Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2 (19 page)

She couldn’t go back in there. If she did, if she looked into those luminous eyes again, all her resolve would crumble to dust.

He was a liar. Just like Brian and the others.

Just like her dad.

But if she went back in there now, if she gave him even the slightest opportunity to speak to her, she knew, idiot that she was, she’d probably wind up believing anything he said, accepting any excuse he had that would make everything okay again.

She wanted him to make it okay, so very badly, even if it meant closing her eyes to the deceptions or the cheating, just like she always did . . .

“Tell R’har—” Hope wet her lips. “Tell him whatever was between us is finished now. Tell him I never want to see him again.”

Twenty-two

R’har cracked his eyes open. His body felt heavy, battered, and sore, and his vision swam as he tried to focus. He squinted against the brightness, the irritation making his eyes watering like hers sometimes did.

There were the reassuring growls of the Hironian language, the smell of his own kind, and the soft, sweet promise of—

“Hope . . .”

His voice sounded weak and muffled to his own ears. His vision was blurred and his glance darted around, seeking her with all his senses, but whatever covered his face also interfered with his sense of smell.

His arm felt leaden as he raised his hand to free himself of the thing over his nose and mouth. Suddenly they were crowding around him—other g’hir males—the scent of metal and laboratory and
her
filled his nostrils for the brief moment he was able to lift the thing away.

A strong grip pulled his hand away clamped it back on.

“Check the reaction rate in the corpus callosum.” The order was rapid but had the steady evenness of a professional well used to crisis. “Check for damage in the higher reasoning functions.”

A healer.

The room, with its medical systems, some familiar, some not, swam over his head. R’har fell back, sinking into the warm darkness as g’hir moved around him, snapping off readings to each other.

A healer . . .

“
Hope!
” he roared, his eyes flying open.

He fought the strong hands that moved swiftly to hold him down. Her scent was here but faint enough to flood his body with adrenaline. He flailed for her, every cell in his body demanding he protect—

“Hold him!”

“Hope!” He had gotten the mask off in the struggle to call her name but could not see her through the press of their bodies.

A medical bay! He could scent her, but not nearby. Where was she? Was she hurt? The dark forest on Olari flashed through his mind, the chill of the ground beneath and her tearstained face above him, the Zerar hunting them—

“Stop this immediately or I will have you sedated!”

R’har bared his fangs. The man’s face looming over him was flushed, angry. He wore the blue garb of a healer and for an instant the doctor’s own fangs flashed.

Then the man’s face relaxed into a more professional, detached expression. “I am Doctor Ki’san. You are onboard the Hironian cruiser
Tribute
. You are being treated for injuries sustained from a Zerar’s weapon. You are not in danger but you must lie still. Do you understand me?”

R’har’s challenge snarl showed an invitation to fight greatly out of place when addressing one’s own healer, but with her so nearby, her well-being in question, he could not contain himself, no matter how rude. “Hope—my lifemate—”

“She is aboard,” the physician assured, his gaze now on the display above R’har’s head.

“Is she here?” R’har twisted, trying to see the rest of the medical bay. “Please—is she hurt?”

“She was treated for minor injuries and I cleared her for release from the medical bay hours ago,” the doctor said curtly. “Get the backup systems online,” he said to one of the medics and his voice fell to a grumble. “He has damaged half the sensors on this side of the biobed.”

“I cannot
see
her! Let me see her and I—”

“Our scout team picked you up nearly fourteen hours ago,” the doctor interrupted, his gaze on the display. “The Mata has been given the captain’s quarters for her own. She left the medical bay only a short time ago.”

He could not detect any signs of deception in the healer’s tone or expression and a glance at the others did not reveal any clue that the man was lying.

“But she is . . .” R’har wet his lips. “She is safe? She is well, my Hope?”

The doctor was not looking at him, but in the man’s face R’har detected the tiniest of flinches.

“Yes,” Ki’san said. “She has been provided an honor guard and the captain himself has pledged himself to her protection. If necessary he will sacrifice the ship for her safety.”

R’har breathed in deeply, and his shoulders relaxed, positive now that he detected no human blood.

“The Yir clan are in your debt.” He sought the healer’s gaze. “
I
am in your debt.”

“This is my calling,” the doctor said shortly. “To heal all those who have need of it. You owe me no debt, warrior.”

“Still,” R’har said. “I undertake the obligation gratefully.”

He breathed in again and his brow creased at the lingering tang of her anxiety. He should have been awake, been at her side to soothe her fears when they did their exam. Finding Hope had once been his purpose; serving her, safeguarding her and their offspring, was the task the Goddess entrusted to him now.

The medics’ press on him was unrelenting and R’har lay back. The sooner the medical officer released him from sickbay, the sooner he would be with her. After a moment the men, seeing his cooperation, let go. He tried to be still, to let the healers attend to their task, but it was not easy.

It had been explained to him, when he was selected to journey to Earth, that human males did not bond to their females like this, that his new mate would not understand. Ra’kur had told him, privately, that his own lifemate, Jenna, struggled to comprehend the depth of that bond even now.

He had long dreamed of a lifemate of his own and now he had bonded to Hope he was ill at ease at being separated from her, as if part of him were missing when she was not with him. He felt agitated when he could not scent her, when he could not see her, truly content now only when she was nearby.

She was safe here, somewhere on the ship. That was something at least, but it did not compare to seeing her with his own eyes, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth for himself.

