Page 25 of Star-Crossed Captive
She stopped talking when the boy shook his head. “It tickled.”
“Oh.” She let out a heavy breath, then a strained chuckle. “That’s okay then. I’m almost finished.”
She returned to her task. Curls fell forward to curtain her face and Mace had the urge to go over there and tuck her hair behind her ears so he could watch her expressions. He clenched his fists, the freshly bruised skin of his knuckles protesting the action.
Straightening, Nia said, “There. You’re all done.” She slid on his sock and shoe before helping him hop off the bed. “Don’t do any back flips for a while.”
Mace saw her glare at the father as she said it. His answering glower made Mace want to punch him. He kept his eyes on the pair as they left the medical bay. Nia’s cheeks turned pink when she saw him standing near the door.
“You ready to go?” he asked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. His chest constricted knowing he’d been the one to put them there.
“Gladly,” she said, tossing a glance at the three medics who fumbled around the supply shelves. She shrugged out of the white jacket and hung it on a hook with others near the door. When he reached to touch his vambrace to engage her bonds, she stopped him by grabbing his hand. His whole body twitched.
“You’re injured,” she said, examining his knuckles. “How did this happen?”
Nia pulled him over to the med bed, and he followed, unable to resist the tug of her warm fingers. Tingles radiated up his arm from where her skin made contact with his. Grasping a regenerator, she adjusted the settings, then raised her eyebrows, waiting for his answer.
Mace cleared his throat. “I hit something.”
Her brows pinched together before she focused on the injury. The regenerator hummed in the otherwise silent room. With his hand resting in her much smaller one, she healed each of his knuckles in turn.
The damage wasn’t bad. He could have healed it himself without a problem but hadn’t been thinking. He should tell her he’d do it himself later—he didn’t.
Mace couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sight of his hand in hers. He focused on the differences between them. Her skin was pale, flawless, but still had the slightly red contact points of her PALM on her thumb, forefinger, and pinkie. His hand seemed so bulky compared to hers, his skin darker. He became overly conscious of where they connected, how her thumb pressed on the side of his hand to keep him from moving.
It was all over too soon, each of his knuckles unblemished. He didn’t move his hand when the regenerator stopped humming.
“I’m assuming the other one is damaged?” she asked, keeping her head bent.
Mace removed his hand and placed the other in her upturned palm. Heat traveled through his arm from the fresh contact, and it had nothing to do with the regenerator humming over his knuckles. His fingers twitched. Nia stilled her movements for a second before continuing.
All knuckles mended, Nia let go of his hand and turned off the regenerator. She set it with the other tools next to the med bed before heading to the exit, casting a glance at the medics over her shoulder. The pink of her face darkened to red. Mace touched his vambrace, her bonds clicking together, and they headed out into the corridor.
“What was that all about?” he asked as they stopped in front of the lift.
Her wide eyes flew to his, confused, until he jerked his head toward the medical bay. “The medics?”
The question set her off.
“They didn’t even know how to treat a compound fracture. Can you believe it? What are they doing in there if they can’t treat something simple? That boy came in, and the one medic, he was going to make a mess of it, so I told him to get out my way. I wasn’t going to put the child at risk for chronic pain for the remainder of his life. Not on my watch.” Her breath left her in a whoosh.
Mace had always thought the CORE’s Common accent was snobbish at best, their pronunciation of words exact, consonants hit precisely. But in her irate state, his ward wore it well. It made her even more appealing.
He cleared his throat. “I told you we had a shortage of doctors.” He touched the lift’s control to call it to their location.
“I know, but I didn’t think it would be that bad …” Her voice trailed off.
The lift arrived and they stepped on. “And the father? He didn’t look happy.”
Mace didn’t know it was possible for her to redden further.
“Imayhave asked him how the boy attained the injury, and Imayhave insinuated I didn’t believe his answer.”
His eyebrows jumped. She really knew how to make friends. Her heightened color didn’t recede as the door’s lift opened and they exited on the deck with his quarters. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt as they walked, drawing attention to areas of her body he’d been trying to avoid.
Mace focused on the corridor ahead instead of his ward’s body. After scanning his hand on the panel next to his quarters, he ushered her through and disengaged her bonds. She turned to him, face flushed, vibrant.
He retreated into the corridor. “Feed yourself, get some rest.”
