Chapter 6
I walked into the operating room with my hands shaking so badly that a Parkinson's patient would have looked steady next to me.
The problem wasn't the surgery itself—it was the pressure.
So many people were watching, and I was terrified of being the center of attention.
Avoiding stares and going unnoticed had been a habit from my old life as a slave, and some traumas ran so deep that uprooting a baobab with your bare hands would be easier than removing them from someone's psyche.
I pushed the insecurity aside as much as I could, and three hours later, I was dabbing the red antibacterial solution onto the patient's stitches before wrapping the bandage around her head.
“Medicate the patient, complete the notes, and let the family know we're finished.”
“Yes, Dr. Kyller,” replied the nurse, who was also being evaluated.
For the thousandth time in three hours, my eyes drifted to the black observation window beside the door.
I couldn't see them, but I knew six doctors were on the other side, evaluating my performance.
I stripped off the bloodied gloves, then the surgical gown and cap, washed my hands and face in the sink in the adjacent anteroom, and stepped out of the OR.
“Who's the best future elmedic in the world?” Ambrose asked, walking toward me with his arms wide open.
“You were perfect, Kyller!” Lorenzo approached, extending his hand.
I smiled at them. Even I was proud of myself. I'd completed the surgery within the three-hour limit while handling unexpected bleeding that none of the pre-op scans had predicted. I could barely contain myself.
“Congratulations, Kyller,” said Selene, the third elmedic, a specialist in general surgery and Adele's mentor. She set her evaluation on the table and walked out, just as the other human doctors had done before I'd even left the room.
“Thank you. I owe you everything.” I hugged them back, trying to sneak a peek at my grade.
“No funny business! We'll release the grades next week. Until then, you wait like everyone else,” Lorenzo said.
“Not even a little peek?”
“Not even half of one,” Ambrose grumbled as he tucked the three doctors' evaluations into a folder and ushered us out of the observation room. “This surgery deserves a celebratory lunch. Where do you want to celebrate, Kyller?”
“Are you sure? It's not that big of a milestone. We could just eat in the cafeteria.” I pointed to the hospital's food court, which was already filling up with staff.
“In the madhouse?” the doctor scoffed. “Trust me, every day is a good day to celebrate something and eat out.
Besides, when you score higher than a seven—which you will—you'll be able to handle the bigger surgeries. And honestly, I need someone else to help. Lorenzo, Selene, and I are exhausted from handling everything on our own.”
“It would be great to have some help. My back is killing me, and I think I'm getting crow's feet.” Lorenzo touched his face and leaned toward Ambrose, flustered.
“I'm getting old and worn out from all this work.
One day you're going to wake up and realize you married a raisin that smells like a hospital.”
“Don't be dramatic. We're aging because that's just life, but you'll always be my sweetheart.” Ambrose took Lorenzo's wrist and pressed a loud kiss to the back of his hand. “Even if you do turn into my little raisin sweetheart.”
Watching the two of them together filled me with a warm, glowing feeling. They'd met in college and always said with pride that it was love at first sight. I'd heard the story so many times I could recite it down to the smallest detail.
We slipped out through the staff entrance, and a warm breeze carrying the scent of wisteria tousled my hair.
“So, what do you think about going to Canoa today?” I pointed toward the restaurant at the end of a long street.
“I love eating there. It's been ages since we went,” Ambrose replied, undoing his top button. The heat had grown so oppressive that the air above the stone pavement seemed to shimmer.
“Then let's go! If we stay out here any longer, I'm going to fry and become lunch myself,” Lorenzo complained.
“Sounds appetizing…” Ambrose raised a suggestive eyebrow, and the two exchanged interested looks.
I dragged them down the street before things got awkward.
“I'm right here, you know!” I protested, indignant, as they both laughed.
Canoa sat on Lake Street. We walked for just ten minutes before arriving at the open entrance, which overflowed with flowers.
The atmosphere was rustic, with wooden furniture and warm yellowish lighting.
Chandeliers hung throughout, and on each table, a round red candle burned, filling the air with fragrance and lending a romantic touch.
The most beautiful part, though, was the lawn and pier out back. That's where we headed.
“The view here is just gorgeous,” I said to my companions.
The restaurant was named after the lake that bordered its rear.
