The Space Colonel's Woman (Dragonus Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked, folding his sleeves into precise three inch cuffs just above the crease of his elbows.

“I have to stay put, remember?” Julia pretended not to notice his frown, gazing around the room again instead. “It’ll give me time to unpack.”

“Take the drawers by the bed.” Mark moved over to the white dresser, wiggled his radio into his left ear, then pressed the silver trim at the base of the top drawer.  It opened without making a sound. “These three are empty.”

She clutched her towel over her breasts and hoisted her duffle onto the rumpled bed. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in the infirmary, then conference room for debriefing.  Could be a while.”

“I’d better be the only one debriefing you, Colonel Holden.”

“Count on it, Beautiful.” He laughed, a warm and happy sound that Julia felt in her chest. “I’ll come back for you and we can eat.”

“Sounds good.” She agreed, dropping her towel and bending at the waist. 

The whispered
Jesus fuck!
as he fled the room, left her chuckling to herself as she decided what color panties Mark would enjoy ripping off her later.

Chapter 8

“Morning.”

“Hey, you’re awake.” Mark lifted his head and smiled, water dripping from his fringe, when Julia wandered into the bathroom; still half asleep and her hair in angry snarls. “Thought I’d get a head start.  I’m starving, how ‘bout you?”

She stepped into the silver square behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, playfully gnawing on his ear. “Famished.”

“Better move that sweet ass, Beautiful.” He bestowed an appreciative grope and stepped out for a towel. “If we’re lucky, Coop might’ve left us a few scraps.”

Julia’s body and mind submitted to the water’s coaxing and by the time she stepped out, she felt like she was floating within a warm fuzzy bubble of awesome.

Mark had dressed with the same military precision and attention to detail he gave every task and was clipping the last buckle of his holster when Julia returned to the main room for clothes. It wasn’t until she’d donned a pink button down over white bra and panties, and slid on jeans before shrugging into her leather jacket, that he spoke.

“Why the wings?”

“Pardon?” Julia asked, distracted in the search for her hairbrush.

He gestured to the angel wings embroidered in silver thread. “On your jacket.”

“Oh,
Wings
is my call sign.” Julia blushed.  “Jase called me it one day, after an eight year old girl told me I looked like an angel.  She was high as a kite, but it just stuck I guess.”

“Wings, huh?” He traced first one wing, then the other. “It suits you.”

Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind, getting as close as he could. “Thanks for saving me, Wings.”

His words caught her off guard, creating a bright warm glow around her heart as she leaned her head back, neck following the curve of his shoulder. “Any time, Colonel.  Though I’d rather you didn’t make a habit of falling through portals onto alien beaches.”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Mark grinned, breath hot against Julia’s neck. “Let’s go eat.”

“Boots first.”

The instant she had her second boot laced, he was pulling her by the hand toward the door; Julia doing a double step to catch her balance.

Phoenix City’s Mess hall with its white sweeping walls stretching up to blend into the rippled ceiling high above, clusters of eating nooks scattered like spilled building blocks, and a seamless panoramic window wall flooding the space with natural light, seemed too glamourous for such a mundane designation.  Julia found it difficult not to walk around with her mouth agape.

Conversation hadn’t appeared to falter with her and Mark’s entrance, but she still felt the weight of every gaze burning a curious hole between her shoulders as they joined the queue at the breakfast smorgasbord. 

“We’re headline news.”

“Hmmm?”

Mark was distracted by the prospect of food.  Julia couldn’t blame him.  He had willingly missed dinner, but there was no way he was going without breakfast.  She followed his example and filled her own tray’s compartments with scrambled eggs, something bacon-like, toast, yoghurt, and what appeared to be fruit salad.  With his tray full to its limits, Mark led the way to a central table where Anora and Hayden were half-way through their own meals.

“New day, Julia.” Anora said, a welcoming smile on her dainty mouth.

“Morning, Anora.” Julia took the chair next to Anora and opposite Mark.

“Sleep well?” Hayden’s amusement played on his full lips as he reached for the steaming cup in the corner of his tray; ignoring the carabiner handle in favor of wrapping his palm around it.

