Dark Future (10 page)

Heat flushed my face; it was like I was twelve all over again and my mother had just caught me kissing the neighbor boy. “I’m sorry,” I stammered, “I didn’t mean to catch you unaware.”

“I wasn’t unaware,” he said, then added softly, “quite the opposite.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but a little flame lit up in the center of my belly. “I wanted to talk to you,” I said, not bothering to hide the pull of my lips into a stupid grin.

“So talk,” he said.

He still wasn’t facing me, and I demanded eye contact with any conversation. I walked closer and peered over his shoulder. “I wanted to finish our conversation we started the other day.”

He turned and fixed me with the bluest of eyes, like an Arizona pool during a hundred and twenty degree summer. “You’re still upset about the sleeping arrangements. You didn’t seem to have a problem this past week.”

“I’ve been . . . exhausted and you haven’t been in the room.” I wasn’t about to tell him each night I buried my face in his pillow and savored his scent.

“We haven’t been in my room together since you got here. So what’s the difference?” He unscrewed the cap from his canteen and poured the water over his head and neck.

My tongue went dry. I was suddenly so thirsty. “Yes, but I didn’t know it was your room until the other day.”

Focus Kris, focus.

“So now that you know, or more importantly, now that you know what other people know, it’s a problem,” he said with his famous half smile.

Was the smirk on his face a little annoying, or was it just me? But the small flame that was glowing warmly only a moment ago was now out. “I don’t care if you agree with my reasoning or not. I just want my own quarters. And . . .”—in for an ounce in for a pound—“I want a unit to escort me back to the portal.”

“No.” And with not even a glance he got down on the floor and started to do push-ups.

My teeth slid edge to edge. The impressive display of rippling muscles was getting . . . less impressive.

“No? No to the escort or to the new quarters?” Stay calm, do not get baited.

“No to them both.” He sighed, obviously unaccustomed to explaining himself. “An escort is too dangerous at this time, and there are no other quarters available.”

“Fine.” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be easy. Unfazed I pushed ahead. “Then I’ll move in with Quinn.” I hadn’t actually asked her yet, but I knew I could plead and beg my way in. I’m sure she wouldn’t hold a grudge over my threat of physical dismemberment.

“Request denied.” Another round of push-ups, but this time one handed . . . show off.

“Why? I’d prefer it and would feel more comfortable.” I stood above him, hands on hips, my scowl wasted on his back.

“Simple,” he said. His voice muffled as he continued talking to the floor mat. “She’s a goddess-in-training and needs sensory restraint in order to hone her skills. With a goddess down, we need her active as quickly as possible.”

“So Quinn’s a goddess huh? What kind of powers does she have?” Maybe I could pump ConRad for information to see exactly what she could do—mind-invasion perhaps? The hairs on my neck stood at the thought.

“Good question,” Conrad growled. He had flipped onto his back to do sit-ups, and I could see the flexing of his jaw muscle. “Since she spends most of her time in the damn infirmary, and not in sensory restraint, it’s hard to know for sure.”

Guilt flared up at the thought of what really was drawing Quinn to the infirmary. I decided to move on.

“The infirmary then. I could stay there at night and crash on one of the cots.” It wasn’t my first choice, since there was no privacy, but I could manage for a time until I left.

He stilled and threw me a raised-one-eyebrow look. “You really want to sleep in an open room, with no locks, in a compound full of men? Some who haven’t been with a woman their whole lives?”

Small point. Damn, but my options were diminishing fast. Of course,
his
way would have me in his room, door locked, and with only one horny man.

“Look,” I said, my voice edgy as I tried to steer the conversation back to my objective. “There has to be another way, some sort of compromise.”

“Look.” His tone sarcastic, was that supposed to be an imitation of my own? “There is something you need to understand.”

He propped himself up to rest on his elbows, which showed his abdominals off to their best advantage. He looked . . . um . . . inviting. My eyes must have glazed over because both of his eyebrows raised and that devastating half smile softened his eyes.

“See something Seeaisyou like?”

“What?” I snorted. “No.” My voice sounded lame even to my own ears. But I was not about to tell him that he had just replaced Brad Pitt in all my late night fantasies.

