Page 12 of Alien Healer’s Mate

He didn’t say the name because he didn’t need to. Charlotte Mason’s case sat in a locked file on his terminal that only he and Laarn had clearance to open. She was something to do with the new crown prince, T’Raal’s mate… but that was as much as he knew of her background that wasn’t medical. Then there was the fact that the emperor’s interest in her was the kind of thing nobody said out loud in a lift, priority code or not.

“I want you finding out what they know,” Laarn said, his voice grim and determined. “Quietly. You’re the only healer on this station’s staff roster who’s touched her file. If anyone else starts asking a Vorrtan delegate pointed questions about neurological damage of that kind, then word gets back to people who don’t need to hear it.”

Kellat’s gaze flicked to Delilah again. She’d abandoned the pretense of not listening and was watching him openly now, brow furrowed, a fry forgotten between her fingers.

“An hour,” he said, dragging his attention back to the call. “I have a patient mid-workup.”

“Hand her to your second,” Laarn said. “This isn’t a request, Lead Healer. Bag packed, shuttle bay, one hour.”

And the line went dead.

“I like him,” Delilah said suddenly.

He slid her a sideways glance, certain he’d misheard. “You like him?”

“Yeah.” She popped the fry into her mouth. “He didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing. Just, boom, here’s the deal, get moving. I respect that.”

Kellat blinked. “He all but threatened my career in the space of a minute.”

“And you’re still standing here instead of packing.” She shrugged, gaze flicking up to his. “He calls a spade a spade. I like that. Most people talk in circles trying not to hurt your feelings. He just says the thing.”

Kellat studied her, the full lips and the stubborn set of her chin that hadn’t eased even a fraction since the concourse. Laarn’s brand of bluntness had made grown warriors flinch but not her. Somehow he knew she’d have said the same thing if Laarn had been here in front of her.

Ninety-nine point eight percent.

He shoved the thought down where it belonged, buried under years of professional discipline. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that he was her healer and that she was less than a day out of a coma. A coma that, while under it, her brain had remapped itself. And he had no idea why or how. A patient like that did not belong alone on a station, under a second healer’s care, half a galaxy away from him.

Yeah… That was the only reason. The only one.

“Pack a bag,” he said abruptly. “We’re leaving.”

Delilah blinked, fry halfway to her mouth. “We’re what?”

“You heard him.” Kellat tipped his chin at the bracer comp. “I’m required off-station. You’re still my patient. I’m not leaving your care in someone else’s hands.”

“So I’m coming with you?”

“You are my patient. So, yes.”

“Road trip? Seriously?” She bounced on her toes, hair swinging loose over her shoulder. “Oh my god. I’ve never been on a road trip. Well—” she caught herself, waving the bag at him, “—space road trip, I guess! Or, honestly, even a regular road trip. Harper and I never had the money for gas, let alone⁠—”

“This is not a road trip,” he said flatly. “This is a medical assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” She was already moving, practically skipping out the lift doors when they opened like he hadn’t spoken at all. “Road trip. I’m calling it a road trip.”

Delilah didn’t get a moment to breathe.

One second she was trailing Kellat out of the lift, still buzzing from the word road trip, and the next he pushed her through a side door into a smaller medical prep room where a junior healer thrust a bag into her hands.

She turned it over, murmuring her thanks, but the healer was already gone. The bag was blue with the LMP logo on the side in big, bold letters. She wrinkled her nose at it. The Latharian Mate Program. The one she’d signed up for to escape a miserable life with Harper and then promptly torched via drunk flyer car.

“Really love their branding, don’t they?” she said, staring at the bag.

“Come on, we need to move,” Kellat said, shrugging a pack over his shoulder and walking out the door.

She hurried after him, with her new bag. It was heavier than it looked. She hoped there were some toiletries inside and perhaps a comb… she caught sight of herself in a reflective panel in one of the bays they passed. Yeah, she looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backward.

The junior healer didn’t look at her as they passed. He nodded at Kellat then backed away quickly. Everyone did that around Kellat. It was totally unfair. How did someone that good-looking also get to command that much space?