by A. Payne
“Yeah?”
Shit, shit, shit. Do I apologize? But there are no rules against it. He’s not in my direct chain of command… she rationalized internally. Archaic fraternization laws had been dissolved when the Empire instituted two year deployments in space.
“Sorry. I should have sent you to rest a while ago.” Victor’s shaking hands spilled the contents of his bag, allowing translucent vials of medicine to roll across the floor. The doctor swore harshly and swept them off the rug.
“Why are you apologizing? As far as kisses go, I’d give that one a ten for sure.”
He glanced back briefly from the corner of his eye. “Your injury,” he pointed out evenly. “You should probably rest so it can heal.”
Rest? How am I supposed to rest? The dragging weight of the drugs warred with the endorphins rushing through her body. Would she be brought up on assault charges if she ripped the clothes off of his body? Likely so.
“I am resting.”
“Drugged women can’t consent, and this is probably not the most appropriate activity while the others are keeping watch.” He had a point. They were technically relieved of their duty posts after working grueling hours with little rest and only a handful of comforts. But there was a time and a place. She’d hate to be caught with her pants down, literally, if returning pirates engaged their squad in battle.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right on that.” She searched his face from across the room. His anxious mannerisms revealed nothing about the motive behind his sudden change in behavior.
Something was wrong.
Damn him for his logic and that shot.
“You’ll pass out any moment, I’m sure. Would you respect me any if I had my wicked way with your unconscious body? C’mon. Get some rest, Zoe. Our watch will come sooner than you think.”
Zoe managed a small smile. “As much as I’d like to say yes… Thanks. I still stand by what I said, though.” She rolled to her feet, wavered briefly, but tensed her jaw and didn’t utter a complaint. Otherwise, he was likely to sacrifice his bed and keep her there. Or worse, carry her to one of the makeshift bunks instead of getting his own rest. “Night, Victor. Thanks for the movie. And for patching me up.” And for the kiss…
Victor remained crouched beside his bag, surgical laser in hand as he counted the remaining charges. “Sleep well, Zoe.” He smiled at her, but she wasn’t convinced.
Doctor Victor del Toro was a mystery, and she wanted desperately to know the truth behind his controversial relocation from the Glenn and his former post. More than that, she wanted to know what had happened to make a man who was so selfless and sweet start pushing everyone who came near him away.
Chapter 13
“Goddammit.” Sleep remained elusive and Victor knew exactly why. He turned over and punched his pillow, but he found no comfort. Kissing Zoe had been a mistake, but he hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings.
I’ll find her at the start of our shift to apologize, but tell her it can’t happen again. The decision prompted him to roll out of bed and pull on his boots. He made a quick circuit under the guise of checking everyone’s health but couldn’t find Zoe in her claimed bunk. Did I upset her that greatly?
Too stubborn to ask for help, Victor surrendered the search and decided to shower away the lingering smell of pipe tobacco. The manager who used the room had been a smoker, and the scent clung to Victor’s skin after a night on the heavily blanketed bed.
The marines discovered the communal shower on their first night in the colony. A few uninjured colonists had devoted their time to laundering fresh towels and tidying the restrooms, inviting their rescuers to use them at will. So they had.
Victor made his way down a narrow hallway lit only by the red emergency lights. Once night fell on the small colony, most power circuits were deactivated to conserve energy. The thunderous roar of the showers greeted him and steam billowed out the opening door. He stepped inside.
Zoe had the large shower room to herself. The emergency lighting’s red glow cast ruddy warmth over her fair complexion and the steaming hot water sluiced down her body. It glistened over her curves and splattered noisily to the floor, a rushing stream that concealed the sound of his own entrance.
She was, in a word, exquisite. Despite her flaws and minor imperfections, nothing seemed to detract from the overall display of her beauty. A scar ran parallel to her spine, ending in the small divot above the firm curve of her bottom. Her hands glided over her body, sudsing her skin with the same fragrant bubbles that trailed down her athletic limbs.
It was one of the most arousing things he’d seen in all his life. He stood before the doorway with both arms lowered to his sides, the breath caught in his lungs, and his eyes transfixed.
He backed out of the room and nearly slipped on a puddle of water in the process. As a doctor, he’d seen bodies in all states of dress and undress, but respecting her privacy trumped the swelling erection in his pants. He didn’t want to presume she’d ever joined the guys for a communal shower, and equally important, he didn’t want to place them in another awkward situation.
It wouldn’t last anyway. There’s no point in lusting after her. Hannah was right; I’m worthless, and I’ll always be worthless when it comes to making any woman happy, he thought sorrowfully. Once he reached the safety of the hallway, he retreated to join the other marines on the current duty shift.
“Mornin’, Doc. Come to share some grub with us?” Davis asked. She smiled kindly at him.
“Yeah, I guess so. Who cooked this time?” Talking about food seemed like the best way to get the girl off of his mind. Zoe. Brave and beautiful Zoe with her winning smile and honey-colored eyes. Zoe, who didn’t realize how much trouble she was inviting into her life by developing a crush on the ship’s emotionally broken doctor. He sighed.
