Burn for Me (Chaotic Love)

4. Four

Four

8–22-2024

I hate being caught off guard.

-Sam

In five, four, three, two…

My private quarters door swings open hard enough that the knob slams into the wall just in time for the wake-up call.

“You'd think you’d give me a knock after all these years,” I grumble, focusing on the steady pattern of tying up my laces.

“I need to keep you on your toes.” Caspian huffs, but I don't look up to witness the amusement written on his face.

My boot thumps to the floor, and I pull the other up to rest on the edge of my bed to match the string, “Try being less predictable then.”

Once satisfied, I stand and double-check my uniform and surroundings. The bed is made with tight and straight sheets, there isn’t a speck of dust on the barren furniture, and the floor is spotless, per usual.

“It looks good, Sam. Let's get going. We have a busy morning, but this afternoon should be calmer.”

I know it looks good. My brain won't allow it to look any different, and since Caspian locked me in my private quarters after Jasmine took off, I had no choice but to find a way to occupy my mind. I hate when she goes into town because I don't know what is happening or who is around her. Luckily, from what I can tell, her visits to town have been minimal over the last few months, so even while on bed rest, I didn’t have to stress as much over it. But yesterday, I was half tempted to hide in the trunk even though we sent Moe with them as a ‘safety precaution.’

Moe and Caspian came to my quarters last night for a little chat and whisky–I have no shame in saying that I snuck Moe some when Caspian wasn't looking. He's an adult and has been for a long time, but I think the only one who can recognize that is me.

That’s beside the point, though.

The liquor loosened his tongue enough that he informed us that everything went well, and he threw us for a loop when he said Sharkie and Jasmine were getting along. Caspian was pleased with the information, and I should be too, but at the same time, I’m irritated that Jasmine would let her guard down so easily.

Once I triple-check everything, I brush my fingers through my hair and step past Tide into the open hall. Soldiers come to a halt to salute their superiors and then hurry to whatever task they should be doing. I am so lost in my tumbling thoughts that my feet carry me without my mind, following the familiar trail that my body is wired to remember by now.

“I can't wait for this.” Caspian laughs, shoving at my shoulder, and I finally realize how far we've walked in silence. Its fucking weird hearing the noise from him, but I enjoy it anyway. He’s been looser ever since Sharkie came into the picture, but I don't see how when the woman is the definition of disaster. I’ll never question him out loud, though… especially since I don't have room to talk.

I shake my head and put my hands into my pockets to keep my mind on the conversation instead of returning to her .

“I thought I told you to warn someone before you throw them into shock with that sound.” I joke back with a small laugh in return.

“You'll be hearing it all day.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” All humor is lost in my voice because there is too much in his. Today is supposed to be like usual; I can break a sweat and get some of this anger out. Due to my history, Caspian is the only person I'm allowed to work with when preparing, so I always look forward to these days, but I freeze as he turns into the mess hall instead of heading straight for our training grounds.

Caspian eats in his room every morning with Sharkie–I would know since I have to hear how bloody good it was. Even though I should probably get some protein before exerting myself, it's not part of my schedule on days with Caspian.

“Get your arse in here.” He barks, and I begrudgingly follow his voice into the area.

All tables have been moved off to the side, except one a little further into the room where Sharkie leans and Jasmine sits perched. The smell of bacon isn’t present like it usually is during this time, and team members aren’t pacing the floor to see who got the better food because there's none besides us.

Jasmine smiles brightly at something Sharkie says, but it drops when she looks at me.

That makes two of us.

“What is this?” My voice is low, pulling Caspian's attention in my direction. He’s utterly unamused by my reaction as he finds his place by the table.

“Training,” he mutters simply as if my question was completely unnecessary. I should have known we would be doing these types of exercises with the mission so close, but it doesn’t ease the way my mind begins to spiral.

I like knowing what’s going to happen. I prefer a steady routine. I hate being caught off guard.

“Go get him,” Sharkie whispers with a slight, crooked grin, and Jasmine hops off the table, giving me a once-over. She’s gauging my mood again. That’s one of the few things Jasmine has told me about herself. If I remember correctly, she says it helps her know how to react before anything happens. She doesn't gauge me well enough because she always expects me to be mad, so she turns defensive quickly… just like yesterday.

Each step of her bare feet against the marble floor has a slight sway that rocks her hips, and I shift my feet to cross my arms over my chest, causing Jasmine’s head to tilt as she approaches me.

“What took you so long?” She all but whispers as the tips of her toes touch the edge of my boots. She's too close, looking too damn sweet.

