Love's Beguiling Healer Read online

  The Felys men weren't so keen on the idea when she approached them.

  "That'll mean sticking needles into us,” one said.

  "Makes me skittish,” another stated.

  The ginger, white and gold Felys, who she now knew was named Aras, curled his upper lip in distaste.

  "Look,” Tera said patiently, “I'm supposed to be collecting data for research. This is to benefit you all. Now come on, who's first?"

  They looked at each other.

  "What about Illam?” The one called Sama queried of his friend, Melar.

  "Illam will get his turn,” Tera said.

  "That wasn't quite what I meant."

  "Then what do you mean?” Patiently, she waited for the explanation.

  Instead, he leaned forward and sniffed her. Then he turned his head and nodded to his two friends.

  "Can smell her from here,” Aras agreed.

  "Excuse me,” Tera said coldly. “I showered this morning."

  They looked at her oddly, and raised their brows. Then Aras grinned, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. Sama actually rubbed his hand along the side of his nose and blinked. Melar cocked his head on one side and eyeballed her.

  She felt like three pet lycats were standing at her feet and laughing privately at her.

  "If you three don't get in here and let me take some samples, then guess where the thermometer is going?” she snapped.

  All three snapped to attention, and Melar actually hissed faintly. For some reason, Tera didn't find it as threatening as when Illam did it, so she simply stood to one side and gestured to her door.

  Finally, they all three trooped in.

  Every single one of them shied from the light she shone in their eyes. They twitched their ears when she tried to peer inside. They certainly didn't like it when she took a nail clipping from each of them.

  The whole episode was tiring, until Tera started to get hair samples from them. Standing behind Aras, she stroked through his hair absently with the fingers of one hand, testing the strength and thickness. He started to purr. Slowly he started to relax as she continued to sift through his hair. He leaned back in the chair in utter bliss while Tera massaged his scalp.

  He thought it was wonderful.

  She was checking for lumps, bumps, skull contour, hair thickness and strength. She used a data tissue to smooth along a strand of hair, and it absorbed the measurement. She took a sample of each colored strand of his hair—ginger, gold and white.

  Totally absorbed in her work, she washed her hands, then returned to stand behind Aras. Positioning the data collector on the table before them, she strapped a small band around her wrist. Attached to it were long thin wires, each tipped with a small silver ring that fitted around each of her fingers and thumbs. Laying her palms and fingers flat against each side of his face, she slowly began to feel and mould, shape and trace his skin and facial bones.

  He gave a low mrowr of pure pleasure. Startled out of her scrutiny, she bent over his shoulder and peered into his face. His expression was dreamy. The tip of his tongue was peeping out, and she laughed. His head jiggled against her stomach, where he'd been leaning back against her.

  "Don't stop,” he moaned. “Keep going. Please."

  "I'll send you to sleep any second. Look at you!” She ruffled the hair on top of his head.

  He mrowred again, the tone lazy and utterly blissful.

  Shaking her head in amusement, she continued her exploration and measurements, knowing the screen data collector monitored the size of his facial features, the measurements made through the rings on her fingers which fed through the information to the band on her wrist, and from there directly to the screen.

  When she'd finished, he practically slid from the chair. He was so relaxed that when he left, instead of his usual alert tread, he movements were languid and loose. He was, he announced, heading off for a lycatnap.

  Sama and Melar were more than willing subjects now, after seeing what their comrade had gone through. By the time she'd finished their facial and head measurements, they left in the same condition as Aras.

  Amused, Tera put the measuring wires down and washed her hands again. Taking the samples, she packed the individual slides and jars into a specially lined container that would keep them as fresh as when they were first taken.

  By the end of the first week in space, Tera had gathered all the data of eleven of the thirteen Felys aboard ship. Denyon and Illam were all that remained to do, and she toyed with the idea of trying to con Wylin into doing Illam.

  She and Illam had managed to maintain a polite head nod and muttered greeting to each other, maintaining their distance. It seemed safer, seeing as how they seemed to strike sparks off each other. Sparks of loathing, she was sure.

