Page 20 of Alien Healer’s Mate

It skittered sideways, tried to pounce again, missed, and tumbled over itself in a heap of legs. She smiled and scooped it up, the metal warm under her palms and its weight solid and real against her chest.

“Okay, you’re definitely some kind of cleaning bot,” she told it, settling cross-legged on the floor with it in her lap. “Am I right? You got bored vacuuming hallways and decided to stage a jailbreak? Then you ended up with those big scary robots and got scared?”

It tilted its head, well… its whole body really… and the motion was so dog-like her throat went tight. Reaching up, she scratched the top of its head. Once she’d gotten around the feeling of warm, smooth metal instead of warm, soft fur, it was just like a dog with the advantage that no one would be allergic to it. Leaning into her hand, it started that pleased hum up again, and her chest filled with the warm and fuzzies.

It was hers. As soon as they’d gotten back to the cabin, it had tucked itself against her when she sat down, as if it wanted to be here. With her. It hadn’t even left her when she’d found the bathroom and taken a shower, sitting on the floor outside the door waiting for her.

The machine chirped and nudged her hand with its head, and she blinked hard, dragging the thread across the floor again.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’m playing. I’m playing.”

It pounced, and she let herself smile, the ache in her chest folding itself back down where it belonged.

They played for another ten minutes, maybe fifteen, the thread getting shorter and more frayed as the little robot got braver with its jumps. It misjudged one and went skidding under the bunk, and she leaned down to coax it back out, laughing.

“You’re fine, come on out. You just startled yourself.”

It crept forward, slower this time, and when it reached her it didn’t bounce or chirp. It just pressed itself against her leg and went still.

The change in its manner knocked the air out of her. She sat back on her heels, one hand hovering over its back, and it made a small sound. One that was small and lost and so familiar she had to close her eyes.

“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, though. It leaned into her, its whole body drooping under some weight she couldn’t see. It was sad. Not broken, or hurt, but sad somehow. How could a robot be sad?

Carefully, she scooped it up and held it against her chest, one hand cradling its back, the other stroking the ridge of its head. It didn’t chirp, just tucked itself closer. She rocked it slightly, her chin resting on top of it.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I know. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

The door chimed, and the robot bolted. One second it was in her arms, and the next it was gone, a blur of motion as it skittered across the floor and under the bunk. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Did someone know she’d taken it and had come to get it back?

“It’s okay,” she whispered over her shoulder as she crossed to the door. “Just stay under there. Don’t make a sound.”

Schooling her face, she dragged in a breath and hit the door release. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing Kellat on the other side.

Instantly, her brain went offline.

Holy shit.

She’d seen him before, obviously. In his medical bay with him looming over her, all professional and stern. But she’d been groggy and terrified and half-convinced she was dying, and now she was awake and fed, and he was just… right there, filling the damn doorway as if he owned it. Which, he did. This was his shuttle.

His silver hair was in those little braids again, and his eyes—violet shading into blue, and the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—were fixed on her. Like she was a puzzle he was still solving.

Her gaze slid over his jaw, the hard line of it, then down to the shoulders that went out forever and the teal sash cutting across all that muscle, and her mouth went dry, because… holy shit.

If he were human, she’d have climbed him like a tree by now. But he wasn’t; he was an alien, which was so unfair, and to add insult to injury, he was her doctor. There had to be some kind of rule about that. Didn’t there? Doctor-patient relationships were like illegal… or unethical? Or both?

Not that it mattered; he wouldn’t be interested in someone like her anyway. She was a walking disaster, a problem he’d had to solve, not⁠—

She shoved that thought down hard and aimed for bright instead of strangled.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Kellat didn’t move, his massive frame still blocking the light from the corridor. He looked her over, his gaze half making her feel like she was under a microscope.

“There’s going to be a memorial for a fallen warrior,” he said. “The crew will gather to honor him before we return his body to his clan. I thought you might want to attend.”

“A memorial? Like, a funeral?” She blinked, her brain playing catch-up. “You’re asking me? Why?”