Rendan (Scifi Alien Dragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 4) (6 page)

C
arla pasted yet
another fake smile on her face, the muscles in her cheeks protesting the wide pull of her lips, but she did it anyway. It was hard to look happy when part of her was battered and bruised. A part of her that no one could see. She recalled her argument, the quick way Rendan had gone from a hesitant and cautious mate to storming out of her apartment. She was sure that if the place had actual, antique doors instead the automatic panels, he would have slammed it shut.

The silence had been worse than a yanked door could ever be. The quiet had felt almost final. A noiseless exclamation point to their disagreement. And he hadn’t stopped by when he left. He hadn’t come to her door or even comm’ed her. Nor had he left a note via e-mail. Nothing.

The silent treatment. To her, with the way she’d grown up, the silent treatment was worse than any shouting match could ever be. It created a ball of dread in her stomach, a knot that would tighten and tighten until the argument was settled. Even if it meant
she
apologized although she wasn’t at fault. The tension made her physically ill and she was the people-pleaser who would do whatever needed to be done to smooth things over.

“Healer Butler?” The masculine voice reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have time to drift off and dwell on her problems. She was working—she needed to focus.

She mentally shook her head and gave Chashan her attention. He was a healing master who’d recently arrived on Earth with his mate. “I’m sorry, Chashan. I let my mind drift and—“

The Preor male grinned, his dark eyes sparkling. “Thinking of your mate? I remember when I first met my Khaza. I do not know how you are able to be parted from Rendan. It is proof that your mating is strong—that you are both strong.”

Yeah, Carla wasn’t so sure about the strong part on her side. She ignored his teasing and focused on his question instead. “I told you to call me Carla,” she chided. “What did you ask me?”

“War Mistress Lana has requested an
ah-poynt-ment
with us the day after tomorrow.” Chashan frowned. “I do not know the meaning of this word, but I told her we were available at her convenience.”

“Preor don’t schedule exams? Or block off time for specific patients?” She raised her eyebrows. “She’s asking for our time for an exam.”

He frowned harder, eyes narrowed. “Our females are seen whenever needed, no matter the time. Females—bearing and not—as well as dragonlets are priority. Males will be seen to after. Though males typically only need a healing warrior when they have injured themselves.”

Typical men.

“Human doctors usually have very full schedules and require their patients to make appointments. If you need immediate care, you go to the emergency room.”

“Where you previously had employment.” The healing master sneered. As if a woman working was disgusting.

“Do you have a problem with women healers, Chashan?” she snapped and then froze, wondering where the hell her sharp tone and brass balls came from.

His denial was immediate. “I only object to the conditions and men you were forced to work with, Healer Bu—“ he quickly corrected himself. “Carla. I take issue with a female being forced to work to survive. Females should be… cherished above all else. If she wishes to share her gifts, she is welcomed by the warriors, but it is not necessary in order to feed or house herself.”

Cherished. Right. Was that why Rendan had—

She yanked her thoughts from him once more. There was no evidence he didn’t
cherish
her. He’d just gotten angry. And stormed out. And had given her the silent treatment.

“Well,” she forced a perky tone into her voice. “What’s done is done. I get to go back to taking care of mommas and babies without wondering how I’m going to pay rent. Did Lana mention when she wanted to come by?”

“She said she finishes worshipping the porcelain god at approximately noon and should be by around one.” He tilted his head. “I was unaware of a porcelain god in Earth culture. I researched some religious texts on the way—“

Carla held up her hand, grin forming on her lips. “She just means her morning sickness should end by noon. Human women are ill in the mornings during the first trimester.”

Shock covered his face. “Is it dangerous to the
dam
? Is there something to be done to heal her illness? Should I order—“

Now she held up both hands. “Whoa, slow down. It’s completely normal for humans. Unless it’s so bad she loses too much weight or becomes overly dehydrated, she’s fine. Why don’t we sit together and compare pregnancy signs? This way, if you see a human-Preor mate alone, you’ll know what to worry about and what to simply make a note of.”

