Chapter 7 #3
“Keeping me alive? I thought that was your job.” Her eyes narrowed, and the dig landed clean.
Her anger hit him like a charge, fueling him.
He ate it up, needed it to keep himself moving, to stay in his lane.
He didn’t have the time or headspace to cradle the bruises on her cheek, the blood on her shirt, the blow she’d taken.
That was a hell he couldn’t prevent. His reaction now was simple.
Stay the course. Her pixie barbs he would endure.
He whirled on her, snarl quick and hot. “Fuck me. So, Dagger’s twins love Strawberry Shortcake, the character, and I know a few things about her.
” He pointed his finger at her, hating those damn bruises so much he could chew glass.
“It is my goddamned job because you couldn’t refrain from cataloging a freaking paw print?
” Her hair seemed to fuel the flames, glowing in the moonlight like twilight fire.
“Keeping you alive is carved into my heart, so your cooperation would be appreciated. You don’t move or breathe or speak or fucking blink without my approval. ”
Her brow rose, chin jutting as she stepped into his personal space, and damn if the air didn’t thin. “Is that so, Mr. Neanderthal? How about I have something to say? Do I pinch you, boot you in the ass, throw stones like Soon-to-be-Dr. Neanderthal, or raise my fucking hand?”
Christ. He wanted to kiss her again. It blindsided him.
He fucking loved her spunk, her sarcasm.
It was golden, swirling around him like glitter burn.
For one dangerous second, he was ready to chuck everything, drag her into the nearest hidey-hole, and fuck her until he couldn’t breathe, until she called out his name and it echoed off his soul.
“You’re blaming me! I should have known.
” Emily’s voice cracked sharp, riding the edge of hysteria.
She was still caught in the whirlpool, adrenaline burning off into aches in her muscles, her heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest. What the hell was his problem?
He just turned his back on her, shoulders bunched, jaw locked, grumping at her like a locomotive building steam.
Dagger’s twins. Why the hell did he have to throw that out there? She wasn’t about to melt in the middle of a goddamn firefight, not from the thought of this giant of a man kneeling in the dirt to play with children, to care, to love. She wasn’t going to let that image crack her open.
He turned back around. “What do you know about survival in your academic world? Playing at data collection while danger tracks you like a big predator, making you its next meal, worm food. If we hadn’t come along, you wouldn’t even be here.”
Her throat burned. “Go ahead, discount me as some stupid egghead who doesn’t know a damn thing about survival.
But I’ve seen it raw and up close.” He scoffed and turned away, and something broke in her.
She moved around him too fast, stopping him in his tracks.
“I’ve seen it firsthand. My sister, going slowly blind, her world getting dimmer and dimmer, and there was nothing she could do.
Nothing anyone could do. There was only survival…
for her, for us.” Her voice caught, and tears burned and threatened.
He lifted those goggles and pinned her with an intense stare, cutting through the shadows.
He swallowed hard, something breaking in those quicksilver eyes, something she wanted to explore, but he’d blown this up, and she’d lost her shit.
Her hands shook, but she still grabbed his vest and shoved him with all her fury.
He didn’t move an inch. Stupid, muscle-bound bastard.
“For your information,” she spat, chest heaving, “I’ve been trying to tell you something since I ended up on your assault-burn.”
“Shortcake,” he warned, his voice tortured and inflamed.
Heat rose like there was a buried fire beneath them. Why did she have to remind him and herself about that infamous hard-on?
She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about how it felt to be on that body.
“There are caves throughout this area,” she continued, working at bringing her voice back to cadence, and away from despair, away from desire.
“We can get lost in there, hole up until the danger passes. There’s water, game, all kinds of edible plants and fruit.
You keep pushing us northeast, and it’s going to add days before we link back up with your team. ”
His jaw flexed hard, a twitch that looked like it could crack stone. “What the fuck?”
The look of a man who had been completely wrong shivered through her. That was worse than fighting with him.
“There are obstacles the way we’re going,” she shot back, voice hot and certain.
“Northwest first, then northeast. That’s the only way through.
If you’d let me lead for once, I could show you the caves.
Then you can do your recon, or your OCD perimeter check, or whatever Neanderthal ritual you need, and find us the best place to hide. ”
Her chest rose and fell, breaths ragged, but beneath the exhaustion and fear was steel.
