Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Beth emerged from the office, her eyes bleary after reading through lab analysis after analysis. Her stomach rumbled but she was in dire need of caffeine, which meant food could wait. Everything could wait for coffee.

The quiet hum of the lab enveloped her, a soothing symphony of whirring machines and soft beeps. The comforting sound lulled her into a sense of security, a cocoon of science and technology that had always felt like home.

Zeke glanced up from the data pad he was working on with a smile, and she bit back the shiver that rolled down her spine. Standard Latharians looked so human, apart from their size, that she forgot at times they weren't. But the Izaean were different, they had more of an edge of… otherness in the way they looked and moved. Perhaps down to their mutations…

"Do we have coffee?" she asked, hoping against hope. She hadn't thought to ask before. There had been coffee on the ship, so she assumed they would have some here as well.

"We do," Zeke replied, his voice a deep rumble. "Isan insists on it for his mate Shannon."

Settling onto a stool, she watched as the big Izaean moved to a contraption that looked like it had been cobbled together from spare lab parts. It didn't look like a coffee machine. Unlike the rest of the equipment in here, which was new and expensive, this was the bastard lovechild of a banger flyer engine and something from a scrapyard. If it produced coffee, though, she wasn't going to complain.

"What's she like?" Beth asked, curious. She knew a few women were already mated to Latharians, and the offices for that new mate program always seemed to be full of women signing up to become mail order brides for, they hoped, handsome aliens. But she'd never actually met one of them. The women, that was. "Isan's mate."

"I don't know much about her." Zeke shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling under the lab jacket. Like every other alien she'd seen here, he was dressed for combat beneath it with a singlet vest tucked into combat pants and heavy boots. He wasn't armed… at least she didn't think he was. For all she knew, his mutations might turn him into a weapon. "All I know is that she's beautiful but dangerous. A warrior."

"You mean a soldier?" she clarified, accepting the large mug of coffee he handed her. It was almost comically big in her hands, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not with the delicious smell of the steam rising from it.

His nod was small and sharp. "Yes, a soldier. A very good one. A commander. Not as high as a war commander, though, but getting up there. She's beautiful. Most human females are beautiful," he admitted, his gaze dropping as a banner of pink tinged his high cheekbones.

She blinked, her mind whirling. She wouldn't have thought Zeke would be shy around women, but then she remembered he'd been on Parac'Norr since he was a child. "You've seen them then… human women, I mean?"

He nodded, his hands fidgeting with a stray wire from the coffee machine for a moment. When he realized he was doing it, he shoved his hands behind his back. "I've accompanied Isan to Earth a few times. I can..." He gestured around the lab, his gaze encompassing the advanced equipment. "I learned well and my Rage is more controlled than most, so he trusts me."

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. It was good, slightly earthy with an odd, warming twang she couldn't quite place. "He trusts you with me."

A shrill alarm pierced the air, making her jump and shattering the peaceful hum of the lab. The machines around them began to flash, their screens filling with warning signs.

Her heart leapt into her throat, her coffee forgotten as she stared at Zeke in wide-eyed panic. "What's going on? Are we under attack?"

"No. Not here." Shaking his head, he moved past her to the central console in the lab, typing quickly. "Over two thousand of us are on site. Anyone attacking us would have to have a death wish."

The doors to the lab swung open, the head of one of the guards, the one with the odd eyes, appearing.

"Incoming," he warned in a low rumble of a shout. "Boss needs the theater."

"Draanth." Zeke exploded into movement, almost colliding with Beth as he spun around. Big hands on her upper arms, he lifted her out of the way, depositing her onto a stool tucked away in a corner. A gasp escaped her. She'd never seen anyone move that fast.

"Sorry, Doctor," he apologized. "But it's gonna get crowded in here fast, and a little thing like you could get hurt easily."

She nodded as the doors to the lab flew open and half a dozen Izaeans rushed in, their booted feet hammering a rapid tattoo against the concrete floor. Isan was at the front, his silver hair caught back from his face and blue eyes intense as he looked around for Zeke.

"Bring the theater online," he ordered, his voice clipped as the medical team pushed a stretcher behind him. "And set for immediate neural transfer."

Zeke nodded, his expression focused as he headed for the surgical suite at the back of the lab. "Immediate transfer, boss? You don't want me to ease you in?"

"We don't have time," Isan shouted back, struggling with the man on the stretcher as he snarled and tried to attack the medics around him. "He's badly injured and in Rage, I need to get in there and take over his systems fast before he hurts himself more."

Izaeans pushed the stretcher past her, and she couldn't help her gasp of horror. Hand over her mouth, she had to stop herself from throwing up. Injured was not the word. The man on the stretcher looked like an organ rec unit had been at him. He'd been carved up so brutally she wasn't sure how he was still alive. How could anyone have survived that amount of damage and still be breathing, let alone fighting those trying to help him?

"Will he survive?" she asked. Isan was a healer, yes, but surely there was somewhere better to treat him than a lab? "Shouldn't he be in the hospital?"

The injured man's eyes snapped open and his gaze locked on to hers. She found herself staring into dark red eyes as he reached out, desperation on his face. Automatically she reached for him but Isan knocked her hand away, bulldozing between her and the stretcher.

"Don't touch him! He's feral," he warned, putting his strength behind the stretcher with the others to push it into the operating theater. Her last glance of the blood-covered man was of his eyes fluttering closed as he slumped back, unconscious.

She bit her lip, trailing behind the medical team as they disappeared into the theater.

