Chapter 23
Ice had rejected Hazard’s half-teasing offer to fuck their attraction out of their systems. He was disappointed of course. That kiss in Alaska had yet to leave his mind. Although he hadn’t brought the topic up again, something within him refused to walk away from the possibility of intimacy with the captain.
And it wasn’t just about fucking. He could fuck anybody. He could go off base, hit up a bar, and within an hour he’d find an alpha or beta willing to rail him through his headboard. There was something more than physical need that drew him to Ice. It demanded that he be with the gruff alpha as much as possible. Like now.
They were on the common room couch talking about nothing in particular. As their conversation went on, the distance between them grew smaller and smaller, as if an invisible force was pulling them together. Hazard, sitting sideways as he usually did, had his knee pressed to Ice’s thigh. While Ice had turned slightly to the side so that they could be face to face as they talked. If they were any closer, he’d be half in Ice’s lap.
As they talked, Hazard’s gaze drifted down to the hem of Ice’s balaclava. He was wearing a T-shirt, which left a patch of skin visible between the shirt’s collar and the hem of his balaclava. That skin was pale — a sliver of moon caught between the dark of his mask and shirt. He must have been staring for longer than he realized because Ice called his name.
“Hazard.”
That voice, rough and low, sent a tingle of pleasure down Hazard’s spine. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet the alpha’s. Those expressive, whiskey brown eyes were full of unspoken words. Hazard wanted to crawl into Ice’s lap and listen as he whispered all of the thoughts that he kept to himself. He wanted to know Ice’s mind, wanted to know more about him. “Yeah?”
“You—.”
A knock came at the front door, interrupting whatever Ice was about to say.
Biting back a curse at the piss poor timing, Hazard jumped up to answer it. A young private stood outside their barracks, holding a pale gray envelope with a dark green border in one hand.
“Hello, Corporal Mitchell. I have a message for Captain Anderson.”
Hazard held his hand out for the envelope. “I’ll get it to him.”
“Here you go, sir.”
She passed the message over, briefly bowed her head in place of a salute and left.
Hazard went over and dropped back down on the couch. He handed the envelope to Ice. “This is for you.”
“This is from Major General Walsh,” Ice said as he accepted it.
Hazard gave a low, soft whistle. “You’re pen pals with a general? Impressive.”
“It’s not like that. He’s a friend of my family but he’s very much my superior.”
“Is your family military too?”
“Yes.” Ice’s answer was clipped. He abruptly rose from the couch. “I’m going to go and read this in private.”
“Okay, then. See you later.” Hazard watched, as without another word, Ice went in his room and closed the door. He hoped the letter wasn’t bad news about his family. Going by the abrupt change in Ice’s mood, he assumed the message probably wasn’t anything good.
* * *
Alone in his room, Ice opened the envelope. He’d recognized both the stationary and the handwriting on it right away. He used to receive similar letters all the time when he was a kid away at military school.
Inside the envelope, there was a single sheet of paper. A familiar header was printed across the top in bold, dark font. From the office of Major General Bradford Walsh. And beneath that, a short message in tight, precise cursive.
Hello, Royce. I will be at Fort Grove this Wednesday. If you’re not engaged, let’s have lunch in the officers’ dining hall at noon. Major General Walsh.
Ice refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Unless a mission came up within the next forty-eight hours, he’d be available to dine with the general. He went to the closet and took out his service uniform to give it a fresh press.
* * *
October 14, 1982
12:00
US Legion Base - Fort Grove
Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
On Thursday afternoon at five minutes to noon, Ice walked into the officer’s dining room. It was a much nicer room than the main mess hall with its linoleum floors and bright fluorescent lighting. Here, the walls were covered in cherry wood paneling, the lighting was a mix of natural sunlight coming in from the windows and brass light fixtures overhead, and there was a dark patterned carpet on the floors.
“I’m meeting Major General Walsh,” Ice said to the young soldier working as the dining room host.
“He’s reserved a table for you, Captain Anderson. Right this way.”
The host grabbed two menus and lead the way to a table. It was one of the best in the house, away from the kitchen entrance and the bathrooms, and near a window with a view over the bustling training grounds.
Ice sat down. He left the menu closed, waiting for his dining companion’s arrival. The general was always prompt, so he would be there soon. After a few moments, he noticed he was drumming his fingers on the table. He deliberately stopped the restless movement, folding his hands together atop the closed menu.
He knew the reason for his agitation. It was rare that he was in public without his mask or balaclava. Doing so now left him feeling unpleasantly exposed. Unfortunately, it would be unacceptable to have lunch with the general while wearing them, so he would have to deal.
At the sound of footsteps nearing his table, Ice looked over his shoulder. The general approached. He too was in his service uniform. His hat was tucked under his arm, leaving his thick, silver hair to shine under the dining room’s warm lighting. Except for the deepening squint lines around the eyes, the general looked the same as the last time Ice had seen him. Walsh was Caucasian, with a ruddy complexion and piercing blue eyes. He was tall, only a few inches shorter than Ice, and his uniform fit his lean build well.
Ice stood and saluted him. “Good afternoon, General Walsh.”
“Royce. It’s good to see you, son,” the general said with a smile.
The two of them shook hands.
“It’s good to see you, too, sir.”
Their greetings complete, Ice waited for his mentor to sit then resettled in his chair.
“How’s life in the 448?” Walsh asked.
“It’s going well.”
“I admit I was skeptical when I heard it was an all-shifter unit. With all of you living together no less. But I hear Major Ortiz is an excellent leader and your team is doing good work. And you have a high success rate on all missions.”
“Yes, sir. We are getting things done.”
“And you still look sharp.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The server arrived at their table, pleasantly greeting them both. He set two glasses of ice water topped with lemon slices down. They paused their conversation to place their orders. Walsh ordered the baked chicken and Ice the beef and vegetables. The server promised their meals would be out soon, took their menus, and left to put in their orders.
Walsh took a sip of his lemon water. “Your father would be proud of the soldier you’ve become,” he said as he set the glass back on the table.
“I hope so.”
“I know so,” the general insisted with a firm nod. “He was a damn fine soldier himself. One of the best I served with.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Ice didn’t have much more to say to that. He barely remembered his father. And he wasn’t going to ask the general to tell him stories of the man, like he was a child sitting at his uncle’s knee requesting tales of family lore. Instead of asking for stories, he would do the work to honor his father’s memory. To be worthy of the sacrifice his father had made.
It had been his father’s goal to make Brigadier General. Now, it was his. And to achieve that goal he had to be a good soldier. The best. He would show the brass that there was no one better than Ice Anderson.
“Remember, it’s training and skills that make you a top soldier. Not pack and instincts. Your father believed that as well.”
“I will, General. I spent too much time and spilled too much sweat and blood learning those skills to rely on animal instincts.”
The general nodded, his blue eyes shining. “Atta boy. Now tell me about your last mission.”
They talked, Ice recounting the Alaska op. He left out the parts about scenting and kissing Hazard. At the omission, guilt twinged in his chest, but he pushed it down. He wasn’t ashamed to have kissed Hazard. But that topic wasn’t appropriate for lunch conversation with his mentor. Not to mention, their kiss had broken fraternization rules and confessing it to the general might lead to consequences for both him and Hazard. The general was a stickler for the rules after all. Perhaps their mentor mentee relationship would prevent Walsh from reporting Ice for his transgression, but he certainly wouldn’t give him his blessing.
Once their food arrived, the conversation fell into a natural lull. Ice enjoyed his meal, the beef was tender and well-seasoned and the accompanying vegetable mix was just as flavorful. The general expressed his pleasure in his meal as well. After they finished, they resumed chatting over post-meal coffees. As usual, the topics never strayed past Legion business. Even when he was a child, personal discussions between them had been rare.
At the conclusion of their meal, the server collected their coffee cups. Ice rose along with the general and they walked out of the dining hall together. Outside, the general turned to him.
“Royce, it was a pleasure to spend an hour with you. Unfortunately, I’ve got to get to a meeting and I leave straight after. Otherwise, I’d ask to meet the members of your team. You be sure to give them my best.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Good.” The general clapped Ice on the shoulder. “Remember, let the focus and skills you’ve developed be what drives you, son,” Walsh reminded him again. “They’ve already made you an elite soldier. And with them, you’ll rise up the ranks as high as you want to go.”
They shook hands before Walsh strode over to the staff vehicle waiting for him. He got in and Ice gave him a final wave goodbye as the truck drove off across the base. Once it was gone, Ice pulled his balaclava from his pocket and slid it on over his head.
* * *
On his way back to the 448 barracks, Ice thought about what his mentor had said. Over the past few weeks, he had strayed from what he’d been taught during his years in military school and training in the Legion. But it wasn’t too late to get himself back on track. He could serve and live with the 448. That didn’t mean that he had to embrace their way of life and abandon the values that made him who he was.
But it did mean he would have to let go of his budding closeness with Hazard. Not only was it inappropriate for them to have a romantic relationship, but Hazard was too into the instinctual sides of their nature. The omega wanted them to be a pack and scent each other and who knows what else. That wasn’t him. It never had been.
He was a soldier with a goal. Personal relationships and giving in to instincts would prevent him from achieving that goal. A momentary pang of regret tightened his chest at the thought of pulling away from Hazard but he squashed it. They would both be fine. There was never any real future for them together anyway, so it was best to put an end to it now.
Ice walked into their barracks with renewed determination. Hazard, Jax, and Ortiz sat at the kitchen table with playing cards in hand and a pile of them in the center of the table. They all looked over when he walked in. Hazard sent him a welcoming smile.
“How was your lunch with the general?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Want to join us? We’re playing Uno.”
“No.”
Hazard looked surprised at his abrupt answer. Ice ignored him. He went straight to his bedroom and shut the door without saying another word. The brief interlude of exploring his shifter instincts and embracing the pull he felt toward Hazard had been interesting, but it was time to get back on track.