Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter 6

Roark’s intentions had nothing to do with changing his shirt and everything to do with luring this female into his bed. He wanted to reveal the treasures that hid beneath the long skirts and heavy coverings she wore. Those treasures were there waiting to be discovered. He was sure of it.

Had he not felt the soft roundness of her bottom and the length of those legs when he lifted her into his arms? Had he not been aroused by the fullness of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest? She kept her hair under tight control in a braid that began at the crown of her head and ended in a curled tail at her waist. He didn’t like it. He wanted to free the damp ringlets that had tried to escape that first day. He wanted to see her cloaked in its waves of amber honey.

She was one of those creatures he’d read about as a boy when stories of his ancestors filled his head with dreams.

Much of that fragile history had been lost to time and the destruction of the wars that plagued their planet for a thousand turns. Therefore, much of what Roark read as a boy was history that devolved into the folklore of a time when the Godans first travelled into space not to conquer, but to explore. Some of those early pioneers of the galaxy managed to send back word of their discoveries, but in that age before the mathematical theories of time and space had been woven into reality, few returned home. Many of those brave travelers succumbed to the hazards of early space travel. Others, he was certain, found places they could call home.

This planet, this Earth, as they called it now, could well have been one of those places. He’d studied it and compared it to the folklore. The atmospheric gases, nutrient rich soil, color of the sky, and abundance of water were only part of the picture. The genetic similarities of the indigenous species to those of his home world and the sentience of Earth’s human inhabitants with their homologous physical structures were too great to be denied.

Added to this was the wealth of geological formations so necessary to the crystalline technology upon which so much of the Galactic Confederation relied. With its population decimated, this place was ripe for the picking and the Hahnshin would pick it clean.

Roark was convinced this woman and her planet were the stuff of legends and both deserved their place in the legends of the future. Destiny, it seemed, had determined that he be a part of that future legend, too.

As had happened so many times in the past, Roark’s personal plans got fucked. He sometimes wondered why he even bothered to make them.

His comlink buzzed and he answered with a growled, “What?”

It was Harm, and his mood was no better than Roark’s. “You’re needed at the hospital.”

Mira moved a few feet away to give him privacy, he assumed, but Roark reached for her hand and pulled her back to his side as he listened to Harm’s rant.

“Field Marshal Suto is having a tantrum and pulling rank. He doesn’t seem to get that as the Commander’s Prime, I speak with the Commander’s voice. My fist is about to explain it to the little fucker, so unless you want to deal with me up on charges and Suto out of commission for the next six weeks, get your ass over here. And while we’re at it, you sneaky little bastard, don’t think you’re going to be pulling this shit on a regular basis. I’m not the one who got myself suckered...”

Roark hit the button on the comlink and cut Harm’s tirade off. “Be there in five. See that the Marshal is prepared.”

Mira had bowed her head in an attempt to hide her face, but Roark could tell by her sucked in cheeks that she was trying not to smile.

“Did you get all that?” he asked, since Harm’s tirade was in Godan.

“Most of it,” she admitted and then looked up from beneath her long curling lashes with a thinly disguised smile. “A few words were new to me, but it wasn’t hard to fill them in. Does he always talk to you like that?”

Roark nodded. “Only when he thinks our conversation is private. Familiarity has its privilege. He’s been talking to me like that since I was a boy, but pity the poor soul who thinks it gives them the privilege, too. Harm will have their tongue in his hand before their second sentence is uttered.” He tugged on her hand. “Come. My quarters are this way.”

“But the hospital is that way and it’s a ten minute walk,” she protested.

“Fifteen from my quarters.” He shrugged. “And I still have to change my shirt, so it will be a minimum of twenty.”

“So your ‘be there in five’ meant I’ll be there shortly, just like it does in English.”

As usual, Harm was correct in his assessment of the little human. She was always learning and comparing the two cultures. She showed curiosity about the physical differences between her race and others, but no aversion.

“She tries to accept the differences, but she searches for the similarities and when she finds one, she points it out as if she wants to make sure we see it, too,” the old soldier said of her and then gave a nod of approval as if Roark needed one. “You could do worse. She’s a smart little tidbit. She sets the nail, but she doesn’t drive it home. She lets you do the hammering.

