The Vanished Specialist Page 2

  His lips firm into a line, his ears twitching. “Do not be sorry, little one. My troubles are not your burden to bear. Rest while I finish taking your stats. It will not be long.”

  It’s strange to feel safe. And for once in a long time, I do. On my own planet, it wasn’t exactly easy after my mother died. And then…

  My mind drifts to my captors. The cold ship. Their even colder glares. A shiver runs down my spine. At least these people—despite clearly not being human—seem more human than the ones I was with last. I dart a glance at his dark eyes as he works. His brows are furrowed in concentration. A very humanlike expression contorts his face.

  Definitely safer.

  Especially with Calix.

  Miraculously, or perhaps because the past few days have taken their toll on my body, I do as he instructs and relax. As he works, my mind wanders to all the information Aria has tried to cram into my brain when I first woke up.

  We’re on a horrible planet. The terrain, the atmosphere, the creatures, the pathogens. It’s amazing these morts as she calls them have survived this long. But the aliens here are good, she claims. From what I’ve learned of them and now with Calix, I can see that. No one has tried to harm me. Not like…

  I blink away those horrible thoughts and focus on the now. Here. This facility. Aria told me about all the alien guys here. I haven’t met them all. Her guy is Breccan—the commander. He’s big and grumpy. Not sure why she likes him, but she’s carrying his baby nonetheless. Hadrian is younger than the others and is like her assistant. Avrell is the doctor, and apparently Calix is kind of like their scientist. There’s another one named Draven, who sort of creeps past the doorway to the sub-faction, but never enters. Some of the other names run together and I can’t remember them all. Another one I remember, though, is Sayer. Aria explained how he’s a linguistics genius and has somehow implanted a translator into the other morts’ heads that allows them to understand hundreds of languages, including ours. Not only do they understand them, but it helps them reply back in the language they’re spoken to in.

  The sound of the humming from the machines and the muffled tap of his stylus against the screen lull me into a light doze, this time thankfully void of terrifying dreams.

  When I wake again, it’s to the sound of rain—or at least that’s what it sounds like. I crack open an eye and find myself once again in Calix’s arms. I could get used to being carried around like precious cargo.

  “What are you doing?”

  He sets me down on my feet and moves to a dimly lit closet he illuminates with a press of a button. Water spurts from the ceiling with the press of another. “I have finished my examination. Our cleansing unit will help rejuvenate you. I have programmed it for a gentle wash and scrub and I will have your minnasuit ready for you to change into.”

  “Minnasuit?” I ask as he hovers by the door.

  He gestures toward me. “Minnasuit. Dress?” His cheeks go adorably dark. Not with red like mine would, but almost with shadow, which I assume is his version of a blush.

  “Clothes?” I say around a smile.

  When he smiles back at me, I lose my breath. Except this time it has nothing to do with my faulty lungs. It could be because the double fangs he’s sporting are, to put it lightly, fucking intimidating, but in a sexy way. A way that makes me curious about how they’d feel if I were to kiss him. They give a wolfish edge to his otherwise handsome face that I find undeniably attractive, alien or not. “Yes, clothes. I forget what Breccan’s mate calls them. If you need anything else, I will be just outside.”

  He turns to leave and I take a step forward. “Calix.”

  “Yes?” he says over his shoulder.

  “Will you…” I feel silly saying it and I almost tell him never mind, but somehow this new Emery, the one who rose from the cryotube after she thought it was the end, is braver, more willing to take chances. “Will you stay? Close, I mean. I don’t want to be alone.”

  I’d been alone for so long, after losing my mother, it didn’t even occur to me to focus on the fact he wasn’t human. If it were any of the big guys, like Breccan or that scary one, Draven, who I’d seen poking his head in here and there, I’d be running in the opposite direction, but there’s a part of me that recognizes Calix on a deeper level. A part that doesn’t want him to go anywhere. Maybe it’s because he knows how to heal me, but I don’t think that’s it.

  I need someone who cares about me and for the first time in ages, I finally feel someone does. And I want it so badly, I’ll do anything for that feeling, even for just a few more stolen moments. Even if that need scares the hell out of me.

  “I will be here,” he says. “I am not going anywhere.”

  We lock eyes for one long moment—a connection seemingly crackling through the air and tethering us together—before he steps through the door. When he closes it behind him, I wish I knew how to adjust the temperature of the water. I need a cold shower after the way he looked at me.

  Hot. Intense. Possessive.

  Something tells me the chill of the water will do nothing to cool the heat burning through me now.

  2

  Calix

  I have her.

  I rekking have her.

  Breccan is going to beat me in the nog, but I do not care. Consequences are meaningless when her health is in a delicate balance.

  While she bathes, I pace my lab. There is so much I want to do. So much I need to ask. I am going to figure out what is wrong with her and correct it.

  I consider myself a fairly reserved and calm mort, but rekk if Emery does not seem to spark my inner flame. Now that she is not only in my presence, but also under my care, I am burning from the inside out with the need to protect her.

  She is mine.

