Page 53 of Meteor Storm

“Then she will have to operate. The medlights can replace your old implant with the new one and you will be fine. I am confident that you will heal.”

“How long?”

“Luca can start right now.”

I reached up, taking Thilar’s hand off my cheek and squeezing. “Can you please stay with me?” I whispered.

His dark eyes softened at those words and, without hesitation, he nodded.

“Yes, Penny. I can stay with you.”

I closed my eyes, trying to find that peaceful place between consciousness and dreams as Thilar began inputting something into the medical computer. After a while, he began to unfasten the front of my shirt. I didn’t say anything. My body being out in the open was the least of my concerns. Even so, before my breasts spilled out, he gently began to roll me over and as much as I was able, I helped until I was lying on my stomach, my back exposed to whatever instruments Luca had in her inventory. When the computer spoke, Thilar was swift to translate.

“Would you like a sedative or—”

“I want to stay awake,” I insisted, the idea of closing my eyes and never waking up whispering in the back of my mind.

“Very well.”

Thilar began to peel my shirt back off my shoulders and then dragged it down my arms until it was removed, leaving the entire expanse of my back exposed. I pressed my lips together, trying not to think about what came next.

“The first time they had to operate, I was in a coma,” I confessed.

“Are you sure you don’t want—”

“I’m sure.”

Closing my eyes, I waited for something to happen. I heard the light hum of something electronic nearby and, in a blink, the rapid, sharp pinch of something poking me in the back startled my breath out of me.

“At least I can feel something,” I said.

“It will numb you for a short time,” he said, his fingers gently prodding my spine until he found the small protrusion hidden under my skin.

The computer continued to speak as if explaining to him what was going on. After a few moments, Thilar pulled up a small stool and sat himself beside the medical table, winding his big hand around mine and positioning himself to look me right in the eyes.

“I’m sorry I got emotional back there,” I apologized. “I get a little moody when I’m not feeling good.”

“Why apologize?”

“Because whatever is going on between you and that other guy is probably important. I don’t mean to complicate things.”

“Penelope, you are not a complication. Well, you are, but not one that needs forgiving.”

“Amelia,” I muttered, listening to the light buzzing sound of whatever was going on behind me. The faint scent of burnt flesh made me wrinkle my nose. If I had to guess, there was some kind of laser tech cutting a hole in my back.

“What?” Thilar said.

“My name. It’s Amelia. Not Penelope.”

“Why go by a different name?”

“Because, I’m hiding. The people that did this to me—the ones who put holes in me—if they knew I was alive, they wouldn’t be happy. I know things about them. That’s why they killed me.”

“Killed you?”

I nodded, feeling drowsy. “They shot me twice. One of the bullets hit my lung. The other went through my abdomen, tore my uterus to pieces, and skimmed my spine. So, no unexpected babies. No walking without an implant. I died on the operating table.”

Silence stretched between us. I was feeling a little lightheaded. Drunk on whatever had been given to me for the operation. Words were spilling out, but the way Thilar stared, I didn’t think he minded. His thumb stroked over my knuckles, back and forth, soothing me.