Chapter 7
Ronan
Cameron stares at my hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, and it goes on for so long I start to wonder if he’s in a trance. “Well,” he finally croaks, before a slightly hysterical, high-pitched laugh sneaks out of his mouth. He chokes it back immediately, though a few rogue, panicked giggles slip free as he speaks. “That’s a thing. That’s definitely a thing that just happened.” He reaches for his jacket with shaky hands, shoving his arms through the sleeves.
A deep heaviness settles in the pit of my stomach at the loss of his light, but I take my cues from him and pull my leather glove back onto my hand. The room sinks into the dim gleam of the flickering bulb overhead.
Thick silence stretches between us as Cameron stares at the table. His feet fidget, squeaking against the concrete floor, and he absentmindedly reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose. Even with his squirming, it’s the longest he’s sat still since we’ve been in here, and I use the opportunity to take in his appearance .
Tall and lanky, his golden skin is sun-weathered and spotted in dark freckles. His shoulders are narrow and his wrists thin, although his hands are quite large and elegant for a man who lives his life on the road. A prominent Adam’s apple leads to a defined jaw with very little facial hair, even after several days in captivity with no chance to shave.
A barely perceptible bump on the bridge of his nose hints at a past injury, and his cheekbones are high, accentuated by his lean build. Chestnut brown hair is wild on top of his head, and he keeps it pushed out of his face. Those bright blue eyes, razor-sharp and intelligent, shoot up to meet mine.
He may claim no allegiance to any camp, but his rebellious nature can’t be hidden.
Cameron leans forward on his elbows, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to speak. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”
“What?” I snap, taken aback.
He gestures between us with a vague wave of his hand. “You seem… nice, and all, y’know… as far as monsters go, but I don’t need a mate. That’s not…” He trails off and shakes his head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Astonished, my mouth hangs open as his words sink in. “Thanks?” I repeat, incredulous, and my voice raises as my temper flares. “ Thanks, though ?!”
He flinches but holds his ground, lifting his chin in defiance as he nods. “Appreciate the interest, and, uh, good luck with…” He gestures towards my hand. “… all that. If it’s alright, I’d like to return to my cell now.”
A low, surprised whistle comes from Elas as my mouth opens and closes, unable to form the words to respond. Unfazed, Cameron stands and stretches, snatching what remains of the loaf of bread from the tray. “You won’t mind if I take this, though? Fuck, I’ll have to hide it in my shirt so the others don’t steal it.”
My body snaps into action without my permission, the chair slamming to the ground with a loud crash as I storm around the table. Cameron’s eyes widen as I shove his shoulders, knocking his back against the wall with a thud. A searing heat, uncontrolled as a wildfire, races through my veins the moment we touch, and my entire body is charring with its flames.
“My bread!” he cries as the loaf falls to the floor, and I push his shoulders again, forcing his eyes to mine.
“You would deny me?” My voice is low and threatening, and fear flashes across his face before he smoothes it into his usual bored indifference.
“You would assault me and growl like a feral beast rather than having a civil conversation? Tell me, does the word no mean anything to you, or do you just take what you want?” he counters, and I falter, retreating a half step. “Consider my point of view for two godsdamned seconds, Ronan. I’ve been beaten and kidnapped twice … thrown into different jail cells. I don’t even know these people, but I’m accused of sharing their crimes. Then you drag me from my cell and tell me… what? You’re my destiny ? The missing piece of my soul ?”
A muscle in my jaw jumps at his sarcastic air quotes, and my tails, usually neatly tucked into my armor, burst free, lashing behind me in a display of irritation. His throat bobs with a nervous swallow, tracking the whip-like appendages as they move in perfect sync .
My chest rises in a deep breath as I try to force calm into my voice. “I understand this is a lot to take in—”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he snaps, his cool facade finally disappearing. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have me pinned, trying to rub your scent on me like a fucking animal.” The truth in his words hits me in a punch and I stumble backward, putting space between us. Cameron wilts, eyes closing as his head thunks against the wall. “This was not how I saw my week going,” he mutters, and for the first time, his stress shows itself, front and center.
Pushing my own tangled emotions aside, I force myself to really look at Cameron. Anxiety lines his face and tension weighs on his body. Exhaustion hangs over him like a cloud, as if he could fall asleep and not wake for an entire week.
Guilt eats at my insides as I take another step backward and lean against the table. He opens a single eye by a sliver, glancing at me as some of his tightness eases.
It doesn’t feel like a victory, but maybe a delicate truce.
“What can I do to help?” Both of his eyes snap open as his brows try to meet in the middle of his forehead.
“I’m locked up… in a rebel prison… and you have to fucking ask?” I flinch, dropping my gaze to the ground as I nod, realizing that I am, in fact, an idiot.
“Elas and I are working on a plan to free you, but it’s not something that can happen overnight.” There’s no official log of the prisoners, because unless you live in the control of the big cities, identification cards are a thing of the past. Half of the rebels aren’t willing to speak, much less give their names. In such a large group, a single missing prisoner would be chalked up to a miscount and no one would bat an eye.