  But it looked like she was going to have to get into close contact with him again after all.

  "Come on,” she muttered. “You're a professional. You'll be fine. Suns, he's just a man, nothing more.” A hot man. Strong. Sexy. “And bloody irritating.” Shaking her head, she prepared her things.

  Denyon appeared first. Even though she could tell that he wasn't keen on having the samples taken, he didn't flinch. Much. When she pierced his skin with the needle, he hissed low and soft, and she felt him tense up.

  "Take it easy,” she murmured, automatically stroking along his arm with her free hand.

  It was a trick she'd learned while doing the other men. They responded to touch, and she used it whenever they tensed. As always it worked, and he relaxed slightly.

  When she started measuring his skull, he broke into the purring that all the Felys had done. Tera didn't even notice it now. Absorbed in her task, she continued to stroke, take samples, massage and touch. By the time she progressed to his face, he had the same dreamy expression as the other Felys. And by the time she'd finished, he pushed sleepily out of the chair. The look on his face was utter contentment.

  "Go and have a sleep,” Tera instructed. “You'll feel heaps better when you wake up."

  He purred all the way out of the cabin, and she grinned.

  Putting the samples away, she washed her hands in the bathroom, took a drink of water and walked back out into the main cabin, to see a chocolate point male sitting at the table, his long legs stretched out before him, booted ankles crossed, and his heavy-lidded eyes watching her progress with a deceptive laziness. She knew it was deceptive, because from between his thick lashes she saw the gleam of his gold irises, and felt the intentness of his gaze.

  Uh-oh. No, you can do this, Tera. It's Illam. Irritating, nasty-tempered, hot—No! Not hot. Never hot. He's just a man. What a man! Crap! Mental head slap.

  Thank stars Hanna wasn't here. Rolling her head on her shoulders, seeking to ease the sudden tension she felt, she took a deep breath then crossed to take the chair next to him.

  Because she sat facing him, he had to draw his legs back. But he sat negligently, knees spread. Relaxing.

  So why did she have the feeling that she was sitting opposite a feral ready to pounce?

  Determinedly, she picked up the clippers and held out her hand. She didn't even have to ask before his hand came to rest in hers. He didn't give her his full weight. Positioning a jar beneath their hands, she slid her fingers down his palm to the tip of his middle finger.

  His palms were calloused, the pads of his fingers bearing the same calluses. The same calluses all the Felys had on their hands. But his were ... she felt every swirl and whirl of them. His fingers were long, strong, his palm broad. His nails were neatly clipped, but had the same sharpness at the end. Not pointed, but as though the edges of his nails were so thin they could slice through paper without hesitation, delivering a neat slice.

  She clipped the tip off and secured the lid on the jar.

  "If you'll roll your sleeve up, I'll take a scraping of your skin.” Her voice was cool, in control. Professional.

  Shame her insides were churning, and her nerves were sparking on all cylinders. Having a p
arty. Threatening to let off fireworks. Especially as she watched him roll that pristine white sleeve up to reveal his sleekly muscled forearms.

  Cupping his elbow, she turned his arm over to reveal the tender underside. The muscle flexed beneath her palm.

  Steadfastly ignoring her yahooing hormones, she took up the hollow little needle and ran it lightly up the skin on his forearm. The skin cells were automatically sucked up into the hollow needle. She stored it in its container.

  The blood sample was next, but he didn't flinch. His pupils, however, enlarged as the needle went in, but he remained silent.

  Standing up, she picked up the tiny torch and approached Illam. And found she was standing between his spread thighs.

  Now, she'd stood between many spread thighs in the last week, but none seemed to emit heat like his. But she couldn't think about that now. She was a professional. Yeah, a professional pretender. By the suns, imagine what it would be like to have those thighs between my own. Or to have them straddling me each side of my hips. Oh baby...

  She blinked, and his face came into focus. That proud feline nose of his had slightly flared nostrils. By God, if he is sniffing me again ... She narrowed her eyes at him, but his expression remained stoic.

