Chapter 4 #2
Brawler stared at her, pulse thudding in his jaw. She was delicate from her head to her toes—red hair, startling green eyes flecked with gold.
He shifted his shoulders. Research. Out here, with men hunting her, weapons loose, the mission teetering on a knife’s edge, and she was worried about cats and cameras? It should have been laughable. It should have been dismissed in two words, not happening.
But he couldn’t laugh. He couldn’t even move for a second, because he felt pressure rolling off her like heat shimmer.
It wasn’t just stubbornness. It was deeply ingrained, vital to her.
Something inside her was knotted so tight to that work that pulling her away from it would break her in a way no bullet could.
He hated that he knew it. Hated that his body registered it before his mind did, the flare of her nostrils, the quicksilver flash of defiance in her eyes, the way her hands balled like she was bracing for him to rip something from her.
A low current threaded through his skin.
The charge crept up the back of his neck.
He dragged in a breath, grounding on the familiar weight of Beast’s flank against his leg, fingers twitching toward fur and steadiness.
Leaving her behind? Inconceivable. The thought didn’t compute, not in protocol, not in instinct. Civilian. Vulnerable. Seen by hostiles. Red hair like a beacon in the jungle. His brain rejected the scenario before it finished forming. Unacceptable. Impossible.
He stepped forward, voice rougher than he meant. “You think any of this matters if you’re dead?”
She flinched but didn’t fold. Fire sparked in her eyes, and his chest tightened in a way that rattled him. He wasn’t supposed to feel it like this, not this sharp, not this fast.
Tex cut in, voice low, deliberate. “Look, Emily. We’re patrolling through jaguar territory anyway. You can collect data as we move. But you stay with us. Always. No wandering. No exceptions.”
Her chin lifted, searching their faces, gauging the wall of resolve. He could see it, the tiny exhale of relief under the irritation. A compromise.
Brawler’s hands curled at his sides, the need to set the rules himself scraping under his skin. He didn’t like that Tex had voiced it before he did. He didn’t like that Emily looked almost grateful.
She wasn’t grateful to him .
That shouldn’t have mattered. Civilians went in one box: protect, extract, release.
Clean. Contained. No complications. He could handle fear, even anger.
But her glance at Tex, relief softening her stubborn mouth, dug like a blade.
It wasn’t him she trusted, and somehow, that landed in a place he didn’t have defenses for.
He told himself it was just the interference of her emotions bleeding into his system, another input he couldn’t filter. But that was a lie. The truth was simpler, more dangerous. He wanted her to look at him that way.
His reactions to women were supposed to be controllable.
Like breath. Like aim. Regulated. Always on his terms. Complications didn’t just land on him.
They bled into Toby’s life, too. He’d learned the hard way that most women didn’t want to deal with a SEAL’s schedule, or the quiet intensity of his brother, or the way his world was carved into duty and family with no space left over.
So, he kept it simple. Fast, clean, detached. No ties, no fallout. It worked.
Until now…her.
She shorted every circuit he had. The spark between them didn’t slide into any category he knew. It pressed into him with the same inevitability as gravity, bending every thought, every reaction toward her.
Why couldn’t he just keep her in the civilian box? His body had already decided she wasn’t just a civilian. She was heat and inferno and temptation in a five-foot-three package, and no matter how many times he ordered himself to stand down, the pull didn’t ease. It just kept tightening.
He had no idea how to stop it either. She was out of his wheelhouse.
He knew how to do women who didn’t ask anything of him except his dick.
They wanted the uniform, the story, the quick ride.
Easy to slot, easy to leave. Gratitude wasn’t part of the deal.
But Emily wasn’t a froghog. She was standing there, with dirt on her cheek and an untamed spark in her eyes,
She didn’t fit. She was short where he preferred tall, sharp-edged red where he usually reached for soft blondes, built like a pocketknife instead of the curvy distractions he could set to a rhythm and forget. On paper, she wasn’t his type at all. Yet…
His gaze betrayed him, tracking the wiry strength in her legs, the curve of her jaw, the mouth that had already cut him to ribbons with nothing but words. Smart, opinionated, stubborn as hell. A woman of substance. A woman who made him feel seen, like she wasn’t looking at the uniform, but at him .
