Rohn: Warriors of Sangrin Page 3

  Levin’s mouth twisted into a satisfied smile. “You can't hide behind your little Terran or the warlord forever.”

  “I am not hiding.”

  “Jealously guarding your new mate? That’s what the medics say. They all talk about you, how young she is, and how dishonorable you are. They whisper that they don’t trust you to be alone with her.”

  “She has no one,” Rohn snapped.

  “But you?” Levin stepped back, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. “That was the warlord’s orders, yes?”

  “Until we locate her family.”

  “I suspect the warlord thought it would look good for the media, to have a warrior follow the Terran child he rescued and stay by her side during her recovery. Very concerned about image, isn’t he?”

  Rohn narrowed his eyes. Levin’s switch from attacking Rohn’s honor to impugning the warlord did not escape his notice. “The warlord must be concerned with politics and perception.”

  “And propping up a hero who rescues injured children will certainly draw attention from the fact that the warlord’s own son captured a Terran female in the unsecured zone and held her for weeks.”

  Rohn had heard those rumors about Vadi Kol, the warlord’s son, but he did not believe them. Vadi Ruh held every male in the clan to a very high standard. He had too. The warlord took Mahdfel warriors from many planets and forged them together into a new clan, dedicated to defending Earth. He did not tolerate insubordination or males who believed the rules did not apply to them. Rohn could not see the warlord tolerating such dishonorable behavior from any male, let alone his own son.

  This was another tactic for Levin to provoke Rohn. He wanted to be attacked in a civilian hospital and for Rohn to dishonor himself. Aware of a growing audience, Rohn vowed not to fall for such a trick.

  “You are hurting now,” Rohn said. “Do not say what you cannot back up.”

  Levin snarled, grabbing Rohn by the shoulders and shoving him back to the wall. “You took my mate!”

  Enough. Rohn shoved back, aware of the Terran staff watching them. He knew how they looked, two warriors about to come to blows. Their behavior supported the worst beliefs about the Mahdfel being barely civilized, hardly a step above barbarians. Perhaps they were.

  “She would not wait,” Rohn said. He knew his next words would cut Levin more decisively than any blade. “Your mate was so eager to be away from Earth, to be away from you, that she harassed me to hurry. Ordered me to skip the pre-flight checks.”

  Levin hissed but released his grip. “Who wouldn’t want to be away from an active battlefield? This damned miserable planet is at war and Cirra was with child. My son! You took my son.”

  Rohn felt the words strike him a sure as any blade, cutting deep. “I did not know—”

  “She was to return to her parents, to have our child in peace.”

  Peace. Utterly admirable and completely unobtainable for a Mahdfel. The war with the Suhlik never ended.

  Levin’s squared his shoulders and turned to their audience. “Haven’t you seen two males have a conversation? Begone. Go!”

  The medics and other Terran staff scattered.

  “I will extract what you owe me in blood and tears,” Levin vowed.

  Rohn believed him.

  Rohn waited. He wanted to be useful. He needed to move, to burn off the nervous energy coiling in his gut, but his warlord ordered him to wait until Nakia was stable, so he waited.

  Field hospitals were a miserable experience, from the flimsy, temporary structures, to the harried and stressed staff, to supply shortages, the suffering of the patients, and the rampant spread of disease. Terrans could spread bacteria or a virus a dozen ways in an instant. They were uniquely suited as disease vectors.

  Mahdfel rarely became ill. Engineered to be superior warriors, their accelerated healing conquered any pathogen it encountered. As a result, in rare event a Mahdfel was injured or ill, they were miserable patients.

  Unaccustomed to sitting still, unaccustomed to the sights and sounds of a hospital, Rohn was in misery. The babble of the medical staff and patients over the hum of the power generators and equipment drove home the point that Rohn did not belong there.

  The longer he stayed at Nakia’s side, the more he made her a target for Levin’s grief. The idea of exposing her to such danger made his skin itch. The sensible thing to do would be to leave her, for her protection. She was stable. The medics declared the surgery a success and the infection removed.

