Kozav (2 page)

K
ozav’s
first thought upon waking was that if it would not cause an intergalactic incident, he would challenge those sons of a
katoth
to a battle to the death. They’d flown through Preor airspace without care and taken down his warriors. He recalled Detzan colliding with one of the
osri
—assholes—and the snap of a wing. The rest was lost in the clouds of pain and falling.

He groaned and tested his body, searching for lingering pain. His skin was tight, muscles stiff, and his wings ached, but no worse. The healers had performed their tasks well.

Except, his head. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat. He turned it and grunted with the new rush of throbbing pain. His mind remained clouded, covered in the early mist of morning as if Earth fog filled the area. His vision was blurred and he wondered if he’d hit his head harder than the healers believed. He should be nearly healed by the
ryaapir
, but his sight remained elusive.

He shook his head once more, attempting to clear it of the lingering shroud, and grunted louder. What in the skies was wrong with him?

The sound of someone’s approach echoed through his head and he winced, moaning with each step as they neared. A brisk touch pulled on his eyelids, exposing his eyes to the room’s bright light, and he wrenched away.

Now he exposed himself as the weak dragonlet he was. Kozav’s jerk sent his stomach rising and his body rolling. The momentum combined with his weakness sent him over the edge of the platform and falling to the hard, metal plating beneath. He was not even able to catch himself on his hands and knees and tumbled into a heap.

“Primary Warrior?” One of the first healers, Yeem? Yazen? Yofol? Kozav could not remember. He would simply call the male “healer.” “Would you like assistance?”

Like? No. Was it necessary? It seemed so. But first he would try to rise on his own. Remaining in a sick bed was not a way for a warrior to heal. He pulled one arm close and then the other, getting them beneath him. He pressed up, shuddering when his arms straightened. He worked on his knees next, thankful he was able to stabilize himself.

His next step was to reach for the platform. He managed to get one hand on the edge, clutching the med table and using that grip to pull himself upright.

For a moment.

He stumbled to the left and then slumped to the right, managing to rest his upper body on the platform.

Still Yeem-Yazen-Yofol kept his distance. Smart.

“What,” Kozav rasped, his dry throat scratching when he tried to talk. “Happened? Why…” Did he feel like a dragonlet recovering from a bout of the tantalakian flu?

“You have remained unconscious longer than the others, Primary Warrior. The humans were questioned but the female who treated you was unavailable to speak with us. Can you describe your symptoms?”

Everything is broken
did not seem like the response he desired. “Head aches. Body aches. Everything… aches.”

“Her repairs were adequate if crude. We scanned you and found no evidence of continued injury. Is there a specific location that requires attention?” More steps, more pounding in Kozav’s head. “Your blood has been analyzed nine times and we did not find any explanation for your continued unconsciousness. Primary Healer Whelon has ordered a tenth test using one of the backup analyzers in the hold.”

As Taulan would say, he did not give a flying
fekh
about backup analyzers.

“Since you have awakened, we can discuss your symptoms and discover your illness.” The beep of the healer’s tablet had Kozav wincing.

Yes, he would love to know what was wrong with him. Then they could fix whatever—

Knowing.

Kozav’s stomach heaved, the word coming from a stranger—but not—inside his head.

“Are you feeling cool in a warmed room?”

Could he have experienced the Knowing while unconscious?

“No.”

“Are you feeling warm in a cool room?”

Where did he meet her? When?

“No.”

“Are you feeling sickened by food?”

Had he claimed her? He would have recalled such a thing, surely.

“Primary Warrior?” Yeem-Yazen-Yofol tried for his attention once more but Kozav was still too preoccupied with the Knowing.

The Knowing. The genetic memory of his people. It was too much for a single Preor to shoulder, which was why it didn’t appear until a Preor found his mate. Together, they could handle the full weight of the knowledge imparted.

Kozav’s wings fluttered in agitation, his body urging him to move while his mind attempted to process the thoughts; tried to process the information flooding his head.

The Knowing persisted—and it was the Knowing—leaving him unable to do no more than breathe. This feeling would only get worse with each passing second. The Knowing gave him a list of problems associated with being separated from his mate and a cold sweat broke out over his flesh.