Beth watched the doors to the operating theater close and hoped to all the gods that the blood-soaked man on the stretcher was just passed out, not dying.

The look of desperation in his eyes as he'd focused on her wouldn't leave her. He'd looked at her like he was begging her to save him. But she couldn't…

"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking her seat at the counter again and settling in to review more research notes.

If she couldn't save him, the least she could do was wait to see if he survived his surgery.

?

"Dr. Godwin?" A deep voice and pressure shaking her shoulder roused her from sleep.

Beth blinked, trying to focus on the figure standing over her. The room smelled of disinfectant, causing her to wrinkle her nose. As her vision cleared, she realized it was Zeke, his yellow eyes filled with weariness. His hand still rested on her shoulder, where he'd shaken her awake. Behind him, the medical team was filing out of the operating theater, pushing a stretcher with the injured man on it.

The man's chest was bare, a white sheet draped over his waist, hiding the rest of his body from view. The blood that had covered his skin was now gone, probably washed away during the surgery. His muscular form was still, the only sign of life the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. A quick glance down reassured her that she hadn't drooled all over her notes as she slept. That would have been embarrassing.

"Is he going to be okay?" She bit her lip as she nodded toward the man on the stretcher.

Zeke's expression darkened.

"I wouldn't get too invested if I were you," he said, his voice low. "That's Banic, leader of the ferals. He's the most dangerous male on the planet. I'm surprised Isan didn't just let him die."

A chill ran down her back at the dark tone of his voice. She knew the Izaeans were dangerous, but hearing Zeke talk about Banic like that made her realize just how alien they were.

"What happened to him?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level and professional, not wanting to admit how much she'd been rattled when he'd reached for her when he'd arrived. Just from that one look she felt like she knew him.

The yellow-eyed Izaean snorted in amusement. "Raalt happened to him."

"Raalt?" Her brow creased in confusion. "As in, the leader of the Izaean and Isan's father, Raalt?"

He nodded. "That's the one. Big bastard of a male. White hair."

"But why would he do that to Banic?"

"Because he thought Banic had killed his female," Zeke explained.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Wow."

"Yeah," Zeke said, his voice sounding tired. "That about covers it. Isan managed to stabilize him, so if he survives the night, he should make it."

Beth nodded, looking past Zeke to where the medics were wheeling Banic's stretcher toward the back of the lab. Her eyes widened as she realized they were heading for the specimen containment cage. She hadn't expected them to lock up an actual person in there.

"Surely you don't need to cage him up?" she asked Zeke. "I mean, how much damage could he really do in his condition?"

Zeke's yellow eyes softened slightly as he regarded her. "I forget you are new here and unfamiliar with our history. Perhaps human females are naturally more... sympathetic."

She got the feeling the word he really wanted to use there was dumb.

"Banic would slaughter every soul in this facility without a second thought if given the chance," Zeke continued solemnly.

"He would kill us all and flee the planet. The only reason we have survived under the Empire's rule this long is because they remain ignorant of the existence of males like Banic. If they discovered the truth..." His jaw tightened. "They would wipe us out like they did the Vorrtan."

"Oh." She glanced back at the unconscious man, understanding dawning. "I see."

From her current vantage point, all she could glimpse of Banic was the end of the medical bed and his two large, muscular feet. She wondered what the rest of him looked like. That one glimpse she'd gotten when he was covered in blood hadn't given her enough to work out the details of his appearance. What kind of man could inspire such caution and fear even while so badly injured?

"You've been working hard all day," Zeke remarked, glancing at her notes scattered across the desk. "You should get some rest. I'll have some food sent over from the mess hall to your rooms."

"Thank you. That would be great." She nodded, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "Let me just gather up my things and I'll head out."

She began collecting her notes and equipment as Zeke collected his and left the lab. Her mind spun with questions about Banic, the Vorrtan, and what other secrets this strange planet held. Those questions would have to wait until tomorrow.

Still, she couldn't resist the temptation to take one peek.

Walking over to the containment cage holding the unconscious Banic, she stood and looked in.

Hell, he was handsome. Now that he was cleaned up and the blood washed away, of course. Larger and more muscular than a human male, he didn't have that same eerie inhuman quality she'd noted in some of the other Izaeans.

She moved closer to the bars and couldn't resist looking him up and down. His chest was broad, with pecs that were thick and muscular. His biceps and forearms looked as big around as her thighs, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over all those hard, defined muscles. Would they be as rock-solid as they appeared under his skin?

She frowned as she looked at the raised, ropey scarring that covered one shoulder and curled over his upper arm. The shiny tissue was an odd black color that stood out starkly from his tanned skin. How had he gained such an injury… an old battle wound, perhaps?

As her gaze drifted lower, she noticed the same markings on his ribcage. It was thinner here, less like armor plating and almost looked like a tattoo of writhing, smoky tendrils. She pressed closer to the glass wall of the containment unit, squinting to try and make out the details.

Suddenly, the lines on his skin seemed to move. The black lines rippled and twisted, the coils writhing across his skin.

"What the fuck?" she breathed, stumbling backward. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the lines on his skin were back in their original places. Still. Unchanging.

"Okay, sweetie." She chuckled to herself. "Hallucinations mean you need sleep. Stat. Sexy man can stay there until he wakes up."

Smiling at herself, she rubbed her tired eyes and made for the door. After the day she'd had, she wanted a hot shower, a soft bed, and about a month's sleep. Not necessarily in that order.