Chapter 26 #2
"What about everyone else?! We have to go back out to make sure they made it!" I'm reaching upwards again when Tane uses his arm like a seatbelt over me.
"You are not opening that door. I made sure everyone else got into a pod before I came back and hauled your stubborn ass in here."
I try to find his face to see if he's telling the truth, but it's pitch black in here.
"If I find out you're lying to me…" I'm interrupted by a sarcastic laugh.
"Don't finish that thought, for both our sakes. Oh, and usually when someone saves you, a simple thank you is the appropriate response," he mutters, removing the arm that was pinning me down.
I take a deep breath and decide to believe him. I'm still feeling too close to Tane. I inch my body as far as I can toward the curved pod wall, but there's just nowhere to go. He seems to sense what I'm doing; he moves too but again there's nowhere to go, his huge shoulders locking him in.
The relief I feel in here is short-lived.
The silence in the pod feels a little deafening, and I start thinking of the sand and dust that's probably piling up on top of the pods.
Whose idea was this? We're going to be buried alive in here.
My breaths become ragged, as I imagine more and more sand piling up on top of us.
"Treow..." Tane says sternly, and my attention snaps towards his voice even though I can't see anything. "Maple, hey, it’s ok."
He's never used my first name before, and why does his voice sound so different suddenly? I hate how much I like it.
"Maple," he says again, commanding, yet gentle, but I can't catch my breath. I realize idly that this is the exact wrong thing to do when we're inside a tiny coffin with limited air, which only adds to the panic I feel.
He inches closer to me, and now my attention is divided between my panic and his proximity.
Which, if I'm being honest, has always been the case.
Apparently, he's encouraged by whatever response or lack of response I give him, so he inches closer again, this time snaking his hand up my shoulder in the dark, until it sits gently at the base of my neck and good collarbone.
I should pull away, should bat his hand off. But I can't seem to do it. The roughness of his palm contrasts with the gentleness of his touch and it's... intoxicating. I'm painfully aware of every single spot our skin meets.
Again, this seems to encourage him, so he flattens his palm, his fingers heavy around the base of my neck.
He tightens ever so slightly, so that the pressure consumes my thoughts.
My breath hitches, turning shallow for an entirely different reason.
Electricity tingles along my skin, spreading almost painfully to my fingertips.
"You know…" he begins, his voice a soothing rumble, "some of the most brilliant engineers built these pods.
They used this special kind of plastic that can float in almost anything.
It was a huge breakthrough when they discovered it.
But when they first put them in the dunes, they sank a little too far.
They couldn't get out with the heavy silt on top. "
I hold my breath. Is this supposed to calm me down?
"That is, until they changed the shape. The boxes got caught easily under everything, but as soon as they turned them into cylinders. Poof. Only a certain amount of dust or sand can stay on top of them."
His thumb moves at the base of my neck, and gods, I hope he can't feel my pulse stuttering, or how hot my face has become, because it would betray just how affected I am by him.
The silence stretches, but he doesn't remove his hand. He continues making idle circles around my pulse. His hand is an anchor, holding my ever-busy brain firmly in place. It's almost peaceful.
I'm not sure how much time passes like that, but once my breath is even, and my body relaxes, he pulls his hand away.
I miss its steady weight immediately. I don't know what that was, but I know I've never felt it before.
I expect him to move back, to inch his body away, but he doesn't. He stays close and something must be wrong with me because I'm grateful.
"Thank you," I whisper, tears stinging my eyes for reasons I don't understand.
"You're welcome." He takes a hesitant breath before asking, "How long has that been happening?"
The absolute darkness must make me either brave or stupid, because I answer honestly.
"Started around the time my mom died. It comes and goes, depending on how things are."
"You were young?" he asks.
"Oh, like you haven't already read everything in my file?" I accuse with a laugh that sounds a little bitter. Silence greets me, so I say, "Yeah, I was young. But it wasn't so much her death that made me panic, it was the weight of everything in her absence."
It's more honesty than I meant to offer.
He hums softly. "Right. Two younger siblings to look after."
"See, I knew you read my file."
"I read everyone's files," he says, a little too quickly.
"What about you, parents? Siblings? Or were you created in a lab?" I joke, but I'm genuinely dying to know. Tane seems so... other.
This earns me a small chuckle.
"Parents are dead, no siblings." His voice is neutral.
"I'm sorry. For how long?" I ask cautiously.
"It's fine, I was little," he says quietly, and I'm silent, hoping he'll share more. Desperate for this not to be so one-sided.
"I grew up with my grandmother. She was great," he offers.
I recognize it for what it is. He's not willing to give away more. Fine then. "So you were created in a lab then," I tease.
"You are such a..."
I cut him off before he says something rude and ruins the moment.
"Fantastic cadet? Sensational friend? Hilarious human?" I sing-song back to him lightly, but I’m cut off when I feel his lips near my ear.
"A little menace, Maple. You are an insufferable, chaotic, infinitely distracting little menace." He grinds out the last bit through shallow breaths, like it pains him to admit that he notices me.
A shiver goes up my spine and cascades through my body. Tane doesn't pull away. He invades my space and my senses until I no longer care that I'm buried underground, waiting for a storm to pass, so I can head back to base and undoubtedly be disciplined for letting our hostages go.
All I can think about is every single place our bodies meet, and every spot they don't. I'm overwhelmed by his scent, the warm earthy one I can't quite place but thatdraws me in, soothing something inside me that I can't even identify. Or maybe I just don't want to.