“Why are you barefoot?” I grit out, not budging from my position. While she appears calm with even breathing and relaxed shoulders, I can see the pulse at her throat–it looks like her heart has crawled its way up her throat and is trying to beat through the skin.

“If you want answers, you'll have to give them.” She smiles and places her hand on my chest. It's too much. All I want to do is pull her into me and feel every curve form into my rigid ones, but at the same time, I want to rip the eyes out of any head that dares to look in her direction while she's acting this way–like I'm the only man she can see.

I can make that happen; make every man on base disappear so she never has to worry about looking at another. It'd be messy and probably take some time–

I quickly step back away from her touch.

“You’re fuckin kidding me..” I bite out in Tide's direction and catch the quick look of hurt flashing over Jasmine's features before she's hardening them. She doesn't know pain. Pain is having something so fucking perfect so close and knowing you can only act like it's yours.

I thought I knew what Hell was like, but I was wrong. This is hell.

“Fuckin’ hell, just do your job, Sam.” Tide taps his fingers against the buttons of his shirt, calming his breathing from my outburst. They’ve been happening a lot lately. I can’t stand that it feels like I’m not in control of them, but I have no outlet for everything I keep pent up anymore.

I used to be able to step into the cellars and find an enemy soldier to take some… time… with, but since the wars have ended, I have nothing.

I'm putting a bandaid over a lid, hoping it can contain the rage that never seems to leave my side.

“Look, you have to be convincing. You won't be able to do that unless you two get comfortable with the situation.” Sharkie’s eyes narrow when I don't move. It’s an insult. I was made to shoot guns and roll in the dirt–not dress up and drink fancy drinks. Pushing my hand through my hair, I look back towards the entrance.

If it's not me, it'll be someone else touching her, whispering in her ear, and walking around with her on their arm. I could never convince myself to back out with that knowledge.

I’ve dug my hole and need to lay in it.

As I turn back to concede, my brows furrow at Sharkie, pulling Jasmine close. I know it’s a demonstration, but the creeping screams echo into my skull, and dark spots speckle my vision as a blush crawls into Jasmine's cheeks. Without thinking, I grip Jasmine’s wrist, pulling her into my chest with a hard thud.

“Jesus, you freaking—” Jasmine’s groan fades as Sharkie’s laugh cuts it off.

“Well, that works, too.”

I’m lost in a spiral as my focus darts between Caspian's hold on Sharkie and mine around Jasmine. My reaction was instinctive, mirroring a protective gesture he displays with her daily without realizing it. Taking a deep breath, I try to process the situation while Jasmine struggles to free herself from my grip.

“Don’t touch,” I murmur through clenched teeth. I need to adjust, but her skin's simple graze against mine makes my head feel unnaturally empty.

What I feel for Jasmine isn’t the same as what Caspian feels for Sharkie. Mine is a mix of lust and anger that makes my neck heat. She isn’t the type of woman who wants to be loved; she’s the type who enjoys playing mind games.

When I look back, her eyes are squinted, and the dusty color deepens in her cheeks, causing me to tilt my head curiously. I’ve seen her mad, but she doesn’t usually change color; she has a scrunched nose and lines between her brows. Right now, she’s flustered. I know I should back away when I get her to this point. It’s the boundary I drew that I’m aware not to cross, but… I find myself wanting more of this reaction for myself.

Since when have I ever wanted anything other than to see the fear I can create?

"I figured I would be going to the grounds today." I lower my voice so only she can hear me as I explain. I place her hand on my chest and cover it to hold it in place. She watches the movement, her lips parted and no words coming out, as if she’s trying to process what I’m saying. God, she’s fucking beautiful . She always has been, but when I have her this close, that’s all I can think about.

The flicks of ash in her eyes from this proximity make me wonder if they’re from bodies that she's burned in her past. If only I knew more, this would be so much easier. I wouldn’t be focused on how her fingers flex into my chest, bunching my dog tags beneath the palms I know are soft. If I could figure out what makes her bad, I could stop stepping closer and…

“I’m surprised,” she murmurs, and I quickly flatten my foot against the floor where it had risen. She knows my routine as well as I know hers, so there’s no way this is shocking.

“I was almost convinced you didn't have a heart, but I feel something thumping in there.”

And there it is. The same insufferable, bratty attitude returns tenfold, and I refrain from raising my voice in response. I should be grateful she broke my trance, but at the same time, I can't understand why she has so many walls built around her. When one starts to crumble, she has to put another in its place.

My hand tenses around hers, but I don't push her away like my body is begging me to do.