She’d do it herself, but it was hard to separate her own thoughts and knowledge from the ever-impeding Knowing. She’d get confused between Preor and human anatomy occasionally, which made for some weird notes on the subject. Q and A would probably work better.

“Yes, I shall gather—“

The doors to their cobbled together medical bay parted, spreading widely to grant several Preor entrance. The area was smaller than it should be to house Preors and the
ryaapir
platforms weren’t fully operational yet, but apparently no one told the Earth-dwelling males to take it easy and avoid getting hurt.

Two males—one yellow, one pink—were assisted into the small space, both leaning on other warriors in order to stay upright. A quick glance allowed her to catalog the superficial wounds and darkening of skin. She visually searched for bloating or discolorations that could indicate internal bleeding as well as any odd angles to limbs though she couldn’t see their wings.

Nothing seemed pressing with her brief scan and she let her gaze move to their faces. Two faces she recognized—Rendan and Argan. Both had new cuts and would probably have new scars as a result.

It was easy to see evidence of the causes of those injuries—claw marks, bruised knuckles, and darkened eyes. Fighting. Or training? Did it matter? This was what came from being involved with the military—violence, pain, recovery. Only to have the male get out of bed and do it all over again.

For the good of the country and rush of battle.

She imagined Rendan’s excuse would be similar. For the good of Preor.

Carla stepped forward at the same time as Chashan, but her training surged before the healing master could speak. She wasn’t sure what had her talking, issuing orders to these massive males and demanding they listen. Normally she’d hang back, wait for instructions, and do her best not to step on toes and annoy someone.

But today… Today her mate had gotten hurt. Her mate and a male who’d showed her his vulnerability and kindness when she’d been brought back to Earth.

“Argan to your right, Rendan to your left. Chashan, can you handle Argan while I deal with Rendan?” The healing master whipped his attention to her, objection on his lips. “I have the Knowing and years of training. If I get into any trouble or find something that needs a more experienced hand, I’ll let you know.”

Chashan merely grunted and turned toward the far platform, waving so they’d bring Argan forward.

Carla did the same with Rendan, rushing to the other side of the room and taking up a station at the side. She’d have to do the initial search quick and dirty with a handheld scanner since the
ryaapir
units required two to operate.

That was something she’d have to talk to Chashan about. It’d be so much easier—and quicker—if they could be at least used to diagnose a patient without needing another person to help. She wondered if the science masters could do something.

“Lay him here.” she distractedly gestured at the platform, hands already moving over the control panel. The Knowing surged, feeding her whatever she needed in order to operate the machine. Her fingers glided over the slick panel, eyes and mind quickly processing the Preor language and translating it to English.

She kept her attention focused on what needed to be done, resisting the urge to meet Rendan’s stare and fawn over him. He needed a healer, not some sobbing girlfriend.

Rendan grunted when he was tossed on the platform and she shot a glare at the male who’d brought him in. His wings were the color of rotted seaweed, dark green with hints of yellow, and she half-expected that briny scent to reach her. It didn’t fill her nose, but something did scratch down her spine, like invisible claws scraping her back. Goose bumps rose on her arms, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, and she nearly took an instinctual step back. Nearly. But she stayed in place, their gazes locked for one heartbeat, and then two.

“How was he hurt?” She tore her eyes away and lifted the handheld scanner, passing it over his body about three inches from his flesh. The platform recorded the results, displaying images of his internal organs while she hunted for damage.

“In the Trials of Syh with Argan.”

The Trials of Syh? She didn’t voice the question aloud, but the Knowing supplied the answer whether she wanted it or not.

A battle between two warriors to determine the position of—

Carla shoved the Knowing away. Battle. Warriors. Position. Three words she didn’t want strung together in a sentence. Military posturing and senseless violence.

At least she knew what she was searching for—evidence of injuries typically suffered in a fight between two males.

“As a dragon or as a hu— on two legs?” She’d almost said as a human, but the wings beneath Rendan proved his lack of humanity.