She was fascinated by the way the morning light caught in the iridescent designs etched across the backs of Hayden’s hands and disappeared inside the sleeves of his coat, only to reappear up the honeyed stretch of his neck and morph into an eye mask like that of an American Indian.  Ice blue and silver blended with a rich scarlet to enhance the soft brown of his eyes and shimmered whenever he moved.  The effect was mesmerizing. 

Julia hadn’t noticed Hayden’s body art on the island, or in the glider; but to be fair, she had had other things on her mind.  She was in the middle of forming a polite way to ask the many questions running through her mind when she felt Mark’s gaze on her.  She blushed at the attention and ducked her head to her tray when Mark arched a brow at Hayden and grinned.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out the topic of their wordless conversation.

The eggs were spongy and tasted of their cardboard packaging, but the bacon was hot and crunchy, and there was an aqua-skinned fruit with plum flesh in the fruit salad that reminded Julia of a nectarine.  It was juicy and grainy like a pear; and her new favorite fruit.  She’d have to ask its name and origin. 

Julia caught the satisfied smirk on Hayden’s face before he looked back down at his food; brown eyes hidden behind silky white tresses, while long elegant fingers searching out every last morsel.  Hayden was someone she hoped to get to know.  There was so much more to him than what had been portrayed in the show.  It was obvious his friendship with Mark was one of long-standing and transcended the differences in their ranks; something that had been built on an intricate web of trust and shared experiences.  And not something she wanted to jeopardize.

“What are your plans for this day?” Anora asked, dragging Julia from her thoughts and back to the svelte woman at her side.

“I have to see Doctor Peyton for a medical.” Julia swigged from her bottled water. “Apparently, it’s routine.”

“It is something we have all experienced.” Anora confirmed. “Anyone new to Phoenix must have one.”

“We’ll head down after breakfast.” Mark said, knife and fork poised as he studied the contours of Julia’s face.

“Then you’d better eat something.”

Hayden must have kicked him, because Mark jumped a foot in the air, before elbowing Hayden in the ribs.  The three of them laughed at Mark’s expense and he dipped his head, forking eggs into his mouth, before gazing back at her, a suggestive light in the whiskey depths of his eyes.

Julia wondered just how a woman was supposed to focus on anything, let alone eat, when her lover had her wriggling in her seat with a single glance.

“Where’s Stephen?” She asked of no one in particular.

“Doctor Garrett does not partake of morning refreshment.” Anora answered and Hayden nodded.

“Nothing but Zefeirian citrus tea and protein bars until the sun reaches its zenith.”

“Hangover from his tour in the East.” Mark confirmed around the last of his of bacon while beneath the table he rubbed his boot against her calf.  Julia fidgeted the eggs with her fork, her appetite for food vaporized in a haze of want. “Not hungry, Wings?”

“Hmmm?”

He’d finished his entire selection and was washing it down with a coffee so dark and fragrant; it couldn’t have originated from Earth.  She watched his throat work as he swallowed, stabbing the last piece of mysterious fruit into her mouth, and refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table. 

After excusing themselves from the table they handed in their trays and headed for the infirmary; Julia’s hand gripped tight to Mark’s.

“You’ll be fine, I promise.” His sweet smile did nothing to make her stomach unclench even the slightest bit. “Doc Peyton will scan you, take some blood, and you’re done.”

“I’m sure Doctor Peyton is great and all.” Julia said, keeping pace with Mark’s military strides. “But I
deliver
the patients. I’m not a patient myself.”

Mark stroked his thumb along hers as he steered them around the next bend, and through the overwide sliding doors of the hospital building’s triage level.

At the echo of their bootsteps on large stone tiles, a woman in her mid-twenties with wide gray eyes, and flyaway candy-pink highlights in her chestnut pixie cut, turned from the cabinet she was restocking to greet them.

“Doctor Peyton, this is Julia Swift.” Mark gestured with his free hand. “Wings, this is Doctor Valentina Peyton.”

Despite her youth, it was evident Valentina Peyton had experienced more than the average twenty-something from Earth.  And Julia didn’t doubt the woman’s skills.  In fact, she seemed like someone with whom Julia would’ve been friends with.  

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Doctor Peyton slipped her tablet on top of the cabinet before offering a hand with French-white manicured nails for Julia to shake. “Those ribs of yours acting up, Colonel Holden?  Not that I’d be surprised.  Mr Cooper’s sparring lessons are responsible for half my patient inventory.”

