“You’re taking too long to counsel patients.” Dr. Richard officiously tapped his pen against his clipboard. “Blondie, some nurses just aren’t cut out for the ER.”

Laura pressed her lips together so hard they tingled.

She was almost done tidying the exam room. Her preceptor had given her permission to sneak away and eat her granola bar, which she actually had on her today. In her pocket. Chocolate cherry peanut butter. Extra nuts.

As soon as Dr. Richard, who couldn’t bother to remember her name and always referred to her by her hair color, finished his lecture and let her escape.

“An ER nurse can’t sit around and hold someone’s hand.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I saw you.” He gestured at the chair where she was still sitting, her patient long gone. “With my own eyes.”

Okay, so, yes.

For one brief moment, the worried young mother who didn’t speak English had gripped onto Laura’s gloved hand while a translator explained her daughter’s allergic reaction. She needed to carry an epi pen and avoid tree nuts. The mother had thanked Laura profusely in her language and walked her now-easily breathing six-year-old out.

So sue her.

Once Laura finished this final clinical, graduated, and passed her RN-NCLEX then she’d be the one diagnosing and wouldn’t have time to stay with patients through counseling.

But she wasn’t working as a fully licensed nurse right now. Her preceptor had Laura take medical histories and make initial assessments. That was advanced med tech work, and it was nerve-wracking enough. Then, Galina approved or disagreed with Laura, teaching her the nuances of nursing only learned by experience.

Dr. Richard would ultimately sign off on her work experience and there was still a chance she could earn his approval — and coveted recommendation. Even though it seemed less and less likely as her clinical wore on.

Laura sucked in a breath. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Be sure you take it.”

Galina peeked in the door. Time to move to the next patient.

Oh, no.

Laura had lost her one opportunity for a granola bar snack. She hated Dr. Richard with the fiery passion of a hundred growling stomachs.

Oblivious to her hatred, Dr. Richard leaned in and did the brow wiggle that meant he was about to make her feel squicky in addition to irritated.

“If you want to hold someone’s hand so much, you can come and hold mine.” He lowered his voice near her ear. “Anytime.”

Outside the room, Galina rolled her eyes.

Laura had to choke back her gag. And to think, she’d once found his symmetrical features, full head of hair, and even teeth to be attractive. Wow, that had lasted about two minutes. “Okay, thank you.”

Dr. Richard stepped closer.

Was Laura about to be treated to a more extended pickup? The kind of gross “flirting” all the nurses received during slower hours in the ER?

Galina must have sensed it too and stepped in. “Excuse me, Dr. Richard. Laura’s needed in Room 7.”

“Well, she’d already be there if she wasn’t sitting around holding people’s hands.” He stepped back. “You’re going to hold people’s lives there soon, Blondie. Make sure your hands are washed, gloved, and sterilized.”

Like she needed to be told!

He departed.

Laura fumed. “In the amount of time he lectured me he could have seen three patients and written ten scripts.”

“Yes.” Galina was five years older than Laura and five hundred patients ahead of her in nursing. “Richard’s taken a liking to you.”

Oh, unlucky her. “Why?”

Galina shrugged and headed out, expecting Laura at her heel. “Don’t let him get to you. The last one he took a liking to quit before she finished her rotation. You’ve got a lot to offer nursing, Laura.”

Laura hurried to keep up. “Why hasn’t someone complained?”

“Patients aren’t the only challenge in this profession.”

Galina had trained under an actual sexual predator now serving time in a county jail. She thought Laura might face worse than uncomfortable banter from an offensive jerk.

Then, Galina sighed. “He’s not completely wrong. You could speed up a little.”

Her chastisement stabbed Laura’s tender heart. “I’ll work on that. The ER is a much faster pace than my other clinicals.”

“Of course. We make life-and-death decisions every moment. Your lack of confidence and constant second-guessing causes you to be slow and slow can at times prove fatal.”

She closed her eyes. Her worst nightmare was making a fatal error, and that was exactly why she second-guessed herself.

But the problems went deeper. Her nature was approval-seeking, whether wearing scrubs or civilian clothes.

She’d made mistakes trying to go solo. Painful enough she was scared to try again.

