12. Tide
Date: 5-5-2024
Time: 1211
“What the bloody hell is happening?!” I thunder as Moes screams of my name bounce off the walls. It’s a sound I never wanted to hear, and the panic on his face is making it even worse. There is a twisting in my chest, warning me something has gone wrong. Has she done something to herself? Is she hurt? Is she dead ?
Her little show did things to me I can’t even describe. At first I laughed, covering the camera, a clever woman. But then… it was just me and all of her. Each wet droplet that trailed down her scarred skin with steam surrounding her had me tensing up. I made sure I was alone in the security room; I was to be the only one with the privilege of seeing her. For a few short minutes it was nothing but my palm and the pixel that made her body on the computer monitors. Her stare had me in a trance. I can’t stand her twisted tactics, but I will never be ashamed to admit how good it felt to fuck my hand while she knew I was watching her.
When she finally dressed, I turned it off, almost ashamed of myself and I sent Moe to go to her. With my keycard in hand and an order for the guards to step away, she seemed to trust him. After all, he’s only a boy, what harm could he do to her?
“Sam, he just– she wasn’t– fuck , I’m sorry! I was doing exactly what you told me to do!” Moe sputters incoherently. My jaw flexes.
“Don’t you ever swear around me again.” I hiss through clenched teeth. He backs off, leaving me to round the corner alone. Cordelia and Sam are in a full-blown spar on the floor, his face bright red, with splotches of dark purple forming under his eyes as his hands grab her elbows. She lay, strangling him, her face just as red, her legs flailing beneath Sam’s body as he finally released her grip and shoved her arms down. He starts to pant and blood drips from beneath her unwrapped bandages on her wrists.
I step into the room just in time for her head to rise up gloriously and smack him on the nose, creating an ungodly crack. She is awfully fascinating, and it is interesting to see Sam getting his arse absolutely handed to him. But his fun is over, the fabric of his uniform crinkles in my fist as I drag him from her body, making him stumble back with his hand held firmly to his face. I don’t care if she was on the verge of fucking killing him, no one touches what’s mine.
“What the fu–” I start, but my voice only echoes back at me. Sam pivots, attempting to storm out of the room, blood running into his mouth as he begins yelling.
“MOE! MOE! Fucking get over here, NOW!”
His actions too slow, I find my hand slamming into his chest, stopping him from going any further. I need an explanation for what is happening. There’s never chaos in my base, but this fucking shark brings blood into my water and suddenly, all my fish are sent into a fury.
“Moe?” I ask, without taking my eyes from Sam, whose nostrils are flared and bleeding, his breaths uneven and full of pure rage.
“Sam pulled me out.” He mumbles, his head down with eyes focused on the body lying behind me. My shoulders go stiff, as I realize that this is my fault. This was technically his first mission, Moe was so fucking proud of himself. But it was me who forgot to inform Sam. I’m unsure if I should be grateful she tried to defend Moe or if I should be fucking furious Sam believed, even for a second, that he could lay a finger on my brother.
“You did good, just go and get me the wrap, please.” I whisper, hoping he can hear me while my eyes stay locked on hers. “ Moe .”
The sternness in my voice rips his eyes away from hers and he runs down the hallway. When he’s out of sight I slowly lower my arm. “You ever think you can go for my brother like that again, you will have more than just a broken nose.” I don’t even look at him, it’s my turn to watch her. “Get out of my sight.” I snarl.
Holding my chest, I tap my fingertips on myself for a moment before I turn, carefully, not knowing if any sudden movement will send her into another fury. As confident as I am that I could take her on, I don’t want it to be my hands that paint her red. Not yet.
I walk over to her, locking eyes with a storm. Panic and pain flash over them as they dart to my outstretched hands, then back to my face. I had once hoped I haunted her dreams, always wishing to cause her pain, but the way she’s looking reminds me too much of the fear I’ve seen in Moes face. A fear of me.
Just as fast as adrenaline lined her muscles, it visibly fades, and the look she holds is replaced with one of pure disgust. The small snarl that accompanies it makes me feel as if I betrayed her. All I’ve tried to do is help her. It sends a rage-flared heat to boil in my abdomen. She flicks her gaze at my neck and then back to my face with a cocky smirk.
“Looks like it healed nicely.” She spits, darting her tongue out to wet the drying blood on her bottom lip before she wiped it with the loose bandage hanging from her wrist. Then she gets up, completely ignoring my available aid. It makes me roll my eyes, un-fucking-believable.
“Yeah? How’s your hand? Didn’t cut too deep, did I?” I taunt in return.
Things are more confusing than I originally thought. If I believed for a second that anything had made sense, I was wrong. If only my father had prepared me better for this internal conflict. I was only doing what was right! She was in my way, I could easily kill her and she knows it, yet here I stand, here she stands. Why can’t she just appreciate that?
Moe’s approaching footsteps slow from a run to an almost tiptoe, as if the room were made of broken glass. I know that feeling all too well. He refuses to come closer to her, opting to throw me the wrap from a comical distance away. I hate everything that’s bubbling inside. This is not who I am.
“Uh–” Moes hand wrings the back of his neck as he shuffles about. “You won’t do it to me too, will you?”
