Chapter 38

Calm deserts me, overthrown by fear.

Torin lets me down cautiously as if any sudden movements might provoke the predator.

Orian looks different, like a man who emerged from a warzone. His hair has grown long enough to be tied into a low bun. Midnight strands dangle idly beside his temples, reaching his mountain peak cheekbones, his mouth peppered with a gritty stubble. Dressed in black fatigues matched with combat boots. Madly aroused by this rugged, military man version of him.

"I was just taking her up." Torin points back at me absently. "She was feeling faint. And you, brother? For a dead man, you look good."

Orian doesn't answer. He fixes me with an unblinking stare; piercing and haunting.

All I want to do is run.

Torin glances back at me awkwardly. "Well. I'll let you two get reacquainted." He flings his gaze back at him. "When you're... done, come find me. You and I have shit storm to deal with."

He turns his back on him. Walking out, he sends me a rueful smile, which I respond with a pleading look but he gives me a subtle shrug before he tries to leave the room. His hand on the door handle when Orian calls him back. His voice rougher and more resonant than before.

"What?"

Torin inspects him for a moment, then Orian glances at me as if to hint to something. He gets it instantly. Torin shakes his head vigorously, sliding both hands in his pockets.

"Not like that, okay, you've been gone for a long while—"

"Exactly," he retorts. One word ensared by envy.

Torin gives an exaggerated shrug. "Believe what you want."

Orian blisters him with a cursory glance, dismissing him with a brusque nod.

"Don't do that, don't dismiss me like I'm your fucking lapdog."

I inhale deeply, struggling to breathe, smothered by the mounting toxic testosterone congesting the room. Orian's boots devour the space between them, looming over him threateningly, mere inches taller than him.

Torin frees a humoured breath. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

Orian grabs a fistful of his suit blazer, pulling him to his face menacingly. Torin fights back, relinquishing his hold and shoving him back with brute force. Orian's eyes set ablaze with anger, rushing back at him. But I sprout right in front of Torin, my hands on Orian's muscled chest, trying to keep him from passing me. His breathing audible and heavy.

Torin chuckles provocatively before he whirls around, strutting out of the room and closing the door behind him with a bang. I look back at Orian, my hand flashes back to my side, my ribcage suddenly feeling too small.

He set his eyes back on me, his breathing regulated. My gaze sinks to the floor, disarmed by the sight of him. He takes me by my waist, reeling me to him, our bodies compressed together. He runs his fingers up my spine, slowly and sensuously, coercing shivers from me. In a way that sparks sinful fantasies to torment and strobe my mind like my fast and perishable breaths.

"You look..." he dawdles off, distracted.

"What—" unutterable visions invade my thoughts, "—why, long." Words dissolving into incoherent mumbling. I shake the fog out of my head.

"Our exfil was compromised. We avoided Gaza's reinforcements only to get entrapped by local insurgents... there were maximum casualties... on their side."

I nod dazedly, intoxicated by his overwhelming smell, pungent, earthy and musky.

"Well... you survived."

A smirk tugs at his plump lips. "Something we both have in common." A strong muscle protrudes from his jaw. "We travelled a long... gruelling way. I'm hungry."

"Then... you should go eat."

His calloused hands find the knot of the dress, undoing it eagerly. "I wasn't talking about food."

A part of me wants to succumb to scorching desire, where want abounds, principal keeps me in check. The dress slips open. I dart from his grasp, holding the dress closed with my hands.

I glare at him reproachfully, unable to voice my disapproval. His lazy smirk only breaks into a full grin.

"You didn't tell me to stop."

"Is me jumping back not clear enough?"

I endure the eye contact. "You can lie." He steps closer, prowling closer. I retreat. "But your body can't."

***

Days morph into weeks and in that time, I barely see the Moon brothers. I suppose they're rectifying whatever Torin meant by shit storm. I've been alone. Except for today .

Hands grafted to the bar of the weight training dip station, my head bobs above it continuously.

"Now, you're just showing off."

Muscles straining as I complete another pull-up rep before I drop down.

"You done?"

"After you spar with me, yeah," I say challengingly.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy." A smug smile splinters his concerned facade. "I'd hate to see you back on your death bed again."

I waltz over to the padded sparring mat laid out by the expansive mirror of the indoor gym. Allured by the challenge, he follows with a maddening smirk, lifting his fists in a ready fighting stance. He strikes first and I block with my outer forearm, countering with a cross punch, rotating to generate power. He staggers back. I thrust my foot high, connecting to his face in a sweeping, crescent motion.

He falters again, dabbing his backhand to his mouth, checking for blood.

"Alright." Straightening up to his full height. "Now, I'm gon fuck you up."

He throws a series of expert punches that I narrowly evade. But then he pulls it back in and does a spinning back kick that smacks against my midsection, hard. The second sends me hurtling rearwards, my back crashing on the floor—using the momentum I flip myself over—landing on one knee with my arm stretched out to balance myself.

I glare up at him. He stares down at me with that same rage-inducing smirk.

"Does Hassie need more spankings?" he asks in a babying tone.

I shoot up, hurrying to him.

He wags both hands at me. "Come to daddy."

I charge at him. But he sidesteps with surprising speed, blocking my attack and punishing me with a brutal ridge hand that nearly cripples my equilibrium. He seizes my wrist, twisting it around to pin it behind my back, wringing out a sharp cry from me.

"How I would kill to hear that scream in a different position," he whispers, leaning closer, "Now beg for daddy's forgiveness."

My silence encourages him to tauten his grip, impelling a muffled groan from me as I arch against him.

Breathlessly, "I'm sorry—," I say with a moan.

He makes the mistake of liberating me. I pretend to move forward before I launch a back kick to his groin—he doubles over with a pained grunt.

"—that you're such a cunt."

I walk away from him, panting, perspiring profusely.

"You just gonna watch or are you going to avenge me?"

I frown, swivelling around. Orian skulks out of the shadows. Clearly coming from a meeting or something.

"She couldn't handle it."

My pride takes the bait. "Oh yeah? I could do you both, one time."

The brothers exchange looks. Orian wordlessly unbuttons his black shirt, the sleeves rolled up halfway. Torin unpeels his drenched tank top, over his head and throws it on the ground. Orian does the same. My mouth starts pooling, trying to suppress the raw and primal throbbing. Without looking, Torin extends his arm to him and they do a fist pump.

"So, what, now you two good now?"

Orian's only response is a predatorial smirk.

*I didn't...I didn't think this one through.*

Orian advances from the one side with a tiger-like tread. Torin on the other, moving with a feline slink. Both of them sporting a Spartan's physique, sculpted muscles wrought from iron. My eyes bouncing between them frantically.

"Is it possible if we could renegotiate?"

Orian flings a jab, a ploy to send me back—Torin's burly arm hooks around my throat, caging me to his sweaty body. Orian approaches with a daunting, gradual gait. His eyes darkening with something unspeakable. When he's close enough, I propel myself off the ground to ram my feet at his chest.

I elbow Torin in the gut to force him to surrender his grip. I pivot, swinging my left arm over his torso to guide the position of his upper body. Squatting slightly to get my hips below his. Leveraging his own heft against him, I pull his left arm down to the right to execute a clean and efficient flip-over. Loving the whooshing sound of the air being knocked from his lungs when he lands hard on his back.

I peer down at him, a smile growing on my face. "Who's your daddy now, bitch?"

Torin looks away laughing before he swings his leg, cutting my legs out from beneath me. I drop to the floor with a thud. He rolls over and shoots up to be kneeled above my head. He grabs my wrists, pinning them flat on the mat.

Orian strolls over and steps over me so my body is between his legs.

Torin's face hovers over mine. "You mean daddies?"