“What happens when you get me out?” he demands, his agitated hands flailing. “Let’s say you’re actually able to release me from this fetid, rat-infested hellhole… what then? I owe you a life debt and am stuck by your side? You own me?”
Disgust twists my features at the implication of his words. “No,” I say, voice low as I stretch the word. “You would be free to do whatever you want.”
“Simple as that? Just… poof , gone? Even if it meant letting me walk away, never seeing you again? That’s big talk from a man who was just preaching about being fated mates.”
Pain rips through my chest, and I tear my eyes from his, staring at the wall. “If that’s what you truly desired, then yes, I would do it.” A scoff, sharp and dismissive, makes it abundantly clear he thinks I’m lying.
And really, who can blame him?
“You may not believe me, Cameron,” I say, voice quiet, “but I am not the monster you have painted me to be in your mind.”
Not with this…
Not with him.
In spite of my colorful, bloody history, I already know I could never hurt the man in front of me... no matter how much I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. There are lines that even the worst of men don’t cross. Despite the way my instincts scream at me to take him, to make him mine, I’d never force myself on him.
Would never take what wasn’t freely given .
Cameron says nothing, just continues to stare at me with that disbelieving expression on his face. The silence is deafening, ringing in my ears as I stand and wipe my palms on the leather of my armor.
“Alright, then. Let’s get you to your cell,” I say as I walk towards the door, fighting the urge to rub at my chest. The rejection took more out of me than I had anticipated. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for my behavior… before. You don’t know me, and all I’ve done is…” I trail off, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get more bread to replace the one you dropped.”
“Find out what happened to my dog,” Cameron blurts from behind me, and I pause, glancing over my shoulder at him. He pushes off the wall and takes a cautious step closer. “Boomerang… she’s a German Shepherd mix. Can’t bark, only makes a strained, raspy sound. When I was captured, she was taken along with me. Find out…” He swallows, the emotion in his voice potent. “Find out what happened to her, good or bad, and I’ll consider joining in whatever scheme you concoct.”
“Done,” I say, turning to face him.
“And we take August with us.”
White hot jealousy flares in my stomach as I take a step in his direction, fists clenching at my sides while the mark on my palm pulses. “Who is this August?”
Cameron’s eyes flicker down my frame and back up, a smug grin teasing his lips when he sees the snarl on mine. “Easy, big guy,” he whispers as he steps closer, placing a gentle hand on my forearm that ignites every nerve in my body. “He’s the medic in the rebel camp and was kind to me while I was there. Fed me, tried to get them to set me free. He isn’t like the rest of them and doesn’t deserve to meet the same fate.”
The tug in my gut intensifies as I lean into his touch. It wants me to grab him and pull him closer, feel his skin against mine. “I won’t promise that,” I say, and he scowls at me as I hurry to finish. “The priority is getting you out of here, and if this August person puts that in jeopardy, I won’t risk it. You are my only concern, even if you hate me for it later.”
“That’s… oddly sweet,” he says with a conflicted smile. “Deal.”
Elas rises from his seat, giving me an apologetic grimace. “We’ve taken too much time, Ronan. He needs to go back to his cell.”
I consider what would happen if I just marched Cameron out of the prison and through the front gates, but I know such a reckless action would cost us both our lives. “I don’t like this.”
“Yeah, welcome to the club.” He gives a light squeeze to my arm before backing up a step. “At least I get fresh bread from all this drama.” His pointed look tells me he is holding me to that promise.
“You’ll get your bread, greedy human.” The teasing is unfamiliar, foreign on my tongue, but his answering half-smile only proves to me just how far I’ll go to see it again.
"Fancy seeing you here again,” Cameron says as we step into the interrogation room. He wears an artificially sunny smile that feels more like a challenge than a greeting. “Where’s your friend?”
“Gathering our dinner.” He tilts his head, pursing his lips. “That was part of this deal, was it not?”
“Just didn’t expect you to follow through,” he challenges, crossing his arms.
“Mmm, don’t flatter yourself too much. My day hasn’t allowed time for a meal yet, so it’s not as generous as it sounds.” His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile, an amused gleam in his eyes as he fights it.
I gesture at the same seat where this all started yesterday. Since we left, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about the infuriating human, to the point that it’s interfering with my duties. If it weren’t for Elas coming to grab me from my barracks, I would’ve missed muster this afternoon, which is something I haven’t done since I was a young man. Instead of paying attention to the time, I was too busy daydreaming about his blue eyes like a teenager with a crush. That alone should have sirens blaring inside my brain.
Cameron drops into the chair, feet kicking underneath him. “Any news on Boomerang?”
“Not yet. I’ve checked with the kennels, but the only dogs there are the hounds that are used for searches and tracking.”
