Page 3 of Healer (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #4)

“Never let a stranger get too close to you.”

“Never go into deserted places with a stranger.”

“Never let yourself get taken to a secondary location.”

My southern grandmother’s voice rang in my head, along with a faint whirring noise that was most likely her spinning in the grave.

Grandma might have had a point back on Earth, but this wasn’t Kansas anymore. The one thing I felt for sure was that whatever this handsome alien—Hakkar—had in store for me wouldn’t be nearly as bad as what the ugly gray bastards planned.

Besides, he knew Emmy’s name… mine too, for that matter.

He’d slung me over his broad shoulder, the hardness of his muscular frame pressing against my stomach with each powerful stride.

But despite the discomfort, I couldn’t help but marvel at his speed as we raced through the dense jungle, the trees blurring together in a darkened whirlwind around us.

He moved with precision and control, navigating the terrain without a single misstep.

It felt both exhilarating and unnerving to fly through the unknown at such a breakneck pace.

Despite the jostling, I couldn’t help but admire the view from my vantage point.

I had the perfect visibility of his gorgeous ass and thighs—muscles flexing as he moved with grace and agility.

His attire comprised form-fitting leather pants and a vest that clung to every flex and ripple.

As he ran and leaped through the night, I became more captivated by the stunning sight than any discomfort I might have felt.

It was like watching a skilled dancer perform, each movement fluid and hypnotic.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally slowed his pace. I raised my head to take in my surroundings, only able to discern thick, dark foliage, and no sign of the concrete Twinkie that had held me captive.

As the uncomfortable bouncing stopped, I became acutely aware of my position draped across his shoulder.

My stomach rested against a solid mass that would have been a clavicle on a human, but on him, it was just one more bulging muscle.

In an attempt to steady myself, I wrapped my hands around his waist but found my fingers far from meeting—this guy was massive.

But what caught my attention most was the feel of his hand pressed firmly against my upper thigh, especially since the aliens that dressed me didn’t believe in underwear.

“Um. Hello?” I ventured after he continued for a few more minutes, apparently not intending to put me down. “I can walk, you know. My legs are one of the few things those ugly bastards didn’t touch.”

He took a few more steps before stopping, his hands moving to grip my waist. The world spun madly as he flipped me off his shoulder, my body twisting and turning in the air like a circus trapeze artist. I braced myself for an inevitable fall, but his firm hands steadied me, and I hit my feet gracefully.

My heart raced as I tried to catch my breath, exhilarated and relieved simultaneously.

Eyes the color of liquid gold swept over me, taking in not only my presence but also our surroundings.

The jungle enveloped us, a cacophony of greens, browns, and shadows that danced on the edge of my vision.

The air was thick with humidity and the scents of earth and life.

My heart raced, realizing how truly alone we were in this vast, alien landscape.

As if he sensed my apprehension, the hands at my shoulders loosened their grip, gliding down my arms in a calming gesture. A wave of electricity shot through my skin, sending tingles of sensation that were unfamiliar and not entirely unpleasant.

“It would be better if I carried you, tiny human,” he said, frowning at my attire. “Your feet are not dressed for walking in the jungle.”

Glancing down at myself, I realized none of me was jungle-worthy.

I wore what was tantamount to a hospital gown.

Thankfully, it was a solid piece without the ass flap.

My shoes were the flimsy paper and terrycloth kind that barely held up to walk across linoleum, much less a jungle.

Still, I’d had enough of the sack of potatoes treatment, at least for now.

“I would like to walk.”

Hakkar pursed his lips, golden eyes flickering from my feet to our surroundings. Finally, he acquiesced with a sigh. “Of course. But you must let me guide you. My eyesight is much better than yours.”

I didn’t doubt it. His sun-gold irises swimming in a cobalt sea appeared otherworldly in the darkness. He took a step ahead of me, holding out his arm to me like a gentleman of old.

Hell, my grandmother might actually like this guy.

“Where exactly are we?” I asked, slipping my hand into the crook of his arm as we set off through the undergrowth. He moved slowly, scouting the path, and making sure my feet touched nothing but soft dirt.

“We are on the planet Arstan in the Proxima system.” He spoke normally, making me think we left danger far behind. “It is a large jungle planet, but there are many settlements. We must travel to a village east of here to rendezvous with the Bardaga.”

“Did it take you long to find me?” He’d mention something back at the bunker, but I’d been too befuddled to consider it at the time.

“Long enough.” His deep breath dripped with regret. “I am sorry, tiny human, that I could not rescue you earlier. It is my fault the Ulkommanian caused you pain.”

The regret and sincerity of his words squeezed my heart.

“It’s okay. Thank you for rescuing me.” My hand rested on his forearm... fingers stiff with nervousness as they traced the defined muscles beneath his skin. The subtle movements of his muscles under my touch sent shivers down my spine.

“How long will it take us to reach the settlement?” I asked, trying to focus my mind elsewhere.

“Approximately seven of your Earth days, if my calculations are correct.”

“Seven days?” I already felt hot, sweaty, and itchy, not to mention the quality of my garments.

I’d be completely naked in seven days. “Is there any way to get there faster?” A streak of moonlight filtered through the canopy, giving his visage the look of a marble statue.

A marble statue of a Greek god. A very handsome Greek God.

He glanced down at me, expression softening.

“I’m afraid not, little human. We must keep to the unseen paths. The Aljani and Ulkommanian will search for you.”

Great, just great. Seven days of traipsing through the jungle in a paper dress with the ugly, asshole aliens….

Wait a minute.

My eyes widened, and I stared at Hakkar’s face. “Say something else.”

“What would you like me to say?” The corner of his lips quirked into a grin. But that was beside the point.

