Chapter Fourteen Larissa
Chapter Fourteen
LARISSA
SILENT FOR THE rest of the hike to the river, my mind remains consumed by thoughts of that soldier and of his wife, his orphaned son and daughter.
Along with the haunted look in Tyler’s eyes as he spoke, and the distance in his voice as he recounted the story.
His admissions only renewing my faith and belief in the man I chose to place my trust in.
Though his empathy and humanity seem to have waned, I now understand the why of it.
Between the chaos and cruelty of our current world and the battle scars he’s already gathered, he’s now the living definition of a wary soldier.
His enemies are far too many to count. His task list is both insurmountable and daunting.
And with no refuge, no bubble of his own to speak of.
A soldier without a home. A life of war without reward for his sacrifice.
Although there’s no comparison to make between us, in a way, I feel I’m choking on the same dirty air he’s been forced to function on.
In truth, I have been breathing it for a lot longer than I’ve allowed myself to admit.
Knowing what taints my inhales, making them hardest to draw, while never allowing myself to dwell on the why for too long.
Although the evil Tyler’s seen and dealt with far outweighs any I’ve witnessed and been exposed to. Even with Ciro as a father.
In Tyler’s grand scheme, both Ciro and I are insignificant. Utter wastes of his time. That truth is harder to swallow than I want it to be at this point. As is his utter contempt for me.
He wants me dealt with so he can move on to more important things.
My life and future—as much as they might mean to me—are trivial in comparison to the billions of others on his vigilantly watched planet.
He’s dedicated his life to helping snuff out the threats for so many who have no idea he exists.
Not just the citizens of the country he helps preside over, but of those all over the globe.
He’s tasked himself with eliminating as many of the evils he can identify as possible.
As have most of the soldiers who march every day.
To save the people from the Ciro DiCiccos and their predecessors and so far beyond.
In Tyler’s scope, my father and I are speed bumps at most. Barely perceptible dips in the road.
Standing next to the running river, I survey the water flowing over the rocks as Tyler offers me a bar of soap.
One that partially solves the mystery of what makes up his scent.
He turns his back to give me some privacy as I undress and stalk toward the flowing water.
Like he warned, it’s unbearably cold, but I forge on, intent on getting the days of dried sweat and the residue from the blast off my skin.
I keep my eyes on Tyler’s turned back as I hastily wash, teeth chattering.
Making quick work of ridding the layer of filth covering me, his words continue to circulate through my mind.
As they do, I scrub harder, impossibly more uncomfortable in my own skin than I’ve ever been.
More ashamed to be the mostro’s daughter.
Even with the sinking feeling, I can’t help but be in awe of the man standing yards away from me, shoulders drawn, standing guard to protect the very evil he despises.
I was wrong in thinking he wasn’t the man I came for.
Though from then and now, he’s too far gone in his quest and has experienced too much to have that same life thrumming through him.
To make matters worse, it’s people like Ciro stealing his will to fight.
“Tyler,” I whisper as I wash the remnants of soap away, knowing he heard me, even over the running water.
After hastily rinsing, I begin walking toward him along the larger river rocks, my bare feet navigating the unforgiving ground as I close the distance.
Just before I reach him, he bends to the bucket, grabbing a towel.
Keeping his eyes lowered, he thrusts it toward me in offering.
Taking it, I press it to my chest, loosely covering myself as I implore his audience.
“Tyler, please face me,” I whisper hoarsely through chattering teeth.
Eternal seconds pass before he finally does.
His eyes slowly lift from his dirt-covered boots to mine as he regards me, clear fatigue inside his gaze, though his expression remains impenetrable.
“I admire you more than you’ll ever know.
Thank you, sincerely, for your service, and I’m so very sorry for your friend and any others you’ve lost because of my father.
If you refuse to believe another word I say, please believe that much. ”
He dips his chin in quick dismissal before staring at the hand I put on his forearm to keep him from retreating.
Tense beats pass before his eyes blaze down the rivulets of water gliding along my bared skin.
Lips parting, I feel every inch he covers.
From my throat down to the sides of my breasts, past my stomach and thighs.
Electricity of a different kind snakes around us, my skin lighting fire at the sensation of having his focus.
It’s the underlying sickness at my discovery that provokes my question, even as gooseflesh breaks along the skin he’s openly and unabashedly roaming.
“When you look at me, you’ll only ever see him, won’t you?”
His gaze slowly lifts back to mine, and we hold the contact for long seconds, the same buzz that’s been zapping between us magnifying tenfold as he considers me.
“This is me, Tyler. Can you at least try to see me?”
Feeling utterly defeated when he doesn’t answer, I rip my eyes from his and quickly dress.
All the remaining hope I harbored slips through my fingers as I pull on one of his flannel shirts and my soiled pants.
Even as I’m bared in every imaginable way, he doesn’t believe me and likely never will.
He will never know or try to understand how hard it is for me to bare myself to anyone in such a way.
The people I trust on this earth consist of so few—myself and one other, and I so desperately wanted him to be the third. Even Tula isn’t on that list, and can’t be with her position. Her own family’s future—and that of her children—outweighs her ability to protect me.
The one other person I have lingering trust for stems from a bond no two people should ever share. A bond I’m thankful I’m not alone in, and would spare them from the burden of sharing it if I could.
Absorbing the warmth from the campfire later that night, I watch Tyler as he restlessly stalks around, securing the tent poles, rechecking his bags, and sorting through the supply bins, making it obvious he wants to avoid any more conversation with me.
Though today’s exchange seems to have put a vast distance between us, it was the intimacy that followed that appears to have sucked away all the open air surrounding us.
Dirty or not, those tense beats where he scanned my body—freed himself to devour me with his eyes—were some of the most intense I’ve experienced.
