Warlord's Mercy - Cynthia Sax Page 0,12

opened the medic pack, looked through it. “A pain inhibitor will help you.”

He must be in agony. Deep groves were etched on his forehead, around his lips.

She injected him. “Your wounds have to be cleaned.” Especially the wound on his shoulder. That looked very bad. There was red around the torn skin.

There was a substance in the pack for sterilizing cuts. She’d splash some clean water on it first.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” She informed him of her intentions.

Her Warlord said nothing. He didn’t scowl at her or rumble with unhappiness.

His lack of a response scared her.

“I’m better at fabricating garments than healing huge clones.” She hopped from flat stone to flat stone. “But I have researched this.”

Her father had insisted on that also, had told her there were unlikely to be any medics on a planet like Chamele 4.

And he was right. She rushed through her private chambers, grabbed some clean fabric, filled a container with water from the underground stream, and ventured into the growing chamber.

“This should help my injured clone.” She pinched the tops off some blades of sweet-smelling healing greens, filling another container. The natural light was reflected in that space also, allowing her to cultivate all the vegetation a being would ever require.

Her father had been a skilled agri-lot tender, and it was in the growing chamber that she felt closest to him. “You’ve given me the knowledge I need to save the Warlord’s life, Father.” She hurried toward the exit. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Maybe by saving Tolui’s life, she could redeem herself a little, ease the guilt she was experiencing over not being able to free Flor or protect her father.

“Maybe.”

She rushed back to her wounded male, and her hopes for redemption dissipated.

“You look bad.” She winced. His breathing was ragged. His face was red. He was drenched with sweat. “Don’t give up on me, Tolui. I can heal you.”

The shoulder wound had to be cleaned and treated first. She dipped a fabric square in the water, removed the sweat, sand, grime around that nasty injury.

“I need to access your back also.” She lifted him, slid another length of clean fabric under him, tidied that part of the wound.

She sprayed both the front and the back of him with the substance from the medic pack. It fizzed.

Tolui’s body convulsed. “Zondoo.” He yelled that unknown word. His claws extended.

One of the sharp tips grazed her side.

Her eyes widened. “You almost killed me, Warlord.” She nudged his hand. “Put those away.”

His nose twitched. “Mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice aroused her, and that was wrong, so very wrong.

“Yes, I’m yours.” She leaned over him and stroked his scarred cheeks with her fingertips. “You’re safe with me. I won’t tell you the worst is over because I don’t know if that’s true.” She might have to douse him again with the substance. “But I’m here. I have you.”

His form gradually relaxed. His claws retracted.

She ground up some of the healing greens, spread them over his wound, covering the concoction with the gauze from the medic pack. While she worked, she told him what she was doing and why she was doing it.

Then she repeated the process with the injury on his thigh. His claws extended again, but she was ready for that, moved out of their reach. She cooed nonsense and caressed his face, and the deadly weapons retracted once more.

She cleaned the visible parts of him, treated a few more wounds. Those were much more minor. The container of water was refreshed a few times. More healing greens were plucked.

“These have to be removed.” She tugged off his boots and tidied his big feet. All of him was massive and muscled.

And scarred. White slashes decorated his toes.

“You’re a Warlord down to the tips of your toes, aren’t you?” She pinched them.

He kicked his feet. His right heel skimmed one of her hips.

“You’re dangerous even when unconscious.” She shook her head. Her gaze lifted to his plain ass coverings. “I should clean you everywhere. You might be injured under your garments.”

Stripping him was the prudent course of action.

“I admit I’m curious.” Lea changed the water in the container, grabbed a new fabric square. “The bulge is massive.”

She filled a smaller container with water for them to drink, retrieved the large piece of softened leather she used as a covering cloth on her makeshift sleeping support, arranged the supplies once and then a second time.

“This has to be done, Lea. Just do it.” She kneeled between the Warlord’s