Warrior's Vow: Alien Warrior Science Fiction Romance (Yadeshi Brides Book 2) Read online

Mila shook her head. “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “Do you think I’m healing you for nothing? Do you think sharing myself with you is routine?” He stared at her, nostrils flaring just enough to let her know he was struggling with temper.

  Her own anger rose. “You still haven’t answered why! Why be my friend, why heal me, why...” she faltered. He was acting like a lover, not a friend, a doctor.

  “Because you trust me. Because I can. Because I already failed once.”

  She stared at him. “Who? Who did you fail?”

  He shook his head, holding out a hand, fingers curling as if to draw in her essence. “And because, Mila, when you are fully healed, at full strength, I plan to collect on the debt.”

  The word collect had never sounded so full of dark intent, sensual promise. The place between her thighs tingled the way it did when his voice deepened in a certain way- as if he was teasing her. He inhaled and Mila blushed. She knew Yadeshi had excellent senses.

  His eyes gleamed. “Promise me, Mila. You will come to me.”

  “I... for healing only. Not for money. No! Don’t protest. I have some dignity left. I’m not going to be your poor sick friend.”

  “If not now, Mila, then soon. It’s only a matter of time.” He closed the gap between them, hands on her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

  She knew what he wanted and shook her head. “No, Jaron. I appreciate it, but it isn’t helping and-” she faltered.

  And she had the feeling these little sessions had somehow caused the spike in her ability. Before him, she’d never been able to nudge people as easily as she could now.

  Keen eyes, an almost black sapphire, pinned her. “And what? You said ‘for healing, Jaron.’ Was that a lie?” His hands slid down her arms, under her shirt and skimmed her ribs.

  She swore. “Damnit. No, it wasn’t a lie.”

  But it only made things worse. Every time he did the glowy thing with his tattoos, she felt better for a while. But she also felt desire she had no business feeling. Like now, with his hands searing her bare skin.

  “Mila,” he whispered, head lowering.

  She tensed, eyes caught in the web of his gaze. How many times had she imagined his lips on hers, imagined that he returned even a portion of her desire?

  Lower, lips almost...

  A brisk knock on the door.

  “You have patients,” she said, jerking away.

  A long moment of strained silence, his eyes warning her she’d just barely escaped. “We’ll talk about this tonight. Promise me no more experimental drugs.”

  “No.”

  His hands tightened. Not hurting her- he was a doctor. He wouldn't hurt her. “I can make you promise.”

  “And how would you do that?”

  Jaron’s smile was knowing. “You know how. And you've accepted my healing before. That means something to the Yadeshi. It gives me… leeway with you.”

  She put her hands against his chest and pushed. He didn’t budge. “Let me go, Jaron! I’m tired, I don't want to argue about this.”

  It wasn't an excuse, she was tired. Exhausted. And didn’t want to think about the subtle shift in their comfortable relationship happening; she wanted the shift to stop so she could think, readjust. He was more dangerous than she’d thought- not the affable, platonic alien. Which meant she had to get out of here, and now.

  Another, more insistent knock, saved her.

  “We’ll talk about this tonight, Mila,” he said, releasing her.

  She pushed past him, deliberately bumping his side. When her hand turned the doorknob, he said, “Be home. You don’t want me to chase you down.”

  She believed him.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jaron gave his patients the necessary amount of attention and no more. After sending the last human on her way- a teenager with a badly sprained wrist- he left the office.

  He didn’t remove his lab coat- it served as a kind of invisibility shield. The warriors weren’t entirely bright sometimes, especially the ones sent to Earth to mate human women. No one wanted to waste the best seed on humans, at least not until the offspring proved normal enough. The first batch of children were barely even out of primary levels- too early for anyone to tell if they were defective.

  Cross breeding was always problematic.

  Stepping into the indoor training arena, he scanned the mats for Ithann. An Adekhan. Jaron contained a snort. They’d make anyone an Adekhan these days. The man’s voice, barking at a female student, drew Jaron’s attention. He picked his way through the training groups, some as young as a decade, giving Adekhan Benyon a nod.