That, Roark thought, was a good sign, but in this instance, she was wrong. Once again, he started for his quarters, increasing his pace and resentful that his leisurely stroll had now become a mission. It was another black mark against Suto.

“No, I meant what I said. I want the Field Marshal to expect me in five. He’ll be on edge for the time span and when I don’t show up, Harm will become livid with suppressed rage. Suto will be terrified by it, convinced that the Prime will explode into violence, and with good reason, as anyone who has seen my Prime when he returns from battle can attest. I will arrive in time to save Suto from Harm’s wrath. Being an officer, the good Field Marshal will expect me to take his side. He will be surprised and shaken when I don’t. He will find that my wrath is greater than Harm’s and the message will be clear. My Prime speaks with my voice and in this Sector, on this planet, I speak with the voice of the Galactic Confederation.”

“And Harm won’t figure this out?”

“My Prime has already figured it out. We’ve used this ploy before.”

She started to speak, then hesitated with an inward curling of the lips and lowered lashes. She thought before she spoke, a good quality in a female.

When she looked up, her eyes held a look of concern, “You’re not going to hurt Commander Suto, are you?”

“That’s Field Marshal or Marshal and yes, I am.” Seeing her eyes widen, he explained, though as First Commander, he shouldn’t have to. “Field Marshal Suto is a sycophant of certain members of the Confederation’s Council. His family is modestly wealthy and his commission was purchased, not earned. His abilities are better suited to the ballroom than the battlefield. He has most likely never been closer to a battlefield than a holoscreen, yet he sends his men out there on a regular basis.

“He places himself above his men, and that I will not tolerate. He will learn to lead or he will beg to be transferred. Either way, he will be blooded before he leaves this base and his first blood will be mine.” Roark stopped at the door to his quarters and looked down to see yet another look on her face. “What are you thinking? Say it aloud.”

“You can catch more flies with honey.”

Roark opened the door and held it for her. “I don’t know what you mean by this, but it is a falsehood. You will catch more flies with shit.”

He hadn’t meant it to be funny, but he liked the sound of her laugh. It was another mark in her favor. Though Harm had already told him Mira had a sense of humor, it was nice to have it confirmed. After tossing the comlink on the small reception table by the door, he led her down the short hall that led to the communal area.

“It means you can win more people over by being nice.”

“I have little time for nice. Do you like it?” He asked waving his hand to indicate the room.

He watched her as she slowly turned in a full circle taking in the spacious central room with its wall of windows at the far end. Her lips were slightly parted as her eyes passed over the raised area meant for dining and continuing on to the kitchen where a bank of pristine appliances waited among the vacant countertops. The glass fronted cabinets were empty. The refrigerator kicked on, sending a whisper soft buzz echoing through the cavernous space. There was a hallway to the left and another to the right, but she stayed where she was when she completed her circle.

“Well?” he prompted.

“This room is larger than our whole apartment. The floor is beautiful, the walls a perfect color, and those windows are spectacular, but you need to get rid of your decorator.” She pointed to the large desk against one wall, the only furniture in the room. “She’s taken minimalist way too far.” She smiled up at him. “When you said your quarters, I was thinking single room, bed, nightstand, and yeah, maybe the desk. I wasn’t thinking luxury accommodations, though I guess I should have. You’re the First Commander, after all. It really will be lovely once it’s furnished.”

“It is already furnished with all I need. The rest will be up to you.”

Roark continued down the hall to the right pointing out the bedrooms as he went until he came to the double doors at the end. Pushing them open, he peeled his bloodied shirt up and over his head and tossed it on the unmade bed.

“I’ll have the supply sergeant give you a list of the furnishings available. If you find nothing there that satisfies your taste, you must tell him what you need and he will see that it is done. Do not hesitate to ask. It is my wish that you be comfortable in your new home. You will, of course, have a generous clothing allotment though I can’t guarantee the delivery of the more exotic fabrics since personal space on the transports is limited.”

He was in the closet and reaching for a clean shirt before he realized she was no longer with him. He stuck his head out the closet door and there she was, standing just inside the room at the open double doors. Her mouth was slightly open and she was staring at the large bed in the middle of the room.