Taking the opportunity of him distracting her, I creep closer and reach for her hand. She jerks it away but I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore. I snatch it back, battling to ignore how her soft whimper sounds as I pull the mess of gauze off.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, and it makes me pause for a moment. Glancing back up at her, she’s looking at Moe like she just killed his dog. God, I fucking hate her, toying with his emotions like that. Even more now that I see Moe’s mouth turn up and his eyes crinkle in response to her act. She winces again and pulls against my grip, her eyes snapping down to her hand.
“Sorry,” Caspian, what are you doing ? I try to tread carefully, but I feel uncontrollable. “If that hurts, I mean.”
“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” She turns stone cold again. But as our eyes meet, I’d beg to differ. There's a weakness inside that head. Something I can exploit. She has wrecked not only me, but my world, and I continue to fully intend on doing the same to her. Even if it’s not in the original way I planned. Then again, nothing has gone my way since I first saw her face.
“Go and check on Sam.” I order whilst my hands deftly wrap. Moe hesitates. Right now, I need her to stop making him smile. I need quiet. “ Go .” I repeat, and he retreats with her stare burning holes into his back. I purposefully yank the wrap tight to regain her attention. Not this time, little shark.
“So,” she draws in the air, her voice a rasp. “You’ve been stalking me?”
I move silently to her other wrist, unwrapping and wrapping the same way I did before completely ignoring her statement. There’s too much humor in her voice for my liking. As if all my efforts are just a joke. I’d love to inform her how seriously I take that offense, particularly when I may have committed such acts intentionally.
It pleases me to see her wounds are still healing well, despite the scabs being busted back open in her tussle with my right-hand man. I will admit that going for metal cuffs instead of just strapping her to the bed was not my finest call, and no doubt she’ll have permanent scars now. But I’d rather they be by my hands than anyone else’s. A small grin involuntarily tweaks at my lips. Looks like that makes it 2-1, and I like winning.
“If you’re making sure I look pretty for the day you kill me, then I have a few requests.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to make requests.”
“First, I want real shampoo and conditioner. Not just that shitty bar of soap. I want bottles. Secondly, I’d appreciate the damn camera being removed.” That makes my neck twitch of its own accord, yet she carries on. “Thirdly–”
“Are you done?” I cut her off as I smooth the white wrap around her wrist. I couldn’t believe I was bartering with my prisoner. “I can make arrangements for new sanitary products. But the camera stays.”
Now that my heart is steadier, I can smell the subtle hint of a cigar on her clothes. It feels so good knowing it’s my scent tainting her. She mumbles something I can’t hear and pulls away, cornering herself into the side of the room by the window. She acts as if I’m not even there as she clasps her hands behind her back. Her shoulders subtly shift, but not from breathing. I shake my head and chuckle to myself. Freshly reopened wounds in that position cannot be comfortable.
The remnants of the bandage get shoved in my pocket, the bloodied ones tossed to the hall. There’s a thick tension in the atmosphere that has me on edge. Maybe I was wrong about her being the type to always need that last word, judging by the fact she’s fully ignoring me now.
Is she trying to dismiss me? She’s my prisoner, on my base. Yet she’s standing here like she owns the damn place. My desire to force her into bed and shove food down her throat burns away in me like embers. Just one more little breath of oxygen and I will ignite.
The silence stretches and so does my patience. I shouldn’t be close to her. I don’t trust the pull she has on me.
“Do you have any more demands?” My foot taps the floor impatiently, only it’s not just my voice urging her, it’s something in my chest wanting to align with her back. Close enough that I know she can feel the heat I’m radiating. I focus on the nape of her neck barely exposed by the damp hair tossed over her shoulder. She stands frozen for what feels like an eternity. It’s been so long since my hands have felt like they’re itching for action, hovering subconsciously over the empty sheath of my knife. I could just step closer. I could feel her skin beneath mine—
She clears her throat, pulling me from my thoughts to realize I’m now not even a foot away from her, her chest tight and high.
“Demands…” she falsely ponders on my question with a coy grin. “Something sharp and pointy. Preferably, oh, I don’t know, a knife?”
My blood pressure skyrockets, my hand slamming beside her head, rattling the glass, yet she doesn’t budge. Even as I lean down to eye level, she remains motionless, glaring at me like a stubborn, petulant, insolent fucking child.
“You wanna finish what you started?” I mumble. Her lip's part, making it impossible to draw my eyes away from the movement. Even if she looks composed, I can hear her breaths become shallower than my own.
My jaw ticks in the rhythm of her thumbs, their reflection clear to me as they motion behind her back. I want to pull away, I need to put some distance between us, but the memory of how her cold lips against mine as I gave air back into her lungs has me wondering what they’d feel like warm and allowing me to steal her breath instead.
“I could say the same for you. I’m sure one of your criminals can finish it if you don’t have the guts.” She tilts her head and bats her eyes. I snarl, straightening my stance and turning my back to her. “At least my organization isn’t in the habit of pulling unstable people from the closest secure prison.”
I shake my head, placing my hand to my chest, thumping the button. Calm, cool, collected.
“Eat something, or so help me you will die of starvation.” I’m not arguing with her about who’s tried to kill who or whose team is better. There’s no sense in wasting my breath on someone so utterly fucked up.
“Is that a promise?!” She laughs in response, her voice loud enough to vibrate through my entire skull. My shoulders flex and my teeth clench.
“I’m sure you’ll find out.” I call back, with a smile plastered on my face as the metal door slams shut. I lean my head against it, my eyes closed.
I got the last word.