"If you need to send them to HQ or want to evac Sector HQ, go ahead. Don't worry about knocking. I'll let Han know you all may be in."
"Thank you, ikir." Rainy's voice was quiet, and Damian sensed his heartfelt gratitude.
"Gods, she's got you mewling already," Damian couldn't resist saying.
Rainy tensed.
"No disrespect, Rain-man. Happy for you."
"You're not upset?" he asked warily. "Dustin says …"
"… women are the true scourge of mankind. I know," Damian replied. "He tells me all the time."
"Actually, he said no relationships with Naturals," Rainy said, giving him an odd look.
"If there's one thing that drives Dustin crazy, it's being kept in the dark. Let him know now, before he accidentally finds out," Damian advised with a chuckle.
"Yes, ikir."
Even the younger Guardians referred to him by the ancient title that meant my king. Damian had long since lost any lofty delusions, but Dusty was a stickler for discipline and details. His phone dinged with a message from Han, and he pulled it from his pocket.
I don't know what to do with a crying woman, Han had typed.
Damian snorted then glanced at Rainy. "Gotta go, Rain-man. Call Dustin. I'll arrange for evacs and a clean-up crew."
"Yes, ikir."
He started to Travel to the Oracle's room but thought better of it. She was scared enough. He opened his eyes to face Han outside her closed door. His normally stoic XO appeared irritated.
"She won't come out, won't eat," he said. "Gods, I forgot how difficult it is raising Naturals."
Damian clapped him on the arm and opened the door. Her curtains were down to seal away the sunlight, and she was curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed with her back to the door. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow. The unusual sense of tenderness unfurled again in his breast. He sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing one blonde lock from her face.
Her eyes were swollen and red, the silver glowing in the dim light of the room. Fear and uncertainty crossed her features. The images in her mind were of a little boy dying in the street, of Jake's death, of the deaths of many others. At his touch, her visions quieted.
She closed her eyes and uncurled. He'd expected her original reaction to him to be born of shock, but she wrapped her arms around him once again. His body responded with a surge of desire he gritted his teeth against. The woman in his arms was too delicate, too vulnerable, to face the lusty beast within him. Instead, he shifted and wrapped an arm around her. He was beginning to like these peaceful encounters. He'd never known anything like them in his long existence.