Free Kozav by Celia Kyle, Erin Tate Page A

name it was with the male’s whiny, thin voice.
    My name is… Whiny, whiny asshole.
    Grace slowly opened her eyes, anxious to discover where she’d ended up. The ceiling was the same as Kozav’s rooms, but the surface beneath her was different—soft, yet hard. That didn’t tell her anything. The scents in the room did, though. A hospital was a hospital whether on Earth or in an alien spaceship. There was no getting away from the aromas of sickness and cleanser. The cleaning staff could be the best ever created, but illness always clung to everything.
    She slowly turned her head, searching out anyone else who might be in the area, and she realized she wasn’t in a private room but an open space. An open space she shared with her mother. Well, she got to her destination. Painfully, but she got there.
    Her mom’s color was better, some of the paleness gone and replaced with a low flush of health. No, not true health, but at least it wasn’t death. The memories of the past haunted her, the frailness of her mother’s body, the thinness of her arms when Grace clutched them and helped her into the bathroom. The room hadn’t been as bad as she’d imagined, but it’d been close. When she’d gotten her mom into the shower, settling her on the small shower chair, she’d done nothing but apologize.
    For her failures. For her neglect. For… everything.
    And so like a mom, she’d been told there was nothing to forgive. Which had only made her cry harder.
    Then Kozav, with his forceful nature and dominating presence, was beyond gentle and caring with Donna Hall—Dam Hall in his words. Respect and awe had been in his every word and touch. After that, he’d done as promised. Healers flowed in and out of the small apartment, carrying off her mom for treatment while Kozav promised she’d get the best Preor had to offer. He would demand the Royal Healing Master if necessary.
    I will not lose another dam.
    The message resonated through her, heartache and grief in those few words, but it hadn’t been the time to question him. Not while surrounded by his warriors.
    Now, lying on one of the platforms in medical and staring at her mother’s relaxed face, Grace knew he’d fulfilled each vow.
    The rustle of wings, already familiar to her in the short time she’d been surrounded by Preor, drew her attention to a nearby healer. His grey eyes were kind, gentler than the other warriors she’d met so far, and he gave her a soft smile. Maybe it was the overall grey of his appearance that eased some of her tension or merely his expression, but he reminded her of a kind, old doctor. Not one of the pretty boys who didn’t know their ass from their elbows, but one of those she’d seen in older vids. When doctors cared more for patients than credits.
    “Hi,” she whispered, unwilling to disturb her mom. The woman needed her rest, needed it to get healthy. Well, as healthy as possible.
    “Hello, Grace joi Kozav. I am Primary Healer Whelon.”
    She gave the male a careful quirk of her lips in return, waiting for the pain to flare, and she was surprised when it remained a dull throb. “What’s the damage, Doc?”
    “Bruising, no more.” He raised his eyebrows. “You were very lucky, Grace joi Kozav. A Preor warrior’s strength is much greater than even Earth’s most fierce military officers.”
    Yeah, she knew that. Now. She’d been decked by a patient or two in the ER. Sometimes shit just happened. “Yeah, that’s all it feels like.” She laid her hands on the bed near her chest, and levered herself up before swinging her legs over the side. She so wasn’t commenting on a Preor’s badass-ness. “And how’s my mom?”
    “Better, though no cure has yet been found.” He shook his head. “But I would not be worrying over another when you should worry over yourself.”
    “You just said I was fine.” Achy, but fine.
    He tilted his head in acknowledgment, that small smile still in place, and she had a feeling he was