Page 44 of Needed in the Night (The Fortusian Mates, #2)
“I do have every reason to hate you,” she hissed. “You betrayed me.”
“I never betrayed you.” There was little point in arguing, but I could not understand why her hate ran so deep. “You left to become a mercenary. I wanted no part of that life. More than two years have passed. Why seek me out now?”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Atolani do not forgive. I lost honor when you refused to join my raider squad. I would never be made a squad leader among our people with tarnished honor. The only way to regain it was to avenge your betrayal.”
It was a logical explanation as far as it went, but her actions today still made no sense. “Then why not kill me if it was my supposed betrayal you came to avenge?” I demanded. “Why target Isla?”
“What satisfaction would there be in killing you?” she snarled.
“You always cared less about your own life than the soldiers you served with or who were under your command. You certainly care more about that screeching human you stole from Nubo than yourself. So why would I kill you if I wanted you to suffer? I regain my honor either way, and this gave me far more pleasure.”
Gods, she was heartless. The thought I had once shared a bed with her made me want to be violently ill.
In my mind, I envisioned ripping her away from Brae and the soldiers and tearing her apart a piece at a time so she could feel the pain and fear I had experienced seeing my mate’s blood spurt through the air, and my terror that neither I nor anyone else would be able to save her life.
I would have done it in a heartsbeat given a chance, but it would be murder in full view of a half dozen soldiers. Even pleading provocation, I would be taken away from my Isla. Even my beastly hearts told me revenge would be sweet but not as sweet as my life with my mate.
Kona could go to the deepest hell. It would be a hell of her own making.
“You are a coward,” I said, my voice cold.
“You have no honor at all. You stabbed a human woman in the back. I hope whatever prison you end up in, everyone knows the cowardice of your crime. I will do everything in my power to see they do.” I glanced at Brae.
“Give her to them, please. We have no use for her anymore. Isla needs us.”
“She must be dead by now,” Kona said, making Brae hiss and sink his fangs in deeper. “That was a very special blade. By the time they got her to the medical bay, she bled out. Poor, sad Commandant.” She slid a glance at Brae. “Poor worthless little bat. Left all alone.”
Brae gnawed on Kona’s neck. She twitched and groaned in pain.
“Brae,” I said quietly. “She is trying to get you to kill her so she does not go to prison. Isla is not dead.”
“Liar,” Kona spat.
“I am many things, but I am not a liar.” I crouched to bring myself eye level with her and raised my bloody arms to show her the wounds I had made with my own teeth and claws. “Isla is my true mate, Kona. That means my blood heals her.”
Her head jerked as if I had punched her. A half-dozen emotions flashed in her dark gaze: shock, fury, dismay, and most of all jealousy.
It was very possible she had followed us here to kill Isla entirely of her own accord and not on Nubo’s orders. If she did not admit the truth, we might never know whether he was behind this brutal act. That was a bitter pill to swallow.
“My mate will not die,” I said. “But even so, you are going to prison for a very long time. ”
Kona’s breathing turned ragged. “ Tor’gar efet ,” she hissed.
An Atolani insult—a very vicious and vile one. One last attempt to get me to attack. But nothing she might say could reach me now. I was done with her. Only Isla and Brae mattered.
I rose. “Come with me to see Isla, Brae.”
With one last rip at her flesh with his claws, he released Kona’s neck and took to the air. The soldiers did not try to stop him as he passed overhead and flew away in the direction of the promenade. I turned my back on Kona and followed.
Scuffling sounds and cursing indicated she was trying to fight the soldiers despite blood loss and paralyzed limbs. Just as I turned the corner, a sizzle told me the soldiers had thrown a stun net over her. Her truncated shriek was a very satisfying sound.
Halfway down the ramp, as Brae followed above in shadow form, I encountered a soldier coming from the opposite direction. “Auren,” he said, with a nod. “Protectorate Morolo has asked me to escort you to your mate’s bedside.”
“Thank you,” I grated.
I had feigned certainty about Isla’s condition when speaking to Kona, but my guts churned and my spines bristled with fear.
Brae landed carefully on my shoulder and hooked his talons into the fabric of my tunic. “She lives,” he said, his voice pitched so only I could hear him. “But she isn’t awake.”
“No,” I murmured. “She lapsed into a healing sleep after consuming my blood.”
Brae made a rough sound. “I didn’t see the danger. I only saw someone hidden in protective gear. It wasn’t until Kona left the scene and removed her helmet that I realized who she was.”
“You did what I could not and captured her.” My throat was tight with rising dread at what we might find when we reached the medical bay. “If you had not, she would have escaped justice. I am forever in your debt. ”
“You saved Isla.” He whined softly. “The debt is on my side.”
