He gavenadaaway, arching his brow.
His gaze held hers, fierce and intent, then with no warning, he turned and vanished into the darkness between two of the demountable clinic buildings.
She swallowed and whispered after him. ‘Sante, once again.’
Linh sprinted across the gravel, catching Sheba by the shoulders and steering her away from the chaos and toward the privacy of her tent.
‘You’re done for the night,’ Linh commanded, repeating Idan’s demand.
She rummaged in Sheba’s tiny kitchenette and produced a tin cup containing a generous measure of rum.
Linh pressed it into Sheba’s shaking hands. ‘Drink. That’s a medical directive, not a suggestion.’
As Sheba obeyed, chugging the alcohol, and then slumped onto the edge of her cot, Linh knelt before her.
She briskly passed a diagnostic med-kit scanner over the angry purple bruising and bleeding on Sheba’s lip and arm.
‘The skin is a mess, but the bone is intact. I’m sealing the laceration now.’
‘I should be in the ward, I’m still on duty,’ Sheba muttered, the alcohol hitting her system with a sudden, dulling heat.
‘Out there, you’re a liability until you sleep,’ Linh countered, her tone firm as she finished the dermal knit.
The medic helped Sheba into bed and pulled the heavy thermal blanket up to her patient’s chin. ‘Bed, now, doctor’s orders. If I see you in the triage bay before sunrise, I’m freakin’ sedating you myself.’
Much later, when peace fell once more over the compound, and the night pressed in, Sheba still lay awake, unable to shut down, her thoughts circling one impossible truth.
Idan was nothing she’d imagined before.
He was even more terrifying, yet so compelling and freakin’ sensuous, a fact that frightened her far more than Ty Si’Rhix ever would.
8
Into The Rising Light
In the nights and days following Ty’s threats, Idan returned as often as he could to the high ground above the clinic to keep guard.
He claimed a shelf of fractured stone and wind-scoured scrub, boots braced against the slope.
His gaze fell on the tents below as he kept an eye on shift cycles, generator surges, and the subtle cadence of human movement.
Inside the temporary demountable ward, Lago lived it up, using his country charm to score meals, laughs, and tender care from the nurse attendants.
Idan’sSsignakhtfocus, however, was on Sheba as she moved through the infirmary with decisive, efficient energy.
She gave orders, fixed IV lines, and calmed staff who shook from exhaustion.
Every time Idan caught sight of her, his pulse spiked at her smile and amber eyes, the memory of her silky, honey-colored skin, and the evocative notes of her perfume.
He clenched his fists, his yearning for her a physical ache that refused to abandon him.
Skies over Sacra, it drove him wild.
Worse, a tether seemed to have formed between them, where she also sensed him from afar.
One night, she walked to the back veranda of the emergency ward and stared into the dark cliffs where he concealed himself.
She tilted her head and emitted a dry huff.
