The Vanished Specialist (The Lost Planet 2)

Beepbeepbeepbeep!

“I will not let anyone touch you,” I whisper against her flesh, searing her with a firm stare. “Relax, lilapetal.”

She must find assurance in my expression because her heart rate slows and she relaxes.

“Just breathe normally. I’m attempting to repair your lungs with microbots again. I hope they will tend to any damages they are capable of fixing.”

I do not tell her that the microbots have not been programmed for alien anatomy, but perhaps it is best if she does not know the details. I locate my audonar that is used for listening inside the chest and slide the small bulbs into my ears. Using the round zuta-metal disk that is attached by a tube, I press it to her pink flesh above where her heart is. Our eyes meet as I listen to the steady thumping.

Once I am satisfied with the sound of her heart, I slide the disk over to have a listen to her lungs. The heel of my palm brushes against her peaked nipple and she lets out a mewl. The small, sweet sound speaks straight to my cock. I grow hard in my minnasuit and I am once again shamed by my response to her.

“Try and remain calm, lilapetal.” My words are gruff and I hope she does not realize how desperate I am to mount her and claim her as mine. “That is it,” I rumble. “Breathe just like that.”

Her eyes are sharp and focused as she burns her hot gaze into me. Pink colors her throat and for a moment I worry I have hurt her. Then, I realize what my thumb is doing. I’m stroking her in a comforting way. Each time my thumb moves from left to right, my claw slides across her breast just below her nipple over the warming sheet.

I freeze and jerk my eyes back to hers, expecting something angry to glimmer in her stare. Aria was always so angry.

But not my Emery.

Her blue eyes are soft and trusting.

“Are you feeling okay to breathe without the apparatus?”

She nods and I quickly pull it away, eager to hear her voice once more.

“If ever I do something you feel uncomfortable with, please express your displeasure,” I say, my words husky.

Her shaky hand finds mine and she covers it with her own. “You’re helping me. I’ve met a lot of bad people in my life, and, Calix, you’re not one of them.”

Out of habit, my thumb strokes her flesh again. “I want to cure you.”

She smiles sadly. “I don’t think you can, but I’m happy that you’re trying.”

Pride surges through me as I continue to listen to her chest. It is as though someone poured something thick and sticky into her lungs. They seem to crackle as she breathes.

“So you suffered from this where you came from?” I ask as I pull away the audonar disk and pull the bulbs from my ears. I cannot imagine trying to breathe with lungs that seem to want to glue shut with every breath. How terrifying her life must be.

“Yeah. Asthma was something I grew up with. My inhaler helped, but there was nothing that completely healed me.” Her brow furrows and I crave to smooth it out again. “I did what I could to keep from having an asthma attack, but sometimes it was inevitable.” She twists the zuta-metal bracelet around her wrist. “This, where I came from, let people know I have a condition and would need immediate treatment if I ceased breathing. Now, though…I’m a walking time bomb. There must be something in the air here my lungs find even more offensive than back home.”

I blink at her in confusion, unsure what a walking time bomb is. “I am going to draw some blood and urine samples. I’d like to study your bionetics.”

“Bionetics?”

“It is a unique formula. Each mort here has a different bionetic formula. Aria’s is different as well. I have samples from Aria and I would like to run them against yours.”

“Whatever you need to do, I’ll do it,” she murmurs.

I work diligently taking the samples from her. When it comes time for the urine sample, she bravely meets my stare as I aid her in sitting on the collection basin. She urinates, her cheeks flashing red, but clutches onto my shoulders as though I will catch her if she should fall.

“This is awkward,” she complains, her breath tickling my hair on my nog.

Awkward. I remember the word that did not translate for us well. Aria uses it a lot. It means uncomfortable.

“Ahh, but it is necessary, my sweet.”

She smiles, broad and bright. The flame that had been kindling inside me has exploded like that of the harmful sun in our sky. I can see why Breccan craves it with every fiber of his being.

“Lie back,” I instruct as I pull away the basin and set it on the table. Absently, I cleanse her between her thighs.