  The man had beautiful eyes. A pure gold color, the black thread-like substance writhing, slow and sensual, throughout the gold. His pupils slitted as the light penetrated.

  She could drown in his eyes. On-no you couldn't. Get that right out of your mind, wench!

  Drawing back, she instructed him to turn his head to the side. She reached for his ear, and couldn't help but let her fingertips glide up the length. Only slightly larger than her own, they were pointed at the tip and more flexible. She knew they could draw back against the skull like a lycat's ears when he was angry or felt threatened. They also twitched as her fingertips tickled along the sensitive edges.

  The inside of his ears was no different in structure than the other men.

  Not once during the entire time did Illam say anything, but she was aware of his lazy regard. She thought she much preferred trading barbs or downright insults with him rather than this unnerving silence.

  Now for the last part.

  "Turn your chair so you're facing the table,” she instructed.

  He obeyed without question and she stood behind him. His hair was tied back at the nape with a clip, so she deftly undid it and leaned over his shoulder to place it on the table.

  He inhaled deeply. If he sniffs me, I'm going to knock his block off, so help me God.

  Illam's head was saved by no further sniffing.

  Slowly she began the examination, starting off by stroking through the white, gold and chocolate tresses. His hair was long, as all the Felys wore theirs. Nearly down to his waist. She ran her fingers down the whole length, lifting it up and measuring it. Sinking her fingers into the thickness, marveling at the texture. The silkiness.

  She smoothed a data tissue along a strand of hair, absorbing the measurement, and took a sample of each colored strand of his hair—white, chocolate and gold.

  Quietly she stored the specimens, then returned to her position behind him.

  His head came level with chest, and she knew he'd eventually relax back against her. They all had. With the other Felys it had meant nothing, with Illam ... she was a little nervous.

  Mentally chastising herself—what would her father think?—she placed her palms on his head and smoothed her hands down the silken length of his hair to his shoulders.

  Okay, that wasn't really needed. But it felt damn good. And if I'm going to have to go through this, I might as well enjoy it a little. Nothing wrong with appreciating nice hair.

  Right.

  Rolling her eyes at herself, Tera forced herself to concentrate. Positioning her fingers, she started to massage and knead, learning the textures of his skull, shaping and defining, measuring and feeling the bones and every bump.

  He started purring right on cue, and she couldn't help but grin. The purring was also familiar, and she was able to slip into her concentration much easier.

  When she left the cabin to wash her hands, he was purring contentedly. When she returned and strapped on the band, he was watching her with golden eyes from beneath heavy lids, not saying a word as she slipped the rings on her fingers and thumbs.

  Still concentrating, Tera stood behind him once again and placed her open palms on his cheeks. Slowly she ran her palms down his smooth skin, her fingers tracing his jaw line and skimming back up to cup his chin momentarily. Her thumb grazed his bottom lip, and she felt his lips open slightly, the puff of hot breath on her fingertip.

  Oops! Hurriedly she shifted her fingers. Returning to his cheeks, she stroked and massaged, touched, traced and molded his skin and facial bones.

  His head was now leaning back against her, nestled snuggly between her breasts. He was totally relaxed, his purring low and sultry, like hot molasses.

  The silence in the room, the scent of the soft, feminine soap she'd used on her hands, the low purring, and the warmth of his head against her was lulling her into a dreamy mode. When professional turned dreamy, she didn't know. All she knew was that her touch had turned from professional to caressing. She rubbed behind his ears and he arched back, his head pressing against her. His strong fingers were kneading the armrests of the chair.

  Finding the cords of his neck, she massaged firmly. He angled his head to one side as she touched a particular nerve.

  Her hands fell to his shoulders, and she ran her palms firmly along the front of them, her fingers massaging expertly.

  Illam's head tipped back, and she found herself looking down into eyes that were glowing molten gold. The black threads were moving with a slow sensuality, and his lips were slightly parted.

