Read Online Rendan (Scifi Alien Dragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 4) by Celia Kyle, Erin Tate - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Celia Kyle, Erin Tate
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“Both.”
Because they’d used both forms? Or because she’d had to ask? Regardless, she didn’t want him near her any longer. “Thank you for your information. You can return to your duties unless you need med care.”
She turned her attention back to Rendan, pretending the green warrior—the scary green warrior—didn’t exist. If she couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there.
Except, she didn’t hear the heavy tread signaling his departure.
“What is his condition?” The male didn’t leave, still looming above her.
“Are you a family member?” She kept her attention focused on Rendan, fighting to ignore her mate’s stillness. There were any number of reasons he remained immobile and she refused to let panic steal her ability to do her job.
“I am Ballakin sen—“
“Yes or no question,” she murmured, doing her best to stand up to the male. “If you’re not a family member, I am bound by patient confidentiality not to release information about his condition.”
“I am—“
“Warrior Ballakin,” Chashan’s harsh voice whipped across the room. “You are no longer needed. Return to duties.”
She flicked her attention to Ballakin—at least she could think of him as someone other than ocean’s shit green—and her shoulders curled forward beneath his glare. The expression was brief, but long enough to shoot a spark of fear down her spine.
She’d angered yet another Preor. She was just making all kinds of friends.
Carla programmed the ryaapir unit to work on some of the larger injuries, the tear in his ewae —spleen—and the collapse of one of his four luuq —lungs. The Knowing made her feel like these weren’t life-threatening injuries, but she couldn’t help equating his body to a human’s. Which had her worry rising higher.
Soon another shadow casted across Rendan’s body and she glanced up to meet Chashan’s gaze. “Let us program the platform appropriately.”
She jumped at the chance to use the platform properly, anxious to fix her battered mate. His eyes remained closed, breathing sluggish, and several wounds seeped blood, painting his tanned skin a bright red.
Carla stood by Rendan’s head, display screen ready for her to input repair commands, while Chashan took the diagnosis controls near her mate’s feet.
“Initiating diagnosis protocol,” Chashan murmured and she kept her gaze trained on the display in front of her. She caught the transmissions from Chashan, prioritizing them, directing the ryaapir unit.
Her lungs froze, breathing stilling, and she stared at the screen. There were so many more injuries than she’d manually discovered. Bleeding in his brain, which explained his unconscious state. Three collapsed lungs instead of one. A broken leg. Deep scarring to his wings and the snap of the flight lines on his left.
She worked furiously, keeping up with Chashan, catching each diagnosis and sliding it into the repair queue. One after another, he discovered them and sent it to her for healing. With each new order, her own pain grew, the worry transforming into a physical ache throughout her body. Her throat burned, eyes stinging and her heart picked up a rapid cadence. She understood why loved ones didn’t work on friends and family members now. It was too hard to be objective, too hard to do the job when worried if the next move she made would end up killing him.
But she pushed on. Intent. Focused. Determined.
Until Chashan spoke again. “That is the last.”
A small cut to his calf, the muscle torn, but fixable. She slipped it into the queue and let herself breathe. Then she let herself look at the long list of repairs.
So long.
Carla gave herself a moment to look to Argan, the male just as still as Rendan, and she huffed out a breath. She tilted her head toward the other bed. “How is he?”
Chashan followed her gaze and then focused on her once more. “He will live. His injuries were more severe than Offense Master Rendan’s, but I expect a full
Because they’d used both forms? Or because she’d had to ask? Regardless, she didn’t want him near her any longer. “Thank you for your information. You can return to your duties unless you need med care.”
She turned her attention back to Rendan, pretending the green warrior—the scary green warrior—didn’t exist. If she couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there.
Except, she didn’t hear the heavy tread signaling his departure.
“What is his condition?” The male didn’t leave, still looming above her.
“Are you a family member?” She kept her attention focused on Rendan, fighting to ignore her mate’s stillness. There were any number of reasons he remained immobile and she refused to let panic steal her ability to do her job.
“I am Ballakin sen—“
“Yes or no question,” she murmured, doing her best to stand up to the male. “If you’re not a family member, I am bound by patient confidentiality not to release information about his condition.”
“I am—“
“Warrior Ballakin,” Chashan’s harsh voice whipped across the room. “You are no longer needed. Return to duties.”
She flicked her attention to Ballakin—at least she could think of him as someone other than ocean’s shit green—and her shoulders curled forward beneath his glare. The expression was brief, but long enough to shoot a spark of fear down her spine.
She’d angered yet another Preor. She was just making all kinds of friends.
Carla programmed the ryaapir unit to work on some of the larger injuries, the tear in his ewae —spleen—and the collapse of one of his four luuq —lungs. The Knowing made her feel like these weren’t life-threatening injuries, but she couldn’t help equating his body to a human’s. Which had her worry rising higher.
Soon another shadow casted across Rendan’s body and she glanced up to meet Chashan’s gaze. “Let us program the platform appropriately.”
She jumped at the chance to use the platform properly, anxious to fix her battered mate. His eyes remained closed, breathing sluggish, and several wounds seeped blood, painting his tanned skin a bright red.
Carla stood by Rendan’s head, display screen ready for her to input repair commands, while Chashan took the diagnosis controls near her mate’s feet.
“Initiating diagnosis protocol,” Chashan murmured and she kept her gaze trained on the display in front of her. She caught the transmissions from Chashan, prioritizing them, directing the ryaapir unit.
Her lungs froze, breathing stilling, and she stared at the screen. There were so many more injuries than she’d manually discovered. Bleeding in his brain, which explained his unconscious state. Three collapsed lungs instead of one. A broken leg. Deep scarring to his wings and the snap of the flight lines on his left.
She worked furiously, keeping up with Chashan, catching each diagnosis and sliding it into the repair queue. One after another, he discovered them and sent it to her for healing. With each new order, her own pain grew, the worry transforming into a physical ache throughout her body. Her throat burned, eyes stinging and her heart picked up a rapid cadence. She understood why loved ones didn’t work on friends and family members now. It was too hard to be objective, too hard to do the job when worried if the next move she made would end up killing him.
But she pushed on. Intent. Focused. Determined.
Until Chashan spoke again. “That is the last.”
A small cut to his calf, the muscle torn, but fixable. She slipped it into the queue and let herself breathe. Then she let herself look at the long list of repairs.
So long.
Carla gave herself a moment to look to Argan, the male just as still as Rendan, and she huffed out a breath. She tilted her head toward the other bed. “How is he?”
Chashan followed her gaze and then focused on her once more. “He will live. His injuries were more severe than Offense Master Rendan’s, but I expect a full
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