“It is my duty.”
“No.” She looked up at him, seeing the sorrow lurking behind those black eyes. “It’s more than duty. I don’t know why, but you actually care. Thank you for that.”
He didn’t respond. Just held her gaze for a moment before nodding once, sharp and controlled, then left her side long enough to carefully transfer Anya to a floating hover-stretcher that Bombaya brought onto the shuttle. As he returned to her side, he stopped and pulled a long cloak out of a locker, then wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Cover the child,” he said quietly. “It might be best to avoid questions, for now.”
Questions? What questions? Another wave of panic threatened to surface, but she managed to push it back down as she carefully arranged the cloak to conceal Mikoz. Then Selik’s tail slid into the now familiar position around her waist before they followed the stretcher through a confusing maze of sterile, functional corridors.
They passed very few other people, all of them alien, but none of them Cire. She felt the discreet glances in their direction, but she ignored them. Their presence had to be raising questions, but as long as they didn’t try to take the children away from her, she didn’t care.
The medical bay was larger than she’d expected with clean white walls and a lot of equipment she didn’t recognize. Selik transferred Anya onto a bed with another larger scanner that ran back and forth over her body. Then a clear dome arched up to cover the bed and the sleeping girl, and she immediately protested.
“What are you doing? Why are you confining her?”
“She is not being confined,” Bombaya said calmly as a faint pink mist began to fill the dome. “But she needs to absorb the medicine into her lungs to clear the respiratory infection.”
“All right,” she said reluctantly.
“You’re next.” Bombaya indicated the next bed. “Please take a seat. It would be easier without the child,” he added quietly.
Her arms tightened instinctively, and Mikoz gave a sleepy murmur.
“I can hold him,” Selik offered, and she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes understanding. “I will remain right beside you the entire time.”
Neither he nor the medic made any attempt to take the baby and after a long moment, she gave a reluctant nod.
“All right.”
He reached down and very carefully took the sleeping child, but as he did, his fingers brushed her exposed skin beneath one of the holes in her sweater. A completely unexpected spark of electricity raced through her from that brief contact. He froze for a second, just long enough for her to suspect that he’d felt it too, then lifted Mikoz into his arms.
The baby’s eyes blinked open and she held her breath, expecting an outraged protest, but Mikoz only studied Selim’s face a moment before drifting back to sleep, his tail curling around Selik’s wrist. Her heart ached but she refused to give into tears. He was still her son and she wasn’t going to let anyone take him away from her, not even the huge alien warrior looking at him as if he were a miracle.
CHAPTER FOUR
The child weighed nothing.
Selik stood perfectly still as the tiny Cire infant settled against his chest, tail wrapped around his wrist in absolute trust. Mikoz’s warmth seeped through the fabric of his uniform, and for one disorienting moment, he was back on Ciresia, holding Lira as she slept, her small fingers curled around his thumb.
Stop.
He forced the memory away, burying it under layers of discipline and training. The past was gone. This child was not his daughter. The female watching him so anxiously was not his mate. He had a duty to protect them, nothing more.
Except his tail had wrapped itself around Corinne’s waist without conscious thought, and when his fingers had brushed her skin, something had ignited in his blood that he hadn’t felt in twenty years.
“Commander?” Bombaya’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine.”
The medic’s expression suggested he didn’t believe that, but he wisely turned his attention to Corinne instead. She sat on the medical bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her entire body radiating tension. Even exhausted and malnourished, she held herself with a quiet dignity that commanded respect.
Bombaya ran the scanner over her again, more thoroughly this time, and his frown deepened.
“When did you last sleep properly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Right. I’m prescribing a nutrient supplement and at least twelve hours of rest. I can prepare a bed?—”