“The invitation is always open.”

I narrowed my eyes. I’m sure it is, buddy. Then I did a circling gesture with my hand to have him continue our original conversation. Between the two of us, someone had to keep us on track.

ConRad flashed me a full smile this time as he continued on with his denial of my request. “See, the thing you’re worried about, not wanting everyone to think that you belong to me, it’s already happened.”

He put his hands behind his head and started to crunch to the side, working his obliques. The sight of his washboard stomach flexing and relaxing must’ve rendered me stupid because I found I needed clarification. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I am saying I’ve already claimed you. It was over the first night you slept in my quarters.”

“And claiming is . . . ?”

“A provision made for available women. I’ve claimed you, and so it’s my responsibility to protect you with my life.”

“How can you have claimed me without my permission? Without my knowledge?” I blinked rapidly as each word sputtered out of my mouth.

He shrugged. “You came to my quarters willingly enough. That’s all that is needed.”

“Because you ordered that I be taken to your quarters!” I shouted, stepping closer and glaring down at him. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the rush of power from standing over him. He must’ve realized this and quickly jumped up to come nose to nose with me, or more like his shoulder to my nose.

“Look around you,
woman
. How many unattached females do you see walking about here?”

“There are at least a dozen or so goddesses here,” I countered.

“They’re not unattached . . . they’re
unavailable.
No relationships with goddess are permitted, not of any sort.”

“But there are no other females,” I protested.

“Exactly, females are at a premium here, and we all want one. If I hadn’t claimed you, then someone else would’ve. And trust me when I tell you they wouldn’t have been nearly as nice. In fact,” the tilt of his head was decidedly arrogant, “you should be thanking me instead of berating.”

“Really and why is that?” I asked unbelievingly.

“Because I am the highest ranking officer here and no one, I mean no one, should be giving you any trouble.”

“Does that include you?”

“Well . . . almost no one.” His eyes licked my body like hungry flames. I began to question my place on the food chain.

Irritation didn’t begin to touch what I was feeling. I’d been manipulated into a position I neither wanted nor was able to control. My defenses slammed up, and like my grandfather used to say “there she goes gettin’ all prickly.”

“Everything about this,” I used my hands to encircle the whole crazy place, “goes against everything I believe in. Everything that makes up . . . me. What right does any one person have, male or female, to
claim
another? Especially without their consent? This goes against basic human rights. It’s archaic.”

ConRad stepped back and shook his head in pure disbelief. “Are you actually arguing, what’s the word . . .
ethics
with me?”

“Yes,” I said, excited to finally be getting somewhere. “Ethics, principles, morals—the structure of what all thriving societies are based on. What happens here is a total regression of human rights, not to mention women’s rights. . . .” I would’ve gone on, but his expression of utter bewilderment made me hesitate.

“Woman, you don’t get it do you?” His voice rose and echoed off the high cavern as he began to prowl aggressively. “Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’ve been here a total of what . . . one week, and you feel the need to lecture me on, what did you say, oh yes, basic human rights? What kind of bloody crap is that? Wake up. Look around. What society do you see here? Whose rights are you trying to defend? People die here
every da0">an riy!
This isn’t living; this is survival. Be glad, or better yet
thankful
, that I’ve
claimed
you or who the hell knows what would’ve happened to you. You should be kissing my feet that you’re still alive. So when you have a real problem
,
then you can come and ask my permission to interrupt my workout and see if I’d be willing to help you. And until then . . .” He paused dramatically, his nostrils flaring with a deep inhale. He let his hardened gaze slide over me. “You need to work out.”

I was stunned. My brain froze in blankness. Of all the things he said, of all the reactions I could have, the one thing my mind stopped on was “you need to work out.” Did I mention I was vain?

“Work out? Work out! I will have you know that I am a runner. I’ve completed my third marathon. Yes, that’s the number after two, muscle head. I work out every day, well . . . almost every day. I am in damn good shape, and I take offense that you’re implying otherwise.” Alright, so it’s been a while since I’d actually done any running, but my blood still boiled on principle. Screw human rights. This man basically just told me that I was fat. Did I mention that I was defensive about my weight?