“Lopez did. It’s great, too,” Jackson spoke up. “Sit down, Doc. I’ll get you a plate.”
Victor tried to decline, but the man sprang from his seat and moved to the grill. The dormitory food court was home to three small eateries, each with a freezer and appliances to prepare the food. Only one cook remained, but she and six other volunteers joined her three times a day to sweat over the grill.
He ate his noodles and stir fry unhappily until Zoe arrived. Her damp hair had been towel dried, but the longest strands framed her chin from the left side. She pushed the rest behind her right ear and stepped into line to heap food on a plate.
It wasn’t the ideal time to apologize to her while the other marines occupied the same space. He’d wait and bide his time until a better opportunity presented itself. When he could look at her without seeing the memory of naked limbs or recalling the sweetness of her mouth.
“I better check out the colonists. See if anybody has some needs. I’ll check with you guys later.” He shoved his plastic plate onto the metal counter to be sanitized and quickly moved away.
Chapter 14
Once the squad returned to the Jemison, Victor became inundated with work. He spent days performing tune-ups, repairs, and helping the other medical officers with the men and women injured on the ship during the space battle and emergency landing. He didn’t have time to see Zoe, and that was all right with him. He didn’t know what he’d say to her if they did cross paths.
The large number of refugees from Athena filled up their aft cargo hold. The three new mothers and the severely injured survivors occupied rooms in medical. Space was cramped but they were safe and allowed use of the ship’s recreational areas for an allotted time each day.
For lack of a better place to house the tattered survivors, the Jemison flew for a week to reach the nearest major post equipped to handle a few hundred refugees. The loss of the additional medical responsibility instilled Victor with a sense of profound relief. He’d enjoyed the work, but babies were not his forte. Their tiny, fragile bodies distressed him, as did the reminder that he had never had kids of his own.
A small part of him missed running into Zoe during t
he ship’s night hours. He even peeked into the lounge once or twice against his better judgment, but the gold-eyed sniper hadn’t been present.
Messed things up again as usual, Victor thought while leaving the shower. Probably better that way. Better for Zoe, and better for him if their relationship remained professional. After that, he avoided her in earnest.
Hart impatiently hammered her fist on the door again. She’d been beating on the door for the past ten minutes of his shower. “Wank on your own bloody time, you big twat!” she screamed at him through the door.
“For Christ’s sake, I’m out now,” he rumbled at her loudly in return. If he joked about her supposed shower “massager” she wouldn’t speak to him for a week.
The restroom lock clicked behind him, followed by the noisy drum of running water. He tugged on a fresh t-shirt over his towel-dried head. He planned to sleep for three or four hours, awaken at his usual early bird time, and check into the infirmary again.
Two knocks jarred Victor from his thoughts.
“This better be an emergency,” he muttered under his breath. He slid the door open and peered into the hallway, expecting news from the medical bay. Medical staff preferred to fetch him whenever something went wrong or an extra hand was needed in an emergency.
The sight of Zoe Raines at the other side of the door filled him with hesitation. “Aren’t you a little far away from your berthing?” he inquired. He tried to add a lighthearted tone to his voice, but the day’s weariness had already taken its toll. Being the ship’s only certified cyberware technician meant he’d returned to an abundance of appointments and had to make up for cancellations. Victor was dead on his feet.
“I suppose so. I…” Zoe shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Uncertainty briefly flickered across her features, then she seemed to collect herself. Her posture straightened and she clasped her hands loosely behind her back. “I wanted to come clear the air on something. Please.”
“What is it?”
“Oh, um…” Her glance darted down the passageway then back to his face. “Not exactly a conversation for public, sir.”
“Come on in. I have plenty of privacy.” He had unpleasant memories of his first years as an enlisted man. The privacy pods were a new technology then and the glass had variable levels of soundproofing. Between the sounds of intimate encounters, jock talk, and noisy exercise routines, Victor had slept very little then too.
“I really can’t complain. The history vids said back in the day a hundred women would share a bunk. Glad that’s not the case. Five others is enough.” She stepped past him into the room.
Victor stole a glance into the hallway in time to see his fellow commander attentively watching their exchange. Daniels glowered at him before disappearing into his own room. Victor sighed and shook his head. Great. What the hell was that all about? The last thing I need is for that tosser to jump to conclusions.
Still haunted by the perfection of her body beneath the red emergency lights, he avoided gazing at Zoe by focusing on the distant wall. Allowing it to surface in his mind was wrong, but the dimmed lighting provided a romantic quality to the atmosphere of the room. “What’s on your mind?”
Zoe turned from her casual inspection of the space and tilted her head to look up at him. “Yes, right. So… I was going to apologize, but the truth is I really don’t feel apologetic about kissing you. What I do want to make clear though is that I respect your… boundaries. You don’t have to walk out of a room because I happen to enter it. I’m not going to stare after you with cow eyes or whatever the stupid term is.” She made a fluttering gesture with her hand.
“Cow eyes works,” he offered helpfully.
She slanted her gaze at him. Despite the difference in rank, he promptly silenced. “Like I was saying. You don’t have to treat me like a leper or some rank-tagger,” she continued.