The landscape was magnificent. Four mountains ringed the eastern shore, and the light cast the whole scene in an air of romance and mystery.
You could take in the view from anywhere inside the inner wall, but from the pier, it was absolutely breathtaking.
“I think this place is incredible too. Can you feel how peaceful it is?” Lorenzo took a deep breath, as if trying to absorb the very essence of his surroundings.
We chose a table on the pier. Wisteria branches stretched overhead, creating a canopy of white flowers that cascaded in delicate clusters around us.
Blue and green butterflies danced between the tables, spreading color and pollen, which made me think Kiara would hate this place—she couldn’t stand butterflies.
When we sat down, a human waiter in a black apron approached with a notepad in hand, and we placed our orders.
Once again, I lost myself in the landscape.
It was so enchanting it seemed surreal. When I turned my attention back to my friends, Ambrose was reaching out to caress Lorenzo’s face, and the two were gazing at each other with such intensity that I felt embarrassed witnessing their display of affection.
I had felt that same tender touch and gaze only once.
It had kept me whole when the weight of memories threatened to shatter me into a thousand pieces.
But it was a worn-out memory, so overused it had been modified a thousand times; I was beginning to wonder if it had really happened or if it was just an illusion my subconscious had created to keep me alive.
I looked at the calm waters of the lake, and a feeling of emptiness washed over me; it was as if I were an abandoned shell floating adrift. A heavy cold settled in my chest, and I felt dizzy and pathetic with tears welling up in my eyes. What the hell kind of feeling was that?
“I know that look. What’s going on, Kay?”
Embarrassed at being caught in that small display of weakness, I shifted in my chair. I blinked, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall, and attempted a smile capable of fooling a total of zero people.
“Nothing. This place just makes me sentimental, that’s all.”
Ambrose and Lorenzo exchanged glances.
“Are you sure it’s the place, and not a certain handsome general?”
“Obviously not,” I lied, shooting Ambrose a dirty look. “It has nothing to do with that. In fact, we talked this morning and everything went really well.”
“What?” Lorenzo leaned across the table toward me. “How did it go?”
“It was relaxed. I had breakfast while he trained, and we talked about his time here.”
“That’s it? No physical contact? No kiss? Nothing at all?”
Something twisted in my abdomen at the suggestion of that kind of intimacy. Good grief, Lorenzo and his ideas… As if something like that could ever happen between us. I crossed my feet behind the chair, shifting again in an attempt to shake off the sensation.
“Of course not! By the gods, it’s like you don’t even know Zion. What you suggested has nothing to do with our relationship.”
I rested my elbow on the back of the chair, distancing myself, as if I could escape their gazes.
“I don’t understand how this relationship is going to work. You have a bond, Kay. A true and rare compatibility bond.” He looked at his husband. “Tell me, my dear, how can someone have a bond with another person and not want to reduce their entire existence to just screwing their partner?”
My face flushed, and before Ambrose even spoke, I knew it would be the color of my hair. I scratched my forehead to hide it.
“I don’t know—we don’t even have a bond and it’s already hard to keep my hands off you.” Ambrose squeezed Lorenzo’s thighs under the table.
I caught the scent of their pheromones, promising sex later. This was pretty embarrassing when it happened in public.
“Yes, do you remember Thormund? He had a partner, and they were the only ones I knew. He used to tell us that when he met Luna, he had to take her to the altar because the sexual frenzy was unreal,” Lorenzo said, returning Ambrose’s gesture with a mischievous smile.
“I remember how embarrassed he’d get when he told us he acted like a savage the first week of marriage, while Luna blushed, giggled, and said it was wonderful. ”
“By the gods, can you stop with that?” I threw a crumpled napkin at Lorenzo’s face, making them both turn to me.
While they stared at me smugly, my curiosity about Thormund outweighed my embarrassment, and I found myself asking:
“And what happened to Thormund?”
Maybe there was someone who could better explain the complications of the bond, since the answers in books were vague. Lorenzo exchanged looks with Ambrose, his lighthearted demeanor fading, and I gathered that something bad had happened.
“Luna was a Drutes descendant and disappeared during the old purges. Thormund died of depression a year later, after feeling the bond break,” Ambrose said regretfully. “No one has ever been known to survive very long after a partner dies.”
Lorenzo quickly added: