Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(40)

I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry. If I was better at this shit or if I bothered to look before she walked off, maybe -”

“Focus on your breathing, Katya. Let’s get through this first.”

“You may be invincible, but I’m not!”

“Not the time or place,” he says. The cold bastard has the balls to be amused, like we’re not dangling off the side of a ravine. “Though if you feel like talking, how about telling me about Harris and that bruise on your cheek.”

“Talk about not the time or place!” I saw the look on his face earlier. It scared the hell out of me. I’m pissed at Harris, but I don’t want his neck snapped.

“Was he the one who hit you?”

“Really? That’s what you’re thinking about right at this very moment?”

“Yes or no.”

“Why?”

“Yes or no.”

Beyond stressed out, I don’t want to think about Harris. “Yes. Now back off.”

Captain Mathis shifts me in his grip and rests his chin against my temple. I don’t want to know what’s going through his mind, if he’s recalling how he held me last night. Because Harris aside, I am definitely thinking about what almost happened. My body is fevered on the inside and chilled on the outside, and I’m far too aware of where his hands are, considering our dangerous situation. His strong, solid frame is at my back, the only thing standing between me and the ravine.

I like being this close to him a little too much.

He’s too quiet.

“You aren’t going to do something to him, are you?” I ask.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re going to make things worse then go away, and I’ll have to deal with him. I can handle it.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to.”

I sigh and sag into his body. He supports my weight with ease, and I rest my head against his shoulder. “Please don’t.”

“Someone’s got to take care of you. You won’t let your brother, and I’m not asking for permission,” he replies.

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone taking care of me in any way!”

There’s a pause before he responds. “The Harris issue aside … You won’t let anyone else take care of you, so I’ll say what no one else will. You haven’t given yourself time to heal from Mikael’s death. It’s why you have these aggression issues and an unhealthy way of expressing yourself and why you are strangling Petr to death with mothering him.”

This really isn’t the time and place to hear him talk about something like this. I listen. His words hit harder than I expect, maybe because I’m in his arms. Or maybe because it’s true. I’ve been running from the pain of Mikael’s death, throwing myself into caring for Petr, because I don’t know what else to do.

Maybe that’s why this week is so important to me. I need to prove that I’m alive when I feel so dead inside. Petr is getting better. I know it. I see it.

It scares me, too, because when he gets to the point where he doesn’t need me, when he goes back to viewing me as the annoying little sister he always has, I’ll be alone with my pain.

“So you’re saying I’m broken,” I whisper. “Like you.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” There’s a quiet note in his voice that makes me want to see his face. “Sometimes it takes someone you don’t expect to point it out.”

Captain Mathis is doing a damn good job of making this experience hell. He has a way of speaking the truth I would really like to avoid. I feel like my whole world is tumbling out of control and swallow tears.

“Speaking of last night …” I say, needing my anger. I let the words hang in the tension between us.

“You sure you want to go there?” he asks quietly.

With his heat at my back and muscular arms around me, I’m not sure how to answer. I’m an emotional wreck right now, more so than usual. Last night was even more intense than our normal exchanges. The potential for something incredible is there, but it’s not what I’m looking for. And …

… he scares me. Sawyer has this way of seeing straight through me, of turning my world on its head and pushing aside my shell to reach the part of me I’m doing my damnedest to hide. I don’t want that. It’s too intimate to give someone like him access to me like that.

“No,” I whisper.

“When you’re ready, let me know.”

What the hell does that mean? Does he want to talk about it, or does he want something more?

I hear my breath catch, and my lower belly begins burning. Last night was an utter mistake. If I could continue pretending there was nothing between us but Mikael, this would be so much easier.

“Maybe we can talk about something that doesn’t make me cry,” I manage.

“Okay … how about … I keep reaching for my good luck charm and realizing it’s not there. I’m not happy about losing it. Had it for ten years, but I reach for it every day.”

Grateful for the change of subject, I latch onto the innocuous statement. “Where did you lose it?”

“Somewhere in Iraq.”

“Oh.” Keep talking about shit that doesn’t matter! I’m going to cry if I don’t. I wrack my brain for what to say next. “What does it look like?”