His body flared, his skin felt sensitive, even the breeze kindling the sear in his gut. All of a sudden, he couldn’t handle the thought of her not touching his skin, an ache that settled in and simply buzzed. The thought was out of left field but fueled by the memory of how she felt beneath him.
Silky and fierce at once, body thrumming with the kind of energy that had driven him half-crazy when he pinned her down after she’d kicked Tex.
She’d fought like a wildcat, bucking and twisting, and somewhere in the chaos, his body had betrayed him, hard, straining, reacting like she was heat and oxygen instead of trouble and liability.
Even now, the ghost of it made his pulse slam in places he didn’t want to think about.
He couldn’t stop replaying it. How small her wrists had felt in his grip, how her breath had hit his throat, how that need had burned hotter the more he pressed her down.
Every inch of her was a contradiction, soft skin over stubborn bone, delicate frame coiled with more fight than half the men he’d faced.
Her kind of wildfire wouldn’t just burn itself out but catch him in her blaze.
He could almost feel it already, the press of her against him, her legs locked around his hips, her voice breaking on his name.
His dick thickened and throbbed, ached for her sweet little box.
He wanted to watch those eyes glaze with pleasure, that mouth gasp, her lips seek his in a mindless need.
God, he wanted her to touch him, every single part of him, until she’d claimed all of him.
All that visceral emotion rattled him. He wasn’t supposed to want a woman who argued with him, who cut him down with a smirk, who refused to fit the mold. But here she was, all compelling energy, sharp-tongued and relentless, and his system couldn’t stop tracking her. Couldn’t stop wanting .
She wasn’t going to go easily into that civilian box. His body already knew the truth. She wasn’t just a civilian. She was temptation wrapped in flame, and no matter how many times he told himself to stand down, the pull only tightened.
He yanked his mind back like it had tried to walk off a cliff. Unacceptable. No protocol. No way in hell. She was a trouble. A mission risk. A complication he couldn’t afford.
He dragged air into his lungs, forcing his body back under control. She was fire in his head, but he needed cold steel in his voice.
“Shortcake,” he said, quieter now, but the rasp still bled through.
He leaned in, close enough that her breath mingled with his, not caring that the others heard.
“This isn’t a democracy. You’re ours to protect.
That’s final. Collect your goddamn data if it keeps you from fighting me…
ah…us every step, but don’t think for a second we’ll ever let you out of our sight. ”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. For a breath, she looked like she wanted to argue again. Then her eyes flicked to Beast, sprawled at his side, tongue lolling like the dog had already chosen her.
The corner of her mouth twitched. Just enough to drive him insane, spiking a heat he shoved down hard.
“This might not be a democracy, but I’m not in the military, and you can’t order me around. But your proposal does have merit. I’d rather not be a dead PhD student. I can work with this.” She looked at Tex. “I’m absolutely not saluting you.”
Tex cracked a grin. “Deal, Emily Shade.”
Brawler turned his head, focusing on the trees instead of her. That kick of humor sent a sensation through him that made him both laugh and tighten his jaw. The impact of Emily still buzzed in his teeth.
He would rather she yelled at him. Anger he understood. Anger he could fight. But this…this quiet warmth flooding his chest was foreign terrain, and it left him unarmed. He anchored himself with Beast’s steady presence, his teammates’ resolve, jaw tight.
She was alive, and she was staying that way. Whether she liked it or not.
Tex’s eyes tracked her as she settled her pack, then cut to Brawler. The look was sharp, but his mouth tugged at the corner. “You found her, and we all know she’s trouble. I’ve got the bruised shins to prove it. So watch her like a hawk. She’s your responsibility now.”
The words landed like a weight Brawler already carried but hearing them out loud sealed it. Emily Shade wasn’t just an unpredictable complication, wasn’t just a cute nickname. She was his.
If it went sideways, if her presence jeopardized the mission, the lives of the Marines they were after, or the team under his watch, his ass would be in a sling. At best, a sharp reprimand. At worst, the end of a career he loved.
That should have been enough to shove her into the civilian box and slam it shut. But it wasn’t. Not when her red hair caught the dim light, her mouth curved with defiance, and her sheer presence curled straight into his chest.
She was fire, and she was his to guard. Christ, he wanted to be burned to ash.