Dark Future (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Q
uinn took me by the hand and led me down a flight of stone stairs. The passage way was lit with smoking torches, apparently the copper wires didn’t run this far below ground. At the bottom a cavern was hollowed out, and three small pools filled the room. Steam swirled invitingly above the bubbling water. Smooth black stones lined the pools. Farther back in the darkness was a small crawl space, but I couldn’t see where it led to. There was only a slight hint of sulfuric acid so I was hard pressed to know what smelled worse, me or the rotten egg odor. “What is this place?”

Quinn took my towel and placed it on a rock ledge. “We call it the Three Pools. The first one is for washing,” she said, pointing to the nearest pool. “The second two are for soaking.”

I stared in disbelief. Here was Heaven, smack in the middle of Hell. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Quinn shrugged that careless one shoulder shrug. “You didn’t ask.”

I shook my head. “Ahh . . . yes, I did. Remember I asked where the showers were?”

“Men shower; women bathe.”

And our communication barrier strikes again. “What about those?” I asked pointing toward the small tunnels. “Can anything—and by anything I mean aliens—get through?”

Quinn shrugged. “They never have.”

“Ah, the comfort you bring, Quinn.” But I decided to take a page from her book and not worry about it.

Quinn smiled and headed up the stairs. It took three washes for my hair to feel clean. After a long bath I soaked until my skin was wrinkled and waterlogged. Finally, I forced myself to reenter the real world. I dried, put on fresh clothes, and made my way back to the infirmary to check on my patients.

Once in the infirmary I couldn’t help but stare at Zimm. He was up and around and taking solid foods, which was a miracle. Sari, on the other hand, was not experiencing divine intervention. Her vitals were weak—respirations were shallow, pulse thready, and her eyes had sunk, creating deep black circles in her pale face. Her bones were more pronounced, as if their sharp angheionsles could tear her paper-thin skin. I knew if I had a way to check, her blood pressure would be at a critical level. She had all the signs of intracerebral hemorrhage, but there was nothing I could do about a bleed in her brain.

The day crept to late afternoon with minor cuts and bruises coming through the door. Either the word was out that I was a competent healer or there was leftover curiosity from the morning shower incident. I chose to believe the former, hoping I’d gained the trust of some of the men, at least enough to stitch up their cuts.

I groaned and dropped my head onto my folded arms on the table. The day’s events had finally caught up with me. Couple that with my latest bout of insomnia had my eyes burning like coals inside my throbbing head.

“Why don’t you go and get some rest? I can handle things here,” Quinn said. She’d left earlier and had gotten some sleep. “Things should be pretty slow the rest of the night, and if anything happens, I’ll come and get you. I promise.”

Quinn was right. There wasn’t much I could do. So I left knowing my patients were in her capable hands and made my way to my quarters.

I still wasn’t sure what ConRad’s schedule was, but I’d learned my lesson about walking in before checking. I knocked softly, waited, and then carefully cracked the door. The room was empty. I sighed with relief. The last thing I needed was another confrontation with ConRad. I wasn’t quite sure what my feelings were concerning the Commander. It was like a weekend in Vegas—fun while there, but afterwards, hung over and broke, the self-loathing begins.

I pulled the rough blanket over my legs and threw my arm over my eyes. I needed just twenty minutes and closed my eyes in relief.

The room was dark, but very familiar. The smell of roses and fabric softener told me this was my mother’s room, though I couldn’t see the slightly worn bedspread and antique cherry wood dresser. Even without the familiar scent I would’ve known where I was at. I’d walked this path a hundred times, maybe a thousand. At the far side of the room, the bathroom door was outlined with yellow light, a beacon in the darkness. My princess pink slippers didn’t make a sound as they stepped on the thick carpet. I told myself, like I did every time—
stop, don’t take another step.
Maybe this time I’d listen. But even as I screamed at myself to turn around, my child-sized hand reached for the tarnished gold doorknob.

