Barbarian Lover(31)

I can’t decide if this is romantic or heartbreaking. “But if you resonate for someone—“

“I will not.”

“But how do you know?”

“I don’t. All I know is that you are my mate, and I will not listen to anyone or anything – even my khui – that says otherwise.”

Yeah, and I’m sure his newly resonated mate would just love that.

He’s looking at me, waiting for an answer, though. And I’m…torn. Not because I don’t want to be his mate. The thought sends happiness shooting through me. Aehako and I have flirted for weeks now, and he’s shown himself to be caring and funny and kind and just all around wonderful. If I could pick a guy for my mate here on this frozen ice ball of a planet? It’d absolutely be him.

But I’m barren. I can’t have kids.

We’d just be mates until his khui decides that it’s time for him to add to the gene pool. Then he’ll mate with Harlow, or Claire, or one of the other unmated humans, and I’ll be left all alone. Again.

And I don’t know if I can take the abandonment. I’m not strong like Liz or Georgie. I’m weak and wimpy and the thought of being put aside for a new mate hurts fiercely. And I’ve seen Aehako around the others. He comes from a good-sized family. He loves his mom and dad, and his younger siblings. I’d be robbing him of everything but my company if I agreed to be his mate. I can’t have children. I’ll never resonate for him. If he pins his hopes on me someday resonating for him? He’s in for a rude awakening.

It’s something he deserves to know before I make up my mind.

I should tell him. I look up at his big, broad face.

The words that come out are, “Do you want children?”

Aehako blinks in surprise. I can tell the question wasn’t one he expected. But it’s worth asking. If he doesn’t want children, I’ll feel better as his ‘mate’. Maybe because at that point, I’ll know that I’ll still have a place in his heart even if his khui kicks in and decides he should be a daddy. But his words shatter that hope. “Of course I want children.” A slow smile curves his mouth. “What man doesn’t dream of a family of his own?”

I feel about as big as an ant. A tiny smushed ant ground into the carpet. I let go of his hand. “Okay, that’s what I wanted to know. Thank you.”

He laughs and cups my face in his big hands. “Kira, do not worry so. I have seen the khui resonate amongst those mated for many years. It is as if it can sense the love between two people and decides to unite them in every way.”

Yeah, right. More like the khui gives up and gives one last shake just to get a little something out of its host. I don’t think it’s as romantic as he thinks. And it wouldn’t happen anyhow. I give him a thin smile. “We’ll talk about it when I get out, okay?”

Worry clouds his expressive gaze and he leans in and gives me a quick, soft kiss. “I will wait here.”

I slip from his grasp and lay flat on the pallet. “I’m ready,” I tell the computer. The bed immediately begins to recede into the wall with me on it, and I watch Aehako’s worried face disappear from sight.

Lights flick and then go dark.

I suck in a breath, because this isn’t like a CAT scan after all – more like a slab in a morgue. What if the machine breaks down and won’t let me back out? I start to breathe rapidly, full of anxiety. My hand touches the panel over my head. It’s less than a full arm’s length away, ditto the sides. Lights begin to flicker, and I watch the walls come to life with more writing and dancing charts – probably my vital signs.

“How can we assist you today?” the computer’s smooth voice asks.

“I need a foreign object removed.” I point at the translator in my ear.

“Please remain still. Our systems will scan you to make a health determination.”

I put my arm down and lie flat on the bed, careful not to move. I look around, wondering at the technology. I’m a lot smaller than the bed itself – I think even Aehako’s brawny form could fit in here – which tells me that the sa-khui haven’t changed much since the crash. There’s a head rest – maybe in case the patient has extremely large horns – but it’s too big for my neck and I ignore it, tilting my head off to the side.

“Our sensors have noted two foreign bodies,” the computer informs me pleasantly. “Would you like for us to proceed with extraction of both?”

“T-two?” I stammer, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Our sensors indicate a non-organic compound attached to your human sensory organ. Further scans indicate that you have also acquired a parasite native to this planet—“