Like on most ports this size, the medical bay was enormous, as it could be called upon to deal with a wide variety of potential emergencies.
The moment we entered its main doors, however, I knew precisely where my mate was: to my right and down a short corridor.
The scent of her blood and pain was unmistakable.
I rushed past my escort and down the hall with Brae still on my shoulder.
I froze on the threshold of a private room.
My beautiful Isla was so pale that her normally rosy skin had a bluish tinge. Eyes closed and chest barely moving, she lay naked on her side in a blood-soaked medbay pod, draped to the waist with a thermal sheet.
A grim physician and two nurses tended to the wound in her back. Their demeanor as much as Isla’s pallor and wheezing breaths stole my ability to move.
“You are the mate?” one of the nurses, a blue-skinned Ymarian, asked.
“Yes.” My voice did not sound like my own. Isla .
With a raspy sound, Brae rose from my shoulder and settled above Isla on the ceiling. The scent of his grief added to my heartache.
“Why has she lost so much blood?” I asked.
“The knife the assassin used was poisoned and doused in anticoagulants,” the physician said without looking up.
“Officers recovered the blade from a refuse chute and we were able to identify the poison. Your quick reaction to share your blood gave us a chance to fight, but she is in very grave condition.”
My hearts thundered in my ears. I held out my bloody arms. “Then take more. Take it all.”
“This is not something your blood will heal,” the Ymarian nurse said with surprising gentleness. Most Ymarians I had met were very matter-of-fact. “What is needed is the antidote, transfusions of human blood, and the replacement of flesh lost to the poison’s cytotoxic properties.”
Replacement of flesh? My Isla’s flesh was decaying?
My legs grew unsteady, forcing me to lean against the wall. “You have the antidote? You can counter the anticoagulants?”
“Yes,” the physician said, finally sparing me a glance.
“You need to clean yourself up and change clothes. When you’ve done that, you can come back and stay with her.
I don’t want a mess in this room while she’s vulnerable to infection, even with air and surface sanitization at maximum.
” She returned her attention to Isla’s back.
“And if she opens her eyes, I don’t want my patient to see you looking like this and worry about you.
She’ll need all her strength to fight for her life. ”
“The facilities for washing are at the end of this hall,” the Ymarian nurse added. “You will find clean clothing. It is best to dispose of everything you are wearing. When you come back, we will have someone treat your wounds.”
I spotted something in a bin on top of the pile of Isla’s discarded, blood-soaked clothing: her forearm sheath with the dagger still in place. My steps robotic, I went to the bin and picked it up.
“Everything in that container is hazardous and designated for disposal,” the other nurse said, her voice sharp.
“This belongs to my mate,” I said. “You will have to take it from me by force.”
Scowling, the nurse opened her mouth to reply, but the physician raised her gloved hand. My gut wrenched at the sight of Isla’s dark, discolored blood.
“He can take the knife and sheath with him and have them sanitized,” the physician stated in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’re busy with more important things.”
Holding the sheath tightly to my chest, I turned my steps to the hall, leaving Brae to hold vigil until I returned .
When I was out of sight, I leaned against the wall, raised the sheath to my nose, and inhaled to drink in my mate’s sweet scent. My vision tunneled.
Gods, Isla. I could not bear to imagine what my life would be like without her. My chest hurt as though massive talons were shredding my flesh and organs. I had to force myself to start walking again. My steps were uneven and I bumped into the wall several times.
In the cleansing suite, I threw all my clothing into a refuse chute and put the sheath and dagger into a sterilizer as I used the sonic cleanser. The full cycle took less than two minutes, but it felt like an hour before the unit shut off and the doors opened.
I found a set of medical coveralls and boots that fit comfortably and reclaimed Isla’s dagger and arm sheath.
They bore no trace of her scent after medical-grade sanitization, but that heartache was only a fraction of the pain I would have suffered if I had not been able to save her treasured weapon.
When I returned to Isla’s room, the soldier who had escorted me to the medical bay was on guard in the hallway. We exchanged nods.
“Better,” the physician said without looking up when I entered. “Sit.”
I sat in the chair beside the medbay pod. Was Isla’s breathing even more shallow and labored now? Had she been this pale before?
“What do I do?” I asked.
“Hold her hands and talk to her,” the doctor said. “When the nurse comes to treat your arm wounds, let him do what needs to be done without arguing. Those are your only jobs until I tell you otherwise.”
I would have given anything to lie down beside Isla and hold her in my arms, but that was not possible as long as she was in the medbay pod .
So instead I put the sheath and dagger on the chair next to me, focused all my will on Isla’s survival, and clasped her cold hands in both of mine.
And there I stayed.