Page 21 of Nazab

“Great,” Monica said cheerfully. “We’ll need detergent, towels and washcloths. I’ve already got shampoo, conditioner and soap.”

Nazab headed to the laundry room and Monica grabbed towels and washcloths from the linen cupboard upstairs. She grabbed her backpack full of clothes and found the warrior waiting for her at the back door. He was holding the laundry basket and detergent in front of his groin. “I’m glad it’s not winter,” she said as they left the house. “Bathing in an icy creek would be torture.”

“That isn’t pleasant, even for me,” Nazab agreed. “Ice ages were the worst eras we fought our wars in.”

She shook her head, once again reminded of how ancient he was. The ground was uneven once they left the property. Nazab held the basket out. “Put everything in here,” he suggested. “You carry the basket and I’ll carry you.”

“You really are a chivalrous knight,” she said in wonder, then piled the gear into the basket. He picked her up and she held onto the basket as he strode towards the creek.

Putting the cambion down, Nazab inspected the water. He knelt down and plunged his hand into it, then brought his cupped palm to his face. “It smells clean,” he reported. “I’ll stand guard while you bathe, female.”

“Thanks,” Monica said, then began stripping off. She cursed when she lost her balance while removing her prosthesis.

Nazab caught hold of her elbow to steady her. Dressed only in her underwear now, she was conscious of his gaze on her. Again, he didn’t flinch at the sight of her stump. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even as he knelt beside her.

“I should have sat down to take my jeans off,” she said ruefully, grabbing hold of his rock-hard shoulder.

The warrior carefully extracted her from the jeans that were tangled around her prosthesis, then removed the contraption. “Do you have feeling in this area?” he asked, cupping her stump.

“Yeah,” she said huskily, unused to someone touching her leg. “The nerves regenerated after the doctors fixed what was left of my mangled leg,” she told him.

“You’ve adjusted very well, female,” he said, then rose to his feet. He helped her over to the water and lowered her into it.

“I’ve always been this way,” Monica said with a shrug. “I never had a chance to walk on two feet.”

Nazab carried the basket over to her and she removed the toiletries from the backpack. He turned his back as she began to wash herself. “With all of the technology humans have invented, I’m surprised they only gave you an inadequate prosthesis like that,” he mused.

“The technology exists,” she said as she rapidly unwound her braids and started washing her hair. “I was saving up for a procedure before the Rapture, but it was hideously expensive.”

“What sort of procedure did you intend to get?” he asked.

“Buying a bionic leg would have been one option, but I wanted something permanent that didn’t rely on technology that would need to be kept updated,” she said. “Some people who wanted to be taller paid to have rods inserted into their legs, which involved having their bones severed first and a long recovery period afterwards. I’d been talking to a specialist about getting a rod inserted into my shinbone,” she explained, then dunked herself beneath the water to wash the suds out of her hair.

“The tibia?” he asked when she resurfaced.

“Yep,” she confirmed. “The rod would have been attached to my bone with screws. It would have had an attachment on the bottom so I could swap the foot over once it became too worn down. The recovery time for a normal human wouldn’t have been as long as a leg extension operation.”

“But you’re a cambion, so you would have healed much faster,” he said. “Wouldn’t the doctors have been suspicious when you healed so rapidly after the surgery?”

“I had a plan,” Monica said as she coated her hair with conditioner. She would leave it in for a few minutes while she washed her body.

“Do I even want to know what your plan was, female?” he asked wryly.

“It was a good plan,” the cambion said defensively. “I just needed to cut myself before each checkup, then let it heal enough to look like a normal recovery after surgery,” she said.

Nazab gave her an incredulous look over his shoulder before turning away again. “How would you have explained the missing stitches?”

“I was going to practice stitching things together so I’d be able to duplicate them,” she said, beginning to feel a bit sheepish. “It doesn’t even matter now,” she reminded him. “Even if there was still a surgeon alive who could perform that sort of procedure, none of the hospitals are operational. I’m stuck with that crappy prosthesis until it eventually falls apart. Then I guess I’ll have to find some crutches.”

Her tone had become glum again at that prospect. She consoled herself that the cheap prosthetic leg would probably last for a few more years. It had been made to suit her exact height, so finding another one wouldn’t be easy.

Chapter Sixteen

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NAZAB HAD NEVER BEEN so turned on before. What was it about Monica Yamil that drew him to her? She was undeniably beautiful and her body was amazing even though she was a bit too thin. Her personality appealed to him just as much as her appearance did. The way she’d handled the hostile townsfolk and had won them over so easily had been impressive.

“Help me wash my clothes?” the female currently featuring in his daydream asked.