Page 37 of Into Orbit
‘Lie down,’ he instructed. ‘Lift your shirt when you’re ready.’
I settled down on the bench. It was made of the same material as the seats in Elswyth’s pod, and it moulded to my body, comfortable as a bed. I shimmied my shirt up to my ribs.
‘Are you comfortable?’
I nodded.
‘May I begin?’
‘Yes, doctor,’ I answered. ‘You may.’
‘Let me know if this is too cold,’ Willow said softly.
I jumped when the scanner touched my skin, and he pulled back and warmed it between his hands before trying again. He was looking across at his screen, not at me, so I took the opportunity to study his face, drinking in the moss-green eyes, the square line of his jaw, the arch of his fair brows. Willow’s features were slightly different to the other Tirians; his eyes were larger, his cheekbones sharper, his jaw wider. His birth mother had been from a different species, he’d said; when he’d spoken about it, his voice had been so sad that I hadn’t pressed any further. Regardless of his parentage, he was handsome as fuck; the lack of pupil was no longer a shock, and nor were the sharp thorns lining his cheekbones and ears. In fact, every time I looked in a mirror, I was surprised to see the black circles in my irises and my thornless skin.
He set the scanner down on my stomach again; I managed to stay still the second time. ‘I’ve been doing some research about what goes where,’ he said, ‘but you might have to help me.’
‘Why does the Captain want this? Is she planning a breeding program?’ I half-joked.
‘She doesn’t care about other humans,’ he answered, frowning distractedly as he moved the scanner over my stomach. ‘She cares about you. If you were to get pregnant, she wants to know what the baseline should look like, so we could help if something went wrong.’
I was touched; from what I understood of other women’s experiences – I had heard somestuffat Advena; people will tell you all kinds of things when you work behind a bar – the doctors on Earth didn’t even give that much of a shit about human women.
Not that I hadanyintention of getting pregnant, ever. Babies had never been my thing.
‘There it is!’ Willow said triumphantly. ‘Your left ovary.’
‘Congratulations,’ I told him.
He flashed me a rare, wide smile. ‘Now to find the other one. Humans are surprisingly complex.’
The scanner moved across my stomach; his free hand settled next to it, keeping my skin taut.
I sucked in a breath.
‘Maeve?’ he said immediately, concerned.
‘All good,’ I choked, trying not to imagine what his hand would feel like elsewhere.
He shot me a slight frown, then looked back at his screen. ‘There,’ he said. ‘The right ovary.’ He frowned again. ‘There’s something on this one.’
‘A cyst,’ I said. ‘Or more than one, maybe. They should be harmless.’ I’d been diagnosed with PCOS years ago, and often went several months without a period. I’d always been active, but part of my strict fitness regime was to help manage some of the other symptoms I’d experienced over the years. I’d had so many of these scans I could almost have done it myself.
I’d never had them done by a doctor I wanted to touch so badly, though.
‘I’ll look it up later,’ he muttered, making a note; I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
He moved the scanner down, closer to my waistband. I hooked my fingers underneath and tugged it down slightly, letting him search for my uterus. His free hand brushed over my skin and came to rest just below my hip. Heat flared between my legs.
‘Is it weird?’ I said, mostly to distract myself. ‘Looking inside people?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, adjusting the scanner slightly. ‘I feel like I know you better.’ His fingers shifted absently over my hip.
‘You can do that without the scanner,’ I teased.
He was silent for a moment, as if weighing up his response. ‘I hope I will,’ he said at last, meeting my eyes.
I couldn’t stop my lips curving up at that.