The bravery she’d shown speaking her mind to Kyan yesterday had been out of character. For some reason, during those few hours in his presence, she’d relaxed and possessed confidence. Vivacity. She’d asked him whatever she’d wanted and stated her own opinions without biting her tongue. She’d shared her real self. He’d even commented on her fearlessness.

And then she’d kissed him…

The memory of tasting his firm lips filled her with burning heat.

She’d gone home yesterday morning and taken a long, steamy shower with a glass of wine and a delicious fantasy. It was the first time since her great mistake she’d been able to let go of her hesitation, even in private, and experienced the passion she’d once dreamed about feeling with a man. Even if she never saw Kyan again, she’d have to thank him for giving back that part of her sexuality.

The magic had worn off by the time she’d awoken, of course. In her bed, alone.

If only she could be so brave every day, with everyone, she’d conquer fear and become a visionary nurse like in her favorite books and movies.

She’d surely live a more satisfying life.

Instead, right now, even her own preceptor thought she was lacking.

Galina stopped, softening her chastisement with hope. “If you gain anything from this clinical, let it be the confidence that comes with experience. Then, Laura, you will be unstoppable.”

Aw. “Thank you.”

Galina’s smile disappeared into professionalism as she switched to ER mode again. “Room 7. Let’s go.”

“Laura!” Sabrina rushed into the hall and thrust a chart into her startled hands. “There’s a patient for you in Room 2.”

Laura exchanged a questioning frown with Galina. “Room 2 isn’t one of ours.”

Sabrina lowered her voice. “It’s the guy. The guy.”

“What guy?”

“He asked for you.”

“Someone asked for me?”

“He brought in a patient. Another of his kind. You’re supposed to see them. Bob said to do whatever he wanted.”

Bob Kerrin, Director of the Hospital?

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

Kyan’s silent face flashed in her mind. And heat. Inappropriate fantasies of his large, capable hands sliding all over her naked body, in the shower, while she sipped a sweet rosé.

She swallowed. “Just me? Not Galina too? Or a doctor?”

“He asked for you.” Sabrina exchanged significant looks with Galina. “The patient is complaining loudly.”

Which meant it wasn’t serious.

The serious ones focused on drawing their next breath, not expelling it loudly — and pointlessly — at staff.

Galina looked curious. “Get started. I’ll drop in as soon as I’ve finished with ours.”

So, their usual arrangement.

But nothing about this was usual.

Her nerves twinged.

Laura straightened her scrubs, mindful her hair was pulled neatly under her cap and she had her scratch paper and basic supplies in her pockets. Her granola bar crinkled. She was no longer hungry.

Hurrying to Room 2, she could hear Kyan’s patient from the hall. A high, nasally voice expressed disdain for the surroundings.

“—and you’ve brought me to this human hospital, which is entirely insufficient for my health needs.”

She took a steadying breath and walked in.

Kyan towered over the small exam table, filling the room with his commanding presence. His black-on-black clothes, boots, and trench coat only made his piercing blue eyes stand out more in his brutal face.

She melted.

Her fantasies had been good. Too good. But they had missed his spicy, black ops smell. Male, virile, and heady. A hint of new Kevlar and musk was indefinably him.

He fixed on her as though he had heard her breathe outside the door. Why not? He probably had.

But … he did not look as happy to see her as she felt to see him. No hint of friendliness escaped from his black expression.

She schooled her own reaction to professionalism. Maybe he wasn’t happy to see her and maybe he was just doing his security job with the patient he’d brought in. If he was still around after her shift, she’d gauge his feelings then.

And if he still treated her like an unwanted stranger, then she’d curl up in a ball and cry.

The other male tutted with disdain. “And they’ve put me in Room 2. I should be in Room 1! I will not forgive this insult.”

“Um, the rooms are numbered in order of their distance from the door, not in order of importance,” she said, drawing the male’s attention. “If that helps. And Room 1 has a touchy blood pressure cuff. This is our best room.”

He glared at the low ceiling. “It is rather small.”

Well, her opening conversation had established that her patient’s airway was unobstructed, breathing clear, heart was beating, and he had the highest level of consciousness. He didn’t seem confused or particularly in pain.

Of course, it might be impossible to know with an alien.