R’har shifted, impatient for them to be finished.

“Your annoyance will not affect the speed of the exam,” the doctor said, his eyes on the datapad in his hand.

“I feel strong enough to leave the medical bay now,” he offered, hoping he could manage to walk out unassisted. “I will return if I feel unwell.”

“Your injuries were severe.” The doctor continued his scans, unperturbed. “And you were too long unconscious. I have a number of tests I must perform before I can release you.” Ki’san glanced up at the display over the biobed then at R’har. “You might as well resign yourself to it and use the time as an opportunity to rest.”

“I will rest easier if I know Hope is well and cared for,” R’har growled. “Allow me to see her and assure myself of her safety and comfort then I will return here. You may do any exam or test you like then.”

“You will not depart my medical bay until I am certain you are recovered enough to do so.” The doctor’s hand rested on R’har’s shoulder to halt his attempt to sit up, his hold steady and unyielding. “I would prefer not to have you restrained.”

Ki’san’s coloring placed him as clanbrother at any number of enclosures but R’har detected a crispness to the man’s words, often the hallmark of one of the northern mountainous regions of Hir. The mountain clans’ fighting style was slower, relying more on blunt force than speed—

“This is a warship,” the doctor reminded calmly, clearly not having missed R’har’s quick estimation of his potential fighting skills. “I am as trained as any warrior here.” Ki’san’s eyebrows rose. “But more importantly, I outrank many of those warriors. I can—and will—order them to strap you down if you force me to it.”

R’har’s bared his fangs fully but the doctor’s gaze was unwavering and the medics too tensed.

Finally R’har blew out his breath and lay back on the biobed.

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” the doctor said dryly.

R’har glanced toward the medcenter’s doors. “If you will not let me go to her, will you do me the simple courtesy of letting her come to me?”

“After many hours in the medcenter she has just been escorted to her quarters to rest,” the doctor returned. “At my recommendation.”

“But—is she sleeping, do you think?” R’har’s brow creased. “I long for her but I will not have you disturb her, if she is resting.”

“I am—if you have not noticed—currently occupied in treating a patient,” Ki’san said without looking up from his datapad. “That is my priority now.”

R’har felt his nostrils flare. “You do this because you not have a lifemate of your own. You would not deny me her presence if you did!”

The doctor’s face tightened ever so slightly. “I am well versed in the biology of a male’s bond to his lifemate.”

“That is not the same as having it!” R’har snarled. “
You
will never understand what it means to be separated from the female you are bonded to!”

Ki’san dropped his gaze to his datapad. “I am sure that is true.”

The doctor remained focused on his task and R’har felt his face flush, ashamed at having exposed the agony of a solitary life, a deep hurt he himself knew too well.

Before he had found Hope.

“What of the Zerar?” R’har asked at last. “Was the confrontation a lengthy one?”

“I am not versed in the specifics of the
Tribute’s
military engagements,” Ki’san replied. “But I can tell you that the Zerar warship retreated quickly. From the sole report I was privy to, the enemy has left our territory.”

For now.

The words were unspoken but the Zerar were growing bolder, testing the Hironian borders to see where they might breech and claim territory. Those like this physician and himself, the youngest generation of the g’hir, were adults now and in desperate need of offspring to replace their numbers, mates to give their lives purpose.

She had been here for hours . . .

R’har did not miss the looks the warriors sent his way, looks of envy, weighing his fighting skills, some no doubt wondering how his clanbrothers might retaliate if one of the Yir females was stolen.

Finally Ki’san gave a nod.

“Your vitals are good. There does not appear to be any residual neural or nerve damage. I am releasing you from the medical center,” the doctor said, tapping the order into his datapad. “But I am ordering rest and I want to see you again in twelve hours.”

R’har let his breath out in relief. “I thank you.”

“At the first sign of dizziness, headache, or any other new symptom, no matter how mild, you are to return here immediately.”

“I will,” R’har promised, already pushing off the biobed to stand.

But he had taken only a step toward the medcenter doors when the doctor put his hand out to stop him.

Ki’san addressed the medical staff. “Clear the room. I need a moment to consult privately with my patient.”

“What is—?” he began as the men left, then his heart sped up. “Is Hope all right? Was there something you did not tell me?”

“She left here sound in body,” Ki’san assured quickly. “This is a personal, not medical, matter. Hope—the Mata—has asked me to deliver a message to you.”

“A message?” R’har’s brow furrowed. “Why would she ask you to give a message to me? I will see her in a few moments.”

Ki’san shifted his weight slightly, glancing away, and R’har’s stomach clenched.

“Well, what is it then, physician?” he demanded. “What is this message my lifemate would entrust to one not even of her own enclosure?”

“She asked me to relay to you . . .” Ki’san met his gaze. “She does not ever wish to see you again.”

R’har blinked and the simple absurdity of the words made his mind go white.

Then he brushed away the doctor’s hand with a dismissive huff. “Get out of my way, healer!”

In a quick move Ki’san blocked his exit. “This is the message she asked me to deliver to you.”

R’har stared, caught between outrage and disbelief. “Whatever it is you are attempting to—”

“I do not enjoy being the bearer of these words!” the doctor interrupted sharply. “I do
not
relish this task. But she has given it to me and I gave my word I would deliver this message to you.”

“Who are
you
that she should give any task to?” R’har roared, his face going hot, his fangs bared. “
I
am her lifemate! You are
nothing
!”