lips, I nuzzled the shaved side of his hair. “Next time, you’re gonna come same time I do.”
His stomach jumped under my hand. “That an order, Commander?”
“Get used to it, Blondie.”
* * *
The hell is that earsplitting noise?
Completely awake in .5 seconds, I cocked my Glock, confused by the sounds of shrieking all around me. Looking left, out the open sides of the tent, I saw them. Swarms of screeching low-fliers. Aiming, I was ready to take the closest one out when I shook from my disorientation. Birds. Dozens of birds. More than I’d ever seen congregated in one place. Not swarms, but flocks. Brightly colored, red, sky blue, glistening brown sleek bodies, acrobats of the air, swooping on spread wings, singing to one another.
Wild and natural, birds didn’t stray into the barren compounds of the Territories, not in this number, not enough to wake me up with their trilling song. For that matter, I never needed a wake-up call. I was used to doze-time, not deep sleep. I’d slept right through daybreak. Lowering my sidearm, I lay down, stretching from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet. Huh. I felt relaxed, replete.
Fuck it. After last night with Blondie, I was smug as hell.
Blondie . Obviously my inner guard dog was making big old puppy eyes at the man, trusting him enough to let my back down. Make that surprise number whatever, but who was counting anymore?
I didn’t see him when I rolled over. Good thing, considering I’d almost gone ballistic on a pack of vociferous, oh-so-scary feathered friends. What I came face-to-face with was flowers, of all the goddamn things. A bundle of those blue ones from down by the creek were right next to me, where Blondie had slept in my arms.
A token from Mother Nature I’d been starved of in Alpha.
“Mornin’.”
His husky whisper punched me up straight, the delicate blooms all but strangled in my big fist. His hair was wet and loose, his eyes so frigging soft. In his hands he carried a couple plates of food. Shit that smelled heavenly.
My voice was rusty from disuse when I returned, “Morning.”
Nodding at my hand, he smiled. “They’re called forget-me-nots.”
Of-fucking-course they are .
Chapter Six
F igured it wasn’t bullets that got me into trouble. No, it was those forget-me-nots. When Blondie wasn’t looking, I’d flattened them between the soles of my spare boots after carefully wrapping them in one of his fancy napkins.
Jesus .
I spent a lot of time thinking about that damn dog I didn’t own, and how if I did, I wouldn’t have spewed all that truth about my mom and pop and Erica. Then again, I wouldn’t have woken with Blondie’s pillow held to my chest and the singsong of birds—cardinals, he called the scarlet-feathered ones—instead of the usual fugue of my nightmares.
I was supposed to regret having laid all my pain out in the open for Blondie to witness, but I didn’t. It’d been a long time since I’d spoken about my sister and then only with Liz because the woman knew how to keep a secret. It was those rare moments that had cemented our friendship, along with our daily target practice sessions.
We’d sat side by side on the cross-country route from Epsilon to Alpha, when I’d started out at the bottom of the Corps food chain, sharing a hard bench under a canvas awning. We’d both ignored the jokes of the other recruits and the jostles of the road.
One day we planted asses outside on a pit stop, raking the stench of body odor from our noses and stretching the cramps of enclosure from our muscles, when she said, “Penned up again, huh?”
Chewing on a piece of grass, I’d looked at her short cap of hair and shrewd eyes. “Yup.”
“You don’t say much.”
“Neither do you.”
She held her fist up for a bump. I hit it hard, waiting for her to wince. She blew across her knuckles. “Don’t hold back or anything.”
“Not a problem.”
The clouds wandering across a limitless sky had put
His stomach jumped under my hand. “That an order, Commander?”
“Get used to it, Blondie.”
* * *
The hell is that earsplitting noise?
Completely awake in .5 seconds, I cocked my Glock, confused by the sounds of shrieking all around me. Looking left, out the open sides of the tent, I saw them. Swarms of screeching low-fliers. Aiming, I was ready to take the closest one out when I shook from my disorientation. Birds. Dozens of birds. More than I’d ever seen congregated in one place. Not swarms, but flocks. Brightly colored, red, sky blue, glistening brown sleek bodies, acrobats of the air, swooping on spread wings, singing to one another.
Wild and natural, birds didn’t stray into the barren compounds of the Territories, not in this number, not enough to wake me up with their trilling song. For that matter, I never needed a wake-up call. I was used to doze-time, not deep sleep. I’d slept right through daybreak. Lowering my sidearm, I lay down, stretching from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet. Huh. I felt relaxed, replete.
Fuck it. After last night with Blondie, I was smug as hell.
Blondie . Obviously my inner guard dog was making big old puppy eyes at the man, trusting him enough to let my back down. Make that surprise number whatever, but who was counting anymore?
I didn’t see him when I rolled over. Good thing, considering I’d almost gone ballistic on a pack of vociferous, oh-so-scary feathered friends. What I came face-to-face with was flowers, of all the goddamn things. A bundle of those blue ones from down by the creek were right next to me, where Blondie had slept in my arms.
A token from Mother Nature I’d been starved of in Alpha.
“Mornin’.”
His husky whisper punched me up straight, the delicate blooms all but strangled in my big fist. His hair was wet and loose, his eyes so frigging soft. In his hands he carried a couple plates of food. Shit that smelled heavenly.
My voice was rusty from disuse when I returned, “Morning.”
Nodding at my hand, he smiled. “They’re called forget-me-nots.”
Of-fucking-course they are .
Chapter Six
F igured it wasn’t bullets that got me into trouble. No, it was those forget-me-nots. When Blondie wasn’t looking, I’d flattened them between the soles of my spare boots after carefully wrapping them in one of his fancy napkins.
Jesus .
I spent a lot of time thinking about that damn dog I didn’t own, and how if I did, I wouldn’t have spewed all that truth about my mom and pop and Erica. Then again, I wouldn’t have woken with Blondie’s pillow held to my chest and the singsong of birds—cardinals, he called the scarlet-feathered ones—instead of the usual fugue of my nightmares.
I was supposed to regret having laid all my pain out in the open for Blondie to witness, but I didn’t. It’d been a long time since I’d spoken about my sister and then only with Liz because the woman knew how to keep a secret. It was those rare moments that had cemented our friendship, along with our daily target practice sessions.
We’d sat side by side on the cross-country route from Epsilon to Alpha, when I’d started out at the bottom of the Corps food chain, sharing a hard bench under a canvas awning. We’d both ignored the jokes of the other recruits and the jostles of the road.
One day we planted asses outside on a pit stop, raking the stench of body odor from our noses and stretching the cramps of enclosure from our muscles, when she said, “Penned up again, huh?”
Chewing on a piece of grass, I’d looked at her short cap of hair and shrewd eyes. “Yup.”
“You don’t say much.”
“Neither do you.”
She held her fist up for a bump. I hit it hard, waiting for her to wince. She blew across her knuckles. “Don’t hold back or anything.”
“Not a problem.”
The clouds wandering across a limitless sky had put
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