Page 7 of Healer (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #4)

Color me impressed!

Or perhaps crazy, but right now, I’d go with impressed.

I hadn’t felt this hopeful in I couldn’t remember when.

Hakkar swore to his goddess that he would heal me.

Something about how he touched my hands with practiced skill.

The look of determination and the desire to understand dancing in his golden eyes made me believe, too.

It felt odd, like tiny happy fairies dancing through my blood.

.. blood that Hakkar might soon cleanse of the harbinger of death.

As long as I could remember, I’d carried a chasm of dread deep in my soul.

Even before the testing and diagnosis, my body knew something wasn’t right.

After the diagnosis, every day proved an exercise in fretfulness.

Was that twinge in my knee ALS, or just because I’d been on my feet too long?

Had the pain in my joints increased? Or was it just my imagination, as so often happened when disaster loomed on the horizon?

When the first real symptoms of ALS occurred, not only did I have to accept the fact I hadn’t escaped the disease—Derek walked out on me.

The man I’d pledged to love through sickness and in health apparently didn’t feel as bound by our vows as I did.

I should have known. Especially when he sat beside me years earlier, reeling from the diagnosis, and asked Dr. Smithson, ‘How will this affect my life?’

Asshole.

I let everyone think Derek and I broke up because I caught him cheating. On the scale of being an asshole, dumping one sick’s spouse trumps cheating... at least it did for me. I felt bad about lying to my friends but coming clean about Derek meant coming clean about myself.

Something I wasn’t prepared to do.

Yet, telling Hakkar, while not easy, seemed almost instinctive. Deep down, some part of me knew I could trust him... needed to trust him with my deepest, darkest truth.

He promised to heal me. I healed him... well, I cleaned the gash on his arm. My first diagnosis had been correct, wicked looking, but not deep. He wouldn’t even let me put on a bandage. Although seeing as how the bandage was a strip of my nasty dress, I didn’t much blame him.

We’d left the river almost an hour ago, walking along the edge on a sandy path.

Coming off the water, the air kissed my skin with freshness.

The roar of rushing water had the effect of white noise on my nerves.

Even my hands didn’t seem quite as stiff, perhaps because I no longer held the burden of my illness alone.

My eyes burned from all the tears I’d shed, but I felt lighter and freer, and it manifested in my carefree stride.

I glanced at the man responsible for my shift in mood.

We’d been walking silently since leaving the river.

Hakkar dedicated his intense focus onto his small Medi device, fingers roaming over the gray box.

A deep frown gathered between his brows as the equipment resisted his will. Watching him made me smile.

He made me smile.

As if feeling my gaze, he glanced up, his golden eyes settling on mine. My heart jumped for reasons that had nothing to do with relief and hopefulness. The beat in my chest came from something more primal—something I hadn’t let myself consider in a long time.

Hakkar turned his attention back to the box and, after a few more minutes, gave a triumphant grunt. The golden eyes danced, and he grinned as he turned to face me.

I felt faint. Gosh, he was pretty.

“I think this may work.” He gestured at the machine, then at my hands.

“What?”

“Hold out your hands.” He indicated he wanted me to position my hands directly under the machine.

“Why?” I eyed him, not fearfully, but with medical curiosity.

“Trust me.” His grin deepened. “Hold out your hands.”

I obeyed, my body realizing I trusted Hakkar before my mind formed the thought.

I trusted him to help me.

I trusted him.

Weird. I’d only known him for two days, but it was as true an emotion as I’d ever felt.

Hakkar adjusted my hands so they sat side by side, then began running the gray box over and below them. The machine issued a faint hum, along with a pale blue light that sent prickles over my skin where it touched.

“The Medi-unit is normally calibrated for pain caused by muscle and bone injury,” he explained. “I modified the electromagnetic output to encompass nerve pain as well.”

I felt... something.

The faintest touch of a thousand tiny needles running over my skin. It wasn’t painful. In fact, it tickled in most areas. Hakkar ran the unit in a slow circle over and under my hands several times, then moved the machine up and down the front of my body before pulling away, expectancy in his gaze.

Holding my breath, I squeezed both hands into fists, then released. I did it again... and again... and again.

