Mated to the Beast of the Wasteland novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Sweet and Ruthless

Chapter 20 Sweet and Ruthless

Up close, she was young-couldn’t be more than twenty. Barely an adult.

Gillian asked, “Does it hurt?”,

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The soldier had gone quiet. Gillian wondered if he was in too much pain. It was a chest cavity incision, after all. But with all his comrades watching, maybe he was too embarrassed to admit it?

“No… not really.”

It was the truth. Gillian’s hands were impossibly gentle.

He’d been about to ask for the anesthetic, but now the words stuck in his throat.

What if I tell her she’s hurting me, and she gets upset? What if she starts crying?

Gillian glanced around, then thoughtfully reached for a medical oxygen helmet and fitted it over his head.

These things had top-tier soundproofing.

When she started cutting in earnest, he could scream all he wanted. No one would hear a thing.

She gave him a warm, reassuring smile. “Bear with me. This will be over soon.”

What an adorable cleric. That smile melted something in the soldier’s chest.

His resolve to ask for anesthetic crumbled again. A real man didn’t complain.

It was just a little chunk of flesh. He could handle it.

“I’m fine, I can take-Ahhhhh! Mmmph-”

Veins bulged on his forehead. He couldn’t take it.

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Gillian’s eyes didn’t even flicker as she carved out a hunk of rotting flesh. Golden light shimmered in her right hand as her left hand, scalpel still gripped, flicked the foul-smelling mass into a tray.

Her movements were fast, precise, and brutal.

The soldiers watching from a distance flinched as one. How could someone so sweet be so terrifying?

Damn. That hurt.

The thousand soldiers watching the holographic projection felt like their own flesh was being carved. George had helpfully linked everyone’s terminals to broadcast the procedure to show her skill.

They’d rather not have seen. What kind of masochist signed up for this?

1/3

:52 pm PPM

Chapter 20 Sweet and Ruthless

“Captain Sterling…”

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George approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on Gillian. She was now spattered with blood. He glanced at the soldier too, whose expression was hidden behind the oxygen helmet. He hesitated.

“What is it, Lt. Col. Parker?”

Gillian looked up, puzzled.

“Look, the 9th Legion isn’t exactly rolling in credits, but we’ve got enough anesthetic to go around. Maybe… use some?”

Gillian blinked. She’d forgotten. This wasn’t Wasteland City eight years from now, stripped bare of everything. Here and now, they had supplies. She’d grown so used to doing without.

She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “Sorry. It slipped my mind that the anesthetic was an option.”

A wave of relief swept through the watching soldiers. Next time, they were definitely asking for the good stuff.

“Bit late for that now, though. Almost done.”

Her psionic power, laced with healing properties, sealed the bleeding vessels as she worked. She pressed her right hand to the soldier’s chest, picked up a fresh medical metal with her left, and pressed.

The metal softened like viscous mud, flowing to perfectly match the wound’s contours and sealing it shut.

Gillian released it with a satisfied nod. She checked her wrist terminal. Two minutes, eighteen seconds. Perfect.

“Captain Sterling… is this a new batch?”

The soldier shakily pulled off the oxygen helmet. The metal on his chest looked identical to the one he’d used before. He hadn’t been able to see clearly through the helmet, but now he was sure.

“It’s the same batch. Just arrived today with Lt. Col. Parker.”

The soldier’s mind went blank. So… he’d just taken a knife to the chest for nothing?

“Open your terminal.”

“Oh… okay.”

Gillian transferred her recorded data to his device.

She smiled sweetly, “Pull it out in exactly twenty-nine minutes. Any sooner, and you waste the blackstone energy inside. Any later…” Her smile didn’t waver. “And you’ll need another visit.”

“I won’t forget.”

He clutched his chest and shuffled back to his seat, dazed. Is that it? Am I done?

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2:52 pm P PMT

Chapter 20 Sweet and Ruthless

“Hey… buddy. How was it?”

The soldier next to him swallowed hard, desperate for intel.

“Didn’t hurt. Not one bit. She’s got soft hands. Weaker than a mosquito bite.”

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