“So you can run,” he shrugged. Then plopped himself back down and started leg raises, this time I could’ve cared less.

“Run . . . run! It’s a lot more than . . . it’s twenty-six point two miles of running. It’s endurance. It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s a hell of a long time to run. And why am I arguing about this with you? I’m fit, damn it, not fat, but F-I-T and how dare you tell me otherwise.”

“What?” He ceased his excessive exercising and stared at me as if I was the star of one of those daytime talk shows and just told him he was my baby’s daddy. “Are you . . . I don’t know what they call it in your time, but in mine it’s called lacking intelligence or slow?”

He was serious. My mouth fell wide open and my brain had a hard time wrapping around the fact that he had just called me fat and stupid.

“I never said that you were fat. I said YOU-NEED-TO-WORK-OUT.” He spoke as if I was hard of hearing and . . . stupid.

“That’s the same thing, you moron.” I yelled back.

“No, it’s not. You may be able to run from danger, but what if you need to fight? Claiming works both ways, and so because I don’t want to die anytime soon, you need to work out. Do you have any defense moves or combat training?”

I shook my head no. I wondered if we were both speaking English.

“You’re under my protection, and I will protect you, but I can’t be there all the time. You need to be able to defend yourself. And maybe then you can do the same for me.” Then for the second time in
my life I heard his horse bark of laughter.

He jumped up and put his shirt back on. “Tomorrow, be here at oh five hundred hours. We’ll begin your training.”

He started down the exit tunnel, while I stood there still dumbfounded.

Before he turned the corner, he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh and Kris, in case there is any confusion, this claim is forever. Don’t be getting any ideas.”

Chapter Fourteen

A
lright, so maybe my idea wasn’t the best thought-out plan ever. I am a doctor, people, not a secret agent. My arms ached as I clasped all my stuff—soap, towel, change of clothes, and a metal chair. This wasn’t helping my goal of being inconspicuous as I hovered around an adjacent corner to the community showers.

A shower. A true, honest to goodness shower instead of the small sink I was making due with in my room. I raised my shoulder and did a cursory sniff of my underarm.
Wow
. My eyes watered. Nope, a spit bath was no longer an option. I was ripe and heading at Mach speed toward foul.

I peeked around the corner at the large metal door down the hall that sported the words “COMMINITY SHOWER” in spray-painted block letters. I’d discovered it while poking around when I first arrived. The word
shower
was used very broadly since it was basically a series of holes, bleeding rust and water in a stall-less metal room.

Boots pounded on the hard packed dirt as soldiers rounded the far corner. I quickly ducked behind the wall again, narrowly missing detection. If found out, no doubt I’d be immediately marched in front of ConRad, since I seemed to be his problem to solve.

And rightly so. It was all ConRad’s fault, really. I could’ve gone one more day, possibly two if it wasn’t for the butt-kicking, body-slamming, Ninja-warrior w’s fauorkout that had me contemplating faking a stroke before I called “uncle” and he released me.

This morning we’d worked out in the bowels of the mountain where the heat and humidity bordered on inhuman levels. I’m surprised I’d survived, considering the conditions were perfect for inducing a heart attack. Then ConRad sauntered off, back to commanding the world or torturing unwilling victims, I couldn’t say for sure. This left me panting, flat on my back and scraping my hair—sweat soaked and dirt filled—off my face.

So here I was, in desperate need of soap, playing P.I. as I staked out the showers in the heart of the men’s quarters. Of course, the word “COMMUNITY” wasn’t lost on me. I wasn’t a complete idiot, though one might not realize that from my current situation. I had no intention of giving a whole group of testosterone-laden men a peep show for free. Hence, my semi-brilliant plan.

Nervousness flip-flopped in my belly as I hefted the metal chair high on my shoulder. I’d originally thought I could take my time to check the room and make sure it was empty and then slip in without being seen. I’d brought the chair—a stroke of genius if I do say so myself—with the idea I could prop it against the door from the inside in case there was no lock. Growing up in a household of brothers I knew I could take a true three-minute shower. I’d be in and out before anyone, especially ConRad, found out.

My plan would’ve worked, except I didn’t take into account how busy the hallway would be. There hadn’t been a second in all of the fifteen minutes I’d been standing there where there wasn’t some bone-brained man lounging around or running through. Didn’t these people have a planet to save? I wasn’t into making a spectacle of myself, and in a world of men, one thing I learned was never offer an open invitation if you weren’t willing.

I was having second thoughts, okay more like third and fourths. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried other options. I’d asked Quinn where the showers where, thinking there may’ve been other women only showers, but she’d given me that “look” and pointed me in this direction. I don’t know, maybe goddesses here don’t stink, but I was a mere mortal and had sweated like a whore in church.

The sound of booted feet had faded, and I did a cautionary glance. The coast was clear; but once I started, I’d have to commit. Swallowing hard, I made a run for it. I shuffled as fast as I could with arms full and a chair banging against my leg with every stride. Damn, but the hallway was long—didn’t seem such a distance from the safety of my corner. The sound of men’s laughter bounced off the walls a distance away. I didn’t have much time. I’d have to count on Lady Luck that the shower was empty. I opened the door and ran through.
Come on baby, just this once.

Lady Luck hated me.

In another life I must’ve been her bastard stepchild because standing under a spray of water and a lather of suds was a broad back, a magnificent pair of buns, and thick, muscular legs that would’ve shamed a Tour de France cyclist.

Time slowed to a crawl. The door slammed closed behind me as I saw his head start to twist my way. In my mind’s eye, I’d turned, opened the door, and ran down the hallway before I was even noticed. But reality was different. My feet stuck to the floor like all the swamp mud in Florida had contrived to attack my boots at this precise moment.

My eyes widened and my mouth slacked open. My cheeks burned as an undignified squeak slipped out of my gaping mouth. Having such exquisite control over my vocal cords, I tried my feet. I turned so quickly I nearly knocked myself out with the door. Desperation had me seeing spots. I tried to find the knob to facilitate my escape, but the universe conspired against me . . . or maybe the damn chair, my towel, the soap, and everything else I was carrying.

“Hey, what’s your hurry?”

I knew him. We hadn’t been formally introduced, but I had seen him before working closely with ConRad.

“Um, listen I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hand as a gesture and feeling stupid because I was talking to a door instead. “I didn’t mean to barge in on you. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Well, I’m not quite done, but I’d be more than willing to share.”

Oh, I’m sure you would, buddy. I heard his cheesy smile even though I was missing the actual visual.

“Ha,” I said, forcing a fake laugh. “Really, I’m okay.” I was still working on the door knob and becoming increasingly aware of how bad this whole situation could go for me. Being stuck in a small room with a naked man twice my size that I didn’t know was becoming progressively uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. ConRad would never have to find out.”

Like hell he wouldn’t, because I’d be the first one to tell him. The bloody door knob was stuck, how the hell could a door knob get stuck? “Do I need to remind you I am under ConRad’s protection?”

And how’s that for my life. Less than twelve hours ago I was bristling under his high-handedness and now I was grabbing for it like a lifeline.

“No, I got that, but sweetheart . . . ConRad’s not here.”

How achingly aware I was of that fact. Then, as if I could summon him by mere thought, the door was lifted out of my hand and off its hinge. And there stood ConRad. He completely filled the doorway. He took the door and flung it down the hall. I heard it clatter what seemed like yards away. His feet were shoulder width apart, hands on his hips, his face a mask of pure rage.

“What the HELL is going on here?” He didn’t yell, his voice was actually quiet as he spoke through clenched teeth, his lips barely moving.

“She walked in on me, Commander, while I was here, just taking my shower.”

Ahh . . . what a snake, he threw me under the bus, before I could even form a word.

ConRad took two seconds to switch his gaze from me to the solider and roared “OUT!”

I glanced in the soldier’s direction. I’d never seen a man move so fast. He grabbed his clothes, covered himself fig-leaf style, and scrambled out the door, but not without ConRad giving him a shove for good measure.

I looked on with longing. I too wanted to make an escape and peered around ConRad’s shoulder to check the possibility. Horror flooded my brain as I realized the entire command center was behind ConRad ogling the scene before them. A few soldiers in the back were actually jumping on other men’s shoulders trying to get a better view.