“No, Doc, they’re fine.  We’re here for Julia’s medical.” Judging by his wicked grin, he was deriving far more pleasure from her discomfort than was strictly necessary. “She’s a little nervous.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to fret.” Doctor Peyton gave Julia’s forearm a quick pat-pat. “It’s completely painless and the best way we have of establishing a base line to measure all future treatment on.  Lie here and try not to move while the scanner passes over you.”

Julia did as she was bid, unable to explain it wasn’t the pain that bothered her, but the stench of the disinfectant used in every hospital in the world, alternate world, and galaxy, it seemed.  A bright blue light moved over her body in a similar pattern the shower water used.  She felt nothing, and like Doctor Peyton had assured, it was over in no time.

“See, completely painless.” Doctor Peyton patted Julia’s bicep before gesturing for her to sit up. “Now, I’ll take some blood to analyze, and you’ll be free to go.”

Rich red burbled into the clear chamber of the vacuum syringe, filling it in a matter of seconds.   Julia was surprised to discover there was no wound where the sample had been drawn.

“Colonel, I’ll radio you and Colonel Archer when the results are conclusive.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Mark said as he lead a relieved Julia out of the chemical stench of the infirmary.

The corridor they were walking down was just like all the others she’d traversed since arriving on Phoenix the day before, only it was deserted.  Julia looked at Mark waiting for him to explain where he was taking her.

“Short cut, thought you’d like a tour, see if there’s any places around here that you don’t know about already.”

“Mark, are you sure about this? Colonel Archer s-”

“Sarah’s just being cautious.” He interrupted. “Besides, you’re being supervised.”

Julia breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into his shoulder.  The last thing she wanted to do was piss of the Commander in Chief and end up exiled from Mark forever. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.  But I think you’ll find you’ve set yourself a challenge there, Colonel Holden.  I’m rather an expert on all things Phoenix.”

Mark didn’t say anything, just kept them moving; a cautious edge to his stride that hadn’t been there a moment ago.  He wasn’t the only one spooked by recent events.  When they ducked around another corner a set of double doors opened a few yards in front of them.  Julia gasped at the crisp air rushing to play in her hair and sneak in under the tails of her shirt, sending goosebumps over the sensitive skin at her hips.

“Knowing’s one thing, seeing’s something else.” Mark’s voice was filled with pride; his gaze reaching out across the white-tipped cerulean ocean to the sharp line of the horizon. “Been here six years and still…”

The silver filigree balustrade was cool beneath Julia’s palms as she stood at Mark’s side.  No way could a studio reproduce this, any attempt would make for a poor substitute indeed.  She looked left and saw the ancient alien skyscrapers, each a marvel of twisted silver and glass, or sleek white curves, set above the towering cliffs along the coastline like jewels in a tiara.  Emerald greens, scarlets and purples, and blues, of Phoenix City’s gardens, interspersed themselves between the buildings.  Lush and flourishing on clean ocean air; giving balance to an otherwise stark setting.  But there was something missing, and when she said as much, Mark laughed.  Pleased with how quick she’d noticed.

“There’s no salt.  It’s a fresh water ocean.”

Julia had no words.  An ocean without the feel of a salty breeze in her hair and on her skin would take some getting used to.  The roar of the waves and the briny salt air had always been the draw.  She turned her head from the wide expanse of surging blue to find the same architectural design mirrored on the right, balancing the overall look of Phoenix.  Some buildings were set atop the cliffs.  Others adhered to it like crystals.  Their lower stories extending far below where she and Mark stood, the ocean must lap at their foundations.  It was difficult to tell from so high up, but there appeared to be an enormous stretch of concrete following the base of the cliffs and fanning out toward the ocean - a quay for intergalactic starships too large to dock anywhere else.

What she couldn’t see was the glider hanger.  It was such a grandiose structure, she felt sure it would have stood out, even amongst the majesty of these coastal jewels.  When she asked him, Mark used his hands to show her how the city was laid out like a crown, circling back in on itself with the glider hanger at its center.  Surrounded by labyrinth of terraced courtyards, patios, atriums, each of which furnished by exotic flora the botanists were still learning about.

“We call it the Birdcage.” He grinned, the wild spikes of his hair being buffeted into further rebellion by the wind. “What with all the birds inside.”