Protector:A Scifi Alien Romance(18)

He’d never found any of that attractive before, but he felt a powerful pull toward her. He turned a corner and the doors to Medical were just ahead. He’d spent plenty of time in there before, being patched up after fights. Galen spent a lot of money on high-tech medical equipment, and the best healers in the galaxy.

He pushed open the doors with a hip. Inside, the space was clean and tidy. Lore had always thought the arena was the best illusion of all—ancient stone, sand, low tech. But in here was about as opposite as you could get.

Three regen tanks filled with blue liquid lined the back wall. Several narrow beds were lined up in a precise row, and other bits of high-tech medical equipment dotted the room.

One of the Hermia healers stepped forward, sand-colored robes whispering around the healer’s long, slender body. The healer had a neutral face, that was calm and composed. He’d never seen a Hermia panic before. The healers were a genderless species with the ability to manipulate biological energies.

“She’s getting a sharp pain in her stomach. She keeps saying she’s fine but she’s not.”

The Hermia healer gestured to the closest bunk. “Please set her down here.”

Lore did, but stayed close. The healer lifted a small, hand-held scanner.

Madeline stirred. “I really am fine. You, or one of your team, checked me out when I arrived here. There’s no need—”

Lore sent her a look and her words cut off, her lips pressing together. The Hermia gently ran the scanner over Madeline’s body. When the Hermia frowned, Lore felt his heart kick in his chest.

Usually, the healers barely showed any reaction, and they’d seen some pretty gory injuries after arena fights.

The Hermia lowered the scanner. “You have internal damage from the drugs that were used on you during your captivity.”

Madeline gasped, and Lore grabbed her hand. He expected her to jerk away, but instead, she tangled her fingers with his and squeezed.

“I was given a clean bill of health when I came to the House of Galen,” she said.

“Why didn’t you find it before?” Lore demanded.

“This type of damage develops over time.” The Hermia looked at them calmly. “It’s exacerbated by stress and poor diet.”

Lore scowled down at her and watched as she squirmed.

“I’m stuck here,” she snapped. “Everything I love is gone and out of reach. The stress isn’t going away anytime soon.”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Lore said.

The Hermia nodded. “The gladiator is correct.”

“If she won’t do it, I’ll help her with it,” Lore said.

Blue eyes flashed up at him. “I don’t need a keeper.”

He felt a stab of anger and pressed his nose against hers. “Apparently, you do.” He turned to look at the healer. “What does she need? You can treat this, right?”

The Hermia nodded, already holding a clear cup full of amber fluid. “Drink this. It will stop the pain and help the healing. But a lot of this damage can only be reversed by time.” The Hermia’s calm gaze landed on Lore. “She needs fresh food. Broths are good for healing her stomach. I recommend light exercise to help with her stress.”

Madeline looked mutinous, but she took the cup and tossed back the medicine. Lore scooped her into his arms again.

“I can walk—”

“Shut it.” He pulled her closer, nodded to the healer, and stormed out. Soon, he was setting her back on her bed. “Stay there, I’m going to make you some tea.”

“I don’t like tea.”

“You’ll like this one.”

Ignoring her scowl, he quickly made his way to the kitchen. He pulled open cupboards until he found what he wanted. As the tea steeped, he closed his eyes for a second. Drak, she was stubborn. No wonder she hadn’t let anyone close…her outer shell was made of finely-honed tarden metal—the toughest metal found in the occupied worlds.

Well, whether she liked it or not, she had a protector. He lifted the mug and headed back to her room.

She was sitting on the bed, looking unhappy. “Lore—”

He ignored her, sitting beside her and handing her the mug. She took it, eyeing it like it might explode in her face.

“This was my sister’s favorite drink,” he told her.

Leaning back against the pillows, Madeline took a sip. Her eyebrows rose. “It’s pretty good. What’s it called?”

“It’s called Ar’bor. The tea leaves are harvested from a planet called Boreal, but I used to call it Yelena’s drink.”

“Was that her name?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like?”