"Tell me something," he says through a deep inhale, but again his voice sounds different. There's no demand, it's more like a hesitant request.
"Like what?" I whisper. I don't know why we're whispering, but it feels like if I'm too loud, it will snap whatever momentary truce we've stumbled into.
"What would you be? If you could be something other than this?" he asks.
My eyes dance around the dark, and I wait for an answer to float easily off my lips.
But the easy lie I'm waiting for doesn't come.
Because wishes and dreams are for girls with living parents, and siblings who are healthy.
For people with steady meals, and walls that don't leak toxic air into their homes, who are from times and places with more. People who simply have more time.
Or who are actually good at something other than idle chatter, reading a room, and blending in.
I say none of this, or the dozen other things bouncing around my brain, so I just say, "I'm honestly not sure."
"Come on, nothing? Not art or music, or maybe a chef? You seem to really like food." I can feel the his shrug and I scoff.
"What do you mean, I really like food? Are you watching me eat? Good Gods, don't you have better things to do? Why exactly are you paying such close attention, Lieutenant?" I do a piss-poor job of hiding my offence.
"I didn't mean it like... It was a compliment."
"Well, you're awful at compliments, then," I throw the words back without thinking.
"I've just seen you in the cafeteria. You often look... enthralled. And chef's food isn't all that exciting." He huffs and then he adds under his breath, "And you're impossible not to pay attention to."
I don't know how to respond to that, mostly out of fear I'm not understanding him properly and I'm going to embarrass myself. So I do what any sane, self-conscious woman would do; I redirect in an obvious dig for information I have no business wondering about.
"You tell me something. How about... how long have you and Vera been together?" My hand slides up, playing with the frayed end of my braid as I ask.
I expect some redirection, maybe some indignation or cursing, telling me to stop prying into his private affairs. What I do not expect is loud, thunderous laughter.
"Are you insane? Wait until she hears this. She's going to hate it." It's a deep, rich sound that shakes his shoulders and coats my skin in something warm.
"I'm not her type. Even if I was, she's like a sister to me," he says through another bout of chuckles.
I frown. "Why? You're both beautiful and love a good scowl. I think you'd be perfect for each other."
"You think I'm beautiful?" he muses, humour lacing his words. He's teasing me again, and my head spins with how abruptly he went from being a brooding, lethal asshole to... whatever this is. I've seen Vera do it too, moments when no one's watching, where she seems human and genuine.
Silence sits with us a beat too long, and I remember his tattoos. I still can't shake the feeling that I've seen them before. My mind wanders to the night of the Games before I left home––that stranger who was fighting. He had been huge and tattooed as well. But that couldn't have been him. Right?
He nudges me at my lack of response, which has me speaking without thinking.
"You're the one watching me eat, Sunshine." I laugh and he goes momentarily still.
"Don't call me Sunshine," he growls.
"I think the name suits you, actually. You have a very sunny demeanor. Cadets could call you Sunny, for short."
I'm fully giggling now, whispering "Sunshine" at him as he grunts "Stop" and various other threats.
He attempts to grab my wrists, but it's hard in the dark apparently because I keep wriggling free.
That is until Tane is completely on top of me, my wrists bound by his hands above my head, pinning me to the wall.
Ours breaths mingle and chests touch as we inhale slowly.
He's hovering over me, and I wonder why I'm desperate to feel his weight crushing me.
"Are you going to behave?" he asks, his voice like spun silk, caressing my face. An inferno sparks deep in my gut.
"Yes..." I answer, in a breathy voice I barely recognize.
He inches closer to me, and I can't help myself as I whisper "Sunshine" into his ear.
My lips accidentally graze his earlobe, causing me to inhale sharply.
He freezes momentarily, a small rumble coming from him before his head sinks down beside mine with a thud against the floor, his body melting against mine as he gives up on holding himself off of me, and I let out a sigh I hope he doesn't hear.
His head lifts slightly, and he slowly rests it in the nook between my head and shoulders.
I can feel how close his lips are, and now I'm desperate for him to close the little distance.
What is wrong with me? He's my commanding officer.
An asshole who probably murders people for fun.
"Tell me something else, then." His voice is barely above a whisper. "How'd that family get away yesterday?"
I go completely still. Prey about to be consumed. But then I decide that I'm really sick of being prey. Of being controlled and told what's best, and biting my tongue to keep everyone else safe and comfortable.
"How about you tell me something, Lieutenant.
Does it not bother you that that family was clearly minding their own business, trying to survive in this desolate shit storm of a country, and we were about to uproot them simply because our beloved Council figured out they were near new growth, and likely didn't want that information reaching the public?
Does it not bother you how easily the Council seems to send people to their deaths; people who are simply trying to exist?
Do you not have a fucking spine?" I'm out of breath from my outburst, shocking myself a little.
Tane is still as glass now. I'm not even sure he's breathing, and that only fans the flames that seem to have ignited in my soul in this dark pit.
"To answer your question, that family got away because they damn well deserved a chance. Do whatever you want with that information, Lieutenant."
I move underneath him now, and he lifts up and off of me, flopping beside me with a defeated grunt.
"See? Fucking menace," he whispers through a heavy sigh.
We are silent, laying in the dark, consumed by our own whirling thoughts, when a loud thump sounds above us. The hatch cracks opens, covering us in falling dust and blinding light.
"Found them! Oh, hey––don't you two look cozy," Leo says, reaching for my hand with a grin.