This is the first chapter of a book i'm writing =] its a sci-fi, romance, action
“Don’t give me that look…”
His eyes still smouldered at me, the sun bathing his body in evening calm. The only sound in the room our breathing and the sound of running bath water. I unfolded my arms from across my chest and bent to kiss his forehead. “I love you Nick.” I whispered into his hair. He smelt of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. There was no way to label the smell, not the smell of a man, not the smell of work or sex or anything really… It was just…Nick. It was the smell that sent me to sleep every night and woke me in the morning. The smell that so many people were missing out on, the smell that I adored, that wrapped me in the warm fuzzes and made me melt when he walked into the room.
“You look tired. But gorgeous at the same time.” He leant back to rest his hand on the other side of the tap. “Shhh, you only got one of them right and I’ll tell you for free it ain’t the gorgeous part.” I watched as his abs flexed with his laugh. The naked, pale skin gliding over the chiselled muscles beneath. “How can you say that?” he leaned forward until his arms looped around my waist and he pulled me close. “Have you ever looked at yourself through my eyes?”
Those eyes, azure and grey with flecks of bright brown that looked like gold in the light filtering through the large window. “I’ve lookedintoyour eyes… If that counts for anything...” He pulled me down further and drew his lips against mine in a soft, passionate kiss that filled my head with images of incense, black silk and sunrises.
I ran a hand through is short black hair and the other across the stubble on his jaw. We parted and I looked at his face again. He looked slightly worried. His mouth was a flat line, his lips slightly pouted, eyebrows a little drawn and his eyes looked sad. There was longing in them for something I couldn’t quite place.
“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been quiet this whole time and it’s worrying me.” He turned away to watch the water pouring out of the tap and splashing into the porcelain tub. “Nothing...nothing. Let’s get a good night’s sleep tonight okay?”
“Alright…but only after a nice warm bath…and lavender scented back rub for you. Okay?”
“Mmm, sounds good tome.” He murmured into my collar bone. I sighed as I dropped my dressing gown and pulled away from his tracking gaze. One foot at a time I climbed into the steaming bath and let out a breath of relief as his fingers touched my shoulders and he joined me for a night in heaven.
All Russian men are the same. I have learnt that, having been born practically in the country myself. Not to mention Nick’s friends, family, they all carry the same characteristics. Bright eyes, dark brown, black, or sandy blonde hair, a slight pout and strong, chiselled features are all trademarks of a pedigree Russian. As Nick slept, I saw the Russian in him. Even the position he was in reminded me of the way my brothers would collapse on the sofa after a hard days work at the brewery. One arm out straight the other lazily tucked up to his chest. The deep wound on his right arm was still healing. Once it had I would have to go over the serpentine tattoo just above his bicep.
The hydra, it was a symbol of his many enemies and the evil they embodied as one. I knew about the rifle he slept with under our bed. A .50 calibre sniper rifle with custom night vision scope and attached cartridge carrier. It was an antique, a veteran of a weapon from world war III in 2035. When China had decimated the world with a series of BioHaz weapons, built to wipe out all that weren’t friendly to the Capital State. Russia had been the Neutralist party, but we still got bombed. My family came out of the Czech Republic to seek refuge. The Polish were taking sides but had chosen the wrong side for our protection. What is now Po– Land was taken by the Koreans and was wiped clean of any life. Made into a wasteland of concrete and industry.
My heart skipped a beat when Nicks hand on my face jerked me from my reminiscing. “What’re you thinking about beautiful?”
“The War, and when it will catch up with you…with us.” He smiled; as he did when he found something I was worrying about that just wasn’t worth worrying about. He brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles before his fingertips fluttered over my eyelids. “Go back to sleep Lyra. We’ll be fine, I promise” I sat up and turned towards the full wall window. “Shade Up.” Clearly I stated the command and slowly the tinting on the window lifted to reveal the beautiful sunrise and the horizon of fire we were treated to every morning.
“The Time Is Four Eighty Nine” the computer stated. “No way! Too early Lyra. We don’t have work today. I amnotgetting up now.” I giggled and slid out from under the silk covering. I padded round the floating platform and kissed my beloved on the forehead. “Fine, you can lig in bed baby. I’ll make us some coffee sub.” I went to the window then looked back. “я люблю тебя.” The Russian endearment rolled off my tongue and I heard his breathing catch. “I love you too Lyra. Come back to bed?”
“No…and you need to get up too! D’rors’ expecting us, remember?”
“Guuhhhh…” he half grunted, half groaned and rolled onto his stomach, arms over his head. Again, the light cast soft shadows across his back. I leant over and kissed the small of his back where the black sheets stopped. “Mmm…” he stretched and arched like a cat.
I left him to get out of bed and went to the kitchenette in our room. A work surface and sink that slid out from the wall. The coffee sub was in a silver sachet with ‘CS’ stamped into it. Tearing it open with my teeth I tried not to look at it. The grey-brown colour of dehydrated coffee substitute was not the most appetising thing on a morning. Switching on the tap I stated another order; “Boil.” Being careful not to burn myself, I set the two ceramic cups under the tap and poured the grey powder into each steaming mug letting the roiling water stir it in for me.
More memories… how the sea bubbled and steamed as each living creature under its surface burnt and imploded…the obscene virus sending their body temperatures through the roof… The red crust on the beaches the day after The Death of the Sea… the stench of rotting fish and dead body…The sight of a small boy, first the silhouette emerging from the smog, then the real horror. Black and crisp he lay on the beach never to hug his parents again, or go swimming in the cool waters of the sea. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the images, the feel of the gas mask, the way the thick goggles misted everything. I was never sure if it was the goggles or the tears blurring my vision…
I shook my head and took the cups out of the sink to set them down on the bedside table. The bathroom door clicked and Nick walked out onto the carpet. How lucky we were to have wool and not nylon substitute. Proper wool, something we retained from the northern planes, living with the Nomads for years after our country was laid waste to. He had his hands linked behind his head, staring out of the window with a look that said he was far away from our house by the sea…far away from a war ridden world run by gooks and industry…far away from the coffee sub sitting on his bedside table going cold. There was a look on his face that said; ‘I want to go home.’
Tucking my head between his shoulder and his neck, my nose was filled with that same smell…my arms around his waist; he was warm as he walked us over, step by step, to the table. He lit a cigarette, Lucky Strike, and passed one to me. “Packet’s nearly empty. Remind me to ask D’ror for more.” My Zippo clicked shut and the silky smoke slid down my throat and singed my lungs. “Alright. We need shampoo sub too and somerealmeat. My anaemia’s getting worse and so is yours.”
Letting me go, he pulled a packet of fresh hypodermics from the draw under the table, along with a tiny clear bottle with ‘GLY-c’ printed on it. He stabbed the lid with the needle and filled the chamber, then did the same with a fresh needle. He slipped the point under the surface of the soft skin of his wrist and injected the Glycogen into his blood stream. I took the other and did the same. The prick never made me wince anymore; I was numb to the pain of loss. After sugar cane became extinct all glucose and sugar substitutes had to be injected. Any form of pill or powder ran the risk of being contaminated with aerial substances and all liquid forms were delivered in these sealed bottles.
I let out a long breath and placed the needle in the incinerator. “Time to get dressed, we’ll leave in half a turn.”
“Roger that, ma’am.” He said grinning. I smacked his stomach with the back of my hand and ran for the wardrobe, laughing as he bent double and a red mark started to appear. “Ahh…hey is joking! Is a joke, you laugh!” I picked up my favourite trench coat as he mocked his own accent and chose a navy t-shirt.