  I shake my nog because those possessive thoughts will only cloud my thinking. And this solar is important. We are about to embark into unknown territory. I have spent many revolutions studying our people. Being our faction’s contagious disease specialist, I am responsible for knowing the ins and outs of every potentially harmful condition that could affect our people.

  It is the aliens whom we know nothing about.

  My mind seems to throb inside my nog—pulsating with the need to know and understand. It is not a matter of if with my sunray-colored haired alien, but when. I will find out what is ailing her and I will heal her.

  I just hope it is not too late.

  Like them.

  The thought is violent and I suppress a shudder. Not a solar goes by where I do not mourn the losses of the ones I could not protect. The Rades is a disease that destroys our people from the inside out. And no matter how long I have studied it, I can never come up with a cure. Since there is no treatment and the mortality rate is high, we do our best to prevent it. Cleanliness is of utmost importance. We are wary and watchful of any early signs of the disease. We do what we can, but it will never be enough. Tirelessly, I search for a cure for that wretched disease that could rear its ugly nog at any moment. And as much as that disease claws at my every thought, fixing Emery takes precedence.

  I will cure her, even if it is the last thing I do.

  The water shuts off in the cleansing station and awareness prickles through me. I imagine her naked and with water sliding down over her pink curves. I am curious about her body. Breccan seems quite enamored with Aria, that is for certain. I would be a liar if I said I was not enamored either. Not with Aria, but with the idea of Aria. A female. One who Breccan was allowed to breed with. Their physical connection morphed into what our parents had, long before everything broke apart. Families were special and to be revered. For so long, though, the only family we have had was each other.

  Now we have them.

  Aria and Emery and the other aliens.

  With Aria, we have a future.

  Images of Emery’s stomach swollen with my mortyoung has the possessive beast inside of me once again raging. I want her. Everything in me craves to touch and taste every part of her.
I want what Breccan has. But not with just any alien.

  With Emery.

  The idea of any other mort rutting against my lilapetal has my vision turning red with rage. I am not typically one to get angry like Draven or Breccan, but when it comes to Emery, I am out of control. My emotions run rampant like a heard of rogcows being chased by a pack of sabrevipes.

  Swooosh.

  The panel of the door slides open and there she stands. Delicate and shivering, dressed in nothing but a drying cloth wrapped around her body that she clutches to keep closed. Her normal shade of pink has become dark with a hint of blue. Especially her bottom lip. The lip I have carefully dragged my claw along while she slept so many solars. My feet carry me her way, eager to touch, to assist, to rekking breathe her in.

  My alien does not cower and that has pride thumping inside me. I remember how skittish Aria was at first. She was not brave like my lilapetal.

  “The minnasuit, er, clothes?” I ask, my voice raw and husky. My fists are clenched tightly at my sides, my claws digging into my flesh almost hard enough to break the skin.

  “I was…” She staggers forward. “I wasn’t feeling too well—”

  Her body collapses in front of me and I catch her before she careens to the floor. Panic rises up inside of me. Time is of the essence. I need to study her and test theories. I need to rekking fix her.

  I slide my arm beneath her thighs and lift her. The drying cloth does nothing to hide her perfect skin from my curious eyes. Carrying her back over to the examination table, I greedily allow my gaze to rove over her as I turn on the warming lights. Her bluish lips are parted and her purple eyelids are fluttering. The drying cloth has fallen away to reveal her delectable breasts to me. Each nipple is peaked and if her health was not in dire need of attention, I would spend a lot more time inspecting them.

  Once I settle her down on the heated table, I allow the towel to fall away. Her cunt shines with golden sunray hairs that match that on top of her nog. I snag a warming sheet and cover her body with it. I am tempted to call in Avrell, but then he would see her like this. So vulnerable and broken. She does not trust them like she does me. I have not earned her trust, but I will not let her down. Besides, I know everything Avrell knows. We studied the same and have worked together on countless endeavors. I am confident that if anyone can help her, it is me.

  Her breathing is raspy and uneven. It unnerves me, but I do not let it affect me as I attach a breathing apparatus to her nose and mouth. The machine pumps oxygen into her brittle lungs and within minutes, her pink coloring returns. Her eyes open and she regards me sleepily.

  Blue. Curious. Unafraid. Sad.

  I become lost in her stare. So brave, yet so weak. One of the universe’s mysteries.

  Reaching forward, I drag a claw over her cheekbone gently. The corner of her lips twitches with the briefest of smiles. It’s enough to stoke the flames inside of me.

  “Please rest, my Emery. In order for me to understand your ailments, I will need to study you. Listen to your breathing. Take more samples. It is important,” I tell her as I attach some sensors to her upper chest near her heart and one at her pulse point.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Her pulse is slow but steady.

  She gives me a slight nod but does not close her eyes. Instead, she scrutinizes my every move. I have never had anyone watch me with such intensity. Hadrian has studied under me often, but the mortarekker can’t keep still long enough to notice details.

  Emery sees them all.

  Intelligence glimmers in her eyes that have been dulled by illness.

  I vow to make them shine again.

  Using the wegloscan wand, I wave it over her stomach and am secretly grateful when it blinks red, indicating she is without child. If she were to be impregnated like Aria, one of the other morts might think he had claim over her.