  Jaron’s gaze caught on Benyon’s human mate for a moment. A lucky match, and the Adekhan had leave to take his new family home to Yadesh within the week. Proof that Jaron’s… interests… weren’t entirely foolish. If Benyon could find a suitable mate, it gave them all hope.

  “Ithann,” Jaron said, approaching the man’s back.

  He knew the warrior heard him- Jaron saw his shoulders twitch slightly before he turned.

  “Pacifist,” Ithann said.

  “It’s Doctor. Your translator is faulty.”

  Ithann bared his teeth in a smile. “I’ll have it maintenanced.”

  “I’m currently overseeing the trainee Mila’s medical treatment. It’s my recommendation she be placed on light duty for the foreseeable future.”

  “No.”

  Jaron paused. “No?”

  Ithann crossed his arms. “She’s lazy and clumsy- she’ll either fall in or fall out.”

  Jaron stared at the man, not bothering to hide his scorn. “Are you a fool? She’s ill, and pushing through with the training to the best of her ability. The exercise- to an extent- is beneficial to her. But I don’t want her sparring.”

  The Adekhan turned away. “Then make her a medic. But while she trains with the warriors, she’ll be expected to perform like a warrior. Or suffer the consequences.”

  “I don’t think-”

  Ithann whirled, stepping into Jaron’s space, their chests bumping. Jaron shut his mouth, eyes narrowing.

  “You were saying, doctor?”

  Jaron counted one breath, the next, then stepped back. “I won’t ask you again.”

  As he turned, Ithann grunted. “I know you won’t.”

  Jaron knew Ithann didn’t understand that he’d given a warning, not made a request.

  He returned to his office, giving Stacia instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed for a thirty-minute reflection break. Entering the small room set aside for his use to complete paperwork and speak to patients outside of a medical setting, he closed the door behind him. Coolly surveyed the available wall space. And slammed his fist through a patch of smooth drywall. He examined the indentation with satisfaction and made a mental note to ask Stacia to arrange the repairs.

  Jaron cleaned and bandaged his hand- for the benefit of the humans- and continued with the working day. He would see her that evening.

  ***

  He’d vowed the path of non-violence. Since the use of brute force in resolving difficulties usually indicated a lack of sophisticated thinking, the vow was working for him. His parents would be pleased. Jaron himself would be more pleased, at this time, if his own intellect hadn’t already calculated the outcome of forcing Mila into a relationship she didn’t want.

  This was one of those times he was seriously weighing the use of brute strength.

  The sheer stupidity of enrolling in a medical trial floored him- he’d thought her more intelligent. But evidently when sick, human faculties dribbled out of their ears.

  Money, she’d said. Dying. As if he would allow her to die. Jaron gritted his teeth, tattoos surging around his arms in reaction to his emotional disturbance. He wanted the woman- already considered her his, had staked a clear claim- and his body was tired of waiting. Fortunately for her, he wasn’t ruled by his cock, or the urge to bond.

  At least not yet.

  He kn
ocked on the door of her efficiency apartment. Jaron understood the reasoning behind human government housing single adults in bland, cramped buildings to conserve space, but that didn’t mean their reasoning was ethical, or even healthy. The place stank, the construction clearly shoddy. And what security was present at the front doors was disinterested at best.

  She opened the door, circles under her eyes, a thin shirt hanging on her slumped frame. He wondered how much energy it had taken for her to get out of bed and open the door.

  “Ah, shit, Jaron, I’m not in the mood,” Mila said.

  He slipped past her and closed the door. She sighed, saying nothing, and he led her to the donated couch in her tiny living room. When she settled next to him, he tugged the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She wore another thin garment underneath and loose shorts.

  “We can’t keep doing this,” she said.