Madness for a Preor, but the last item in the list of consequences gave him the strength to stand upright.

Death.

A non-Preor mate could not survive without the support of a Preor when the Knowing struck.

He swayed slightly on his feet but did not fall. Barely.

“How long have I been on the ship?”

“Approximately ten Earth hours, Primary Warrior.”

“Ten hours since I was injured,” he murmured. Ten Earth hours. Was she still alive? Yes. Yes, she was. The Knowing still flooded him, so she had to still be breathing, her heart beating. But how badly did she suffer? The Knowing answered the question for him—greatly.

“No, Primary Warrior. You were injured sixteen Earth hours ago.”

“I was on the surface—injured—and no one came to me? My warriors?” His warriors. He was so concerned for himself, for his mate, he should have—no. Females came before all else.

“Your injuries were the worst. The others recovered well. You and Warrior Detzan live because of Earth Healer Hall.”

“Healers on Earth are called doctors. Dr. Hall assisted us?”

Yeem-Yazen-Yofol frowned and flicked through his datapad, finger scraping on the surface and sending a bolt of agony through Kozav’s mind. The longer he remained awake—and separated from his mate—the worse his symptoms would become. He prayed to the skies he got to his mate before she was damaged beyond healing.

“Records indicate her Earth title to be Nurse, but she performed a surgery on Warrior Detzan that impressed even Master Hea—”

He did not care. Nurse or doctor, the male would answer his questions. He would tell Kozav of every person who came near while he remained dead to the world around him.

Kozav
would
find his mate. And this Hall would assist him.

K
ozav would destroy
the building itself if someone did not answer his questions. His head pounded in time with his rising heart rate and the urge to unsheathe his blades and run them through one of these humans grew with every breath.

“Where. Is. Hall?” One more denial and blood would be spilled. His fingers tingled with the urge to bare his claws, to show these healers who—
what
—they faced.

Preors did not do well without their mates. Considering he’d never expected to find one, deserve one after what he’d done in his past, he would not lose her now.

“I don’t know who you think you are—” A short, hairless man stepped forward, his round belly leading the way, and he looked to be no more than forty Earth years. To be so weak at such a young age… lazy. Purely lazy. It disgusted Kozav to speak with someone so weak. He had three hundred ninety-four years beneath his wings and still trained heavily.

When his skull did not feel as if it would split in two.

“I am Kozav sen Aghin.” He stepped forward and towered over the human. “Primary Warrior of the Third Preor Fleet, second only to War Master Taulan joi Lana Coburn and you
will
answer my questions.”

He widened his stance, spreading his wings while he crossed his arms. The man would see who he denied, would see the danger he faced. While Kozav did not slide his blades free, his long-time friend, Detzan, did. The gleaming metal came into sight from Kozav’s right side and then another’s—Choler, the ship’s Negotiate Master—appeared on his left. It surprised him that the normally cool-headed male interceded, but it should not. A mate for a Preor was a treasured gift. Denying a male that joy would not be tolerated.

Even a Negotiate Master could lose his head. Now utter silence reigned.

This Hall doctor repaired Choler’s injuries as well, managing to save his damaged
ewae
.

The quick clip of solid shoes on the smooth flooring broke through the unending quiet, a new man approaching from behind the lazy one in front of him. He dressed in what humans called a
soo-t
. A form of dress that usually meant he felt himself to be important.

Kozav would wait and see.

When the newcomer finally stopped, he turned a smile on Kozav. He hated the man already. The expression was fake and dripped with
gorsch
. He could not think of the human word, only that it was disgusting and smelled horrible. “I understand we have a problem. Perhaps you gentlemen—”

“We are Preor,” Detzan snapped out the words.

“And we do not have a problem. Bring us Dr. Hall or we will locate him ourselves.” Kozav would destroy the building in the process.