The stranger grunted and sneered at her. “Both.”

Because they’d used both forms? Or because she’d had to ask? Regardless, she didn’t want him near her any longer. “Thank you for your information. You can return to your duties unless you need med care.”

She turned her attention back to Rendan, pretending the green warrior—the scary green warrior—didn’t exist. If she couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there.

Except, she didn’t hear the heavy tread signaling his departure.

“What is his condition?” The male didn’t leave, still looming above her.

“Are you a family member?” She kept her attention focused on Rendan, fighting to ignore her mate’s stillness. There were any number of reasons he remained immobile and she refused to let panic steal her ability to do her job.

“I am Ballakin sen—“

“Yes or no question,” she murmured, doing her best to stand up to the male. “If you’re not a family member, I am bound by patient confidentiality not to release information about his condition.”

“I am—“

“Warrior Ballakin,” Chashan’s harsh voice whipped across the room. “You are no longer needed. Return to duties.”

She flicked her attention to Ballakin—at least she could think of him as someone other than ocean’s shit green—and her shoulders curled forward beneath his glare. The expression was brief, but long enough to shoot a spark of fear down her spine.

She’d angered yet another Preor. She was just making all kinds of friends.

Carla programmed the
ryaapir
unit to work on some of the larger injuries, the tear in his
ewae
—spleen—and the collapse of one of his four
luuq
—lungs. The Knowing made her feel like these weren’t life-threatening injuries, but she couldn’t help equating his body to a human’s. Which had her worry rising higher.

Soon another shadow casted across Rendan’s body and she glanced up to meet Chashan’s gaze. “Let us program the platform appropriately.”

She jumped at the chance to use the platform properly, anxious to fix her battered mate. His eyes remained closed, breathing sluggish, and several wounds seeped blood, painting his tanned skin a bright red.

Carla stood by Rendan’s head, display screen ready for her to input repair commands, while Chashan took the diagnosis controls near her mate’s feet.

“Initiating diagnosis protocol,” Chashan murmured and she kept her gaze trained on the display in front of her. She caught the transmissions from Chashan, prioritizing them, directing the
ryaapir
unit.

Her lungs froze, breathing stilling, and she stared at the screen. There were so many more injuries than she’d manually discovered. Bleeding in his brain, which explained his unconscious state. Three collapsed lungs instead of one. A broken leg. Deep scarring to his wings and the snap of the flight lines on his left.

She worked furiously, keeping up with Chashan, catching each diagnosis and sliding it into the repair queue. One after another, he discovered them and sent it to her for healing. With each new order, her own pain grew, the worry transforming into a physical ache throughout her body. Her throat burned, eyes stinging and her heart picked up a rapid cadence. She understood why loved ones didn’t work on friends and family members now. It was too hard to be objective, too hard to do the job when worried if the next move she made would end up killing him.

But she pushed on. Intent. Focused. Determined.

Until Chashan spoke again. “That is the last.”

A small cut to his calf, the muscle torn, but fixable. She slipped it into the queue and let herself breathe. Then she let herself look at the long list of repairs.

So long.

Carla gave herself a moment to look to Argan, the male just as still as Rendan, and she huffed out a breath. She tilted her head toward the other bed. “How is he?”

Chashan followed her gaze and then focused on her once more. “He will live. His injuries were more severe than Offense Master Rendan’s, but I expect a full recovery within six Earth hours.”

“And Rendan?”

The healing master tapped a few buttons on his screen. “Perhaps four Earth hours though he will be required to abstain from his duties for a full rising. Possibly two.”

She stared down at her mate, unable to believe that he’d be up and around within four hours and would only need a day or two to rest and recover. The brain injury alone would require a human to undergo months of physical therapy to re-learn how to walk and talk.

But Rendan would be fine in four hours.

“Amazing,” she whispered and shook her head. Her hands trembled, shock finally setting in now that her mate was as healed as he could be. “And he’ll live? He
will
be better in four hours?”