  The blatant sexual desire in his eyes snapped her out of her dreamy state. She stepped back so fast that his hair swirled away from where it had clung to her gown.

  "All done,” she babbled. “Everything's done. You can go now. Yes, all done and you can go. Go. Yes.” By the stars and suns, she sounded like an imbecile. She felt like one. Ripping the rings off her fingers, and the band from her wrist, she discarded them onto the table.

  Illam merely stood up slowly. Flowed up, if that were possible. He stretched to his full height and his wealth of hair, so thick and silky, slid over his shoulders to fall to his waist. The thick bands of deep chocolate hair at the top and sides beckoned to her to touch and ... Yes, she was obviously affected by living with the Felys for a week, because suns help her, she wanted to inhale his scent deep inside her. His clean, male scent. His slightly feral scent.

  Shooting stars of Cyran, she wanted to tangle her fingers in that thick hair and yank him to her!

  "Thank you so much,” she continued politely, turning her back to him while she fussed with the sample containers. “That's all now, that's—"

  Her words were stopped by a hand grasping her waist and whirling her around to fall against a hard chest. Her ribbon was jerked from her hair, and a callused hand tangled itself in her brunette locks.

  Illam's other arm snaked around her waist, his hand at her back as he hauled her up onto tiptoe and smothered her small cry of surprise with his mouth.

  He kissed her hard. Desperately. His tongue licked like fire through her mouth, his taste flushing through her, following the blazing trail left by his tongue. He drank from her like a thirsty man, swallowing her essence, thoroughly ravaging her mouth.

  He was some kisser.

  His heat transferred to her like quicksilver, flashing through her veins, and she didn't protest or resist as he backed her up to the table. His thigh thrust between her own, and he lifted her and dumped her onto the table in one determined move.

  It would have been a real turn on if she hadn't just sat on a new, unused, but uncapped syringe needle. It pierced through the delicate material of her gown and into her bum cheek with an ease that didn't fit the tingling pain that went with it.

 
Tera shoved Illam away so fast and hard he actually stumbled. She bounded off the table faster than she'd ever done anything in her life.

  "Bloody hell!” she roared.

  Illam stared at her, surprise chasing the slumberous passion from his face.

  "Of all the useless, no-good, clumsy—” She continued to rant, swinging away to glare down at the offending object, which wasn't on the table. “By God, I'll bust you, you useless, worthless thing!"

  "I beg your pardon,’ he said stiffly, standing upright.

  "Not you!” she snarled.

  "I don't understand—"

  "I was pricked!"

  "Well, not yet, but—"

  "I got pricked in the bum!"

  "I'm not really that way inclined—"

  "You sat me on a needle!” Spying the offending object, Tera snatched it up off the floor and held it up in one clenched fist. “See?"

  "Oh."

  "Oh? Is that all you can say?” Tossing the needle into a sharps container, she glared at him while rubbing her bottom.

  "Let me see,” he offered, starting forward.

  "I think you've done enough!"

  "I could lick it better—"

  "You wouldn't want to try!"

  "Is that a dare?"

  "You cretin!” Emotions in a turmoil, her heart racing with combined adrenaline and desire, she was in no mood for teasing.

  The door to the cabin banged open, and Wylin ran in, Denyon on his heels.

  "What's going on?” Wylin demanded, his gaze fastening on Tera standing near the table where she stood with one hand rubbing her bottom. His eyes narrowed.

  As angrily confused as she was, Tera knew he'd leap to her defense and it could get ugly. “It's all right, Wylin. I ... ah, hurt myself."

  "How?” His expression was openly suspicious.

  There was no help for it. She had to show him. Slowly, she raised the needle.

  "I don't understand."

  "I sat on this."

  Wylin's face paled. “Was it used?"

  "No, it was new. I was careless and left it uncapped on the table. When I leaned back on the table, I bumped into it."

  He didn't say anything, and his expression showed nothing, but she knew him well enough to know that he was angry at her carelessness. She was up for a lecture as soon as they were alone.