Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(13)

Tossing my head back, I gaze at the late afternoon sky, so blue and beautiful. The forest calms me, and I shake out my shoulders.

“Is there anyone here you don’t have a problem with?” Captain Mathis asks from behind me.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”

He’s quiet. I have a feeling he’s not entirely certain what to say in response.

After a minute, he circles and stops in front of me, reaching for my belt. Not expecting the sudden proximity, I freeze where I’d normally move or push him out of my space. He smells lightly of coconuts once more, and I find myself staring at the width of his chest and the shapely arms and shoulders. His brown eyes are the shade of dark chocolate, his skin rendered golden by the sun and his hair kept in a neat high-and-tight. His heated strength is different than that of my brother’s.

I notice his body, how close he is to me, the way his roped forearm muscles shift with the movement of the long fingers unsnapping my belt. I’ve never paid any attention to my brothers like this.

“Grommets on the outside,” he instructs me. He steps closer to pull the belt out and twist it before settling it again at my waist. Snapping it into place, he drops his hands but remains a little too close for my comfort.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

In a manner of seconds, I’ve forgotten why I hate him and Brianna. It’s uncanny, as if my senses overtake conscious thought when he’s around.

“Your brother’s old enough to fight his own battles.”

Anger stirs, and I look up at him. “I know that!”

Captain Mathis is calm, always so calm. I wonder what it feels like not to experience emotions the way I do.

“So you’re just picking fights today?” he asks.

“None of your damn business!”

“For this week, it is,” he says firmly. “We’re a team. If you’re going to be picking fights all week, I’d like to know.”

“Why? So you can trade me?” I challenge, crossing my arms. Being so close to him is a little too intense right now. I step back self-consciously.

“So I can make sure I have your back, if it elevates,” he responds. “It’s what teams do. Take care of their own.”

“Except for Mikael.” I can’t help it. I’m feeling furious with the handsome man before me once more.

Captain Mathis doesn’t even blink. If anything, he seems to grow colder. “Whatever you think you know about me, I will have your back, because that’s the way this works.”

It’s not what I’m expecting to hear. He has a way of either infuriating me or deflating my anger. The weird tension stretches between us, the one that manages to replace thought with a physical awareness of his body.

We’re evaluating each other.

“Hey, guys! We’re starting again!” Harris calls from the porch.

I don’t like the idea of backing down – ever – and Harris’s shout is well timed.

Spinning, I retreat towards the reception center. Harris smiles at me, but I ignore him, returning to my assigned seat. Captain Mathis sits beside me a moment later, and I wait to see what new torture the counselors are about to be put through.

What the hell am I doing here? Really?

“This is a fun one!” Brianna is grinning. “Basically, an interview. You interview your partners then do a little verbal report to the group about what you’ve learned about your partner! Cool childhood memories, hobbies, favorite songs, anything.”

Really? Are we in junior high? Or maybe hell?

“Ready, go!”

Captain Mathis and I face each other. I sense more than see he’s uncomfortable with me. I suspect Mikael will always be between us. We stare at one another, neither speaking, until the silence gets so awkward, I shift in my seat. I can’t read him, don’t know how to take anything he says or how he looks at me. He’s so calm, it’s almost unnerving.

“This is what we call an interrogation in my line of work,” he breaks the silence at last. “I’m not a fan.”

I laugh at his dry humor, suspecting this is as bad for him as it is for me.

“Let’s do the opposite,” I suggest.

A curious smile tugs up one corner of his mouth. “Like what?”

“Instead of telling each other about ourselves” I roll my eyes “let’s make up stories about each other. It’ll be a lot more fun.”

He shifts.

I lean forward. I’ve caught him off guard. Finally.

“Ah. So you’re a total gingerbread man,” I assess. “Cookie cutter, same as everyone else, no imagination or ability to think for yourself.”

A spark of something lights in his gaze. Captain Mathis leans forward as well, elbows on knees. “You don’t get to where I am by not thinking for yourself.”

“Prove it,” I challenge. “Tell me a story about me. Make it good.” I’m almost curious about what he’ll say but convinced he’ll prove me right about being unable to think outside the box of discipline and nicely folded corners of his bedding.

Captain Mathis studies me for a moment, long enough for familiar heat to stir inside me, before he begins.

“Katya Khavalov is the kind of person who thinks throwing lemons at enemies is better than making lemonade. Fiercely independent, she learned at a young age how to use mind control on those around her. It worked on everyone but her dog, Sawyer, who was immune to the mind control and would chew on her shoes every night.”