In a flash, I was on a cool beach. The sun shone bright and hot as it poured down from a brilliant blue sky. A clear turquoise ocean sung its lullaby as a cooling mist sprayed light kisses on my neck, arms, face. The mist lingered on my lips and coaxed them to part. A petal-like spray cooled my sun-warmed body. Chills spread down one side of my neck ae ok, nd arm like the effects of a good wine. I purred in the back of my throat, contentment—treasured and rare—spilled over me.

The mist changed into fingers and restless hands—nips from sharp teeth, then soothing administrations from soft lips. A glow grew in the base of my belly and spread warm like brandy. A sigh slipped past my lips and was caught by an opened mouth, hot and wet. In one kiss I was drunk—intoxicated by a single stroke of tongue. The flavor of male sparked a connection to the heated pool between my thighs.

Moans purred in my chest. This was like no beach I’d ever been on. My eyes fluttered open. No beach, no white sand,
no swirling freaking mist
. Just a solid mass of muscled chest.

My brain hurried to assimilate the reality with my dream fantasy. An incredible glorious man lay on top of me doing things to my neck that was deliriously distracting. My body recognized him before my mind did. It was ConRad. His hard body pushed me into the rough military mattress bringing different parts of my anatomy alive with slow purposeful friction. Ahh . . . that friction—it fed an insatiable heat. The more friction, the more burn. My body was always such a slut, but my brain had saved me on more than one occasion.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

The question sounded more like a reverent plea than a shocked outcry. His mouth came down, effectively stopping any more prudent questions. Our mouths were open and hot. Tongues danced, licked, and tasted. I smelled him—raw, musky, primitive. He growled, and I responded to the command. My body arched to meet his, and my legs wrapped around his hips and back. His teeth gently sunk into the softness of my lip, while I ran nails down his naked back.

Naked?
When did he get his shirt off? And better question, when did I? All that was separating us was the thin cotton of his army fatigues. The barrier was not enough to placate my logical mind, but my body, on the other hand, wanted to rip it off with my teeth. My constant battle—sensible brain meet gluttonous body.

“Wait . . . wait,” I said, breathlessly. This was too fast. I needed a moment to think, though he didn’t seem to hear me. He trailed a sequence of hot kisses toward my already sensitive breasts, and I knew if he made it to his destination, I’d be more than willing to go down with the ship.

“Stop, damn it.” This time for emphasis I boxed the side of his head. It had the same effect of hitting a brick wall with a rubber mallet. Christ, he gave thick skulled a whole new meaning, but he did get jostled and raised up on one elbow to look at me. That was all I needed. With his momentum working against him I pushed hard, throwing him off balance. He landed hard, on the floor, withhe bow a resounding thud, flat on his back. The bed vibrated from the impact.

“What the—?” He lay still, shaking his head, trying to clear the effects of my ninja move he’d shown me earlier.

“I would ask you the same question.” I jumped up and threw an extra-long shirt on, not wanting to lose a minute of his stunned reaction. “I mean, what exactly did you think you were doing?”

“Damn . . .” He rubbed his head. “I know it’s been awhile, but I didn’t think I was that out of practice.” He threw himself back on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his eyes.

So the ruthless man did have a sense of humor after all. Unfortunately, I was in no mood to entertain it.

“You know what I meant,” I said crossly, putting on my pants and fumbling with the drawstring.

“Hey,” he said, rolling onto his side and popping his head on one hand. “You were the one who issued the invitation, not me.” With arched brows his face was a sham of innocence.

My mouth flew open. “Issued a . . . I was asleep!”

“Yes, but in my bed.” His half grin was in full force and showed a whisper of a dimple.

I stared at him. Was that really his argument? “Since when did sleeping in
that
bed become an open invitation for molestation?”

“Molestation!” he sputtered. “Damn, I really am out of practice.” He flipped onto his back with a heavy sigh. “How about helping a poor solider out, honey, and giving me a one-on-one coaching session?” His head tilted to one side, his fervid gaze cloaked behind deceptively long eyelashes.

