Damn right I did.
“Gods help him.” Elite Hunter Kayn turned to the side and pressed his back to the wall. I had just enough room to walk past him without my shoulder brushing his abdomen. Good grief, were all aliens this big? From every planet?
The door slid open and I forced my feet to move forward. If I stopped, I’d get scared. If I got scared, I’d faint. Or puke. Or both. Not the impression I was going for.
“Hello, gentlemen.” I sounded pleasant and calm. Win for me.
Two Prillon warriors were directly in my path. A Prillon doctor—wearing green, that’s how I knew—knelt next to an injured Prillon warrior who was sitting in a chair. Neither one of them were my Zarren, their hair and skin coloring didn’t match the digital image I’d seen of my mate. Still, the poor patient looked like he’d been horribly burned, almost all the skin of his upper arm was gone, revealing a gooey, oozing mess. Poor baby. I would have been a puddle of tears on the floor.
The injured warrior looked… bored.
Luckily, the doctor was healing him up with a ReGen wand, new skin forming even as I watched.
Still, the patient looked terrible. Sick. Like he’d been tortured. He had huge sunken areas under his eyes—wow, golden eyes, like a cat’s-- and in his cheeks. His light brown skin appeared starchy and pale, like he’d been lightly dusted with wheat flour. He was covered with small cuts and bruises. His hair was the same rich tone of his skin, several shades darker, as if his skin and hair color had been taken from opposite ends of a paint sampling stick, lightest at one end, darkest at the other. He was naked—oh yes, he was—but I averted my eyes from his—oh my, that was large—private area. That didn’t stop me from inspecting his skin where it stretched over prominent bones across his shoulders and chest. Had he been starving for days? Weeks? He was so brave. His burn had to hurt like heck, but he didn’t make a sound as the doctor tried to help. The warrior’s hands rested on top of his thighs. They weren’t even clenched into fists.
I looked around. The bed behind him, next to the wall? A disgrace. It looked like solid metal, a surgical table, not fit for sleeping. The chair on which he sat? Also some kind of metal. Had to be hard as a rock. Why would the doctor not eventryto make his patient more comfortable?
Thiswas my mate’s super-important meeting? Even if this injured warrior just came back from a dangerous mission—which would totally explain the way he looked, as well as the numerous injuries—couldn’t they wait to debrief him until he wasn’t in pain? Let him eat something and take a bath? The cuts and scratches all over him weren’t deep, but they hadn’t been cleaned up, either. They were crusty and dusty, as my mother used to say. He had to have horrible bruises beneath.
His gaze locked on mine and I froze in place like a deer in headlights. Those eyes. Not yellow. More like the color of honey lit up by sunlight, and focused on me.
I cleared my throat and told my libido to give me a break. The Atlan and the Everian? Not interested. But this strong, fierce, dreamy Prillon warrior?
Soon, I promised myself. Soon I would have my mates in my bed. This one wasn’t mine. Not mine.Not mine.
But daaaaamn.
Maybe he was Zarren’s second? Oh, please, yes. I barely noticed the doctor, but the patient? Hubba hubba. Super sexy, in abadass-kill-anything-that-moveskind of way. All those injuries and his expression showed absolutely nothing?
My pussy woke up and stretched like a hunting cat—and she was starving.
Where the hell was my mate?
3
Zarren Helion
Gods be damned,this Prillon was fucking tough. A reluctant thread of respect clawed its way through me as I watched Mersan work like a master, melting just enough skin to cause maximum pain while preventing the prisoner from blacking out. We’d been at this for hours. Were we having any effect? As soon as Oberon’s flesh was whole, I waited for my prisoner to lift his gaze to mine.
Fucking bastard looked amused.
“Again.” I wanted him talking, not dead. I was running out of patience. The subject was sleep deprived, starving, and had enough chemicals floating around in his head to fuck up an Atlan. He had no close family I could threaten. I had no fucking leverage. All I had was pain. More pain. More. Pain.
Perhaps burning the skin from his body wasn’t enough. Or perhaps it was time to reconsider melting the fucker’s cock. The idea did not appeal, but failure was not an option. Failure meant people would die.
Mersan’s expression looked as grim as I felt. He switched the polarity of the ReGen wand back to destructive mode and placed it over Oberon’s upper arm. I leaned my back against the wall, right next to the door, crossed my arms and watched. I was so fucking tired of this, all of it. The war. The pain. The responsibility. The guilt.
Guilt kept me going. I’d been soft once, followed my heart instead of my head. Every day I paid for that mistake all over again. Every night, when I closed my eyes, I watched them die, over and over. Every morning that I woke, I hardened my resolve.
They were dead. I was not.
I should be.
I shoved the thought aside. I couldn’t live there and function. What Icoulddo—what I had been doing—was ensure I never again made the mistake of being too soft. Too careful. I made pragmatic decisions, not hope fueled, nor ruled by emotion. Not ever.
I watched clumps of cells and blood roll down Oberon’s arm, past the elbow. Mersan wiped the area with a cloth, the attention paid in stroking the wound an ingenious addition to the torture. So helpful, the doctor.
“Who is helping you?” I asked.