  Yet he did not want to imagine the hurt in her soft eyes if he left.

  Chapter 4

  Nakia

  Six Weeks Later

  * * *

  Nakia slurped up her soup in a rush, barely tasting the chicken or the noodles. The soup was bland but she had plenty of experience wolfing down bland, straight out of a can soup. It reminded her of her mom, cracking open the red and white can of chicken noodle soup every time she had the sniffles. For a moment, her heart hurt but she couldn’t focus on that.

  It was Wednesday afternoon, which meant Rohn would come by and walk with her. The walking was a figure of speech, as Nakia moved about on crutches, but it was their standing appointment. Rohn’s visits had grown erratic, with more and more days passing between, but he always made it a point to visit on Wednesdays.

  The unusually warm day meant they could leave the rehab facility. Last week, snow flurries confined them to the courtyard. She happily stood outside in the cold, awkwardly moving on the snow-covered pavement, glad to be out of the sterile building. It was almost magical the way the snow clung to Rohn’s horns and shoulders, like he had been dusted with powdered sugar.

  And just as tasty looking.

  Maybe today they could get ice cream. Then it’d be like a real date.

  Yes. She’d show off her brand-new prosthesis and Rohn, super impressed, would insist that they walk through the camp to the canteen, where he could show her off to everyone.

  The idea pleased Nakia so much that she wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, hugging the fantasy of a date with her Mahdfel warrior. Sure, he kept telling her that she was just a kid, but she wouldn’t be a kid forever and she knew they were destined to be together. She knew it.

  She heard his deep voice echoing down the hall the minute she entered the ward, followed by feminine giggling.

  A nurse, pretty and blonde, lightly touched his arm and then tucked her hair behind her ears. She smiled and laughed again, flirting so loudly that even Nakia could see it from a distance. And Rohn—her Rohn—just stood there taking it, smiling back at the nurse.

  Nakia tried to walk faster but that made her new leg twist uncomfortably when she didn’t step just right. Her hands clenched in frustration. She only had a few days practice with the prosthesis and she needed to slow down, or she’d fall flat on her face.

  The thought mortified her. Bad enough being flat chested, with her curling hair a frizzy mess, plus the breakout of spots on her chin, she didn’t need to add clumsy kid to the list.

  Besides, Rohn wasn’t there to see the blonde nurse; he was there for her. She let that little bit of knowledge warm her. The handsome, heroic alien man came to visit her, no one else. Sure, the first time was after he pulled her from the building, to make sure she survived, but all the times after that? He didn’t have to do that. Very few other Mahdfels visited the humans they brought in to the hospital. Nakia knew. When she was bored, she sat in the lobby and people watched.

  Rohn must visit her because he wanted to, because he liked her, because they were going to be married when she was old enough. She knew it.

  Nakia squeaked the soles of her shoes against the linoleum. Rohn immediately stepped back from the nurse. He smiled in her direction, brighter than the smile he gave the other woman, she noted with pride.

  “Something is different,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

  “Isn’t it a nice leg?” Nakia struck a pose, thrusting out the leg with the artificial limb. Denim c
overed her leg, but a bit of the matte black plastic showed at the shoe. Rohn made the appropriate noises of appreciation. Constructed of lightweight and durable metal and plastic, the prosthesis was a basic model. “The doctor says that when I’m desensitized to wearing this, I’ll be upgraded to a fancier model.”

  He nodded, attention fully on her. “You move well. Ready for our date?”

  Nakia held her head up a little higher. It was a date. She knew it.

  “Here are my contact details,” the nurse said, shoving a piece of paper at Rohn.

  Oh, that thirsty bitch did not just do that.

  “I’ve been practicing. Look,” Nakia said breathlessly, just before launching into a spin on her artificial foot. It seemed like a good idea at first, demonstrating her balance and how she ever-so-maturely and gracefully was learning to adapt to her new prosthetic.