“It is my failing,” he said of the rumpled bed clothes and the pile of dirty laundry on the floor. “I am not tidy and I have yet to choose an orderly to see to such things. Once installed, I will have Harm send the candidates to you and you may choose whoever you feel most comfortable with unless you would prefer to hire a woman from the outside. Do you cook?”

“No.”

“Then I will notify the commissary and they will prepare your meals according to your directions. I would ask that you keep a variety of ready-made foods on hand since my hours may not always coincide with your meal times.” It was the first thing on his list of requirements that she had not met. Disappointing, but perhaps she would be willing to learn.

“No.” She gave no explanation for her refusal.

“No?” he prompted and when she continued to stare at the bed, he added, “Have you other ideas for meals?”

“No to all of it.” She looked up at him then and no armor could protect him from those piercing gray eyes. “What did you think? Poor girl in her worn out clothes living in a hole in the wall, all I have to do is show her a beautiful apartment and my great big bed and she’ll jump right in it?” She waved an imperious hand at him. “I command it, so it shall be,” she intoned. “Must be nice to be King, but I’m not the kind of subject who will drop to her knees before a guy she doesn’t know.” She turned her on heel and marched from the room.

Roark followed her. Just as she reached the front door, his hand shot out over her head and pushed it shut. She turned beneath his arm and looked up at him. She was furious.

“You will explain that, since I am not a King and I have not commanded that you drop to your knees before me.” Although the thought had its appeal.

“I thought I made myself pretty clear. I’m not interested.”

“That is a lie. You are interested. You find me attractive.” Ahnyis had assured him of it.

She closed her eyes and made a noise in her throat that sounded a bit like a growl of aggravation. “Yes, I find you attractive, but I also find sexy pictures of men in magazines attractive. That doesn’t mean I hump the pages.”

“I’m happy to hear it. There are several acts a female can perform that I find sexually arousing. That isn’t one of them.” He offered her his most charming smile. “You see? We are already finding commonalities.”

Chapter 7

Mira didn’t return his smile. “You know nothing about me, my likes or dislikes, so here’s lesson number one. I’m not for sale.”

“I know that, and for your family, it is a pity for you would bring a fine price on which they could live well. High soft breasts, a narrow waist, flared hips, and an enticingly rounded bottom all bring good prices in the Bride Market. Together in one female, they are worth a fortune. Add to that the color and silky shine of your hair, if it was allowed to flow freely and not be tied in a rope along the back of your head,” he added as a qualification before he went on, “your white, evenly spaced teeth, as well as your intelligence, and the bidders for your hand would be lining up. Your Bride Price would skyrocket, though that scowl you’re wearing would diminish the price considerably.”

Her eyes closed, her cheeks colored, and her breath puffed out between her lips. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

There was a whole lot about the situation that she couldn’t believe. Backhanded though it was, she was pretty sure she had just received one of the nicest compliments she’d ever had. She was also being offered the chance to live in a luxurious, even by prewar standards, home with a gorgeous hunk of manhood and she was turning it down. In spite of what it might mean for her family, she just couldn’t do it. The war had taken almost everything she had. She couldn’t let it take her dignity, too.

“What do you find hard to believe? Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are?” He watched her with an intensity that made her heart beat faster.

“Dear God, why couldn’t you have made him look like Mohawk? And why did you put a tarnished silver tongue in the mouth of a golden Viking? I could use a little help here,”
she silently prayed.

“Why?” she asked aloud though she knew it was a mistake. “Why me when we both know the world, this one and probably every other one, is filled with better looking women than me?”

“Those women did not touch my heart.”

Damn, this guy was good. The flat way he said it, as if stating a fact and not a pick-up line, made her want to purr, “Aw,” and melt into him. She fought the temptation and won.
“Thank you, God.”

“When did I touch your heart? How, when this is the first time we’ve really talked since I met you?”

Roark lifted her hand and held it against the left the side of his bare chest. “Like this, when I lifted you from the ground and into my arms.”

His hand was atop hers and she could feel the warmth of him and the slow, steady thump, thump of his heart beneath her palm. He ran his thumb along the length of hers and she felt that, too, travelling to places that had lain dormant for a long, long time.

