Page 15 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

T 'Raal watched Tal finish applying the neural stimulator to Reese's spine, the small device no larger than his thumb.

The captain sat straighter on the examination table, and he watched the relief wash over her face as the stimulator began its work.

Her left leg stopped trembling, and the tension in her shoulders eased.

"How does that feel?" Tal asked, packing away his equipment with the ease of long practice. He pulled out a small plastic square, barely larger than a coin. "One more thing. Translation matrix."

Reese looked at the square, raising one eyebrow. "But I can understand you. Why do I need that?"

T'Raal smiled. "We have lots of human crew, so we all speak Terran. But not everyone you come into contact with will speak Terran."

Her eyebrow rose higher. "I don't believe you."

He switched to Latharian. "You are the most stubborn female I've ever met, kelarris ."

Tal shot him a sharp look but didn't comment, amusement flickering in his expression.

Reese shook her head. "What was that? What did you say?"

"Common Latharian. I just said you're starting to look better." He lied. "The matrix goes behind your ear. You won't even notice it."

"Uh, okay then."

She tilted her head to allow Tal to position the device. The thin plastic conformed to her skin until it was nearly invisible. It would absorb over the next few minutes and be gone.

"How does that feel?" Tal asked, nodding toward her back where the stimulator was.

Reese flexed her foot experimentally, then pressed her weight down on both legs. "Better. Not perfect, but better." She looked surprised, like she'd forgotten what it felt like to have her body obey her commands.

T'Raal felt the knot in his chest ease as he watched her stand without that painful struggle from before. The pain medication had taken the sharp edge off the lines around her eyes, and the stimulator was already working. Not a cure, but progress.

"You'll need rest," Tal said, securing the medical scanner in its housing. "The stimulator will work more effectively if you're not fighting exhaustion. And the painkillers might make you drowsy."

She nodded, shouldering the small backpack she'd carried from the extraction site. T’Raal blinked. Draanth. She’d walked away from her life, so everything she owned in the galaxy fit into one small pack.

"I'll show you to the guest quarters," he said, moving toward the medical bay door. "You'll want to clean up, get some real sleep."

"You don’t need to do that.” She adjusted the pack over her shoulder with a tight smile. “Just point me in the right direction and I can find my way."

"Ship's small. Easy to get turned around." He kept his voice neutral, professional, even though his instincts were screaming at him to pick her up and carry her to the guest quarters. "Besides, you need to know things about the ship's systems."

She tilted her head back to look at him. Whatever she saw in his expression made her nod slowly. "Yeah, okay. Lead the way."

The corridor outside the medical bay stretched the length of the Sprite's main deck, barely wide enough for two people to pass comfortably. T'Raal matched his pace to hers. The neural stimulator was definitely helping. She still favored her right leg, but was walking much smoother now.

Muffled voices drifted through the air from the galley at the end of the corridor.

Sparky was no doubt holding court with some impossible story about his latest near-death experience, embellished even though the rest of them had been there.

Skinny's deep laugh rumbled through the deck plating, followed by what sounded like Eris telling them both to shut up and eat their food.

"Crew quarters," T'Raal explained as they passed a series of identical doors. "Everyone's got their own space, small as it is. Privacy's important when you live on top of each other for months."

"How many crew do you have?" Reese asked, glancing at the doors.

"Seventeen at the moment. We’re getting a little full onboard." He stopped outside a door. "This is you."

The door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss, revealing a compact but efficiently designed space.

Like everything else on the ship, the bunk was built into the wall, sized for Latharian proportions.

The desk folded from the opposite wall, and the personal storage cabinet sat beside the entrance to the tiny shower and toilet cubicle.

Reese stepped inside in front of him. "It's bigger than I expected."

He nodded. "Ship's got good bones. The previous owner knew how to use space efficiently."

He stayed by the door, suddenly aware of how small the quarters were. If he stepped inside, they'd be close enough to touch. The thought sent heat curling through his system.

She set her backpack on the desk and tested the bunk with one hand, pressing down to gauge the mattress firmness.

The movement made her shirt pull tight across her shoulders, and T'Raal found himself studying the elegant line of her neck and back, which flowed into her hips. Heat pooled south of his belt.