The man’s expression did not waver. “We don’t have a Dr. Hall on staff. It’s possible you have the wrong hosp—”

“I think he’s talking about Grace.” A woman stepped out of a nearby room, easing from the shadows. “The doctors wouldn’t treat you guys and she’s the only one who took care of you all.“

“You won’t say another word, Nurse Butler. You will not open up this hospital to—”

Kozav stopped listening to the man and turned to the female. “Nurse Butler…”

“Carla,” she corrected him.

He rolled her name on his tongue, determined to remember it when he made his report and recommended her a commendation. She stood tall against the men, beneath their anger. Despite her trembling, she was a strong human female.

“Carla, tell me of Grace. Grace Hall?”

And he listened to the female’s hesitant words, watched as she cringed away from the suited man and round one. He did not think when he acted, merely responded to her distress. He shifted his stance, widening his wings as he stepped between the two men and her trembling body. When he got close, her scent infused him, but he smelled something else as well. An aroma that called to him and resonated with his soul. The Knowing surged, as if the blood memory wished to embrace the flavors. This human had been near his mate.

He lost track of her words, focusing only on that scent. “Where have you been recently?” he interrupted her. Carla jerked and he softened his voice. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around females. “Who have you touched recently?”

“My shift ended a couple of hours ago, but I stayed because I’ve been worried about Grace.” She gestured down the hallway. “I was in her room.”

“Show me.” He gently reached for her hand, hating the tremors that continued to plague her. The protective part of his soul raged on her behalf.

“Nurse Butler, you will not—”

A third and then fourth blade appeared, and Kozav continued to ignore the annoying humans. This Grace helped not only Choler and Detzan, but Rendan and Vende as well. All four refused to remain behind when they’d discovered his purpose.

He kept his wings spread, using them to herd the others out of their path while he allowed Carla to lead him. The farther they traveled, the more his pain receded. As if the closer he drew, the less he felt the Knowing’s agonizing effects. Would his mate be feeling the same way? His… Grace?

They moved farther along the hall, his steps shortening to match hers. She was a tiny female and he wondered if she would perhaps match with one of the males on his ship. She would be a strong addition to the Preor race and he would bring her to War Master Taulan’s attention when Kozav returned with his female. No, he would approach the War Mistress Lana. She would ensure that Carla was cared for as well as convince the War Master it was his own idea and not hers nor Kozav’s.

From War Mistress Lana, he’d learned Earth females could be sneaky. He hoped his female was the same. She would be a joy to try and outmaneuver.

“She’s in here.” Carla gestured to a door on the right and he ushered her into the darkened room. Shadows filled every corner, the only light coming from one that shined above the single, occupied bed. What small pain he still experienced vanished with his first sight of Grace Hall. His head no longer throbbed, unnatural weight no longer smothered his shoulders, and all remaining aches fled his body.

She was his mate. His one.

“She alone repaired us?”

“The nurses helped, but she performed the necessary surgeries. The doctors wouldn’t assist her and she refused to give up.” Carla shook her head. “I don’t know how she knew about your anatomy and I know she’s never worked surgery. Her focus is emergency care, but she knew what she was doing. Grace worked on you five until your own healers showed up.” Carla stepped from beneath his wing and approached the bed. Kozav followed in her wake. “That’s when she collapsed.”

Kozav swallowed hard, refusing to acknowledge the painful emotion that clogged his throat. “What is her illness?”

“They think it’s just exhaustion. She works two jobs and came on shift right after you were brought in. Vitals are good, and she’s hydrated. Imaging doesn’t show any internal injuries or swelling anywhere. She just passed out as soon as the healers arrived.”

No, she did not simply “pass out.” The Knowing did this to her. It must have struck when she began her work and it supplemented her knowledge, allowing her to repair them. It flooded her with unknown memories without his support and now she lay unconscious. His female fought the Knowing’s weight long enough to treat them and then was swallowed by its pressure.

Shaa kouva…
His beloved.

“Primary Warrior Kozav?” Detzan’s voice drew his attention and he turned to face his friend. “Orders?”

“We will transport my mate to medical.” And once the healers confirmed she would be well, he would place her in his quarters, in his bed, until she woke.

Because she would wake. Kozav would allow nothing less.