“On your call.”
Idris licked his golden scale, making sure every part of the shiny plate was covered with his healing balm. Satisfied, he lined the first prepared scale to the edge of the wound and nodded.
“Pull it slowly and smoothly in a straight line. We don’t know anything about their anatomy, and I don’t want to take any chances of us damaging him even further.”
The male did what Idris asked without complaint. The amount of the slowly pooling blood concerned him. If there was too much, his scales wouldn’t attach themselves, leaving Aydin to bleed out.
Idris yanked off his shoulder scarfs, and as soon as the beamblade was free, tossed one to Raizxl. “Help me block the blood.” Quickly, he wiped away the crimson lifeforce and placed his scale to close the wound.
Wipe. Lick. Place.
Within moments, the chest wound was sealed, leaving only the waist to be dealt with.
“Put pressure on my scales. I am hoping his body will accept them as well as it reacted to my saliva,” he directed Raizxl as he moved to the other injury.
Erlyn was smart enough to copy what Idris told Raizxl and assisted him without voicing his opinion.
“Pull the cloak away, so I can seal it before I place my scales.” Slowly, Erlyn peeled the cloth away, revealing the flaming wound underneath.
Idris repeated the process—licking the cut clean to allow his saliva to heal it before placing his protective golden plates on top. As soon as the last one was placed, Erlyn mimicked what Raizxl was doing.
The room was silent throughout the process. He didn’t know if it was out of respect for the dead or concern about Aydin’s health. As he looked over Aydin’s body, it pleased him to see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It eased his worries some. Breathing meant he wasn’t dead—yet. As long as the male kept inhaling, it would allow his solution to work.
At least, that is what he kept telling himself.
The door slid open, and the sounds of the many boots filled the room.
“Sire!”
“What the Stars . . .”
Idris refused to pull his gaze away from Aydin, as if his stare alone kept Aydin alive, willing him to heal.
Qatszo fell to his knees next to him, instantly scanning Idris’s body with his medpen. “What are your injuries?”
“I am not the one you should be worried about,” Idris growled, pointing to Aydin lying still before them. “I’ve done everything I could do. I licked his wounds and sealed them with my scales, hoping it would stabilize him before you arrived.”
“You used your own scales?” His mouth dropped in shock as he scanned the golden paths on Aydin’s ivory skin. Angry red surrounded both, his skin still raw around both injuries. “It’s almost unheard of. Only starmates and close—”
“He saved my life,” Idris snarled. “I don’t care how taboo it is or what the other humans tried doing. I owe him for going against his own race—his own government officials.” He shot a glance between the three kneeling males, his gaze landing on Erlyn. “How many did he kill?”
“Three, Sire,” Raizxl answered, failing to stifle a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Idris demanded, looking at the emerald male in disbelief.
Raizxl reached for Aydin’s defused beamblade and twirled it in his hands, studying its design. “I just find it ironic; I was right after all.” He glanced at Aydin’s face and nodded. “I knew from the night I watched you two spur, he was an assassin. But instead of ending your life, he protected it. At what cost?”
“That is what I am trying to figure out,” Qatszo muttered, scanning Aydin’s body with his medpen. “I need to have his soiled garments removed to get a better reading before I can determine if he is stabilized enough to transfer to the infirmary.”
Something about the suggestion didn’t sit well with him.
His affectation with Aydin unnerved him. He didn’t want others to see Aydin nude, whether he was conscious or not. Idris knew it was an irrational feeling.
Aydin was male, yet something about the human diplomat called to him, making Idris want to spend more time with him, and explore whatever it was between them.
Aydin worked for the government and was the same species that just sent assassins to a peace treaty signing.
Idris knew whatever beginning of a friendship they had built between them was now over. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a way for them to continue communications after this.