“Holy shit. You speak English?”

“Yes.” The grin widened. “I speak over six thousand of your Earth languages.”

“H—how? Why?” I gaped with surprise, which seemed to amuse him.

“The Bardaga is tasked with protecting Earth and its inhabitants. My chieftain felt we should know as much of your culture and language as possible.”

My mouth opened and closed several times, impressed beyond speech. I knew only two languages and spoke the second horribly.

Every muscle in Hakkar’s body tensed as I gazed at him, his golden gaze shooting past me to stare into the dense darkness.

In the distance, faint to my ears but likely amplified for him, came a high-pitched squawk that sent chills down my spine.

Jungles on Earth held a reputation for danger and death, but I couldn’t imagine the lurking horrors of this alien world.

Even Hakkar, obviously a skilled warrior, seemed uneasy in this unfamiliar environment.

“Are there…. Is the jungle dangerous?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

Hakkar’s response was devoid of emotion, but his grip on my arm pulled me closer to his side.

The warmth radiating from his body enveloped me like a protective cloak, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of safety.

It was as if his presence alone could ward off any danger or fear… at least... I hoped it could.

“The dose of ephadreiline I gave you will last for a while. We should put as many miles between us and the research facility as possible,” he suggested, his gaze ever scanning our surroundings.

I nodded, feeling a rush of warmth as he withdrew my hand from the crook of his arm. He interlaced our fingers, his grip firm and reassuring. The warmth spread through my body like a comforting blanket on a chilly night.

It reminded me of the last time my husband, Dereck, held my hand. At the moment, I needed his support most... when the doctor said those awful words, I felt his grasp… felt him slip away.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis

At first, I paid no attention to the creeping stiffness in my fingers.

After all, I’d been knee-deep in my five-year general surgery training as a pediatric surgeon.

My hands were constantly working, tirelessly practicing and perfecting surgical techniques, committing the monotonous movements to muscle memory.

The dull ache in my joints was simply another reminder of the intense dedication and sacrifice required for my chosen profession.

I ignored it for years.

Until Tina.

It was a normal appendectomy. I’d done dozens of them, but during the final incision to remove the organ, my hand cramped, causing me to nick the three-year-old’s large intestine.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a large cut and easily repaired with surgical mesh and a few stitches.

Tina was now a rambunctious teen with no lasting issues, thank God.

But that moment made me admit the stiffness and soreness plaguing my joints might be due to more than fatigue.

One doctor thought I might be in the early stages of rheumatoid arthritis… another suggested myopathy. Ultimately, my mentor and friend, Dr. Tom Smithson, ran the blood test that returned high levels of serum neurofilament light. A spinal tap and nerve biopsy confirmed the diagnosis—familial ALS.

Hearing the diagnosis, my inability to conceive a child felt like a blessing in disguise.

Derek and I were busy surgeons whose careers demanded most of our time and attention.

Adding a child to the mix had never been at the top of our priority list. Instead, we poured ourselves into our work, finding solace and fulfillment in saving lives and making a difference in the medical field.

After Tina, I could never bring myself to wield a scalpel again.

I switched to a general pediatrics practice, where the bright smiles and innocence of children helped me heal.

My practice thrived as I poured my energy into caring for these precious lives.

A glimmer of hope emerged when I entered my mid-fifties with no sign of the disease.

Perhaps the initial diagnosis had been incorrect, or maybe I only inherited the familial gene but would never develop symptoms.

Then, a month after my fifty-eighth birthday, my muscles began twitching, which soon progressed to excruciating cramps and uncontrollable spasms in my legs and arms. Some days, it was a struggle just to get out of bed.

And during those difficult times, Derek left me.

His parting words stung like salt in an open wound.

A flippant remark about our wedding vows, not including the possibility of him having to wipe my ass for me as I deteriorated from ALS.

Fucker.

Every day, I felt myself weakening despite a strict treatment regimen that included medication like Riluzole, Radicava, muscle relaxers, and hydrocodone to help me function as normally as possible.

Any changes in my demeanor or actions I simply attributed to the stress of dealing with a cheating husband.

I might have lied about why Dereck left me, claiming he cheated.

But the jerk had moved on rather quickly with his new medical assistant, in my opinion.

The Appalachian hike with the girls was my last hurrah.

A way to say goodbye, after which I’d pretend to be swept off my feet by a gorgeous doctor and move to Spain to be with him.

In truth, I planned to check into one of the best ALS care centers in the world, located in Barcelona.

Thankfully, Spain didn’t have the same hang-ups about euthanasia as the US for when things got too bad.

Hakkar enveloped my left hand in his strong, comforting grip. His touch sent a warm, blissful sensation through my body. As far as rescuers went, I hit the jackpot with this one. His presence brought me a sense of safety and comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Gritting my teeth, I clenched my right hand into a fist and felt a sharp spasm shoot up to my elbow.

Just like before.

I’d started experiencing full-blown ALS symptoms when the aliens grabbed me.

Despite my body being reverted to its twenty-something youthfulness, it took only a week to notice the stiffness returning to my joints.

Based on the growing discomfort in my hands, it seemed time was already running out.

I’d been through this hell once. The thought of facing this debilitating condition again was beyond terrifying—especially in an alien world.

No.

I would not be its victim again.

This time, I’d take control of my future—or rather, lack of one.

This time, there would be no tests or drugs.

No clinic in Barcelona to aid my escape from the pain.

This time, the end of my illness would be up to me.

The idea terrified me, but becoming a burden to others as disease wrecked my body terrified me even more.

While the idea of being reunited with my friends filled me with joy, imaging how they would insist upon caring for me as my body wasted terrified me.

A fear stronger than being an escapee in the middle of a dangerous alien jungle.