The Morcai Battalion: Invictus. Diana PalmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
put his mouth over hers and pressed down, hard, a Cehn-Tahr mating custom that they shared with humans. Her cries most likely would not penetrate the walls. But, just in case…
She came back to consciousness very slowly. She was aware of movement. The air stirred around her. A wisp of fabric was draped around her, just before the lights activated.
Dtimun was wearing a red pant-skirt like the one that comprised the Kahn-Bo fighting garment that martial art enthusiasts wore in matches aboard ship. His chest was bare, muscular and covered with thick black hair. He pulled her up so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed and as the fabric dipped, momentarily; his eyes found the unique mark of bonding that he had placed just below her collarbone. The marks reflected ancient hieroglyphs for certain words, whose meanings were an indication of the male’s feelings for his mate. There were also other lacerations, deep and painful. Most of them would be on her back. The court physicians should not comment on them; however, the eldest, a female whom Dtimun did not like, might be so bold. He did not want Madeline upset. She was shivering. The vulnerability, even briefly, of such a strong and independent spirit touched him.
His fingers brushed her cheek. “The physicians are waiting. You must be examined. It is the law.”
She nodded. Her eyes met his and searched them with silent awe. The experience was beyond anything she’d ever encountered. And now she knew, most certainly, that he was far different than he appeared. He must use a sensor net to disguise his true face, one which would be weakened under emotional stress. Hence, the darkness in the mating chamber.
She knew he saw that thought in her mind, but he ignored it.
He turned away and activated the door. Five female physicians in gray robes, headed by a taller gray-haired one, walked stoically into the room. The gray-haired one stood in front of Madeline and looked at her with blatant distaste. She said something in Centaurian in a harsh, cold tone.
Dtimun had started to leave, as custom dictated, when he felt the sudden sense of unease, of embarrassment, that rushed into Madeline’s mind as the haughty physician looked at her. For the first time in almost three years, he saw her vulnerable, sensitive. It was such a rare reaction for her that all his protective instincts rallied and bristled. He turned, frowning when he saw the way the head physician was studying her. He felt a surge of possession stronger than anything he’d ever experienced in his life, mingled with anger. His jaw tautened and he walked back to stand beside her. He was defying convention, and he did not care. It disturbed him that Madeline was being denigrated by this smug physician. He would not tolerate it in his own house.
The eldest female physician gasped. She made a haughty remark. Dtimun snapped at her in his own tongue. Shocked, she moved back, bowed and abruptly turned to Madeline and reached out, removing the fabric that covered her and dropping it to her waist.
Madeline was puzzled at the physician’s behavior. She looked up and saw Dtimun’s eyes on her, lingering where his teeth had marked her. But they were appreciative of her soft skin, the delicate form of her body.
The female physician examined the lacerations on Madeline’s back with growing distaste. She used her instruments abruptly, without kindness, and then spoke to Dtimun in Cehn-Tahr. Madeline didn’t understand the words, but they sounded quite indignant.
He exploded with anger, his tone so cutting, his eyes making such a threat, that the elderly female actually backed away. She lowered her eyes and spoke in a respectful tone, almost toadying.
Dtimun didn’t unbend one inch. He gave a curt command. The physician looked shocked, and started to argue. He cut her off and made an imperious gesture toward the door. The female regained her composure, bowed again, paler than when she entered the chamber, and left, very quickly. A younger physician moved forward, bowing to him, smiling gently, and speaking softly. He nodded, obviously still preoccupied and angry.
The young physician treated the wounds on Madeline’s back and hips and used a disinfectant only on the scar of bonding. Then she, and the remaining three physicians, bowed, smiling, and started to leave the chamber.
“Could you tell me what that was all about…?” Madeline started to ask the question when she was suddenly sick all over the floor. She fell to her knees, shivering.
“Get Hahnson!” Dtimun called in Cehn-Tahr to the young physician. “Now! Bring him here!”
The next few minutes went by in a blur. Hahnson came running. Dtimun held the fabric around Madeline’s nudity and growled furiously at Hahnson when he approached her.
Hahnson stopped in his tracks. A man confronted by a charging galot couldn’t have felt more threatened. The alien’s posture, barely altered, added to the black of his eyes and the growl would have stopped a decorated combat soldier in his tracks.
“I will not harm you. You must ignore the threat. I cannot help it,” Dtimun said tersely, wincing at his own frustrating lack of control even now.
Hahnson smiled. “I know. It’s all right. Maddie, can you tell me the symptoms?”
“You can see them…on the floor, Strick,” she said with black humor. “I feel so nauseated! My stomach hurts. It’s like a knife…!”
“It is the child,” Dtimun said huskily. “The growth is immediate, and exponential.”
Hahnson grimaced as he looked at the small screen of his wrist unit. “We have to slow the growth. I’m not prepared for this.”
“Caneese has a preparation,” Madeline said weakly. “She told me about it.”
Dtimun called the young physician back into the chamber and rapped out an order. “She will bring it,” he told Madeline.
“Can’t Caneese…?” she asked, confused.
“Caneese is not allowed to see us,” he replied curtly. “It is a breach of protocol.”
“Oh.” She was confused, but much too sick to argue.
Hahnson injected a drug into the artery at Madeline’s neck. “That will help the nausea. But it’s only treating symptoms right now. I have no experience with Cehn-Tahr/human babies,” he added with a wry smile. “I think this is going to be on-the-job training.”
“No doubt,” she managed. She was stunned by the notion that she was pregnant. Despite their earlier discussions, even with Komak’s assurances, she hadn’t really expected it to happen. Her knowledge of pregnancy was limited to a rare assistance at childbirth, but this was far more personal. The physical manifestations were new and startling.
Hahnson looked from one of them to the other. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to explain what the hell you think you’re doing? I mean, we’re talking capital punishment…”
“Chacon is in grave danger. The princess has gone to Benaski Port to warn him,” Dtimun told him. “Komak has traveled in time and knows the future. He said that Chacon’s death will create a disastrous timeline. Madeline and I must go to Benaski Port in an attempt to save them both, but the masquerade can only work if she carries my child.”
“They’ll space you both, if you’re caught,” Hahnson said worriedly.
“That’s why you aren’t telling anyone, old dear,” Madeline told him. “Not even Edris.”
Before he could reply, the young physician was back with a cup of what looked like herbal tea. She offered it to Madeline and left the room. Madeline’s hands shook as she held the beverage.
“You must drink it all,” Dtimun told her, steadying the cup with his own hand. “It will retard the growth of the fetus.”
Fetus. The fetus. The baby. She sipped tea and tried to wrap her spinning mind around the fact that she was pregnant. When she and Dtimun had discussed this possibility, she had asked what they would do with a baby. She was a soldier, she had said, she had no place for a child in her life. But now, with the reality of it, she felt a connection with the baby that overwhelmed