Chapter Ten #2
I’ll never know what it feels like to be held by someone who wants me for myself, not just my body’s utility. I’ll never be touched with reverence or kissed with passion. If I’m caught, I’ll become what my mother spent her life protecting me from: a numbered incubator.
These two men may hide their relationship from their peers, but they are still free to choose it. To find moments of connection in steam-filled bathrooms, to touch each other with hunger rather than clinical necessity.
Their pace quickens, the slapping sounds growing more urgent, broken gasps rising in pitch until they crescendo in twin groans. The sudden silence that follows is almost as oppressive as the sounds themselves.
I exhale slowly, relieved it’s over, but uncertain what comes next. Heavy breathing filters through the space, followed by soft murmurs I can’t make out. After an eternity, they shuffle again—clothes being adjusted, soft footfalls moving away.
Their departure unfreezes me. I quickly pull on my shirt, wincing as the cold, damp fabric clings to my newly clean skin. The mask is last, and oh how my soul keels over, dry heaving as the thing tumbles from my grasp in slow motion, its edge catching on the tile with an echoing clack.
I’m paralyzed, my breath stalling as I tilt my head to listen. The footsteps, which had been receding, stop. Shit. After a pause that squeezes my lungs flat, they return—louder, more deliberate.
No, no, no. I lunge for the mask, jamming it on my face and frantically tucking my still-wet hair into the back. My heart pounds so violently I’m sure it’s audible throughout the room.
The curtain rips open with a metallic screech, and I find myself face to face with Brenner and Corin.
Brenner looms in the doorway, his massive frame nearly filling the entire space. Even with his mask on, his posture radiates menace—shoulders squared, head cocked at an angle that suggests predatory interest. He’s a head taller than me, with a build that scares the weakest parts of me.
“Ashford,” he drawls, the name stretched like taffy between his teeth. “Didn’t know you bothered to shower.”
I force a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. My fingers curl against my thighs to keep them from trembling. I can’t afford to appear weak now—showing vulnerability to men like Brenner is like signing my own death certificate.
“And I wasn’t aware you two were together,” I reply, aiming for casual but landing somewhere near strained.
Corin’s face visibly reddens through his mask. He’s smaller than Brenner, with a wiry build and nervous energy that manifests as constant fidgeting. His eyes dart between me and the floor, embarrassment radiating from him in waves my Empath abilities can feel without even trying.
But Brenner’s emotional signature is something else entirely. Dark, churning anger threads through his aura, mixed with humiliation and a sharp edge of fear that makes him exponentially more dangerous. His fist clenches on the shower curtain, bunching the material until seams pop.
“And you’re a little creep, too,” he spits, each word dripping venom. “Do you always find places to hide to listen to others fuck? Do you even know what that means? You don’t seem like the type to have ever fucked anyone before.”
He’s not wrong, but I stay quiet. Any excuse I make about accidentally being here will only inflame him further. His eyes fix on me with lethal focus. This isn’t just about catching me in the shower—this is about the power he needs to reassert, the secret he thinks I might expose.
I glance at Corin, searching for any sign of assistance, but his discomfort is palpable. He won’t intervene, not against Brenner.
Certainly not for me.
My mind races through what I know of them both. Brenner is a Charger while Corin is an Empath like me, though a weaker one—he needs physical contact and intense concentration to work his powers.
Brenner won’t be able to use his abilities on me without breaking regulations, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt me in more conventional ways. And in this confined space, with my back literally against the wall, I have nowhere to run.
He seems to reach a decision, his posture shifting subtly as he lunges for my collar. Without conscious thought, my hand snaps up, catching his wrist in a grip that surprises us both with its strength.
“Touch me and the entire team, including our leaders, find out what you do when everyone else is asleep.”
It’s a gambit born of desperation, but I’ve studied enough history to know how entire groups were once ostracized for their attractions.
For all the equality men enjoy compared to women, I suspect some old prejudices still linger.
The way Brenner’s eyes widen confirms my guess—he doesn’t want this known.
His reaction flickers between shock and renewed rage. Corin tries to say something, perhaps sensing the dangerous turn in Brenner’s demeanor, but the larger man brushes him off with a harsh gesture.
“Or I could just kill you and be done with it.” The casual way he delivers the threat somehow makes it more terrifying. My heart hammers against each rib as my opponent barks an order to Corin. “Watch the door.”
Panic wells in my chest, but with it comes a clarity I haven’t felt before. Elias’ words from earlier echo in my mind: I’d like you to use your ability to help defuse situations when tempers flare.
This certainly qualifies.
Without further hesitation, I reach out with my empathy, not bothering with subtlety as I push into both their minds. I visualize calm waters, peaceful meadows, gentle breezes—shoving these sensations into their consciousness with every ounce of concentration I can muster.
The effort to overtake Brenner’s resolve makes my vision swim and knees weaken, but I don’t relent.
His shoulders slacken first, the tension visibly draining from his massive frame.
His hand drops away from me as if too heavy to hold up.
Corin, already more susceptible to emotional influence, sways on his feet.
Encouraged, I push deeper, adding layers of exhaustion to the calm. Sleep, I tell their bodies. Rest. Bed. Now.
They turn away in a daze, shuffling toward the exit without another word. The victory floods me with relief, but I maintain the connection, unwilling to let go until they’re safely gone.
Just as they reach the door, Brenner pauses, swiveling with visible effort. His eyes, heavy-lidded but still dangerous, find mine. “I know you’re an Empath, Ashford,” he slurs, fighting my influence. “Commander will be hearing about this.”
I shrug and wave him along, feigning a confidence I don’t feel. I follow at a safe distance, watching as they stumble down the hallway toward their quarters. Only when the click of their door signals closing do I release my hold on their minds.
The backlash is immediate. Cold sweat breaks out across my body, and my hands shake so badly I have to press them against the wall for support.
I’ve never exerted my power like that before, never sustained influence over multiple live targets for so long.
The fact I succeeded is both thrilling and terrifying.
Back in my room, I lock the door on unsteady legs.
My wet uniform clings uncomfortably, but at least it’s clean now.
I remove it and hang each piece on the back of the room’s single chair, positioning it near the vent where warm air circulates.
The salve I prepared earlier has set to the perfect consistency—thicker than lotion but not so solid it won’t spread.
I scoop a generous amount onto my fingertips and begin applying it to my shoulders, working it into the knotted muscles with firm pressure.
By the time I finish, my eyelids are drooping, the combined effects of physical exhaustion, power exertion, and the day’s emotional rollercoaster conspiring to pull me toward unconsciousness. I barely manage to wipe the excess salve from my hands before collapsing onto the narrow bed.
Honestly, I should be more concerned about Brenner’s threat. About what tomorrow will bring when he reports me to Arayik. About whether I can survive another day of this brutal charade.