Captured for the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (electric book reader TXT) 📕

it with bandaging material she retrieved from the bag Dee had brought. I fought myself to remain perfectly still, despite my desire to jerk away from her capable hands. In the end, though, I managed to limit my response to no more than flinching.

She felt my forehead again. “You’re still hot. I wish I knew the average body temperature for Khanavai. It would help me know whether or not this fever has broken.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No, you don’t have a fever? Or no, your fever hasn’t broken?”

I stared at her, frustrated by our limited communication.

“Let’s try those one at a time. Do you think you still have a fever?”

“Yes.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, then. It’s time for more pills, anyway.” As she handed them to me to take, she muttered to herself again, “God, I hope I’m not poisoning you or something.”

The comment made me laugh aloud, even though it hurt to do so, and I nodded my agreement.

I tossed and turned for several hours, sometimes hearing the news playing on the comscreen, sometimes not. At one point, Amelia woke me to give me more pills and force some foul broth down.

“It’s chicken soup. It’s good for you,” she explained, but I could only take a few mouthfuls of the stuff before I pushed her hand away.

I hated appearing so weak in front of my mate.

My dreams were vivid, nightmarish visions from my past and from an imagined future. I fought the Horde, drove off Lorishi sand predators, was forced to mate with someone who was not Amelia and sent to live on a strange world with customs I didn’t understand.

When I finally awoke from those dreams a final time, the bedclothes were soaked in my sweat, but I didn’t feel feverish any longer.

The room was dim, but a thin ray of sunshine shone in through a crack between two dense fabric hangings over the window.

Curtains, I remembered.

I kicked off the covers, reveling in how much I didn’t hurt. But as the bedclothes landed on the floor, a feminine mumble of protest came from the other side of the bed.

Rolling over, I realized that Amelia had joined me in the bed at some point, possibly simply collapsing from exhaustion. I had vague memories of seeing her slumped over in the single chair in the room—but that position would not have been conducive to sleep.

She rolled over to face me, eyes closed, and settled back into sleep. Her lashes cast deep shadows under her eyes. No, I realized as I watched her sleeping, those shadows were already there, blue-gray reminders of how hard she’d worked to save me.

“Oh, my beautiful healer,” I murmured. Overwhelmed by her beauty, her dedication, her sheer force of will, I gathered her into my arms and kissed her.

Chapter Eleven

Amelia

Zont’s kiss wove itself into my dream, changing it from a nightmare of pink skin and open wounds to something much more sensual.

I’d spent three full days trying to divorce my feminine side from my medical skills, trying to work on helping Zont’s body heal without actually noticing that body.

It hadn’t worked.

Even as I cleaned his wound, wiped down his feverish skin, brushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead, I couldn’t help but take note of everything about him.

“Sure hope this isn’t just some alien man-cold,” Dee said dryly, but when she got a glimpse of his wound, her hard eyes softened.

“He got that saving me from other Khanavai,” I said, and she nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Could you go to a drugstore for me?” I gave her a list of the things I’d need and a wad of the cash in my bag. “Keep the rest, if there’s any left over.” I probably shouldn’t keep handing out tips like that, but she’d been kind enough to check me in with a fake name, and she’d get in trouble, maybe even fired, if anyone found that out. Giving her a little extra money seemed the least I could do.

Now, in my dream, Zont held me in his muscular arms, kissing me, his deep voice murmuring a Khanavai phrase over and over in between kisses. It sounded like, “Brinday makavon avoi.”

I returned his kiss, allowing my hands to roam over him as I’d been so desperate to—but hadn’t allowed myself—while I nursed him.

His back was as strong as I imagined it, and when I allowed my hand to drift down his flat stomach, my fingers brushed the tip of his fully erect cock.

His hiss of indrawn breath was my first clue that this wasn’t a dream.

Oh, shit. I jerked my hand back, and my eyes popped open to find Zont gazing at me, his turquoise eyes serious and intense.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I was asleep, and I thought…” I scrambled to sit up, looking for the blankets to cover me in my t-shirt and silk panties.

Finally, I woke up enough to realize something significant. “Hey. Your fever broke.”

A smile stretched across Zont’s face. “Yes,” he agreed.

“That’s great.” I reached up to touch his forehead, firmly in doctor mode again. “Let me see your wound.”

He turned a little on his side to give me access. I carefully peeled back the bandage and ran my fingers around the edges again.

“It’s healing,” I exclaimed triumphantly, blowing out a relieved breath. “Thank God.”

I considered what needed to happen next. Food, definitely, and lots of liquids. I’d done what I could over the last few days to keep him hydrated, but he would be starving soon, and he needed nutrition, especially since he’d pushed away the chicken broth I kept trying to get him to eat while he was feverish.

“Wait here,” I said, jumping up to head over to the minifridge, entirely forgetting that I still wore very little clothing.

Ignore it, Amelia. We’re both adults.

I scooped my jeans off the floor and wriggled into them. Only then did I chance a glance back at him. His gaze followed me intently, his turquoise eyes dark with