“Understood.” I’m not leaving Zariah, but I track our location on a medbay screen. “MONA, make it happen.”
The ship powers up in a whirling whine of engines. I feel the tug on my body, but I refuse to let go of Zariah to brace myself.
When we’re up to speed several minutes later, I relax and check the ship’s stats on the screen beside me with one hand, while I hold Zariah’s in my other. The moment my serum starts heating my body, trying to heal me, I know I’m ready for another session, healing Zariah, or another vial drain.
Leaning over Zariah to assess what she needs most I find, even in her condition, my core stirs with desires I can’t push out of my mind. Stats show her blood oxygen level slowly rises. But she’s still got a hole in her chest.
I fight a powerful pain, one born from the fear that I may never see her look at me with recognition again. This might be all I get to have of her: motionless, dead to the world, a bloodied wreck. And still, I am grateful for this moment she is in my care, her hand in mine. I am finally able to fight for her like she deserves.
Fresh serum makes the back of my tongue tingle. My gland is fully replenished. Not wanting to waste it, I rest my mouth on her worst wound, trying to focus on her healing and not the taste of her blood that rattles my core.
Her skin begins to heal beneath my tongue.
When my serum runs out again, I check the wound to find it has turned pink and mostly filled in. She shifts, and her eyes flutter. With her bio stats stabilized and her showing signs of waking up, I extubate her. She gags, and her eyes roll skyward.
“I know,” I say, trying to comfort her as I set the equipment in another metal bin. “Not my favorite part either.”
I set her up with a nasal cannula oxygen feed and then clean up around her bed. She’s still with me, but she’ll be extra fragile for the next twenty-four hours. When the bins of equipment are in the ship’s autoclave and sanitizing systems, I sit beside her, looking down at her dirty uniform and face.
Needing a distraction from my brewing lust, I clean her face with saline solution and some sterile towels. Then I work my waydown her neck to her hands and every finger, looking for more wounds to lick-heal. Every scratch and red mark reminds me that I didn’t protect her well enough. She doesn’t deserve any of them. I take each, one at a time, and heal it with a lick or a simple kiss.
She might reject me when she finds out the truth.
If she wakes up.
I take my time, knowing it might be my only chance. When I’m finished, I cover her with a blanket and take my seat again.
Zariah sleeps for the next three hours. Her chest heals a little more with each session, but I’m taxing my serum. At some point, I will have to heal myself or I won’t be able to continue to care for her.
I check our drop zone, monitor the other ships, and try not to fall asleep myself. But I am still injured, covered in Soulstealer blood and Zariah’s. With some exhaustive effort, I connect another recirculating IV to the tank in the wall and clip it into my port. It brings instant relief and energy.
A private com call registers on my wristband. I accept. “Who is this?”
“Keo, personal guard to Teol. Elix, is that you?”
I lick my lips, the taste of Zariah’s skin lingering on them. It seems like Keo has made the connection. “Confirm secure status.”
“Isolated.”
“Yes, this is Elix.”
“I knew that was you who tackled the Ginarigon!” Keo says.
“Keep that quiet, please.”
“Of course. How is she? Teol is worried but didn’t want to call. Except she won’t stop talking about her.”
“She is healing. I have extubated her, and she is on a nasal oxygen supply.”
“Must have a good set-up to have all that equipment.”
“In my past life, I was mainly a deep space medical rescue officer. I carry what I can. How are the others?”
“Spacebus from Hell.” Keo laughs. “Ever seen a catfight?”
“No.”
“If you ever do, you’ll know. There are a few alien males with us. But most are on their private ships with their chosen ones. Couldn’t get to Gashnaar’s ship before they locked down the hangars. So we got thebus.
