“Forgive me,” he says, “I did not mean to frighten you. My name is Avrell. I’m what you would call a doctor here at the facility. You’re…Molly, you said?”
My shoulders slump in relief. “That’s right.”
“Why don’t you come with me? Breccan and Aria could use some time to bond with their mortling before the others demand to shower them with well wishes. While they rest, I should do some tests on you.” At my horrified look, Avrell hurries to explain, “Don’t worry, standard procedure. Since your cryotube was damaged, we’d be remiss to neglect an exam. If you’ll follow me.” He gestures to the doorway he came through.
I hesitate. “Do you mind if Draven comes with me?” The only reason I manage to lock my arm around Draven’s before he can escape is because I catch him off guard. Any one of the other guys would throw themselves at my feet to go with me, but Draven is the only one who would rather be anywhere else—which is exactly why I want him. As much as I enjoy their attention, Draven won’t expect anything from me. In fact, I can guarantee that as soon as he’s able, he’ll be running in the other direction.
And I’m counting on it.
***
I hiss as Avrell helps me onto the cool surface of the table. My eyes are clenched tightly. “How long will it take?” I ask, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. It’s not the cold that’s making me shiver. It’s fear. Fear worse than waking up in a strange place, trapped.
“We implanted all the females once we transferred them safely to the facility,” Avrell explains. Am I mistaken or was there a thread of apology in his voice?
“Did—” I grit my teeth, then force myself to calm down. “Did any of them take?” Please say no. Please say no. I’ll worry about the injustice of being implanted against my will later. Can’t think about that now.
There’s a pause punctuated by the sound of fingers against a keyboard, then I feel the blunt head of some sort of scanner against the lower portion of my belly. Avrell had me change into a thin gown for the general health exam—which I passed with flying colors—then he had me sit on an exam table with a blanket on my lap with the gown pulled up over my belly.
“I apologize for this dated technology, but the wegloscan is under maintenance. Oz is adding some new features to it,” Avrell mutters. “For now, we must run this test the old way.”
Weglo-what?
As he continues, I try not to think about Draven staring at me in such a vulnerable position. He’d come with me to Avrell’s office and exam room—grudgingly. The moment we’d stepped over the threshold, he’d taken up residence in a corner of the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and hadn’t stopped glowering since.
“Did any of them take?” I ask again, my voice growing shrill.
“We’re not certain,” Avrell finally answers. “The first embryo we implanted in Aria, Commander Breccan’s mate, didn’t take,” Avrell continues as he positions the wand in different locations on my stomach. “We’re still not sure why. Propagating a species, even same species, is a delicate process. Cross-species, well, I’m not going to say it’s impossible, but it takes time.”
“But I thought you said they just had a baby?” My throat closes around the word.
“They did, but their mortling was conceived—ah, in the more conventional sense.”
My cheeks burn even though my eyes are closed. “Right! Well, of course.” So, if I wasn’t pregnant, I was going to have to have sex with one of them. No wonder they were all giving me gifts. In the abstract sense, I understood what they’d meant when they said they wanted me as a mate. It just didn’t sink in until now.
Next to me, Avrell gives a disappointed sigh. Unbidden, my eyes fly open and my gaze darts to the screen. The visual there isn’t that much different from the ultrasounds where I’m from, and it doesn’t take a doctor like Avrell to tell me what I already know.
I’m not pregnant.
For some reason, I glance in Draven’s direction. He’s also studying the screen with an intensity that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. What is he thinking about? Then his gaze meets mine.
I don’t need fancy gifts from Draven.
All it takes is a look.
The raw emotion in his eyes reaches down deep inside me where I’m empty and wanting, taking root.
He shakes his head, taking a step back. I know he feels it, whatever it is, because he meets my gaze once more then shakes his head again, slowly. Whatever he sees in my expression, he’s telling me no.
“No matter,” Avrell says blithely. “Like I said, it’s a delicate process. This will give us time to test your compatibility with each mort and find the best viable candidate. We really should have done this with the others, but circumstances being what they were, we never got the chance.” Avrell looks up from the screen where he is recording data and finds Draven staring at me. “Oh,” Avrell says.