Page 17

FIFTEEN

OLIVIA

Morning light filtered through the examination room’s windows and cast long shadows across the pristine equipment.

I arranged instruments on a sterile tray while trying not to notice Aeon’s powerful frame as he adjusted the examination table.

Five days of working together had established a rhythm between us, professional and efficient yet crackling with unacknowledged tension whenever our hands accidentally brushed.

“Blood pressure cuff?” I asked, not looking up.

Aeon’s deep voice rumbled behind me. “Second drawer. I relocated them yesterday.”

I reached for the drawer, painfully aware of his proximity. “Next time, maybe mention the inventory changes before I waste ten minutes searching.”

“Noted.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly—that almost-smile that had become increasingly common lately. “Efficiency is?—”

The door slid open with a decisive hiss, cutting him off. Commander Helix strode in, her pregnant belly prominent beneath her fitted dark uniform. Despite her condition, she maintained the rigid posture of someone accustomed to absolute authority.

“Dr. Parker. Aeon.” Her sharp eyes scanned our workspace. “I require escalation of the medical training program. Immediately.”

I straightened. “Commander, we’re following the schedule we agreed?—”

“Circumstances have changed.” Her tone left no room for debate.

“Three cyborgs, including me, and two human women are now well into their third trimester. After Mira’s unexpected delivery, we cannot afford to be unprepared.

” She placed both hands on the countertop, leaning forward.

“The entire medical staff needs comprehensive training on complicated procedures. Now.”

I studied her face—the slight flush in her cheeks and the tension around her eyes. Something wasn’t right.

“Commander,” I said carefully, “have you been getting proper rest?”

Helix’s jaw tightened. “That’s irrelevant to this discussion.”

“It’s entirely relevant. Please follow me.” I gestured toward the adjacent observation room, surprised by my own boldness.

After a tense moment, she complied. Aeon followed silently.

Once inside, I pointed to the examination chair. “Sit.”

“Doctor, I don’t have time for?—”

“Commander,” I interrupted, “your face is flushed and you’re showing signs of hypertension. Either sit down voluntarily, or I’ll ask Aeon to assist you.”

Aeon shifted his weight, his imposing presence somehow backing my authority without saying a word.

Helix shot him a venomous look before reluctantly sitting. I wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm and frowned at the reading.

“Your blood pressure is dangerously elevated. This puts both you and your baby at significant risk.”

“Impossible. I feel fine.”

“That’s the problem with hypertension. You don’t feel it until it’s critical.” I prepared a dose of medication. “You’re staying overnight for observation.”

“Absolutely not. I have duties?—”

“Your primary duty is to your child and this colony,” I fired back. “What happens if you develop preeclampsia? Who leads then?”

Something flickered in her eyes—fear, perhaps. It was the second time I’d seen such a look on her. After several tense moments, she nodded curtly.

When she was settled in a monitoring bed, Aeon pulled me into the corridor. His broad shoulders blocked out the overhead lights as he leaned closer.

“That was...” He paused, seeming to search for words. “Impressive. Standing up to Helix like that.”

My cheeks warmed at his praise. “Just doing my job.”

“Few would have the courage.” His blue eyes held mine with that intensity I was becoming very familiar with. “You may have saved them both today.”

A flutter rose in my chest—not professional pride but something more disconcerting. Why did his approval affect me so deeply? I’d received commendations from the most respected physicians on Earth without this strange yearning for more.

“Well,” I managed, “even commanders need doctors sometimes.”

His hand brushed my arm. “Especially the good kind.”

I took a steadying breath, painfully aware of his broad chest mere inches from me with his hand lingering on my arm. Heat traveled upward from his touch, making it difficult to maintain my professional composure.

“We should really get started on that advanced training Helix wanted,” I said, my voice coming out huskier than intended. I took a step back, needing distance to clear my head. “Can you gather the medical staff in the main instructional area? About ten should be enough for the first session.”

His eyes—those impossibly intense blue eyes—held mine with an expression that made my stomach flutter. “Of course, Olivia.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver through my body. When did that start happening? When did his voice start affecting me this way?

“Give me fifteen minutes to organize my materials,” I added, busying myself with a tablet to avoid his gaze.

“I’ll handle everything,” he promised, his voice a deep rumble that followed me as I hurried away.

Thirty minutes later, I faced ten eager cyborg technicians in the medical bay, which we’d transformed into a classroom.

Aeon positioned himself front and center, his large form somehow taking up even more space than the others despite their similar builds.

They all wore identical expressions of focused interest—hands neatly folded, backs straight, and eyes locked on me with unnerving intensity.

“So,” I clapped my hands, “today we’re covering emergency delivery complications.

” I glanced at their solemn faces and realized my usual training approach—peppered with jokes and lighthearted medical anecdotes—might not land as expected.

“Let’s start with the basics. Who can tell me the warning signs of placental abruption? ”

Ten hands shot up in perfect unison.

“Um, Laine,” I pointed to the female technician.

“Vaginal bleeding, abdominal pain, uterine tenderness, and possible back pain,” she recited without inflection.

“Excellent. Now, what’s your first response when?—”

“Assess bleeding quantity, monitor fetal heartbeat, and prepare for immediate delivery if distress is detected,” all ten voices responded simultaneously.