She wasn’t just some terrified woman he’d duct-taped and dragged along for the ride.
She had experience in spades. “I’ve spent more than six months in this area.
I know it like the back of my hand. You want to slog through a swamp?
Keep on course. You want to scale rocky crags, Neanderthal your way through.
You want to get sliced by thorns as big as your thumb? Be my guest.”
She wasn’t going to shut up until he damn well acknowledged the fact that he wasn’t the only alpha standing here.
“Anything else, Admiral Pixie Dust?”
He had so many nicknames for her, and someone who hadn’t gotten to know him might think he was talking down to her.
It was clear to see the way he handled his team.
Trash talk was a man’s way of being affectionate, and these cute nicknames were just his way of interacting with her. “Yes, just one more thing.”
She grabbed his vest and hauled him down.
This time she didn’t make it quick, wasn’t trying to manipulate or distract him.
He was just too compelling, too infuriating, and even with his insufferable attitude, she enjoyed every second of sparring with him.
She took her time, shaping his mouth with her lips in a kiss, tracing that stubborn bow with her lips, feeling every scrape of golden stubble, reveling in the shock of his frozen hesitation before he answered her with a low, surrendering growl.
Then he kissed her back. Not frantic this time.
Not out of control. Deliberate. Savoring her mouth as if he was memorizing it, as she was learning his.
Her hands slid up in frustration against his vest, too many straps, too much armor. She wanted skin, muscle, proof of him beneath all that steel.
When she finally broke away, he just stared at her. His eyes were liquid pewter, swirling with confusion, frustration, and want.
“What the hell was that for?”
“You were asking for it.”
She went to step away, but his hand clamped on her shoulder. “You going to do that again? Hit me out of left field?”
“Maybe.” She gave him a quick, fierce grin. “Guess you’ll just have to see.”
“Goddammit, Emily.”
She shivered. Her name in his deep, aching voice rolled through her like a promise, intimate and wholly arousing. She caught his vest again, met that flash in his eyes. “What the hell is your name? I’d like to know who I’m fighting with…and kissing senseless.”
“Christian Beckett.”
She blinked. Christian. Gorgeous, strong. Almost poetic.
He cleared his throat. “Sometimes people call me Chris.”
She shook her head immediately. “No. Never. Christian. It’s beautiful.”
He stiffened, then shut his eyes like she’d touched him someplace raw and private. For a second, he just breathed, absorbing it.
“So,” she pushed softly, “you ceding?”
“Not exactly, but…” He ground a palm over his temple, muttered a curse. Beast whined low, tail twitching as if casting his vote. Brawler threw a sharp, sweeping gesture. “Fine. Take the lead. But Beast is on your hip every step. Nonnegotiable.”
Her mouth fell open. She hadn’t expected that. Reasonable? She hadn’t put that word in the same galaxy as him until now.
She sniffed, turned, and started walking. When she threw a glance over her shoulder, she caught him flat-out staring at her backside.
“Keep your eyes up, caveman, and stop ogling my shapely ass.”
He smiled, a real, rare, wholly devastating smile. “Oh, I’m not ogling. I’m looking, and my assault-burn is flashing over.”
Her pulse stumbled. Unfair. That smile split his face like sunlight through the canopy, and for one dangerous moment, she couldn’t breathe.
“Well, I’m sure they have ointment for that,” she managed, her voice steadier than the riot in her chest.
He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rolling sound that settled low in her belly and spun fire through every nerve. Heat unfurled, wild and greedy, until she felt it everywhere.
Helpless, she laughed, too, and reached up before she could stop herself, cupping his jaw in her hand.
His stubble rasped her palm, heat searing through her fingers.
The laugh broke on a sharp inhale, his eyes searching hers, startled.
But he didn’t pull back. He leaned into her touch, just slightly, as if her hand had stolen more than his breath. It had stolen his defenses.
For one breathless moment, he was hers.
He gave her one last look, then dropped the goggles back into place. Mask down. A warrior once again.
But this time his silhouette wasn’t just lethal. It was familiar. Coveted. Arousing. She knew where she was going, but this thing with him…this was uncharted ground. Mapping him? Yeah, for research. Definitely for research.