Even so, the weight that kept me from being able to take a single bite of the food offered tonight is so clearly visible on his shoulders now.
Where before I saw a hard-shelled man, I now see a warrior.
I decide enough is enough and call his name, and he finally looks back at me. “What?”
“There’s more. More than what you’ve told me. There’s something more that you aren’t revealing, something else happening inside you that’s driving you, hurting you.”
He ignores my observations, his expression blank as I take in the flames flickering over his gorgeous profile. All I want to do is ease it somehow, to find a way to erase the rigidity in his shoulders and lessen his suffering. “If—”
“Leave it,” he snaps.
“Fine.” I withdraw, unsurprised by his response. Standing, I fold the blanket I had covering me and grab the wet wipes. It’s only when I’m feet away from the fire that he acknowledges me.
“Ten feet and not an inch more. I need to be able to see you.”
“Whatever,” I snap, growing more frustrated that we’re right back where we started.
“I’m trying to keep you alive; respect that or keep fucking walking.”
I reel on him. “You asked for something real, and I gave it to you. It’s all I’ve been giving you. I don’t know what you want!”
“From you? Nothing but that list,” he snaps back, “and the questions need to fucking stop.”
“Fine, then answer that one.”
“What drives me, Larissa, is what always has—guarding the people closest to me and those that aren’t. Those that need protection from those they don’t know exist,” he spits, his venom landing squarely. “I made that clear today, what more fucking explanation is needed?”
“Yeah, because that’s so obvious about you,” I scoff. “That you care so much.”
“And you’ve really been so fucking forthcoming?
There isn’t much you’ve told me that I couldn’t find out for myself.
An interview with some of your father’s old house staff would have told me you grew up in a violent household.
Any one of his disgruntled lackeys could easily supply a dozen horror stories.
You yourself admitted to giving me the addresses of men I could have uncovered on my own, and you’ve given barely anything substantial in the last few days.
So don’t act like you’re curious about me when you’re only testing the humanity and limits of the man you seem to think is holding you captive. ”
“Always a ploy, right?” I snap. “And you haven’t asked me anything personal.”
“Because I’m not interested in knowing your favorite fucking food or color or anything overtly personal—just your motive,” he says flatly, zipping a bag.
“That’s not what your tongue, eyes, and fingers suggest.”
He scoffs. “Is that what this is about, the fact we almost fucked?”
“No, it’s about making this more bearable for us both, making conversation. Maybe I’m bored.”
“Sorry there’s no streaming cable or stage actors at the ready,” he grumbles.
“You know by now I’m not that woman. I like luxuries like lotion, decent fucking food, and indoor plumbing. Sue me.”
“Do you mind speeding up your little tantrum? I’d like to get some sleep.”
“Ma vaffanculo, va!” Oh, go fuck yourself, would you!
“Real civil,” he snaps at my back as I venture off twelve feet.
Because fuck him—his stares, his effect on me, and my own stupidity for believing the best in him.
Fuck me for believing the best in the man who continually abuses my goodwill, berates me, and makes me feel like a fucking fool for an evident mutual attraction.
And fuck him for trying to punish me for it.
After relieving myself, I stalk back toward the fire and am stopped when I see he’s bared from the waist up, washing off his day with what I know has to be freezing water before drying himself with a small towel.
Again, I latch onto and focus on the tattoo on his right pec as I draw closer.
Though eager to understand its true origin, I let the curiosity die on my tongue.
Instead, I head toward the lit tent as he speaks up.
“It’s all yours, I’m sleeping out here.”
I frown. “But you have no bed.”
“I’m good.”
“With what? There’s nothing but—”
“Larissa,” he snaps in an attempt to end the back and forth.
“Fine,” I snap back before unzipping the tent and closing myself inside.
Turning, I stop, stunned at what awaits me inside.
At some point, he refolded the blankets to make the pallet more comfortable.
A tiny makeshift pillow, which wasn’t there before, now rests at the top of them.
Next to the lantern lie a larger stack of books, a few bottles of water, and a chocolate bar.
Grateful, I unzip the tent and poke my head out.
“Tyler—”
“Jesus fuck,” he grumbles, “what now?”
“I was just going to say thank you!” I shout.
“Larissa,” he sighs out in exasperation, “it truly fucking pains me to have to remind you we’re trying to conceal our whereabouts, so it might be good to take note that shouting is frowned upon.”
I’m already zipping the tent as he finishes his speech.
Tossing on my quilt mattress hours later, I sort through the books and thumb through a few chapters about Alexander the Great before eyeing the tent opening.
Grabbing the thickest blanket beneath me, I unzip the tent and pop my head out to see Tyler sleeping on his back next to his dying fire, head resting on nothing but his ballcap.
I shiver as I stalk over the rapidly freezing ground.
While the daytime temperatures are bearable, the nights are still bitingly cold due to the lingering winter.
Walking over to where he sleeps, I go to toss his unzipped sleeping bag over him just as he snaps to sit, gripping my wrist, his angry eyes rolling over me in accusation before he realizes my intent.
He eyes the blanket in my hand before releasing me.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
“You must be cold.”
“I’m not,” he grits out through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring. “What I am is fucking annoyed.”
I drop the blanket beside him. “Then freeze to death, you pig-headed asshole. Only an idiot would deny himself comfort to prove a point.” I glare down at him. “Look at me,” I mock in my best imitation of him, “I’m such a tough guy. I can sleep on a blanket of leaves and use a rock for a pillow.”
When a loud bark resembling a laugh escapes him, I don’t consider it a victory as I zip myself back inside the tent. After fuming for several minutes, I stare through the pitch of the tent to the blackened sky before sinking into a fitful sleep.