  Then she wobbled a bit, twisting the muscle in her upper thigh and hip, and feared a fall. Face planting into the floor in front of Rohn was bad enough, but to fall in front of the smirking, flirting nurse, was too embarrassing.

  Strong arms caught her at the waist and stabilized her. “Careful,” he said.

  “I guess I’m not going to be doing ballet anytime soon, huh?” She pulled away, smoothing down her shirt over her stomach. Embarrassment burned bright in her cheeks.

  “Ballet is a Terran dance?”

  “Um, yeah. I always wanted to take lessons.” Ballet lessons remained too pricey for Nakia’s parents, so she played baseball and basketball instead. She probably wouldn’t make those teams either, if the world ever got back to normal.

  “Dance would be a good addition to your physical therapy, to develop balance, strength, and agility.” He looked toward the nurse, who gave Nakia a cutting look.

  “I can ask, but I don’t think that’s in the budget,” the nurse said. She flipped through some pages on her clipboard before walking away.

  With triumph, Nakia stuck her tongue out at the retreating nurse.

  Rohn noticed and gave a disapproving frown.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, cheeks burning again that he caught her acting childishly.

  “That one will not ask, I think,” he said.

  “Probably not.” She focused on ballet class, which would be good physical therapy and more interesting than walking mile after mile on the treadmill. Shame. She’d said it in panic to cover her embarrassment, but she’d like to attend ballet lessons.

  “Where shall we go today?”

  “I was hoping for ice cream,” Nakia said.

  “I like the way you think.” He looked down at her feet. “The canteen will not be too far?”

  “Nope. I’m a total pro at walking. Been doing it for years.” Truthfully, the canteen, while part of the joint military-Mahdfel camp, might be stretching how far she could go. The prosthetic felt comfortable, but it was so lightweight that it confused her balance.

  Nakia kept her eyes on the pavement, on her feet making contact. Without the sensation of her foot hitting the ground, it felt as though she had nothing to support her weight. She knew she’d get used to it in time and the fancy models came with embedded sensors that connected to her nerves. The doctors claimed that with the medical tech the aliens’ shared, she’d one day have a prosthesis nearly as functional as her original leg. Until then, she needed to learn to walk and not fall on her ass.

  Crestwood was a small mountain town. Before the invasion, it had a tourist economy: snow bunnies and skiers in the winter, hikers and campers in the summer. Now the surrounding mountains provided a line of defense from the Suhlik. The Mahdfel placed their hospitals in Crestwood to take advantage of the relative safety of the area.

  Nakia hadn’t seen the actual town of Crestwood yet. A complex of temporary buildings—the hospitals, rehab units, human civilians, and some refugees—flanked the town’s south side. Actual soldiers and aliens with guns were to the north. She heard that there was a larger refugee camp in another town further north. She wondered if her parents had been moved there.

  The pavement ended and turned into a dirt path between domes. Carefully, she watched her feet on the uneven ground. The domed buildings were very recent constructs. Nakia had watched from her windows as the domes went up over the course of a single day. The Mahdfel engineers had simply placed crates in an orderly pattern. Once they were satisfied, the crates opened, and the domed structures unfurled. Perhaps that wasn’t the best word, but she couldn’t think of another way to explain how the domed structures popped open.

  The canteen was housed in one such dome. On the outside, it resembled a huge tent, the kind used for outdoor weddings. On the inside, it was a furnished building, complete with a spongy resin floor, electric overhead lights, plumbing, and heat.

  Nakia touched the wall, finding the tent-like fabric to be stiff and unyielding.

  Rohn noticed her leaning against the wall. He noticed everything. “Do you require rest?”

  She did but she refused to admit it. “Just curious about the building. It looks like a stiff wind can knock it over.”

  “Absolutely not. This is Mahdfel construction and designed to be portable and tough.” He rattled off the amount of force from a direct impact the dome could withstand. It sounded impressive.

  A hush fell over the largely human crowd. Nakia felt the itch of being watched by dozens of eyes. Rohn approached a table with open seats, causing the couple there to scatter. Her alien frowned but said nothing at the slight.

