Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (21 page)

“You’re a good nurse,” he mumbled.

While attaching the blood
generator, she had taken a quick look at his shoulder. It appeared bruised, but
that seemed to be the worst of it, unless he’d torn ligaments. If that was the
case, she could do nothing about that here.

“Thanks. Now let me see your face.”
She trained the flashlight on his jaw. Although the bright light shone into his
dark eyes, they didn’t blink. Obediently, he turned his jaw, and she drew in a
sharp breath. A black burn mark scorched his left cheek, fanning to the corner
of his eye, and stopped a centimeter short of his mouth.

“That bad?”

“Oh, Joshua.” She bit her lip.
Bracingly, she told him, “You’ll be fine. It’s not too deep. It won’t leave a
scar.” She pulled out the medical wand again and set it high, to “third degree
burn,” just to err on the side of caution. Cool white light wafted over the
charred skin.

“Feels…good,” he murmured.

“You’ve never said that to me
before,” she teased.

A lopsided smile edged up. “How’s…your
arm?”

“Fine. Two more applications
should do it.”

“Treat it next.” A hint of the old
Joshua came through in that faint command, and it made her smile.

“Yes, sir.” After she treated his
cheek for as long as she dared, she swiftly treated her own wound. As she’d
thought, it was much better. In fact, the dead, black skin flaked off in the
first second, leaving behind new, pink skin. She brushed off the burned flakes
and set the wand to “finish healing.” “It’s done,” she announced, zipping up
again.

A faint twitch of his lips was his
only response. His eyes were closed, and his skin had taken on a greenish cast.

“The new blood is making you feel
sick,” she guessed.

He didn’t answer, but just
tightened his lips.

“Lie still. You’ll feel better
soon.” She didn’t know if this was true, but she’d done all she could for now.
She closed the kit and stretched out next to him, wanting to comfort him, but
also needing the solid feel of his body next to hers to assure her that he was
still alive and, if not well, at least on the road to recovery. He would mend,
as long as they weren’t interrupted.

It occurred to her that if Onred’s
men couldn’t find them, Joshua’s couldn’t, either. She could relay their coordinates,
if she knew them. Maybe Michael’s phone had GPS built in and Donetski forces
could lock into that signal and find them. Maybe she could send an SOS. But the
air fight still went on overhead. Surely they would contact her via text or
voice when they were ready to find them. Anya was suddenly tired, and tucked
her head up against Joshua’s shoulder.

Maybe a few minutes of rest would
do them both some good.

Joshua’s hand unexpectedly touched
her cheek, and stroked into her hair. Contented, she closed her eyes. This was
where she wanted to be, always. By his side. She had forgiven his manipulative
kisses back in Tash. She understood why he had done it, and while she didn’t
agree with his methods, or his decision to lock her in the room, she understood
his heart. He had wanted to protect her. When he got better, however, a serious
discussion would be in order.

Surely now he would agree that she
must be a part of the mission. She would stay on the frontline of the war until
both Donetsk Territory and her family were free.

After a few minutes, his fingers
stilled and slid down to rest on her jaw. Anya let him rest, but she could not
sleep. The spitting, exploding air fight continued overhead. Worry about the
fate of Omsk and her family overwhelmed her. Before now, she’d been so busy
with the mission that she’d had little time to worry. Now, it consumed her
thoughts. Over and over again, her mind turned from Omsk to her siblings…especially
Marli’s tear stained face when Anya had left Astana. What was Onred doing to
her, and to the others? Had the extraction team managed to rescue them yet? Her
circling worries always ended with Joshua.

When fifteen minutes had passed,
she clicked on the flashlight and treated his leg wound again, and then directed
the light to his face. His eyes were open, but he didn’t blink when the light
accidentally shone into them. In fact, the dark gaze appeared strangely blank.

“Joshua?” She passed a hand across
his eyes. He didn’t follow the movement. Fear struck her heart. “
Joshua,
”
she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I’m blind,”
he said quietly.

“You’re
blind?
” With
horror, Anya noted the way the burn marks fanned toward his left eye.

“Shine the light in my face again.”

Anya did so.

“I can see light and shadows in my
right eye, but my left…” he paused. “It’s black, except for white sparks.”

Anya recalled her duty and ran the
healing wand over the burn marks. Impotent frustration welled within her. She
wished she could heal his eyes, and the damage below the skin; perhaps even in
his brain. “Your eye doesn’t look damaged.” Her voice came out level, for which
she was grateful.

Joshua gave another lopsided smile;
probably because the nerves on the left side of his face were damaged, she realized
now. “Laser fried my brain. I’m lucky I can think.”

“Was it set to kill?”

“Blue. Maybe green. He must have
powered it down in the aircraft.”

Yellow could short out the bird,
if it hit the wrong circuit. Blue equaled stun. Green an exponent more. Anya
thought about the guards she had shot. Her father had taught her that blue
laser injuries could recover in fifteen minutes. But he hadn’t mentioned brain
shots. Or green laser fire. And she estimated Joshua had parachuted from the airbird
at least fifty minutes ago.

“Maybe your nerves are stunned,”
she suggested. “It was a shock. Maybe they’re inflamed.”

“That would be the best case
scenario.”

Joshua couldn’t be permanently blind.
He just couldn’t. “You’ll be fine,” she told him, swallowing the quiver in her
voice. “But you need to rest. Try to sleep, if you can.” At least he was alive.
He still possessed his right mind. He could still command, as Baron of Donetsk.

He fell silent again, and long
minutes passed. A tiny vibration from Michael’s phone made her haul it from her
pocket.

Text scrolled. “We’re retreating.
Will return. Ten casualties. J Okay?”

