Her rage and desperation gave way to something else, something she didn’t want to feel. She was a healer. The words of her oath upon graduating from Lunar Medical Academy pounded in her head. She would do no harm, help those who needed it. She lived the mantra every day of her life.
But this man and his people had destroyed her home, killed her friends and colleagues.
Her face flushed with shame, the two sides of her nature warring with each other.
I’ll fix him,thenI’ll kill him.
“Release me,” she demanded, pulling against her restraints. Her sprained wrist protested. “Now.”
He didn’t move or twitch, kept his gaze straight ahead.
“Don’t be a twat,” she gritted between clenched teeth. “You’re bleeding all over the place and I’m a doctor. Release me.”
He turned his head, and she inhaled sharply.His eyes. The icy blue looked unnatural, like he could see right through her. Maybe it was a normal shade for Tellusians, but she didn’t think so; they seemed to glow.
Skepticism furrowed his brow.
She bared her teeth. “Yes, I’m big and scary. You must fear me.”
His brows shot up, a flash of something crinkling the corners of his eyes. Humor?No.A Tellusian wouldn’t know humor from mercy.
They remained staring at each other, nothing to break the silence but the hum of the ship. Then he undid his buckle and leaned toward her. She held her breath. His hair fell forward, blocking his gaze. Pressing against her seat to avoid his touch, she contracted her stomach, and inhaled sharply through her nose as his hand brushed her uniform. She watched closely to see how he undid it: three points pressed at the same time. The buckle clicked.
His unsettling eyes followed her as she stood on shaky legs. Stepping away, she scanned the interior of the ship. Ravens weren’t big, but they were built for long-distance travel. It should be stocked with medical supplies.
Compartments ran along the top length of the hull. She opened the first one. Empty. The next one held blankets and emergency rations. The third had a med kit. She snatched it and opened the lid.
It was only half stocked. Her hand hovered over the laser scalpel. He’d shoved one in her neck. She should return the favor.
Her cheeks warmed with shame—not because she’d had the thought to use the medical tool as a weapon, but because she should feel remorse over the idea, and didn’t. Wouldn’t anyone in her position feel the same?
Clenching her jaw, she returned to the front of the ship, med kit gripped in her hand. “I’m going to need access to your injury.” Her voice cracked, resentment pounding through her.
After a hesitation, the warrior turned, exposing his side. Taking a fortifying breath, she knelt and pulled the ripped and bloody fabric away from his abdomen.
She swallowed her gasp. How could he remain conscious with a wound like this? She met his eyes. Disconcerted by the force of his gaze, she looked away and grabbed the laser scalpel.
He caught her arm before she could aim it. A shocked breath left her lips. They froze, locked in a staring contest, the scalpel between them.
Despite having homicidal thoughts moments ago, she straightened, insulted he would think so little of her. “I need to cut your shirt away,” she said between gritted teeth.
A long moment passed before he let her go. She rubbed her arm, trying to remove his heat impression, then grabbed the material of his shirt, splitting the remainder with a quickzipof the scalpel.
The two pieces hung off his body, baring his chest and exposing the cerulean blue tattoo covering most of the expanse. She pushed the instinctual spike of fear his tattoo invoked.
Ignoring everything else, she passed a scanner over his obliques. Grisly, the outer edges were charred black, the inner flesh red and angry, surrounding a center of exposed muscle. She’d seen laser wounds like this before, but not on someone alive.
Without looking up, she set aside the scanner, and said, “There weren’t any paralytics or numbing agents in the kit.” It was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.
“Get on with it.”
The harshness of his accented voice raised her hackles. With jerky movements, she grabbed the waistband of his pants with her injured wrist and winced as she revealed the bottom of the burn. Her fingers pressed against the uninjured flesh of his hip bone. He twitched.
Freezing, her gaze jumped to his. She looked away to turn on the regenerator with her good hand. Beginning with the outer edges, she removed the charred flesh and healed the skin beneath. It would scar, but without a synthesizer, she couldn’t replace the tissue. She kept her hand steady and mind focused, not allowing anything to interfere.
His hands clenched the arms of his seat as she neared the more severe damage. If he passed out, it would be easier on him, but he remained stubbornly conscious.
Turning off the regenerator, she leaned away, but kept her eyes on his hip. “I need better access to your front.”