“You're not making this easy,” I mumble as I look over her head at Sharkie, who is prying Caspian's phone out of his hands. A slow melody starts to play, and I’m half-convinced this is Caspian's way of punishing me for the years he’s lost trying to correct my thoughts.

“It's a masquerade ball. Stop looking like you're in bloody pain, and just dance.” Caspian waves his hand without looking in my direction, too focused on how many steps Sharkie takes away from him. I wouldn't be surprised if he counted them so he could calculate how many it’d take him to get to her.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I guide Jasmine’s hands to wrap around the back of my neck. Even though I can’t control much right now, I can at least dictate where and when she touches me. It may be a small sense of power and not nearly enough to calm my nerves, but it helps.

I huff as her nails graze the collar of my shirt. This situation is ridiculous—she can’t even encircle her arms completely around me without straining to stay upright. Yet, it's perfect . I let my hands drop to her waist, trying to ignore how good it feels to know I could move her however I wanted if I chose to.

Lost in my thoughts, I overlook Jasmine’s misstep, and my foot lands on her toe.

“Ouch!” She yelps, and I roll my eyes.

“Well, if you’d follow instead of trying to lead , that wouldn’t happen,” I reply.

She scoffs and looks down at our feet, attempting to match my steps.

“See, I told you this was stupid, and I should just…” Her words trail off as she looks around, realizing no one is there but me. I raise an eyebrow when her gaze finally meets mine. Did she think they'd stay? Apparently, she didn’t get the memo; this is a bonding experience. Her eyes drop again, fueling my irritation.

“I gave you an answer, but now it's your turn.”

I’m trying to ease the tension by talking. If she keeps to her usual flirting or bratty behavior, I should be able to handle this. Her sway finds a rhythm, so my hands drop to her hips, hoping to redirect her focus. Instead, she turns to look at the wall.

“I can't dance in those wonky things.” She finally replies with a quiet huff.

“Looks like you can't dance without them either.” I nearly grin, but she doesn’t give me the satisfaction of letting her see it for once. Typically, she studies me like I’m a personal file, but now it seems the chip in the wall, where Moe threw Braxton into it not long ago, is more interesting.

“Look at me.” My tone drops to the demand I always need to use with her. If I don’t, she takes the opportunity to push her luck. I want to say it’s because I want her to respect me as her lieutenant, but the truth is, I do it because it gets her attention—she listens, and in those moments, she looks like the girl I found on the beach: innocent, with all her attention focused on me.

As expected her head snaps in my direction, and I get a better view of every feature I never allow myself to enjoy for longer than necessary. That gorgeous red hue is back, lighter than before, but it taints high on her cheekbones and across her nose.

“Tell me something.” She murmurs, her eyes softening, looking more golden than brown. “Nothing too personal, though.”

“Are you scared you might like me if you see me as a human?” I grin, and a smile spreads across her plush pink lips. It almost sounds like she’s holding back a laugh. I wish she had let it out.

“I know you're human. That's not it. I just…” Her words trail off as her gaze wanders across my face, and I wish I knew what she was thinking.

“My favorite color is black. Is that too personal?” I shrug, avoiding the deeper details of it being my middle name. Her fingertips graze my hairline, sending a chill down my spine.

“That's perfect,” she nearly whispers. Out of instinct, I lean closer to hear her better, and she swallows thickly before speaking again.

“Mine is red.”

“That seems fitting for a little devil.”

“That’s just rude.” she gasps in false shock.

“It’s a pet name.”

“You could have called me something sweet, like ‘Angel,’” she teases.

I shake my head. “You’re not sweet, though. You’re powerful—like the devil.”

“Is that so?”

"It is." I move my hand to the small of her back, pulling our hips together, and her sway begins to match my rhythm.

“You have a way of tempting me into believing that all the wrong things are right. You turn everything I thought I knew on its head, making me feel like it’s okay to crave what I know I shouldn’t have.” Her head tilts closer, and my lips brush against her ear as I drop my voice to a whisper.

" You make sinning look so fucking good."

“Thank God. I was losing hope about you two.” The sudden voice startles me enough that I tighten my grip around Jasmine, and she sucks in a sharp breath in response, shoving against my chest.

“You're such a brute!” Jasmine snaps, so I relent and step back, brushing my hand through my hair with a huff as I rush past Sharkie out of the room.

What the hell got into me? I shouldn't have said any of that, and I definitely shouldn't have been that close to her. I should blame the logical side of my brain for taking the training exercise too seriously, but deep down, I know better.