Nothing.

No pain.

No stiffness.

Nothing but strength and fluidity existed in the movement.

“It’s not a cure,” Hakkar said, grinning broadly as he watched me. “But it should keep the discomfort at bay until we arrive aboard the Bardaga and heal you.”

“Thank you, “I whispered, amazed at how wonderful I felt.

Hakkar’s smile widened, his sun-gold eyes twinkling with pride.

With the pale purple sky backlighting his golden pelt, sharp features, and dark brown hair, he ranked as the most handsome man I’d ever seen.

He was certainly the most masculine… the sweetest, the most caring, the most protective, and… .

Something tickled low in my belly.

God! When was the last time a guy made me feel that?

The Outlander girls thought I played around after Derek left, but it wasn’t true. The many dates I claimed to have were simply an excuse when I felt too bad to get out of bed. Right now, though… if Hakkar offered… I wouldn’t say no.

And that would be a colossal mistake.

Transference phenomenon.

The condition where a patient confuses feelings of relief and gratitude for love, fixating on the physician who facilitated their healing as the object of their affection.

It happened to me a few times. Parents, both male and female, so grateful that my skill saved their child’s life that they mistook the intense relief for feelings of attraction and even love.

Granted, Hakkar had a lot going for him in terms of male attractiveness, not to mention being protective and sweet.

Still, I couldn’t let myself get carried away.

Could I?

“How far are we from the settlement?” I asked when Hakkar tilted his head curiously after I’d stared at him like a giddy teenager for a few minutes.

“Another few days.” His eyes cast about the landscape before glancing at my feet. “I can carry you if you like,” he offered. It was an honest offer with no ulterior motive. He’d carry me just to make my trip easier.

“I’m fine,” I smiled. “I don’t know what that machine of yours did, but I feel great.” It wasn’t just lip service.

If the drug he gave me made me feel like running the Peachtree Road Race, the machine made me feel like I could win it. Not even an errant pebble digging into my heel caused much discomfort. I fisted my hands again for good measure, grinning at the strength in my fingers.

Hopefully, the Medi-machine’s relief would last until the real healing could begin.

I knew the basics of gene therapy, although I never used it in my practice.

As medical procedures evolved, it became a fairly straightforward process.

Identifying the abnormal gene, duplicating that gene in a pristine state, and inserting the duplicated gene to repair or replace the abnormal gene.

Of course, in vivo gene therapy had its drawbacks, mainly the side effects of fever, severe chills, drop in blood pressure, nausea, vomiting, and headaches, not unlike the aftereffects of chemo or radiation treatments.

I knew full well the pain a well-meaning treatment could inflict on a body.

More than once, I’d had to duck into a supply closet to hide my tears over a recovering child bravely weathering pain that would make an adult scream.

Whatever the side effects... to be rid of ALS, I’d bear it.

However, I would like to know what to expect—this was alien medical technology, after all.

“So how hard do you think it will be to remove the ALS from my genetic code?” I asked casually as Hakkar turned us inland, following a small game path.

He frowned in concentration for a moment. “I’m hoping not so difficult with the Garoot Healer. Although I must confess, I have never performed a treatment such as this. My experience lies mostly with battle injury, but I have genetic manipulation techniques in my memory files.”

“Files?”

The word struck me as funny until I remembered that his education came in the form of an upload containing medical procedures for over a thousand different species.

Not to mention the over six thousand Earth languages he learned and who knew how many alien languages.

Just how much information did he have swimming around in that handsome head of his?

“What’s it like having all that knowledge uploaded into your brain?” I asked with sincere curiosity. After my first year of medical school, my head felt near to bursting with facts.

“Full. My head ached for months after the upload,” Hakkar said with a chuckle. I liked his laugh. It was deep, throaty, and just the tiniest bit raspy—sexy.

Get a grip, Agnes!

My focus shifted to the path ahead. The dirt track was wide enough for us to walk side by side, which meant that Hakkar’s hand brushed mine every so often. I convinced myself that the tingles were merely a result of the healing machine.

“I can imagine,” I commiserated. “My head hurt from all the studying I did in med school, and I only had to learn about one species.”