  All of the aliens were implanted with embryos. On a routine mission to orbit our planet, Theron and Sayer managed to get inside a passing vessel and procured the cryotubes. All five were carrying females inside in cryosleep. It brought hope to our faction because, for once, we could breed and our race was no longer threatened with extinction. Avrell worked hard to implant the aliens with our seed. He used samples from all of us morts, hoping that some would stick. There would be no need to wake them or physically mate with them. However, Aria’s never took and she woke from cryo miscarrying. It was not until she mated physically with Breccan that they were able to conceive. I know because of their mating, she is now growing a little mortyoung in her womb. I have seen the hungry looks in the other morts’ eyes. Hungry for the only other alien who is awake.

  She is mine.

  Amusement glitters in her eyes and it is then I realize I am growling.

  Embarrassment washes over me and I swallow down the strange feeling.

  “You’re not pregnant,” I tell her. I am sure Aria has explained things to her, but it is no less frightening.

  Her eyes widen and they dart back and forth, panicked. I grab her shaking hand in mine and run my nose along the back of it as I inhale her clean scent.

  Beepbeepbeepbeep!

  “I will not let anyone touch you,” I whisper against her flesh, searing her with a firm stare. “Relax, lilapetal.”

  She must find assurance in my expression because her heart rate slows and she relaxes.

  “Just breathe normally. I’m attempting to repair your lungs with microbots again. I hope they will tend to any damages they are capable of fixing.”

  I do not tell her that the microbots have not been programmed for alien anatomy, but perhaps it is best if she does not know the details. I locate my audonar that is used for listening inside the chest and slide the small bulbs into my ears. Using the round zuta-metal disk that is attached by a tube, I press it to her pink flesh above where her heart is. Our eyes meet as I listen to the steady thumping.

  Once I am satisfied with the sound of her heart, I slide the disk over to have a listen to her lungs. The heel of my palm brushes against her peaked nipple and she lets out a mewl. The small, sweet sound speaks straight to my cock. I grow hard in my minnasuit and I am once again shamed by my response to her.

  “Try and remain calm, lilapetal.” My words are gruff and I hope she does not realize how desperate I am to mount her and claim her as mine. “That is it,” I rumble. “Breathe just like that.”

  Her eyes are sharp and focused as she burns her hot gaze into me. Pink colors her throat and for a moment I worry I have hurt her. Then, I realize what my thumb is doing. I’m stroking her in a comforting way. Each time my thumb moves from left to right, my claw slides across her breast just below her nipple over the warming sheet.

  I freeze and jerk my eyes back to hers, expecting something angry to glimmer in her stare. Aria was always so angry.

  But not my Emery.

  Her blue eyes are soft and trusting.

  “Are you feeling okay to breathe without the apparatus?”

  She nods and I quickly pull it away, eager to hear her voice once more.

  “If ever I do something you feel uncomfortable with, please express your displeasure,” I say, my words husky.

  Her shaky hand finds mine and she covers it with her own. “You’re helping me. I’ve met a lot of bad people in my life, and, Calix, you’re not one of them.”

  Out of habit, my thumb strokes her flesh again. “I want to cure you.”

  She smiles sadly. “I don’t think you can, but I’m happy that you’re trying.”

  Pride surges through me as I continue to listen to her chest. It is as though someone poured something thick and sticky into her lungs. They seem to crackle as she breathes.

  “So you suffered from this where you came from?” I ask as I pull away the audonar disk and pull the bulbs from my ears. I cannot imagine trying to breathe with lungs that seem to want to glue shut with every breath. How terrifying her life must be.

  “Yeah. Asthma was something I grew up with. My inhaler
helped, but there was nothing that completely healed me.” Her brow furrows and I crave to smooth it out again. “I did what I could to keep from having an asthma attack, but sometimes it was inevitable.” She twists the zuta-metal bracelet around her wrist. “This, where I came from, let people know I have a condition and would need immediate treatment if I ceased breathing. Now, though…I’m a walking time bomb. There must be something in the air here my lungs find even more offensive than back home.”

  I blink at her in confusion, unsure what a walking time bomb is. “I am going to draw some blood and urine samples. I’d like to study your bionetics.”

  “Bionetics?”

  “It is a unique formula. Each mort here has a different bionetic formula. Aria’s is different as well. I have samples from Aria and I would like to run them against yours.”

  “Whatever you need to do, I’ll do it,” she murmurs.

  I work diligently taking the samples from her. When it comes time for the urine sample, she bravely meets my stare as I aid her in sitting on the collection basin. She urinates, her cheeks flashing red, but clutches onto my shoulders as though I will catch her if she should fall.

  “This is awkward,” she complains, her breath tickling my hair on my nog.

  Awkward. I remember the word that did not translate for us well. Aria uses it a lot. It means uncomfortable.

  “Ahh, but it is necessary, my sweet.”

  She smiles, broad and bright. The flame that had been kindling inside me has exploded like that of the harmful sun in our sky. I can see why Breccan craves it with every fiber of his being.

  “Lie back,” I instruct as I pull away the basin and set it on the table. Absently, I cleanse her between her thighs.