"Water pressure's good," he said, nodding toward the shower cubicle to distract himself. "Ship's systems are automated, but if anything goes wrong, there's a comm panel by the door."

"And if the comm system's down?" She asked over her shoulder.

"Bang on the wall." He pointed to the bulkhead. "I'm right next door. Walls are thin enough that I'll hear you."

"You always put guests next to your quarters?" she asked.

"Not usually, but we’re short on space now,” he lied. There were three other quarters, but they were all too far away for his liking.

She tilted her head as Sparky's voice rose to a volume that carried clearly through the bulkheads.

"And then the murder chicken just looked at me like I'd insulted its mother, which technically I had because I'd called it a feathered psychopath, but in my defense ? —"

"Sorry, the crew can be a little loud," T'Raal’s lips quirked at the corners. "You'll get used to it."

"Murder chicken?"

"Sparky's pet. Don't ask." He stepped back from the doorway, giving her space. He wanted to stay, but now that he’d given her the tour, there was no reason to. "The food dispenser's in the galley if you get hungry. The crew tends to eat together, but you're welcome to join or not, as you prefer."

"And if I prefer not?" She raised her eyebrow in a mild challenge.

"Then you prefer not." He shrugged. "No one here expects anything from you, Captain Payne. You're safe. Rest, heal, figure out what comes next."

“It’s just Reese. I’ve not been a captain for a long time,” she said, exhaustion a shadow in the back of her eyes. The adrenaline from the day's events was wearing off, and the pain medication was starting to take hold.

“Reese.” He nodded and stepped back out of the room. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

"T'Raal." His name on her lips sent warmth through his chest that had nothing to do with physical attraction and everything to do with how she said it. Like she was testing the shape of it, learning how it felt.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For today. For all of this." She gestured around the small quarters. "I know you didn't have to help me."

"Yes, I did." The words came out harder than he'd intended. "Eris asked. That makes it family business. Warborne business."

The sound of chairs scraping against deck plating came from the direction of the galley as the crew finished their meal. Soon they'd be settling into their evening routines, and the ship would grow quiet except for the constant hum of engines and life support.

"Get some sleep," he said, forcing himself to speak before he said anything stupid. "Tomorrow, we figure out the rest."

"The rest?"

"What happens next. Where you want to go. What you need to be safe." He paused, meeting her eyes directly. "What we can do about the people who want you dead."

She nodded, and he caught the flicker of relief. Like she hadn’t really believed they would help her and was just waiting for the other boot to drop.

"T'Raal?" she called as he turned to leave.

"Yeah?" His voice was rougher than he’d heard it before.

"Your quarters really are next door?"

"Yeah. Right next door. Bang on the wall if you need anything."

"Anything?"

Heat flashed through him at the word, his imagination supplying a dozen different meanings before he caught the exhaustion in her posture, the way she leaned against the doorframe for support. Right. Ship emergencies. Not... that.

"Anything," he confirmed, though the words came out rougher than intended.

The door slid shut between them with a soft hiss. T'Raal stood in the corridor for a moment, staring at the closed door. A thin bulkhead. That was all that separated them.

It would have to be enough.

Reese woke up slowly, testing her body before moving. She stretched her left leg under the covers without pain, and the constant ache in her spine was mostly gone.

She sat up carefully, waiting for her nerves to protest. Nothing. The neural stimulator hummed against her spine, and whatever Tal had done worked better than expected.

Standing was easier than it had been in months. Both legs held her weight without the exo-frame, and she flexed her left foot experimentally. Not perfect, but it worked.

The guest quarters looked bigger in the morning lighting. Her backpack sat on the small desk with everything she owned in the galaxy. It should have been depressing, but without the pain, it seemed manageable.

The shower had excellent water pressure, and hot water ran over her shoulders while she stayed longer than necessary. Standing upright without her spine screaming was still new enough to appreciate.

When she got out, the mirror was fogged. She saw the same scars in her reflection, but the permanent tension around her eyes had eased somewhat.

She put on clean clothes from her pack—worn pants and a shirt that had seen better days. Everything looked like thrift store finds, but at least it was clean.