  Jaron didn’t reply, pulling her onto his lap after discarding his shirt. She settled against his chest with a sigh as he wrapped one arm around her back and clasped her other at the wrist.

  The tattoos swirled. Jaron grit his teeth as they divided, swarming over his arm and onto hers. Brightening, sending a flash of color and energy underneath her skin. Her full lips parted, lashes fluttering. Her hips arched into him, just a bit, but this time he didn’t bother to dampen his reaction. His body hardened underneath her and she stiffened. He held her fast, staring into her face.

  Let her understand exactly why he wouldn’t allow her to die. Let her understand she had no choice but to live.

  She wiggled as her energy returned, attempting to pull away. He snorted. As if.

  “Be still,” he said. “We need to have a frank discussion.”

  She stopped struggling, holding herself still. Jaron didn’t know why Mila bothered to hide her desire from him- from herself. She refused to meet his eyes, pulse fluttering in her neck from the rapid pace of her heart. A faint flush under golden brown skin as her lips subtly plumped with blood.

  His eyes lowered to her chest, laughably concealed by thin cloth. A small smile curved his lips as he watched her nipples pebble. One day soon he would take one in his mouth and suckle, play with her while his fingers plunged in and out of her pussy until she was slick and ready for him.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

  At least she wouldn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I never told you why I left the warrior’s path for medicine.”

  Her head turned, eyes slowly rising to meet his. Reluctantly curious. Jaron didn’t speak much about himself, or his life.

  “My parents were doctors. Researchers. They studied plants and exotic disease.”

  Her eyes gleamed with flecks of gold swimming in green, bright from the strength he’d transferred to her.

  “What happened?” she asked, voice soft.

  Her perception pleased him. “We were on an exploratory mission on a strange planet, and they contracted an unknown disease. Something harmless to the natives, but deadly to us. They died.”

  She gasped, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.” But he didn’t remove her hand. “I vowed, Mila, that I would never watch another person I cared about die from illness.” Jaron caught her hand as she moved it, eyes lowering again. “I don’t intend to break that vow with you.”

  “I- Jaron.” She stopped, sighed. “There isn’t anything anyone can do for me.”

  “What do you think we’ve been doing the last several months? Exploring alien-human diplomacy?”

  Her expression tightened. “Delaying the inevitable. I don’t even know why you like me.”

  His brow rose. “Why do you like me?”

  Her watched the expressions cross her face. “You... we have good conversations. You understand me. You treat me like Mila, not like your sick cancer patient.”

  “I see you,” he said, voice soft. “I see who you are now, and who you have the potential to be. You cared for your mother, even as a child, when she should have cared for you. Do you know how rare that strength is? That level of selflessness?”

  It was what, inevitably, had drawn him to her. Or at least was beginning of what had drawn him to her. No child should have endured what she had endured. But she had, and survived, proving herself to be both warrior and healer, even if she didn’t see herself that way.

  He did. He was older- he knew better than her. He knew how to weigh a person and measure their worth.

  She gazed at him. “And that’s enough?”

  Jaron knew what she was asking. “The ease we have with each other- that’s rare as well, Mila.” He lowered his head, lips brushing her ear- he wanted to be certain she heard him. Clearly. “You will not die. I won’t allow it. I also won’t allow you to fight me. Do you understand? I will save you- even against your will.”

  She shoved at his chest and this time he let her go. “You don’t understand!”

  Jaron rose, watching as she walked in hectic circles around the couch, rubbing her arms. The tattoos began to fade, dissolving as she instinctively rejected the bond. But they’d lasted a few minutes longer this time. He was patient. A few minutes longer each time was enough. One day she would accept him completely.

  “Then explain. You’re wasting your strength with all the pacing.”

  She whirled, glaring at him. “It’s not about me. My mother-” she paused.

  Jaron’s brow rose. “Where is Ayita?”

  “Back in the hospital.” Mila grimaced. “She tried to overdose again.”

  “If you signed her over to my care-”

  Mila shook her head. “No. I won’t cage her, even to save her.” Her lips pursed. “She’s been taken advantage of enough.”