“Did you really feel something?” she whispered and didn’t care that it sounded like a purr, because damned if she didn’t feel something, too, and she had no idea what it was.

“I did.” His voice was a quiet rumble that also transferred itself through her palm.

Mira closed her eyes.
“Dear God, if I go to hell it will be all your fault.”
The Good Lord must have been listening and decided to save this poor sinner from perdition, because she suddenly thought of Ahnyis. Her head snapped up.

“Is this heart thing like Mason stroking Ahnyis’s tail and turning her on? Because if it is, we need to know about it and get the word out there or we’re going to have a lot of misunderstandings to contend with.”

Roark’s face clouded over and became thunderous. “That potatek healer touched her tail?” He stared over Mira’s shoulder as if he could see Mason through the door and might just leap through it to kill the poor shithead doctor. “He dares?”

“No! Wait!” Mira put her hand to his cheek and drew his eyes back to her. “That’s my point. I’m not sure Mason knew what the action meant. By touching you there, did I send some inadvertent signal?”

“Hundreds of females have touched me there.”

And wasn’t that just what every girl wanted to hear? Next, he’d tell her how lucky she was to be chosen from the cast of hundreds.

“None have touched my heart.” He said it in that same flat, statement-of-fact tone.

Holy crap. If he kept talking, she was going to lose this battle. She had to get out of there or she wouldn’t have to worry about the First Commander working his way into her pants. She’d be stripping them off and handing them to him.

The comlink vibrated on the little table next to the door. Roark swore a word she couldn’t translate before he hit the transmitter button.

“Saved by the bell,” she mumbled inanely, not sure if she was pleased or not. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him with one hand as she reached for the doorknob behind her with the other. “I’ll just toddle along now. I know you’re busy.”

She didn’t make it three steps before his big hand grasped hers and she was being dragged along beside him.

“We will walk,” he said.

She was about to protest, but one look at his angry face changed her mind. It was best not to provoke an angry bear or an angry Viking, either.

For the first five minutes, he walked and she trotted beside him in an attempt to keep up.

Finally spying one of the little hovercraft zipping along the roadway nearby, Roark put two fingers of his free hand to his lips and blasted a whistle. The driver brought the car to a halt and exited when his Commander motioned with his thumb. Mira was lifted over the low door and into the seat. Why waste time opening a door?

“Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly and when she received only a curt nod in response, “Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“All righty then,” she said since she didn’t know what else to say. She folded her hands in her lap as they skimmed over the ground. Two minutes later they were walking into the hospital.

The furious looking Harm met them at the door. “He’s in there.”

Mira saw a tall and lanky officer through the glass surrounding the waiting area and assumed it was Suto. A Godan like Roark, though not nearly so handsome, the man was sweating profusely. On seeing Roark, the Field Marshal raised his finger in the air and began to walk toward the door.

Mira pointed, too, toward a hallway at the back. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll wait back there. Bloodshed isn’t my thing.”

At Roark’s nod, she winked at Harm, and fled. It wasn’t far enough. She clearly heard a thump and grunt and quickly moved farther away. Wards, huge rooms with dozens of warriors filling the beds lining either side, opened from wide double doors along the hallway. She glanced through the first set of doors and saw a familiar face. It was the humorless, but handsome young officer from class.

He caught her eye and nodded in recognition. She had no choice but to stop and say hello and she struggled to remember the young officer’s name.

“Hey Lege, good taste,” a soldier called.

This was followed by a grunt as the men in the bed next to him punched the soldier’s wounded arm. This was followed by a warning hiss of which Mira only recognized one word, Commander.

She closed her eyes and sighed. At least the exchange reminded Mira of her student’s rank.

“Legion Officer Petrark, how are you feeling?”

His arm was bent and bandaged from wrist to shoulder. “Better than I did a few hours ago, thank you, ma’am.”

“How did it happen? I thought you had a clerical position. Records, communiqués with Headquarters, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, ma’am, CST, Communication and Security Technologies, but the First came to see me with the transfer I requested months ago.” His shoulders straightened and his chest puffed out. “He said he was looking for men of intelligence and integrity to lead his troops. He asked if I would do him the honor of serving under his command. Can you imagine it? A warrior of his stature asking if I would do him the honor. It was what I always wanted and now that I’m here, I understand what he meant.” He looked over the men surrounding him. “I’m honored to have them serving under me.”