Thick, hot embarrassment settled on me, causing a low roar in my ears. God, let this be it. Let my life end, let the floor open and swallow me whole.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

“I . . . I . . . I” Was that me stuttering? For Pete’s sake, Kris, just spit it out. You have nothing to feel guilty about. But my tongue disagreed, sticking to the roof of my mouth. I swallowed hard and tried to dislodge the afflicted organ. “I was trying to take a shower.”

“In the men’s shower?” he shouted. His body was rigid, a block wall of authority. ConRad had learned the art of intimidation well; he used it to control dozens of men with a mere withering glare. But I wasn’t under his command. Besides, his tendency to control brought out my tendency to rebel.

“It’s a community shower!” I shouted back.

“It’s a community of MEN!”

He had a point, but a small one in the face of such need. The silence stretched a bit past uncomfortable, until I realized he was waiting for some type of rebuttal. The truth was I couldn’t think of a single answer that made any sense. That is well, except the truth.

“Well, what did you expect me to do? I haven’t taken a real shower in over a week and . . . and it’s starting to become obvious.” I clutched my shower accessories as one would a security blanket.

“What?” He seemed baffled, my explanation beyond him.

“I am starting to stink. I can barely stand myself and if you weren’t so self-absorbed, you would’ve helped me with my dilemma before it got to this.”

With that there was a bark of laughter from the peanut gallery. ConRad, just seeming to notice we had an audience, turned around and glared at the men behind him. Bodies went flying in every direction, and within seconds we were alone. I didn’t know if that was better.

“You can’t take a shower here,” he said. I could hear the sound of teeth grinding together. I am sure he’d be eating flecks of enamel for weeks to come. He took a deep breath, as if drawing from patience he didn’t know he had. I could sympathize.

“You don’t seem to grasp how precarious your situation is. I’m trying to fight a war that could determine the existence of the entire human race, but instead I hear shouts ‘there’s a woman in the men’s shower.’ My entire command disappears. Instead of trying to catch the enemy, my men are trying to catch a peek of a naked woman. I had to wade through soldiers ten deep just to get to this door.”

Well, the mystery of the jammed door knob was solved.

“These men are holding on by a very thin, very frayed thread. They all know their lives are short lived. Many of them have never been with a woman, much less seen one naked. So when one seemingly extends an open invitation, there’s only going to be trouble.”

“It wasn’t an invitation,” I shouted. “It was an accident.”

“Do you think they care?” He shouted back. “Hell, they’re willing to take anything they can get.”
p>

“So what? Women are not supposed to take showers here?”<
font>

“Well, you don’t see the goddesses taking showers here, and they’re not stinking up the place.”

I sucked in my breath. His comment aimed true. Did my embarrassment know no bounds? “Fine then. So what does a goddess do?”

“Hell if I know. Do I look like a goddess?”

“Well neither am I, you ass!” I was so pissed I threw the only thing I had as a weapon. The soap bounced off his chest, not even causing a flinch. We stood staring at each other, neither of us willing to back down.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so angry. All I wanted to do was rip his head off, and by the look on his face, he felt the same way.

“Quinn!” He roared so loud dirt rattled loose from the ceiling. Before the dust settled I heard footsteps running toward us. We both looked out the doorway into the hall and saw a shocked Quinn skidding to a stop in front of us lose traction on the wet floor and slide right on past, crashing into the wall beyond. Quinn muttered an inappropriate curse, and I stifled a chuckle as she ungracefully stumbled back toward us.

“Yes, Commander?” Quinn said as she tried to smooth her flyaway hair. Quinn’s antics broke the tension. ConRad ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Believe it or not, I held a little sympathy for him. He had no experience handling women, and I’m sure there was no rule book he could refer to.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he mumbled more to himself than anyone else.

“Welcome to my world,” I sai
d, my attempt at humor.

He glanced at me. A small smile cracked his face. “Quinn, get her cleaned up.”

ConRad took a step and reached out for the back of my neck, pulling me to him. He buried his face into the crease above my shoulder and inhaled deeply through his nose. With his lips brushing my traitorous skin, his husky voice sent a current through my body. “Don’t worry. You smell damn good to me.”

Then he turned and left.