  Jaron tamped down his impatience. He knew the story- and he also knew it was an excuse. Ayita was destroying her daughter- and Mila was allowing it. Foolish humans.

  “You were explaining why you think I shouldn’t save your life.”

  She sighed. “It’s just- I’m going to die anyway, no matter how long you prolong the inevitable. And… the treatment is so expensive. That’s why I decided it would be better- I mean. The government has this program for Low Tier patients. If you forgo the treatment, they’ll pay your surviving family a lifetime annuity. It’s supposed to be cheaper than treating what I have.”

  Jaron had been with her for six months, courting her in his way, and not once had she told him this. He’d respected her privacy as she’d asked, though the request had been ridiculous and his compliance, for a doctor, even more so.

  Anger surged. At her, at the human government. At his own patience for allowing her to keep things from him.

  “This is about your guilt- the crutch you lean on to keep from being responsible for your life.”

  She took a step back, flinching from the whip of his tone. “That’s not fair. My mother-”

  “Is an adult. You aren’t to blame for what happened to your mother. You aren’t responsible for her.”

  Her fists balled at her sides. “Of course I’m responsible for her, you insensitive iceberg!”

  He shook his head. “I should have pried this out of you months ago.”

  “Get out!”

  Jaron snorted. “Make me.”

  Her mouth gaped a little. He smiled nastily- she wasn’t used to him disobeying her. He’d practiced a careful, inoffensive aura, all the better to woo her with. Underneath the fatigue and foolish emotionalism was a woman with a delightful temper and intriguing will. He had to tread carefully or else she would fully reject him- and that he would not tolerate. She was his to save, his to heal. And when she was fully back to herself, he planned to reap all the benefits of his labor.

  Forever.

  3

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What’s wrong with you?” Mila asked.

  She’d known better than to admit the truth to him. Known he’d take her illness personally. Over the months of their friendship, he’d let more
slip about his past than he probably thought. Mila had figured there was something somewhere that drove him. A Yadeshi warrior studying Earth medicine while he moonlighted as basically a sports clinic doc?

  “How’s your residency going?” she asked, distracted by her thoughts.

  He shouldn’t even be here right now- he should be at his research hospital. Not the same hospital hosting her clinical trial- she wasn’t stupid- but another prominent institute in the city.

  Jaron took a step forward. “Don’t try and change the subject.”

  “Fine.” She moved, sitting on the couch to disguise her retreat. Her body always felt better after the glowy alien thing- if better meant aggravatingly horny as well as ravenous for food. “Look, I’m dying- it’s been going on a while. I probably should have told you before we started hanging out. It’s not fair I guess.” Who wanted to be friends with someone who was going to be literally gone in a few short years? “But you don’t have to act all growly about it.”

  “How should I act, Mila? You’ve kept this from me and I could have solved this problem months ago.”

  “I don’t think so. Look, Jaron, I’m tired-”

  “Lie. I can hear your heartbeat. And scent your desire.”

  She blushed, his soft, knowing tone angering her. “So what? I can’t control physiological reactions. Humans aren’t like that. Why don’t you just go? I need to rest and think.”

  Jaron took a liquid step forward, eyes narrow. “No.”

  “Please.”

  He paused, stared at her for a long minute, then looked away with a grimace. “Damn you. One day you’ll be begging me to stay, Mila. Soon.”

  Mila locked the door behind him as he left, breathing unsteady. She’d seen the look in his eyes, known he was one wrong word- on her part- from... doing something. Something that would change everything, and she wasn’t ready yet. This more aggressive side of him was less comfortable to handle. She’d thought he was going to argue with her all night, maybe insist on doing more of the glowy healy thingy.

  Her cell rang. She didn’t have one of the communication screens- her landlord was cheap. Well, her landlord was the government, and they defined all new levels of cheap. She hauled herself off the couch with a sigh, touching Accept.