Chapter Twelve
I wasn’t sure what woke me. With the grogginess in my head, I wish it hadn’t.
A groan vibrated through my hungover body as I rolled onto my back, recognising the flaking pink flowers painted on the metallic ceiling I stared at every morning.
My mind jumped back to my dream. It had been wild and vividly detailed.
My heart thrummed in my chest at the thought.
I’d never dreamt of Torz sexually before.
Yes, okay, I’d imagined him in such a way in the shower or when I was trying to fall asleep, but not as a mentally uncontrollable dream.
Gods, how will I be able to face him today without blushing?
The sound of my front door hissing shut, followed by the murmur of voices, jolted me from my slumbered stupor.
Flicking my attention to the empty pillow beside me, I bolted upright, questioning if I’d dreamt Cute Guy up.
But as I clocked the pile of clothes that weren’t mine lying on the floor—a jumper, socks, a pair of jeans—a voice coming from the lounge grew louder. “I’ll see if she’s awake.”
The bedroom door opened a fraction, and Cute Guy slid through, closing it swiftly behind him. His pretty eyes locked with mine, his cheeks flushed. He wore only his boxers, displaying a trim physique that was leaner than I recalled. And his face...far younger.
Shit!
As he reached for his clothes, he whispered, “You could’ve told me your boss is Commander Benoit.”
I slipped out of bed, watching him tug on his jeans. Frowning down at myself, I was wearing the same vest top and knickers I’d dreamt I’d put on last night, just before Torz entered my dream.
“Did you hear what I said?” Cute Guy’s tone turned cold, almost angry.
“What? No, sorry.”
“I just answered your door to your boss in nothing but my underwear,” he hissed, wrestling with a sock. “I doubt he’ll think much of me now.”
“Wait? He’s here?”
“Yes. You slept through him banging on your front door for several minutes. He’s waiting in the lounge.”
Panic shot through me like an assault of daggers. No, no, no! What’s he doing here?
It was bad enough I had a graphic sex dream about him, but for him to find another guy here with me—a guy five years younger than me, no less…
Would he care?
Grasping my hair, I cursed. It didn’t matter if he cared—I cared!
I swore again, instantly regretted my reaction when I met Cute Guy’s horrified expression.
“Look,” he murmured, “I get it. You see this as…just a one-night thing, and you regret it—”
“I don’t regret it,” I said, trying to ease the rejection etched across his sweet face. But I did; he knew I did. I’d allowed the Q to take control—
Shit, the Q!
Frantically, I scoured my room. “Where’s my bag?”
“I’m not sure.” He threw on his jumper and cleared his throat. “I’m guessing the whole ‘I’ll get you an interview with the security team leader’ isn’t valid.”
“Hey.” I stopped searching, straightening my shoulders to look at him. “I didn’t make that up. If you want the interview, I’ll get you the interview. I’ll just…” I swallowed hard, guilt stiffening my stance. “I’ll need your name and contact information.”
His newly enthralled expression distorted into a frown of dejection.
Gods, had he shared his personal information last night?
“My name’s Eric. Eric Symz. You took my details while we were at the bar.”
Mortified, I nodded. But before I confirmed I would contact him, he wrenched the door aside and left, leaving it wide open with me standing there in full view.
As I looked up, my heart sank deeper. Caught in Torz’s scowl, I held my breath. He stood next to my sofa motionless, hands in his pockets, eyes burning into mine with a bitter disappointment. The front door hissed, announcing Cute Guy’s—Eric’s—departure, and still, Torz stared.
Swamped by the heat of humiliation, I plucked my dressing gown from the back of the door and threw it on, covering my near-naked self. Tying the cord securely, I hovered on the threshold between my bedroom and lounge, clearing my throat with an awkwardness his astute frown cast upon me.
I frantically searched my mind for something to say—anything to loosen the thick tension building in the air—but the only thing I thought of was, “I can’t remember the last time you visited me before brunch.
” He wasn’t a morning person. Though, his pristinely presented self, dressed in formal military attire, claimed he’d been up a while.
“Your comms are offline. Again.” His gravelly tone sent shivers down my spine. It was a tone he’d rarely used on me. One he took on when commandeering authority.
“Is it? I…” I had no idea where my comms was. Had I switched it off? Had it lost power? I couldn’t recall the last time I charged it over the past couple of days.
“Is this why?” Torz’s glare punctured my soul, our bond flooding with undecipherable sensations. “Why you turn it off?”
I shifted on my feet, glancing to where my one-night stand had departed. Nerves tingled through my stomach with unease. “I didn’t…it was nothing serious. Just a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” Anger flashed across his face. “I wouldn’t call this fun!” He ripped his hand free from his trouser pocket, presenting two small bottles of Q—two of the three doses I’d purchased from Pye yesterday. One was empty, the other two-thirds full.
Blood drained from my face, coating my insides with icy shame. I couldn’t remember taking more than the first dose. Had Cute Guy taken some when we’d arrived here?
Why couldn’t I remember?
But I suddenly realised the humming in my shoulder confirmed it was nearly healed. And the only way to accomplish that so quickly…
It was no wonder my dreams had been wild.