I blinked. “Right. But what if?—”

“If bleeding is minimal and fetal vitals remain stable, close monitoring may be appropriate,” they chorused.

“Okay.” I laughed nervously. “Let’s try something different. How about we practice some scenarios?”

I separated them into pairs for a simulation exercise, demonstrating proper techniques on my makeshift medical dummy.

“The key is gentle but firm pressure here.” I guided Aeon’s hands to the correct position on the dummy’s abdomen.

His fingers brushed against mine, warm and gentle for hands so powerful.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice low beside my ear.

I swallowed quite hard, trying not to focus on the shivers running through my body. “Yes, exactly.” And why was my heart racing? This was basic instruction. “Just... make sure your pressure is even.”

Throughout the session, I noticed Aeon watching me—not just with clinical interest but with something hungrier and more personal.

When I demonstrated breathing techniques, his gaze fixed on my lips.

When I laughed at my own fumbled explanation, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a warmth that seemed meant only for me.

The others seemed to notice, too. I caught sideways glances between several technicians when Aeon volunteered for every demonstration, positioning himself consistently at my side.

By the end of the three-hour session, I was impressed by how quickly they absorbed information.

Their retention was extraordinary, as if they were recording every word.

Yet their questions revealed their humanity—concerns about pain management, emotional support techniques, and what to say to frightened mothers-to-be.

“You did remarkably well,” I told them as we concluded. “Tomorrow we’ll continue with?—”

“You’re exceptional,” Aeon interrupted, his voice lifting above the others.

The naked admiration in his eyes made me flush. It wasn’t just professional respect. It was open adoration, displayed without reservation before his entire team.

“Thank you,” I managed, gathering my materials. “That’s enough for today.”

I watched the last technician file out, leaving me alone with Aeon in the suddenly too-quiet medical bay.

The silence between us felt thick enough to cut with a scalpel as I busied myself reorganizing my materials that were already perfectly organized.

Aeon stood between me and the door, his large frame somehow making the spacious room feel intimate and confined.

“Your teaching methods are... unconventional,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “But exceptional, like I said.”

I laughed, the sound a bit too high-pitched for my liking. “Well, I’ve never taught a room full of people who could recite medical knowledge verbatim before.”

“We learn quickly.” He took a step closer, and I felt the heat from his body. “Some things, anyway.”

My heart thumped harder against my ribs. Was he talking about us? About that night when his hands had explored my body with the same focused intensity he applied to everything? I wasn’t ready to have this conversation—not when I couldn’t even sort through my own tangled emotions.

“Aeon, I?—”

The door slid open suddenly. Rebecca, one of the pregnant cyborg women, stumbled in, grabbing at her swollen belly. Clear liquid streamed down her legs, creating a puddle on the floor.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she gasped.

All the awkwardness between Aeon and me evaporated instantly as we sprang into action.

“Your water broke,” I told her as I turned to Aeon. “We need to get her on the delivery table and prep the equipment,” I ordered, already grabbing a sterile gown. “How far apart are the pains you’re feeling?”

“Three minutes, twenty-two seconds,” Rebecca replied through gritted teeth.

I guided her to the table while Aeon prepared the monitoring equipment.

Without exchanging a word, he handed me the fetal heart monitor just as I reached for it.

When I needed gauze, his hand was already extending it toward me.

When Rebecca’s contractions intensified, he adjusted the angle of her bed before I could even ask.

It was like dancing with a partner who anticipated my every move—exhilarating and oddly intimate. We moved around each other with a synchronicity that felt almost supernatural, as if he could read my thoughts before they fully formed.

“Push now, Rebecca,” I encouraged her as we approached the final stage. “The baby’s crowning.”

Aeon wiped Rebecca’s forehead with a cool cloth while maintaining steady pressure on her lower back—exactly where I would have placed my own hand if mine weren’t occupied.

“One more big push,” I instructed, and moments later, I lifted a squalling, perfect baby boy into the world.

As I placed the newborn on Rebecca’s chest, I noticed Aeon watching me with an expression so tender and intimate it made my throat tighten. Pride gleamed in his eyes—not just for the successful delivery but for me.

Several of the cyborg medical staff not currently assisting us had gathered at the doorway. I noticed their expressions had shifted from their usual neutral assessment to something resembling respect, even admiration.

Two exhausting hours later, after ensuring mother and baby were stable, fatigue hit me like a physical wall. My legs wobbled slightly as I stripped off my gloves.

“You need rest,” Aeon said, his deep voice soft with concern.

“I’m fine,” I lied, stifling a yawn.

“You could come to my quarters if you’d like.” He hesitated, an endearing uncertainty crossing his usually confident features. “You can sleep there. I’ll take the floor if you want.”

I should have declined. I should have maintained those professional boundaries I’d promised myself to keep. But the thought of his strong arms around me, of feeling safe and warm in his embrace, was too tempting to resist in my exhausted state.

“Okay,” I finally whispered.

A smile spread across his face—not the slight uptick of his lips I’d grown accustomed to but a full, genuine smile that transformed his features and made my heart skip.

In his quarters, I managed to kick off my shoes before collapsing onto his bed. The last thing I remembered was the solid warmth of his body curling protectively around mine as my consciousness slipped away.