Victor’s spine became as stiff as a board. He’d have never spent his off-duty hours in her company at all if he’d ever suspected her to be participating in some unspoken vow to sleep with the most officers on their vessel. “I know you’ve heard this shit before, but when I say it, it is the truth. This has nothing to do with you, Raines. It’s me. I’m not a guy you want to date… or anything else. Trust me.”
“It was a kiss, not a marriage proposal. I’m just trying to clear the air because the whole avoidance thing is exhausting.”
“I’ve been busy,” he gritted out at her. Legitimately busy. He might have left once or twice on the run, but he hadn’t intentionally ditched any of the ship’s common rooms to avoid her company. Until she walked into the pool in her Navy-issued one-piece bathing suit, the material clinging to her like a second skin in all of the right places.
Or when she’d come to medical for a follow-up for her infection, and he’d passed her off to Lil instead and gone down to the lab.
She’s right; I have. “It wasn’t completely intentional, all right? I owe you an apology. I knew better and I kissed you anyway.”
Zoe held up a hand to wave him off. “You’re not making me feel any better.”
“I was trying to make me feel better.” He failed miserably, too discontent with leading her on to immediately forgive himself.
The young woman shifted slightly, idly tapping her fingers in a silent tempo against her thigh. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Shoot.” He was used to her inquisitive nature by now and, if he was he was honest with himself, found it attractive.
“Was kissing me really so horrible or was that panic attack for something else?”
She’s bright. Observant. It wasn’t the kind of conversation Victor wanted to have with her a few minutes before bed. “You’re great to kiss, Zoe,” he answered carefully. “And I enjoyed every second. Is that all?”
“No, not really…” A frown twisted her lips. “Sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he insisted. He repeated the word again, convincing himself that nothing was wrong. “Go on to bed, hon. I’m not writing you an excuse for duty tomorrow.” He tried to sound chipper, but the tease came out forced.
“Nah, I wouldn’t abuse you like that. I actually enjoy your company.”
Victor absently kneaded his fingers against his left shoulder and rolled the tight joint. He’d still be in the shower under the hot water if not for Hart. “I appreciate it.”
“So… are we good then?”
“We were always good, Zoe. I haven’t had much leisure time since we returned to the ship. Hell, I logged on Spellbound last night for about an hour and got chewed out by half my friend list. I don’t make it known that I’m military, and when I miss our scheduled raids, they think I’m skiving off.”
Zoe smiled lightly. “Been there. Done that. I don’t really get on enough to have a regular group, though I’ve found a couple good ones to team up with sometimes. They were probably just worried about you is all. Friends do that. You know… worry.”
“Yeah, they do. I’d log on tonight if the day hadn’t caught up to me. Guess I’m getting old.”
Zoe scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re far from old. You’re just overworked and stiff.”
“Almost forty, hon. I only look good. Too bad I don’t feel it, too.”
“Like I said, overworked. I can help with that if you like.”
“With what?” He involuntarily let his gaze drop toward her chest level. The sports bras issued by the military were the universe’s greatest illusion. He would have never guessed her to be so busty beneath it, and now he couldn’t get his mind off it.
“Go. Sit.” She pushed him lightly toward the lounge chair near the bulkhead. “You’re tight as a drum and won’t get a blink of sleep.”
“Maybe that’s why I sleep so little.”
“Yup. Now, if you tell anyone I can do this I will never forgive you,” she threatened half-heartedly.
“Do what?”
“Long story short, I took a
masseuse class during my implant adjustment leave. Don’t ask why.”
“You’re only making me want to ask why.” He sat as she instructed, filled with uncertainty. A moment ago, he’d been ready to shoo her out of the door, but it would be a lie to deny that the idea intrigued him.
Once she settled behind him, Zoe’s hands smoothed across the breadth of his shoulders. Her reluctant massage recipient sighed and pulled off his shirt.
He should have been more eager to have a woman’s hands on him. Ethan would have agreed completely that his good friend Victor was long overdue for a round in the sack with a lovely woman.
“After I got the new arm I had trouble with managing the strength. They had me try pottery,” Zoe explained quietly. “I’m rubbish with creative stuff like that. Can’t draw more than a stick figure, let alone create a vase.”
“So you thought people were a better medium?” He glanced over his shoulder and cocked a brow. “Maybe I need to rethink this,” he teased her.
“My sister suggested it. Offered to be my practice dummy and everything. Not hurting her was a strong motivator.”
“Younger or older?”
“Younger, by several years. She would have been a psychic, but she was one of the unlucky ones who developed an aggressive pituitary tumor. It metastasized into her brain,” she explained. “The latest round of treatments seems to be working though.”
Psychic genes tended to run in families, but a small fraction developed tumors instead of abilities. Few survived into adulthood.
“How’s she doing now?” Gradually, he began to relax beneath the steady grip of Zoe’s hands, letting his head fall forward while her fingers melted away the lingering stress of the day. He hadn’t realized how much the tension hurt until she began kneading it from his shoulders.
“She’s good for now and was finishing up a round of chemo right before I transferred here. Old tech, I know, but effective. I’d been growing out my hair for her.”