Page 67 of Alien Healer's Touch

Kavan's expression cleared of sleep, becoming serious. His golden lifelines dimmed slightly. "If this connection displeases you, there are meditative techniques that can establish boundaries. The ancient records speak of different levels of integration."

I considered this. Did I want boundaries? The intimacy terrified me on one level—to be so known, so exposed. Yet there was liberation in it too. No pretense. No masks.

"What do you think?" I asked.

He smiled, that rare full smile transforming his solemn face. "I find the connection... satisfying. But your discomfort would negate any benefit to me."

I traced the golden line curving along his jaw. "It's not discomfort exactly. More like vertigo. Standing on a precipice, not knowing what's below."

"A reasonable response to the unknown." His larger hand covered mine, pressing it against his face. "We need not rush. The connection will stabilize on its own, finding its natural depth."

"Like water finding its own level," I murmured, remembering the underground river carving ancient passages.

"Precisely." He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine in a leisurely kiss.

I sensed his contentment, desire, but also concern about the day ahead through our bond. We still had responsibilities—Claire remained in Hammond's hands, and my medical duties continued.

I pulled back reluctantly. "The healing chambers?"

He nodded, stretching his long limbs. "We should test our new integration in a practical setting."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" I teased, surprised by my own lightness.

His brow furrowed before understanding dawned. "Your human humor remains mysterious to me at times."

I laughed and slipped from the sleeping platform, gathering my scattered clothes. My body ached pleasantly, reminders of our activities mapped in small bruises and the lingering sensation of being thoroughly claimed.

Our morning preparations passed in comfortable silence. Through our connection, we moved efficiently, anticipating each other's needs without words. When my stomach rumbled, Kavan handed me breakfast fruit before I realized I was hungry. When he reached for his healer's satchel, I'd already picked it up.

"This will be useful," I said, gesturing between us as we left his chambers. "Imagine what we can accomplish in the healing rooms with this coordination."

"Indeed." His tail swished with what I now recognized as excitement. "The integration of our medical knowledge, combined with this non-verbal communication, should enhance our effectiveness considerably."

For all his formal speech, I caught the undercurrent of his thoughts—his pride in showing others what we'd accomplished.

The healing chambers occupied a large section of the eastern settlement, interconnected rooms carved from the living stone of the cliff face. Morning light filtered through crystalline panels, casting rainbows across polished floors.

Several Nyxari healers looked up as we entered, their expressions shifting from professional acknowledgment to curious interest as they noticed our markings showing faint energy in identical rhythm.

"Your integration progressed well, then," said one healer, her silver-blue skin contrasting with deep gold lifelines.

Kavan inclined his head. "Better than anticipated."

We moved to our assigned area, where several patients waited. The first, a young Nyxari with a broken arm, watched wide-eyed as we approached.

Without discussion, I gathered materials for a setting splint while Kavan positioned himself beside the patient. Our movements synchronized perfectly—I handed implements before he asked, he shifted to give me access at precisely the right moments, and we communicated complex medical ideas through the subtle resonance of our connection.

"The human healer moves as one with Kavan," I overheard someone murmur. "Their markings speak to each other."

We treated six more patients, each case strengthening our non-verbal communication. When a hunter arrived with a deep chest laceration, Kavan and I moved in perfect concert—his traditional healing salve complementing my suturing technique, our combined efforts sealing the wound with remarkable efficiency.

"You have revolutionized our approach," said an elder healer, watching us finish. "Two traditions becoming one method."

I smiled, about to respond when the chamber doors burst open. Mirelle rushed in, her silver markings showing faintly with urgency.

"Selene, Kavan," she called, beckoning. "Council chamber. Now."

We exchanged glances. Through our shared bond, I sensed Kavan's sudden alertness.

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