Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I would love it if I could reassure him, but the truth is, I’m freaking the fuck out myself. He’s only dealing with the fact that the woman he just learned is his mate has some sort of disease. I’m dealing with far more than he is. I’m on a spaceship far above Earth being examined by a giant alien. Plus, the man who insists he’s my mate gave me a violent orgasm in front of the doctor who has answers he’s not sharing with us.
“Stay still for me, Little one,” the doctor instructs as he begins to move the wand up my body from my feet to my head.
I barely move while he glances back and forth from the scanner to a monitor. He’s frowning. I hate it. When he gets to my head, he lingers, holding the machine over my face for a long time before finally turning it off and setting it aside.
Kalbrac lurches forward and touches me, gripping my shoulder and my hip. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
I gasp so loud both men jerk their attention to me. I start shaking my head. “I’m not pregnant.”
Kalbrac looks toward Dankin.
I jerk my wrists. “Take these off. Now. Dankin! Now. Release me.” I’m fuming. I’m not sure if I’m angry or not, but I need my freedom. I need to be able to sit up so I can face this man directly. We need to talk.
It’s the doctor who releases me. Not just my hands but my waist and my ankles, too. He helps me sit up.
I swing around so I’m facing Kalbrac. I try to ignore my nudity as I grab the lapels of his suit jacket. This man is mine. I know it as well as I know my own name. He’s mine, and I’m his. I feel it deeply. It’s irrational, but it’s true. I’m hardly bothered by my nudity.
He’s disheveled, and I suspect that doesn’t happen often. His tie is loosened and askew. His hair is messy because he’s been running a hand through it. His brows are deeply furrowed. He’s very concerned.
“I’m not pregnant, Papi,” I tell him. “Look at me.”
He meets my gaze and leans forward, his hands coming to my hips. He closes the distance between us, pulling me against him.
“I’m not pregnant,” I repeat.
“How can you be sure?”
I chuckle. It bubbles out of me. “I haven’t had sex in two years, Papi.” He likes it when I call him Papi. It calms him, so I will do so.
He lets out a long breath.
“She’s right,” Dankin says. “She’s not pregnant. But I know what’s wrong with her.”
We both turn to look at him. “Please… Tell me,” I beg.
“You have a tumor on your pituitary gland.”
I gasp. So does Papi. His grip on my hips tightens. I don’t know why I’m so in tune with him. I don’t understand it. But I can feel his panic.
He manages to speak before me. “Where is that? Can you fix it?”
“It’s in my head,” I murmur, but I have the same question.
Dankin nods, his gaze on mine. “It’s behind your nasal cavity, and yes, I can fix it.”
I blow out a breath. “I had an appointment with a doctor tomorrow. I assume he would have figured that out.”
“Perhaps.” Dankin strokes my hair. “It’s good you were chosen. Fate did well. Your doctors probably would have monitored the tumor for a while and eventually removed it. You would have lived a full life, but my medical technology is far superior. I will go in through your nose, remove the tumor now, and have you right as rain in no time.”
“Are you a surgeon?” I’m confused about why the ship’s doctor can also operate on something so close to my brain.
“We only have one kind of doctor on Eleadia. We can perform any sort of surgery or deal with any disease.”
I frown at him. “How is that possible?”
“Partly because our advanced technology allows it, but mostly because we have more time to perfect our skills than your doctors.”
I frown. “More time?”
Papi slides his hands to my back. “More years, Little one. We live longer. Dankin has been a doctor for over a hundred years.”
I gasp. “You have to be kidding. You look younger than me.” So does Kalbrac.
Dankin chuckles. “I assure you I am not. I’m one hundred and twenty-nine.”
My breath hitches. I jerk my attention to Papi. “How old are you?”
“One hundred and twenty-six.”
“My God…” I stare at him. “I look ten years older than you. I assumed you were in your mid-twenties.”
“I saw on your identification that you’re thirty-five. I also know today is your birthday. Happy birthday.” He smiles.
I ignore his birthday wishes and address the more important thing. “So, in fifty years when I’m old and dying, you’ll still look like you’re in your mid-twenties?” That thought makes me uneasy.