Setting my jaw, I climb onto the bed, reach over Vexar’s right leg, and pull.
No movement. Need more leverage.
I swing my leg over his right thigh, grip the bag, and stop when my eyes catch on the growing bulge between his legs.
Seriously? How does he have enough blood for a boner?
For a moment, it’s almost funny. Seconds later, my body reacts with a wave of lustful heat, and I panic. I yank the bag and shout as it pops free, sending me tumbling backwards onto his thighs. Naturally, Vexar lets out a groan at that exact moment, which sends me flying off the bed with a terrified yelp.
Somehow, he doesn’t wake.
Feeling my heart pounding in my throat, I shake my head. The reaction I just had was wildly inappropriate. Vexar’s an unconscious patient, having a normal bodily reaction, and I’m what? Getting horny?
Fucking hell, Amara.
I slam the bag onto the table and start digging through it while trying to talk myself down.
“Sometimes, uncomfortable things happen when you're a nurse,” I whisper. “I mean, usually it’s the patient who has an uncomfortable reaction, but that’s ok. Usually, the patient isn’t a wildly hot alien with a boner.”
Fuck…I drop into a squat in front of the table, breathing heavily.
“Ok,” I say gently, trying to soothe myself, “just shakeit off and focus on the task.”
I get a makeshift workstation set up on the side of the bed, wave the sani-light over everything, tuck the extra pair of medical shears between my boobs—I’ll need a weapon later—and get to work.
Beneath the gauze, the bleeding has slowed, but the wound is bad. It looks almost cauterized in places. Which is weird. The only injuries I’ve seen out of the arena are from blades, opponents’ body parts, and blunt force. Unless he was fighting a balrog or something, I’m not sure how this happened. The good news is, I know how to deal with it.
If you’re wondering why I have experience stitching up partially cauterized wounds, the answer is simple: Marines do dumb shit when no one’s looking.
My only real concern with the procedure is the depth of the wound. His fascia is nicked in a few places, and I’ve never had to suture fascia before. But they say confidence is key, and after a few minutes of swearing under my breath, I stare at my handiwork with a smile. His fascia is pulled back together with five neat little Xs. It’s not perfect, but if I just keep doing what I’m doing, I think?—
Something darts across my vision and latches onto my wrist.
It’s a hand.
Vexar’s hand.
A yelp bursts from my lungs as my eyes fix on those deadly claws. I try to pull away, twisting my arm in an attempt to free myself from his vice-like grip. It doesn’t work.I’m trapped.My lungs expand and contract at an impossible rate. Adrenaline burns.
My eyes snap up and…
Holy shit.Impossibly green eyes lock on mine. Alien eyes. My heart races. Skin burns. I open my mouth, but before I can make a sound, the familiar fog descends, the cold press of metal hits my skin, and my nervous system shuts me down.
7
XELORA
VEXAR
ASERIES OF sharp, burning sensations pulls me from the darkness and into interminable agony. My head pounds. Pain arcs over my torso in searing bursts. Something brushes against my ribs, and in a desire to stop the pain, I reach out and catch it.
A startled yelp breaks the silence and pulls me from the haze.
A female…
Her large brown eyes snap to mine.
Confusion, surprise, and a foreign feeling I cannot identify rush through me. Everything stills. Her warm skin vibrates against my palm. Then the moment shatters. The female's eyes unfocus, and she starts to fold in on herself, collapsing towards the floor. I act without thought, releasing her wrist and catching her waist before she topples.
