“Agreed.” Ceredes rolls up one of his sleeves. “Work on me.”
Kyte rolls his eyes. “I’m the obvious candidate here. I can regenera—”
“Exactly. That’s why you’re a shit candidate. You’ll cheat. I can’t.” Ceredes sits heavily at the table and stretches out his arm. “Do your worst, Lana.” The way his eyes meet mine sends a rush of heat through me like a sudden fire. It shouldn’t. But it’s there, all the same.Kinky Ceredes.
“You have no idea, but you will,” he thinks right back.
An electrical thrill races across my skin.
Onin clears his throat as he retrieves all the implements Kyte swiped off the table. “Using Ceredes will work, but I do want Lana to know how to repair her own physiology so—”
The low growl from my three Alphas has Onin shaking his head. “Always possessive Alphas trying to overstep and …” His words fade and for just a moment I see a shadow of pain cross his face. But he shakes it off. “Let’s get to work. Kyte and Jeren, please return to your classes. I’ve got this.”
“We can’t stay?” Jeren crosses his arms over his wide chest.
“No need.” Ceredes shoots him a cocky look. “I’m in command.”
I tap Ceredes on the back of the head. “I’min command. This is my lesson.”
He leans back, masculine confidence coming off him in delicious waves. “Then get to work, Omega. Hurt me.”
Kyte gripes his way out the door and Jeren follows, their faint jealousy tickling along our bond.
“You don’t have to gloat.” I take the proffered scalpel from Onin.
“Start small,” he cautions. “I want you to learn how to treat injuries with your ability but also with the usual methods available to the fleet.”
“Small.” I nod and grip the scalpel as I stare at Ceredes’s skin. His veins pop, the muscles in his forearm thick and hard. He already has scars, his body strong and tested. I’ve seen how he got them, the punishing childhood of training and sparring and constant combat. He is steeped in violence and war, but the heart that beats beneath all of that is stronger still. True and full of love. I try to keep that in mind as he offers his flesh to me for nothing more than practice.
Lifting the blade to his skin, I hesitate.
“You can do it.” Ceredes runs his other hand up the back of my thigh and leaves it there. It’s confusing and arousing, though it should probably be disturbing.
Onin pinches his chin with one hand, concentration on his face. “Go ahead.”
I tap the scalpel against Ceredes’s arm then pull it away. “Is there blood?”
He squeezes the back of my thigh. “Deeper, Lana.”
“If this war is truly coming.” Onin meets my gaze. “And I believe it is, you’re going to need this skill. For your circle and for others.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and try again, barely scratching Ceredes’s arm. No blood.
“Here.” He takes the scalpel from me and swipes it across his arm.
“Ceredes!” I gasp as blood wells and runs along his skin.
He tosses the scalpel down as if it’s nothing more than a pencil and returns his hand to my thigh. “Heal me, Lana.” Ceredes isn’t bothered that he’s bleeding everywhere, and I think I can see a tendon in there? Oh my god.
“He said start small! Small! Jesus, Ceredes!” I put my hands over the wound and press down to stop the bleeding. I’ve seen it on TV.
Onin pulls my hands away and quickly sprays them down with some sort of solution. The blood disappears and my skin feels freshly scrubbed.
“Let’s treat this with my methods, then work up to you trying your ability on him.”
I feel almost faint. “You mean we’re going to cut him again?”
Ceredes’s hand travels higher, grazing the bottom of my ass. “As many times as you need.”
