Chapter 6.
Reuben
The walk back to the house feels longer than before.
Christian’s silence feels heavy on my shoulders, for reasons I can’t place, and I find myself waiting for words that never come. Not when our feet find the pathway that leads to the inner wall, or when we pass the guards at the entry point…
Not when we cut through the flowery courtyard and step into the grand mansion. Or when we weave through the ground floor with soundless footsteps and walk up the stairs.
Christian’s quietness this time is different from before. It fills me with an unease I can’t explain until I’m hovering at his open door like an ex-lover who doesn’t want to let go.
I’d watched him go through a whirlwind of emotions after Aster offered him that gun. Dismay, disbelief, denial. Emotions I couldn't even have guessed if not for this strange quirk of mine, for how well he hides his thoughts and maintains his composure.
But the moment he realized I wouldn't step in, his mask cracked for the very first time.
An expression I could read in his eyes even without looking at his energy.
Defiance.
A flicker of it in the way he looked around and gathered his bearings.
A glimmer in his eyes that made me hold my breath, and stoked that strange creature inside me.
It went against the whole concept of the assessment, but I craved his violence for a single moment.
I wanted to see that colour beneath me when I ruined him.
I longed to drag it out of him and break it down until it was nothing but feral need.
And then it was gone.
His defiance snuffed out like a flame.
Leaving me cold.
I hated the moment he picked up the gun.
Hated the resignation that came out of nowhere and shackled that gorgeous energy.
It might've been everything Aster wanted.
But in that moment, it was everything I didn't know I hated.
“Let me make one thing clear.” Simply recalling the memory is enough for me to break the silence between us.
I walk into the room, slowly, “Aster wants someone who’ll blindly do what I say.
Who’ll jump when I tell them to. Who'll break into pieces willingly if that's the order I give.
.. but this isn't Aster’s team. It's mine.”
Christian's back is turned. I can't see his face or his energy but my steps are taking me closer until I’m stopping just an arm’s length away. Until I could reach out to touch the strands of hair on his neck if I wanted.
“You might've passed Aster’s assessment,” my voice gives way to a strange bitterness, “but you didn't pass mine... at least, not right away.”
Christian remains quiet. He doesn't make a move to turn around and meet my eyes.
“Do you remember what I told you, when you said you couldn’t possibly be the man for the job?” I ask him.
“... You said you'd trust me.” There's a vulnerability in his voice I've never heard before. One he's never allowed me to hear before.
“Exactly.” It feels as though I'm face to face with a frightened deer. That anything I say now will scare him off and shut him down. “So I need you to trust me too.”
Christian turns around slowly. His energy is a mess, so much so that I don't think even he understands what he's feeling.
I tilt my head slightly, “Why’d you pull the trigger?”
“... You were there with me when I saved those kids. You wouldn't have done that if you were just going to kill them.” His lips press together tightly, a faraway expression on his face, “I wanted to believe... my eyes weren't wrong.”
I nod. “I don't want a mindless slave, Christian. I need someone I can trust... but the work I do, I also need a team who trusts me... and I would never ask you to destroy something you tried to protect.”
“Why would you do all of this?” His energy suddenly takes on a frustrated hue. “If you'd simply asked me to break for you, I would have—”
“And I'm telling you that's not what I need,” I snap and his mask slips.
“It'll take more than just a few days for me to trust you, Reuben.” His words are sharp as he drags a hand through his hair, and even now his energy is fucking sexy. It’s distracting.
“I've known you for seven days.” It’s the first time seeing the displeasure on his face and not just in his energy.
There’s a furrow between his brows, and I find myself memorising the lines of frustration etched into his face.
“What if I was wrong? What if...?” His fingers tighten into fists before relaxing at his sides. Over and over.
His emotions are beautiful. They coalesce into shades of orange and red and blue, shining like stars and making me linger. Making my cock swell in my pants.
What colours would you have if I were deep inside you?
How pretty would you fucking look when you’re taking in all of me? Every inch buried inside—
I pull my gaze up to the ceiling, blinking.
That… that was unexpected.