“Lege took a hell of a hit in the arm, ma’am. They had him in the Knitter for close to an hour. He was right out front with us and took it just like us. Wouldn’t let them put him in the officers’ ward. No sir, he’s sticking with us.”

“The Knitter?” She’d heard the word before, but couldn’t remember where.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Legion Officer explained, “It’s a device designed to repair bone and tissue. It hurts like a son of a...um, quite a bit, but my men tell me that will pass in a week or two.”

“Going to leave a hell of a scar,” someone called and the others laughed.

“Ah, I see. Does this mean you’ll be getting a...” Mira stopped, remembering what Roark had said about officers and tattoos.

“A blood marking? Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“He’s got to, doesn’t he, ma’am. He’s one of us now.”

“He is indeed,” Mira laughed. “But I have news for you guys. If you don’t stop calling me ma’am, you’re all you going to be sporting new blood markings. My name is Mira, not ma’am.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” Petrark said with a slight emphasis on the offending word, “but it’s protocol. You are Commander Roark’s...”

Mira raised her finger in warning as she cut off what he was about to say. “Legion Officer Petrark, if you finish that sentence, you’re going to be covered with more blood markings than the old man himself. My name is Mira.”

There were a few snorts and snickers as she patted their Legion Officer’s good arm and smiled. “You take care of yourself now. I’ll see you in class as soon as you’re able. As for the rest of you,” she offered a smile to the rest of the men on the ward, “I like your markings, but there’s no need to earn them all at once.”

They called goodbye as she left, but none called her Mira or ma’am.

Once back in the hallway, she found a young man with the black and red armband of a medic and asked him if there was a way out of the building other than through the front doors.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered and pointed out the way, “Though I’m sure the First Commander would insist...”

“Thank you,” she cut him off and had to remind herself to walk as she exited the building.

She was wearing a label she didn’t ask for and gave no one permission to use. They’d all decided what she was before she’d decided for herself.

Like a thief in the night, Mira ran, stopping only long enough to retrieve her purse. As luck would have it, the man who pedaled her to and from work in his homemade cart was already parked by the gate. There were several others running similar carts, but Ollie always managed to be there when she needed him.

“Thank heavens and thank you, Ollie. I’m a little early and I thought I was going to have to walk.” She climbed up into the seat, admiring the new cushions.

“No ma’am, no walking for a special customer like you.”

Ollie, an older man with a wife, two daughters and two grandchildren living under his roof, had built the two-seater passenger vehicle from a picture in a magazine of the rickshaw conveyances so common in Asian cities. Mira wondered what he thought of the contrast between his rickshaw and the Godan skitt. She hadn’t thought about it until today.

She leaned forward so he could hear her. “I like the new cushions. They’re comfy. Business must be picking up.”

“That it is. Got my daughter driving now. She runs a regular route up and down Main Street now that it’s cleared. My other daughter’s got a job working on the towers. Do you know they got a machine that does all the brick laying for you? It’s run by some fancy computer. The foreman said he put her name in to learn how to run it. She worked in IT before the war, so she’s got some skills.”

“There’s plans for a school and clinic, too.” Mira was hoping Ollie would help spread the word.

“Not sure how folks will take to that. My daughters would rather stick with home schooling for now. Their kids are registered, but you never know. Sure wish we knew what they done with those other kids. It would settle a lot of nerves if people knew those kids were safe and happy. Don’t see why they had to take them the way they did, neither. It’d scare the hell out of me seeing those helmet heads come banging on my door. Can you imagine what the sight of it does to those kids? You ought to tell that to that Commander feller you’re um...uh... working for.”

“I will,” she said, though after today, she wasn’t sure she’d be working at all.

Ollie stopped in front of her building and gave her a wink as he took her money. “And you be sure to tell him how much I appreciate the extra he’s paying me to take care of you and for giving my daughter a leg up on the work list. It’s made all the difference to me and my family. You have a good day now, ma’am.”

Mira climbed the stairs to the apartment feeling marked as clearly as the soldiers lying in those beds.