“What brings you in today?” she asked, bracing herself for a foreign answer.

The male pointed at Kyan. “He did.”

“O-of course.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, what’s your chief complaint?”

“That I, a full-blooded aristocrat and rightful CEO of Carnelian Clothiers, have been insulted and forced into a position unbecoming of my status.”

“I see.” She finally looked at the chart Sabrina had handed her. Patient name: Chrysoberyl Carnelian. More minerals; very dragon alien-y. “More of a metaphysical injury than a physical one…”

Was he in for a psychiatric evaluation?

She tried once more. “Where are you injured?”

He frowned. “You are the medical professional. You should be able to tell from looking.”

It was going to be one of those nights.

“I like to hear it from your view.” Then, she flat out lied. “As the principle party, you are the most important eye witness.”

He seemed to like that. “Yes. Very well. I will allow you to heal my injury.”

“…which is?”

“He burned his hand,” Kyan said shortly.

Of course! She set aside the chart and took a good, solid look at her patient. One of the most important things was to actually look at the person in front of her. Chrysoberyl looked…

…extremely healthy, to be honest.

She pulled on exam gloves. “Burns are so painful. I didn’t realize fire-breathing dragons can suffer them too.”

“Of course they can, uneducated human.”

She mentally added “cranky” to his chart. “Let me see your injury.”

He regarded her outstretched hands with distrust. “What are those blue things?”

“Non-latex gloves,” she assured him. “So I can examine your injury without passing on pathogens.”

He puffed up. “Finally, someone understands. Grubby human fingers should not dirty an aristocrat’s skin.”

Actually, it was for preventing the patient’s pathogens from ending up on her. But anything that made him easier to work with made her a happier nurse. “Roll up your sleeve.”

He did so.

Was there a slight red mark on the back of his hand? Maybe if she squinted.

She checked with Kyan. “Should we use anything from the medkit for this exam?”

Kyan’s expression remained closed. “The medkit is designed for dragon bodies.”

“He’s a dragon.”

“In human form.”

“But the whole reason we have the medkits is for treating dragons.”

He focused on her with new clarity. Rage disappeared, replaced by his capable calm. “Treat his human form. Shifting exacerbates real injuries.”

“Real injuries?” Chrysoberyl huffed, listening way too closely to their conversation. “You dare to insinuate my injury is not ‘real’? I am deeply injured in my person! A concept you clearly cannot comprehend. Aristocrats aren’t used to rough treatment.”

Kyan stared over her shoulder, zoning on the wall behind her, as he seemed to retreat again into the mask of cold, hard fury.

Well, at least she wasn’t the source of Kyan’s unhappiness. Or at least she wasn’t the only or most obvious source. That warmed her right in places where it shouldn’t.

She focused on her patient again. She’d seen worse sunburns at a junior league baseball game. A well-prepared Girl Scout could diagnose and treat this burn.

He was an alien…

The last injured dragon alien she’d seen had survived fourth degree burns. It suggested dragons were hardier than humans, not weaker.

So…

Urgh!

She was supposed to be confident. Based on her assessment of this minuscule injury, should she really just hand Chrysoberyl a cold pack and give him an ibuprofen? Laura willed Galina to appear in the doorway behind her and take away the responsibility.

Galina didn’t. But her words did.

Your lack of confidence and constant second-guessing causes you to be slow and slow can at times prove fatal.

Not fatal for this guy. But maybe for the patient in Room 7. Or Room 10. Or somebody out in the waiting room.

Plus what would Galina really say? She could almost hear her preceptor’s chastisement. A simple burn? You should know how to treat that, Laura, so why are you coming to me? Is that really all it is?

Okay. Just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, Laura reviewed her intake questions, skirting Chrysoberyl’s off-the-wall responses.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, tilting his hand all directions under the light.

“I was attacked,” he said proudly. “In my own office. By a bomb.”

“A bomb!” Well, now she had a whole lot of new questions. “Were you concussed or struck by any material?”

“I was struck by that object.” He jerked his thumb at Kyan. “Who attacked my physical person. His indelicate movements dislodged my coffee, spilling scalding liquid all over my hand.” He sniffed. “I barely survived.”

“I see,” she said again, now itching to get Kyan undressed and have a good look.