“Thanks,” Christian says, but I’ve almost forgotten what we’re talking about. “For choosing to spare the kids,” he adds softly. “I wouldn't mind... trusting you a bit more.”
I hook my fingers around his chin to turn his gaze back to me—a strange need to see the gratitude in his eyes and not his energy—before releasing him. Solely because I don’t want him to get freaked out and run away.
“If you’re going to trust me a little more then, it’s something you have to say while looking me in the eye.” It’s really just an excuse at this point.
Christian’s mouth opens and closes and it's the first time I've seen him at a loss for words. The first time he lets me see that too, instead of hiding it.
“I'll trust you.”
I have to release a controlled breath because I can’t seem to fucking focus—
“I don't mind killing if it's to protect you.
Your enemies are my enemies and everything you want I'll stake my life on giving it to you.” The energy around him trembles slightly, “But I don’t want to point my gun at kids who aren't a threat.
If someone else on the team can do it...
please don't ask me. But if you need it of me.
.. like you said, I'll just trust you and do it.”
I put a hand on his head in an attempt to get rid of his nervousness, but even that I think, is an excuse.
There are members who’d rather not hurt innocents, if they don’t have to.
Like Aster and I. I don't want him to think he can't ask things of me, and it’d be contradictory if I didn’t allow it, after asking him to trust me
“If I ask it of you, knowing how much you hate it,” the corner of my lips tilts up just a fraction, “be sure to hit me as hard as you can.”
Christian’s senses are on a different level.
It’s been four weeks since he started training with the team and he fits in seamlessly.
Granted, there were one or two instances where I thought Tobias or Gabriel was going to kill him while sparring…
He’s more agile than you’d expect for a man with his height and build, so when it became hard for them to land a hit, they had a habit of dipping into their experience to win.
There were some close calls, but it’s like he got a feel for them slowly—the same move doesn’t work on him twice and though he was clumsy the first few rounds, he never repeated his mistakes. It was almost… inhuman.
It became pretty clear to us all that he’s a genius fighter. Within the span of a few weeks, he’d already raised the level of my team.
And now, they’ve only been hyper-focused on shutting him down.
It’s a reality they would’ve had to deal with eventually; when they were alive, the Adler Squad had just about as much repute as my name alone.
Christian had been their leader. He isn’t some new recruit that can be beaten down easily.
He’s had just about as much experience, if not more, than the rest of them.
But the moment I saw that black in his energy, I knew he had no intention of leading another team.
I knock on Christian’s door lightly, mostly because I’m bored out of my mind. I’m also certain his energy went ballistic that time because I’d barged in without knocking, so since then, I’ve made a habit of announcing myself.
He’s the only one I care to do it for though.
“Christian.” His name always feels strange on my tongue, but I ignore it as the door swings open.
I’m immediately frozen in place by his pretty blue eyes. I’ve caught him just out of the shower, because wet strands of his hair are curling around his face and lingering on the back of his neck. I have to swallow because the water droplets on his bare chest and arms look unnaturally delicious.
I snap my mouth shut just in case I start salivating, and a quick downward glance reveals gray sweatpants with black drawstrings.
But it also reveals a deep scar, a horrific circle of flesh around his midsection, that sucks the sound around me into a void of silence.
It’s as though someone cut a hollow from his skin and attempted to sew it back onto his body. Just looking at it, is riling up the violence inside me. That makes me want to put a bullet in someone’s throat and watch the colours fade into red. Again. Again. Again.
Without thinking, my knuckles graze the painful flesh on his stomach and Christian’s hand grabs my wrist. His touch—his fingers against my skin turns my senses back on again and sound rushes back into my ears.
I know that I’ve started to breathe once more only when the urges have faded.
Not completely, but just into something bearable.
Christian’s lips are pursed and his eyes have darkened, but he’s not looking at me.
He never looks at me. It feels as though he’s far away, remembering something he’d rather forget, until he is snapping himself out of it and turning away, grabbing a shirt off the bed and throwing it on quickly to hide the scar.
In a bid to pretend it isn’t there…?
A bid to run from my questions…?
No… The look on his face says he’s not running from me at all, but from the memory.