“Fuck,” he groans, his agitated feet moving faster. “You don’t think—”
“There’s no way to know what’s happened, not yet. Enough time has passed since the raid that all the reports should’ve been turned in by now, but whoever grabbed you might not have reported the dog. It’s not exactly standard practice. ”
“Maybe you can figure out who captured me and check their reports?” he asks, and there’s so much desperation in his tone that I can’t find it in myself to crush his hopes and tell him I’ve already read every report.
Twice.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll go by the records office tomorrow during my down time,” I lie, and it tastes bitter on my tongue as I force my face to stay neutral.
What the fuck am I doing? Lying and withholding information? I’ve been brutally honest since the day I was born. Refusing to sugarcoat my words often got me in trouble as a child and young man, but I never bothered to change my behavior. I don’t lie, especially when it’s to spare others’ feelings.
Except his, apparently.
“Thank you,” he says, and his gratitude is so genuine it takes my breath away.
“You are… welcome.” Both of us look at the other awkwardly for a moment before he breaks our stare-off and drops his eyes to my uniform.
“What do the different patches mean?”
I glance down at my leathers, pointing at the one on my left pec with three vertical golden stripes. “This one shows my rank.”
“Is it a high rank or are you just a peon that likes to strut?”
An unexpected laugh slips free, and he grins as he glances up, seemingly pleased with himself for making me crack. “Lower-ranking soldiers advance with horizontal marks,” I explain, glancing back down at the patch and running my finger over the lines. “Once you accumulate five horizontal marks, or rows as we call them, you are promoted to an officer. Officers are awarded vertical stripes, but they take much longer to earn.”
“What is the highest number someone has?”
“Five,” I answer, “and there are only six that hold that rank in the entire military. To put it into perspective, my superior officer is this base’s commander, and he has four stripes.”
“Alright, so you’re not a peon,” he concedes, tossing me another grin. “What do the others mean?”
I point at the one that reads ‘Glaston’ with an image of a tower underneath it. “This one designates my home base.”
“That’s where we are now? Glaston?” I nod, and he looks thoughtful. “How far are we from the rebel camp where I was taken?”
“Not terribly far… around fifty miles.” I can tell his mind is spinning as he processes the information, but he says nothing else. Just as the silence is turning uncomfortable, a boom against the door makes both of us jump in our seats.
“It’s me,” Elas yells from outside. “Hands are full.”
I stand to let him inside, and he sits a tray on the table that’s loaded up with two plates of food. It’s simple fare, rice and beans with a chunk of ham, but Cameron’s eyes grow wide as he stares at it. “You aren’t eating?” I ask Elas.
His dark eyes meet mine as his brow arches the tiniest amount. “Thought I’d keep watch out here just in case anyone comes by.” He leans closer, putting his lips against my ear. “Hard for you to win him over when all this fine man-meat is sitting in the corner tempting him. ”
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter, shoving his arm as he belts out a loud laugh, then saunters out the door.
Cameron is eying me curiously as I clear my throat and return to my seat. “What’s the story between you and him?”
“Elas?” I ask, scrunching my brows as I pass him his dinner. “We’ve known each other for most of our lives. He’s the closest thing to family I have left.”
“You aren’t… together?”
“Gods, no,” I say, pulling my face into a horrified expression as I meet his eyes again. “He’s practically a brother to me.”
He nods, focused on his plate as he scoops up a giant bite, holding his fork in front of his mouth. “You just seem really close.”
“Well, yes, we… wait.” His eyes dart up, staring at me over the frames of his glasses as I notice the pink tinge to his cheeks. “Are you jealous?”
Mouth full, he shakes his head defiantly. Once he swallows, he makes sure I’m aware of the heavy scowl he’s shooting in my direction. “Of course not.”
“It’s okay if you are,” I tease, grinning as his flush turns a shade darker.
“It’s just… it’s this stupid mark.” The humor falters from my face at the frustration in his voice. “It’s making me…” He catches himself, shaking his head again as he shoves another giant bite of food in his mouth.
“Making you what?”
“Feel weird,” he mutters.
“It is strange, isn’t it?” I ask, and he finally meets my eyes again. “The way it makes you impulsive to do things you normally wouldn’t do? ”
“What does yours want you to do?” His voice is hesitant, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he waits for me to gather my thoughts.
My mouth opens and closes a few times, unaccustomed to being open with anyone aside from Elas. After a few more moments of hesitation, I reach across the table, palm up, as my heart thuds in my chest. “This.”
He stares at my hand for a long time, and just when I’m about to rip it back and expire on the spot from embarrassment, he reaches for me as well, tracing the tips of my fingers with his. “It’s dumb, isn’t it?” he whispers, and I don’t move a muscle in case I scare him off.
“Dumb isn’t the word I’d choose. Strange, yes. Foreign.”
“Inexplicable?”
“Indeed.” We sit like that for another stretch before he traces my fingertips once more and pulls his hand back to continue eating.
“Alright, monster, are you going to tell me how you plan on breaking my ass out of this prison, or is that supposed to be left to my imagination?” I huff a quiet laugh as I grab my fork, and I don’t miss the way he continues to smile as he finishes his meal.