  “Sit. I will retrieve the ice cream,” he said.

  “Chocolate, if they have it.” Exhausted from the short walk, she sat at the empty table.

  A small family, a harried-looking mom and two boys, sat at the next table over. The older boy dangled gummy worms above his younger brother, who leaped up in this chair to bite, snapping like a shark. The mom smiled weakly at Nakia before glaring daggers at Rohn.

  At least she didn’t clutch her purse to her chest or leave, frightened of the alien, like Nakia had seen some people do when confronted with a Mahdfel warrior. She supposed it was one thing to know that aliens existed, but it was something different when they walked into the cafeteria. Still, it was a shitty way to act.

  “Thank you so much! I’m sick of hospital food,” she said loudly as Rohn returned with not-chocolate soft serve with sprinkles, but a plate piled with cookies.

  “It is my pleasure,” he murmured. His brow scrunched up, as if confused why she spoke several decibels too loudly. “I did not know what kind you would enjoy, so I got one of everything.”

  “No ice cream?”

  “These were the only desserts available. I have not had one before, so I cannot swear to its gastronomic pleasure.”

  She blushed at the mention of pleasure. “You’re a cookie virgin.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, shocked at her words. His eyes narrowed but, thankfully, he ignored her blunder. “I mean, it’s fine. Everyone likes cookies, and I’m not about to look a gift cookie in the mouth.”

  She pushed an oatmeal raisin to the side and revealed the only chocolate chip cookie in the pile.

  “That compound has caffeine, which is harmful for a child’s development. I will ingest it for you,” he said, reaching for the chocolate chip cookie.

  “No way. I heard that chocolate kills aliens.” Or maybe that was dogs. Whatever.

  She shoved the cookie into her mouth before he could steal it. The cookie was soft, chewy, and so much better than the ones her mom made with the burnt bottoms. And when Nakia said her mother “made” cookies, she bought a tube of premade dough, sliced it up, and over baked it. They were hard enough to hammer nails but perfect for soaking in milk. Nakia would give anything for her mother’s burnt-on-the-bottom cookies and a tall glass of milk.

  Still, sharing cookies with Rohn went a long way to making her feel like everything was going to be okay.

  “I could make you cookies,” she said, not entirely understanding where the idea came from. “From scratch.” She’d have
to teach herself but if she followed a recipe, how difficult could it be?

  He shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, but supplies are hard to come by.”

  “When supplies aren’t rationed? I don’t mind. I’d like to make you cookies.”

  He nodded and a pleased flush swept over her.

  “You want this one?” Nakia held up the oatmeal raisin.

  “I am suspicious. You rejected it immediately.”

  “Duh. It’s got raisins. Gross.”

  Rohn gave the cookie a dubious glance and grabbed another from the plate, snickerdoodle by the looks of it. With an experimental nibble, he nodded. Nakia spent too much time focusing on his tongue and lips before realizing that he said something.

  “Any progress on locating your family?”

  Nakia took her time replying, shoving another cookie in her mouth, this one peanut butter. “I dunno. Maybe.”

  A social worker visited Nakia once, after her surgery, and they partially registered her information into the system. She had been too groggy from the meds to finish at the time and the social worker gave her a code to log in and finish. She just hadn’t. No one noticed—except Rohn—and with the system clogged with new refugees every day, no one would ever notice. She got lost in the chaos.

  She missed her parents, she did, but she’d spent a month in the hospital and why weren’t they looking for her? Nakia could only think of one reason and it was grim: they weren’t able to look for her because they died.

  If that was the case, she’d rather not know. Right now, with her half-completed application for reunification, she didn’t know they were dead for sure. They existed in a nebulous, unknown state—possibly alive or possibly dead. Nakia focused on the possibly alive aspect and wanted to keep it that way, because thinking about them in any other way hurt too much.

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” she said.

  “I’m sure they worry for you.” Seriousness permeated his voice.