Not only because she wanted to see him naked.

He was the type who would silently bleed out, die standing upright, and no one would ever know he’d been wounded.

Back to Chrysoberyl, she switched from a general investigation to specific concussion-trauma questions. Had he bumped his head? Lost consciousness? Was there a ringing in his ears, sensitivity to lights, any gaps in his memory? Then, just for good measure, she had him take off his shirt and measured his vitals.

“What is this about?” he demanded as she inflated the blood pressure cuff.

“It checks your pulse and blood volume.” She recorded his stats. “It’s important to be thorough after what you’ve been through.”

“Yes.” He lifted his chest and threw back his shoulders. “Of course. After what I’ve been through.”

“And I would also like to examine you,” she said to Kyan.

Kyan’s sharp gaze narrowed.

“Never mind about him,” Chrysoberyl sniffed. “He’s low caste. They’re used to roughness.”

Low caste? That sounded rude. But Kyan’s mask remained in place, not showing he felt any sting.

“He was with you during the ordeal,” she said. “It sounds like he could have been hit by the bomb.”

Or, if the description was right, Kyan had sheltered Chrysoberyl and absorbed the blast with his own body.

For some reason, her sentence made the aristocrat again puff up with some sort of pride.

“Indeed. I suffered an ordeal. I suppose you may check him for injuries as well.”

A gruff voice rose in the hallway. “Where is that dragon? It’s after midnight. No, I’m not the patient. He’s my new vice president.”

She turned to Kyan. “Please remove your—”

Kyan ignored her and strode into the hall.

The gruff voice quieted.

Well … okay. She was just an “uneducated” nursing student. Forget the lot of them.

She finished her examination and allowed her patient to dress. Then, she counseled him. Without holding his hand.

“You have a first degree burn,” she told Chrysoberyl.

“First!” He brightened. “I accept no degree less.”

“Er … right. Next time, soak the wound in cool water. You can take a gentle pain medication or use a mild anesthetic to soothe the skin. If it rubs or bothers you, apply an antibiotic ointment and cover it with loose gauze.”

He lifted his chin. “Although only a human, you are a credit to your profession.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Indeed.”

He rose from the exam table. A key chain fell out of his pocket and clinked on the floor. He headed for the door.

She scooped up the key chain. It looked like a mini Magic 8 Ball on a thin metal loop. “Here, Chrysoberyl. Your keys?”

He recoiled as though offended. “That device is not mine.”

“It fell out of your pocket.”

“You are mistaken.”

“I saw it.”

He lifted his chin, imperious.

She wasn’t fighting about this. “Never mind. I’ll ask Kyan.”

“Give it to me.” He snatched it from her hand. “Did anything else drop?”

She studied the small, swept-clean floor. “I don’t think so.”

“Search, human! Someone attacked me with a bomb. This could be important.”

Good gracious.

She got down on her hands and knees and double-checked, praying Dr. Richard didn’t come in right now. If she got in trouble for “holding hands,” what would he say to her butt in the air, blowing stubborn dust bunnies from the undersides of sterile tables?

Then again, someone had bombed Chrysoberyl’s office earlier tonight. Maybe paranoia was justified.

“Nothing,” she declared, sitting upright.

The room was silent. Chrysoberyl had gone.

Okay. Sure.

Standing again, she unpeeled her gloves and threw them in the trash. Since Chrysoberyl hadn’t needed much in the way of assessment, there was also not much to tidy.

Her stomach growled.

This occasion certainly deserved a granola bar. Her first treatment of dragon aliens! Bring on the chocolate cherry peanut butter.

Yellow metal glinted on a tray, catching her eye.

Huh? That was weird. She’d just tidied the room. Had Chrysoberyl dropped this object, too?

But no, he wouldn’t have accidentally dropped it out of a pocket onto a tray at chest height.

The tray was near the open door. Anyone could have snuck it onto the table without entering the room.

Why?

Was it even a tool? Two strips of long, curved metal split into sections … honestly, it looked like a mini banana slicer. Like, a specialty kitchen item sold next to egg timers and cherry pitters whose only purpose in life was to evenly slice bananas.

Maybe another med tech was playing a prank?

Weird.

Oh, hey. It blinked a steady blue light.