Coral

"You want me to what?" I have my hands on my hips like some fishwife as Drega studies his claws.

"Drasus needs a safe and practiced set of hands to care for him while he enters this stage of his recovery," Drega says. "Until he can shift, which I expect will happen soon, he must be kept calm and engaged so as not to undo any of the healing his body has done so far."

"Why me?"

"He doesn't seem to hate you." Drega looks up.

I purse my lips.

"As much as anyone else," he concedes.

"Fantastic." I pick up my cup and take a swig, finding the herby drink cold. It makes me wince. "And what if I say no?"

"Then I guess I have no further need for you in my healing chamber," Drega says.

"But I'm looking after the human women, including Ruby," I counter. Using his mate as leverage is a dick move and I know it.

"You can continue to treat the humans in their quarters. You have no real need of this space."

He looks over my shoulder where there is a Jiaka, one of the tiny three-eyed, four-armed aliens currently nursing a broken wrist.

Unlike the Sarkarnii, and despite their multiple appendages, the Jiaka are remarkably like humans and easier to deal with. The one with the broken wrist will be bandaged up and sent on his way (at least I think it's a he, I've not looked past the hair and mounds of clothing yet). After all, he or she has three other working limbs. They just need proper treatment and they're generally fine.

The Jiaka need just as much caring for as the humans and far more than the Sarkarnii. Drega knows this. He's using it against me. Despite his earlier aloofness, I've earned his respect with my assistance, not just with his mate and the other humans, but by being prepared to risk a severe singeing where injured Sarkarnii are concerned.

My left eyebrow is finally growing back.

Drega has certainly given me more respect than any human male surgeon has during my career, despite his obvious dismissiveness. It's probably why I feel more than a little betrayed he'd stoop so low as to limit my ability to offer medical help to the other species.

"Okay, fine," I growl at him. Drega takes a very subtle step back.

At least Ruby has got him somewhat trained, although, given she usually carries a couple of ray guns and a dagger, I'm not really surprised.

"What do you want me to do?"

"He's off the paraxio infusion, but given how much he's had, it'll stay in his system for the next tick or so," Drega says, referencing a day the way the Sarkarnii count time. "So, he'll need assistance with feeding, bathing, and company."

"And treatment?"

"He's going to need to move around, use those muscles of his. He might have cramps. I have something to ease those. It's possible, if things don't improve much, he might need further treatment to force a shift. But we'll deal with that if we have to." Drega shakes his head. "It always seems I either have warriors who shift and can't, or won't, shift back or warriors who can't shift at all."

He clucks his tongue, and his frustration makes me smile a little.

"As was always the burden of a healer," I say.

"That is true. Anyway, he's all yours. I expect he'll wake in a few hours or so," Drega says. "The fact he didn't hurt you yesterday makes me mostly confident he won't attack you now. The risk will lessen the more the paraxio wears off."

Great. I've got three hundred pounds of grumpy alien dragon who's drugged to the eyeballs to fend off for the next few days. And I don't know Kung Fu.

"Where are you going to be if there are any problems?" I ask.

"Aboard the ship. We're running diagnostics on the star map, seeing if there's any way around the system to get access to the launch codes. You can reach me via the comms in Draco's quarters if you need to." Drega edges towards the doorway. "Drasus is all yours, healer."

I honestly want to kick him in his big blue behind as Drega literally turns tail and flees.

"Right." I look between the doorway to grumpy alien dragon shifter hell and the little Jiaka, blinking its eyes discordantly at me. "Bandages first, Mr. Beastly Dragon later." I mutter.

Having fixed up the Jiaka (female as it turned out) and sent her on her way, I don't have much of an option but to tend to Drasus. I decide there is a distinct possibility the way to his good side (if indeed he has one) could be via his stomach.

Sarkarnii like to eat. They like to drink too, but I leave the ale wine off the menu for the time being, given I've no idea how it would react with the other drug he's been given. Taking a deep breath, I take a step into his room with a platter piled high of all the tastiest things I think a surly Sarkarnii might like.

Drasus is still on the bed. The blanket trails onto the floor and he has one arm slung over his bare, muscular chest. His hair is loose. A dark mane infused with purple, it spills over the pillow. I'm so used to seeing him with a long plait, it softens his features considerably.

He opens one eye, the pupil still a fine slash of jet. He glares at me.

I hold up the tray I have in my hands, almost like a shield.

"Time for you to eat," I say with a big smile.

Drasus scowls.

Of course he scowls. Why would he be pleased to see me?

He moves painfully on the bed.

I shove my pride and annoyance at his attitude back in the box. Drasus needs me, and I have to remember what he was like when he first arrived.

And what happened when we nearly lost him.

For a proud warrior, from a species who virtually always heals without any external intervention, his enforced lengthy convalescence is going to be hard for him.

"Not hungry," Drasus growls, and drops his head back onto the bed, closing his eyes.

And it looks like this warrior is going to be the very definition of patience testing.