My rolling eyes must’ve said it all as far as his coaching session went. In his dreams.

ConRad sat up in bed and with a guileless expression on his face. “Woman, if you’re in my bed during my hours of use, then that’s an open invitation as far as I am concerned.”

Annoyance didn’t begin to touch what I was feeling. Considering I was maneuvered into bed by
him
and had a sleepless night due to
his
has t>
previous ministrations.

“Let me tell you something, Commander. If I ever issue an invitation for sex with
you
, you’ll know it. There’ll be no need to assume, because it will be so obvious that even someone of your intelligence could grasp the concept. And by the way, if there’s ever going to be a chance of that invitation being issued, then I suggest you never call me woman again.”

I grabbed my boots and slammed out the door. I sulked down the hall and was sure I could be heard doors away, forsaking men and naps for a long time to come.

I turned the corner and headed in the direction of the infirmary. Gnarled fingers reached out from a darkened doorway and clasped my wrist. For such a fragile hand, the strength it exerted was enough to stop me mid-stride. Startled, I glanced up and started to pull away, but instead was dragged into the shadows. A hand quickly covered my mouth.

“Shh . . . don’t scream.” I recognized Aura’s voice. My eyes quickly adjusted, taking in her long gray hair and dingy old robes that hung from her shoulders as if from a wire hanger. I nodded my consent, and she lowered her palm. “I’ve heard you want to make your way back to your time. If you still do, then meet me at the command center at midnight tonight.”

“But . . .”

Aura shook her head. “No time. Just know the journey will be dangerous. I cannot guarantee your safety, but I can get you through the tunnel and will escort you to where you came through to Dark Planet. After that you are on your own.” She glanced in the dark behind her. “My guards will be frantic; I must go.” She turned to leave down a poorly lit side tunnel, one I’d missed previously.

I couldn’t leave well enough alone. “But . . . why?”

She paused, her hand resting on the ragged rock. Her head bowed to the floor, then rose slightly. “You gave my daughter a fighting chance at life. For that I am grateful.”

“Who? What . . . you mean Sari? But you’re a goddess. I thought relationships were forbidden?”

Her profile caught the light as she glanced toward me. A glimmer of a smile hovered around her mouth. “You’re not the only one who breaks rules.” With a swish of robe she disappeared into the mountain.

By the time I made it to the infirmary my palms were sweaty, and the pile of snakes that w snjusas my stomach was awake and snapping. This was what I wanted, right? My chance to leave. Then why did I suddenly feel ill at the thought of going back to my quaint patio-home and Sleep Number bed?

My conscience couldn’t have picked a worse time to rear its ugly head. I pushed through the doors of the infirmary, and with one look at Quinn’s face, I knew the snowball of my life had just picked up speed, going downhill.

From habit my eyes scanned Zimm, his face expressionless and void, but otherwise healthy. I took a breath for courage and turned to Sari. I could tell from where I stood she was already dead.

I dragged my feet to her bedside and gazed down at her peaceful features. Death had a way of easing away years, erasing pain and stress, even from one so young. I stroked her forehead—cold and smooth. Just a body, a vessel, her life force already gone. She was so young, but I’d realized long ago that death had no prejudice, being an equal opportunity employer.

“ConRad needs to be told,” Quinn whispered from across the room. I nodded. The knowledge of the conversation I needed to have with ConRad came with a pitted feeling in my belly. Losing a patient was always piggybacked with a sense of failure, but I felt more than personal guilt. I wasn’t sure what the consequences of losing a goddess were, but I didn’t want to find out.

Quinn sat next to Zimm, she cupped his hands in hers and slowly raised them both to cover her face and wept. Zimm’s eyes shuttered and looked away as if the display of grief was too much. Even mourning in this place seemed subdued. No loud screaming, no wailing, just stoic acceptance.