “How did you spend your day?” the king asked me. “Were you able to see the facilities we’ve built over the last few years?”

  With a quick smile I answered, “I did. It will take time to look through everything and catalog it, but it looks to be thorough.”

  “Very good.” He nodded, mopped his forehead again. It was strange. The room was comfortable and he was wearing the same clothing as the rest of the men, though in materials that were of better quality. There was no reason for him to be so warm.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine.” He waved away my concern. He began to eat and talk with the men around the table, and I saw that his eyes seemed borderline glassy, that the pulse in his neck was moving rapidly, and he was sweating like he had a flu. Worrisome. Had Morten slipped something else into his drink? It was seeming to be more and more likely.

  “What else did you do?” He leaned toward me again.

  I wondered if now was a good time to bring this up, but decided to dive right in. I’d promised Raseen to help as much as I could over the course of the time I was here. Why not start now? The sandwich method was always a good strategy to use. Good news, criticism, goo
d news. “I was also in the village today. I had a chance to walk down the main street. I thought it had very charming buildings.”

  The king smiled. “This is a gift of the people. They have always been excellent craftsmen. Tabron’s father was one. Wasn’t he, Tabron?”

  “I don’t remember. I suppose.” I looked to Tabron, but his face had closed off as soon as the topic was introduced. He took another bite of food, saying nothing else. It wasn’t a topic he was willing to discuss. Interesting. What was all his talk about not caring about anything or anyone? What had happened to his family?

  “We used to mine for different kinds of ore,” Lanir offered from across the table. His smile was gentle. “Master welders and sculptors of wood, stone and steel. We stopped production long ago.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We needed protection from our enemies,” the king interjected. “We needed to concentrate our efforts to ensure our safety.”

  “Safety is important.” Here goes nothing. “I had a chance to speak with a few of the villagers and they were hoping for access to me. Many of them have questions and concerns about their health.”

  “It’s their own fault.” The king stabbed a piece of meat with his fork, not the least concerned. “They ran off the few healers who were still capable of helping them.” I couldn’t help the simmer that burned in my belly, listening to him trivializing their health and well-being, like it wasn’t his job to make sure they were taken care of. What a prick. He was sitting here filling his already overfilled belly while just a short distance away, children were going hungry.

  “Would they be able to have access to me in the palace?”

  This got his attention. “No. Absolutely not. They’re like animals fighting over bones, and many have been inciting discontent. They slit their own throats.”

  Maybe they had a reason to be discontent, asshole. If they came in the palace and saw the gluttony, they’d likely be pissed off. Revolt. Throw over the stupid king.