Anya typed back. “Yes. Have
Michael’s phone. Track his GPS.”

“Roger.”

“Omsk?” Anya wondered.

“Richert’s missile intercepted. O
consolidating forces. Out.”

Feeling relieved, Anya pushed the
phone back in her pocket. “Thank goodness.”

“What?” Joshua murmured.

Anya relayed the new information. “Richert
saved Omsk.”

Joshua lay silently for a few
moments. “So. He’s taken sides.”

“Do you trust him now?”

“Richert does nothing without a
purpose.”

“You mean he did it to strengthen
his strategic position.”

“Onred is a threat. Richert wants
him cut out. Once he’s defeated, Richert will show his true hand.”

“I wonder how the extraction team
is doing.”

“It might be hours before we hear.”

Anya checked her watch. “Time to
treat your wounds again.” Switching on the flashlight, she tended his leg. A
firm scab covered the wound now. She set the wand to “deep” and stimulated the
cells at deeper levels so they would replicate even faster. An artery needed to
heal. So did muscle and skin, before Joshua could move far. To be on the safe
side, he needed continuous treatment for the next few hours.

She trained the light on Joshua’s
cheek again. It was too soon to see healing. Unfortunately, she’d have to wait
at least an hour before applying another treatment. Fewer cells needed to be
regenerated, and they were all near the surface. They required periods of rest
before being re-stimulated. Her glance went to his dark eyes. They seemed to be
looking at her.

“Can you see me?”

Joshua gave a lopsided smile. “My
right eye can see the shape of your head. And your hair.” He raised his hand,
and his fingers touched a wavy strand at her cheek.

Anya smiled, holding very still. “And
your left eye?”

“You’re a black shadow.”

“That’s an improvement.”

When his fingers left her skin,
Anya felt overwhelmed by the need to fuss over him. “Are you warm enough? Can I
do something to make you feel more comfortable?”

“Lie down, Anya. Rest. When we’re
found, we’ll need to get right back into the thick of battle.”

“We?” She smiled. “You mean you’ll
let me join the battle?”

“I can’t seem to keep you out.”

It wasn’t a promise, nor a complete
answer. She said, “I belong with you, Joshua. I want to fight to free our
people. And, like you, if that means death, then so be it.”

“Rest, Anya.” His voice was husky.
“Lie by my side until we have to fight the real world again.”

It was enough for now.

Anya stretched out next to him and
lay her head against his shoulder. Joshua’s hand reached for her own, and his
fingers intertwined with hers. It was an uncharacteristic move. With a sigh,
she closed her eyes. Although everything in her life was so desperately wrong,
she felt a sliver of contentment right now. Joshua had deliberately taken her
hand. Did that mean his feelings for her went deeper than he could ever admit?
What had he truly felt when he had kissed her in Michael’s guest room? Had any
of it been real? She drifted into a soft slumber.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya treated Joshua’s wounds
countless times during the night. At one point, she removed the generator from
his arm, for his blood levels had been replenished, and the gray tinge had left
his skin. Joshua slept through most of it. In the dark, early morning hours,
she felt satisfied that the wound on his leg was beginning to heal, too. No
more text messages arrived on Michael’s phone. In exhaustion, she lay her head
down again next to her baron and fell asleep.

Dawn filtering through the airbird’s
windows teased Anya awake. Somehow, the tarp had bunched down around their
shoulders, leaving their faces exposed. She wasn’t cold, but glanced at Joshua
to assess his condition.

The perfectly cut planes of his
face were relaxed in sleep. The charred line of his cheek looked awful, but
new, pink skin should emerge later today. His tawny hair was rumpled, and his
changeable eyes, which always drew her like a magnet, were shut. Had his vision
improved? Worry for his eyesight, her siblings, and for her people, vulnerable
to Onred’s attacks, had eaten away at her all night. Belar was dead. Joshua had
escaped. If the extraction team had failed, would Onred take out his fury on
her family?

It seemed entirely too peaceful
and quiet in the aircraft, compared to what her loved ones must be going
through, if the extraction team had failed. But she couldn’t think like that.
At least Richert had saved Omsk from Onred’s thermal bomb. A big victory
against Onred, for which she was grateful. Was Richert truly an ally they could
trust now?

She went up on one elbow and gazed
intently at Joshua. What was his big plan to save Donetsk Territory? For she
felt certain he had one, although he hadn’t confided it in her. He had told Richert
that he’d planned three levels of assassination. Belar was gone. Onred and his
first-in-command, Yegor, remained, unless the extraction team had managed to
kill them both. Anya could only hope for this scenario. If not, her next goal
would be to convince Joshua to share the details of his bigger plan, so she
could help him achieve it.

Her gaze slipped to Joshua’s
mouth. His lower lip was cut just a little fuller than his upper. She
remembered his kisses in Michael’s spare room. Again, she wondered if they had been
real on his part. Or merely manipulative? Irrationally, she longed to kiss him
again. What would happen if—just for a second—she brushed her lips against his?

If he awoke, would he be shocked?
Condemning? Or would he welcome it?

She really should stop staring at
him like this.

With a sigh Anya edged back, but
unexpectedly, Joshua’s hand curved around the back of her neck, preventing her
retreat.

“What are you doing?” His eyes
gleamed tawny in the dim light.

She swallowed. “Can you see me?”

A long moment passed, and the
brown gaze flickered from her eyes to her mouth. “Yes.”

“
Joshua.
” Tears of relief
sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back. “With both eyes?”

“Colors are gray in my left. The
right is normal.”

“Thank goodness.” She made another
move to retreat, but he still wouldn’t let her.