I glanced over to the table, to where a glass rested on the reflective surface next to a spillage of lilac wine. I frowned, only to freeze as Torz’s angered voice boomed off the metallic walls. “Why Rems? Why now?”
The distress straining within him was heart rendering, and like an obsidian blade, his Gods damn despair lanced through our bond, tearing me apart.
“You cleaned up, Rems! You went through hell flushing this addictive shit out of your system. I went through hell with you. Do you really think I enjoyed it? Watching you claw at your skin and your hair, listening to you scream and sob, trying to keep you from banging your head against the wall to stop the agony? For months, I helped you survive that shit…because I care! Because you deserved better. And now…all these years later, you relapse? Why?”
I couldn’t swallow the lump clogging my throat, and my chest swelled with liquid regret. I shook my head, sucking back the wave of tears threatening to breach. “I didn’t want to.”
“Did he force you?” Torz pointed to the door, his face flushing with a rage I’d never witnessed before.
“No! Gods, no. It’s my shoulder. I couldn’t take the pain any longer—”
“Then why didn’t you come to me?” He stepped forward, a crazed exasperation furrowing his brow, deepening the childhood scar across his forehead. “I could’ve got you something. Something less addictive than pure Q.”
“I…I don’t know. You’ve been under a lot of pressure with Zuli and the Purans. I didn’t want to alarm you.”
“Alarm me?” Muttering a curse, he marched over to the disposal chute next to the kitchenette, hurling the bottles of Q into the void. As he stormed back across the room, my breath locked inside my lungs.
“Is there anymore?” He pushed past me into the bedroom. Guilt and shame slammed through my chest as he rummaged through my cosmetics, my clothes, eyeing the open box of condoms and underwear strewn over the bedside table.
“Did that little runt give you the Q?”
Closing my eyes, I swallowed back the acid burning my throat. “No.” I knew Torz would disapprove of my twenty-one-year-old hookup. I knew.
“Was it Pye?” He was now searching the bedsheets.
“Torz, please.”
Throwing the black sheets on the floor, he trampled them, adamant he’d find more condemning evidence, but I just stood there, holding my breath, whilst tears threatened to form.
Satisfied nothing was there, he chucked the sheets back on the mattress and began scouring under the bed. I gripped my hair, demoralisation clawing its way up my spine. I couldn’t take anymore.
“Torz, please, STOP!”
He straightened, those dark eyes eroding any conviction I had left. A visible breath expelled from his lungs, and he pointed to the bed. “Where’d you pick him up from, anyway?”
Frustration fuelled by despondent regret had me groaning. “Gods, does it matter?”
“OF COURSE IT MATTERS!” In the next breath, he was inches from me. His face too close, his body an intoxicating beacon calling to me with a lustful taunt. “Do you know I can feel everything when you’re intimate with someone?”
I shot back his scowl, recalling the months—years—I put up with his fleeting courtships. “Yes, Torz! The bond works both ways!”
There was a visible flinch before he clenched his teeth.
“Are you aware the bond is amplified when you’re on Q?
” He was so close, his minty breath invaded my air, and I realised my breaths had become short and rapid.
Peering up into those brown eyes dipped in green and caramel flecks, a zap of electricity shot through my stomach, leaving residual sparks in its wake.
This man had a power over me I doubted he realised.
Every waking nerve was reaching for him, wanting to entwine themselves with him. The pull was beyond torturous.
I dropped my gaze as Torz scoffed. “No, of course you didn’t.
I guess that only works one way.” He pushed against the wall and turned, rubbing his strapped forearm hiding under his jacket.
The situation with his strained wrist left me baffled.
Surely, he could take some form of Q medication to heal it, so why was it taking so long?
Oh Gods, unless…
Unless he was avoiding such medication, concerned I’d react to it through our bond. I had no idea if that was something that might occur, but if his side of the bond amplified when I took Q, what would I feel if he took it?
I closed my eyes in despair. Had that been the reason he knew I was taking Q all those years ago? Had he always known, even when I lived on Beta Ring? How many times had he felt me with another man?
“I knew something was wrong.” His voice took on a gentler note. “I knew. I could Gods damn feel it.”
Inside, my dignity shrivelled to dust. I should’ve gone to him.
I should’ve asked him for help, but I never wanted to be that burden.
I’d taken so much of his generosity and compassion over the years.
But last night I’d set fire to the cord of dedication bridging us.
And here I was, standing in a pile of its ashes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words barely audible above the pounding of my shameful heart.
Torz turned to look at me, a tender concern riding his hard gaze.
“I’m leaving for Titus in an hour. I was going to leave you and Arlo in charge, but…
” He shook his head. “I think it’s best if you come with me.
” He walked to the exit and announced, “Dock 6A, ten-hundred hours. Clean yourself up. Don’t be late. ”
Staring in his wake, I didn’t release my wavering breath until the apartment door hissed shut.
My chest ached with an anguish I hadn’t struggled with since…
since my mum died. It was the pain of grief.
I was losing him. Losing the friendship we’d rebuilt, the friendship I relied upon—the love I so desperately hoped lay between us.