Chapter Four
Jacob knew what was coming, but the damned thing about PTSD and irrational fear was that you couldn’t control it. The fucking fear that crept up his spine, chilling him to the bone. The sweat that poured down his body, drenching him in cold, wet darkness. Even darker than the room he dreamt he was in. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the uneven, stuttered breaths that came from his mouth. Shit. He should be able to control this. Force it to go away. Fucking man up and be the goddamned soldier and leader he was meant to be. People were counting on him. Donovan, Johannes, London, MacAvoy, Ellison, Vannoy, Brooks, and James.
He needed to gut through this. It wasn’t real. Dammit. The tiny pitter patter of rats crawling around his frozen body. Yeah, his body was just a corpse. A dead man with his head and leg blown off because he had stepped on a landmine. But this was a room. A room on the western side of the abandoned hotel. Not a field, and Jacob wasn’t dead. London was dead. The crack of enemy fire outside. The whistle of a bomb. The groans as all his men, one by one, fell to their knees, dying in front of him, their eyes open in horror.
“Why did you let this happen?” Donovan grabbed his collar and shook him, hard, before gurgling on his own blood and dying beside him.
Jacob could see the faint outline of his own perfect, un-mutilated body now, as he became himself again. London was a mess of blood and brain matter five feet away. Rats scurried over to London’s body, fucking scavengers opening their tiny little jaws, with their sharp teeth shining in the moonlight, enjoying their feast upon his friend.
“No,” he sobbed and tried to get up, but his body was cemented to that ice-cold floor. As tears streamed down his face, he tried to close his eyes, turn off his hearing. Nothing prevented him from seeing or hearing the carnage in front of him. The base shrink had said it would take time for these horrific manifestations to leave his nightmares and kept reminding him it wasn’t his fault that they had died. His brain tried to shut it out. This wasn’t even fucking real. This wasn’t what happened. This was so much gorier, so much scarier, that even his fucking dream self pissed his pants. The dude he had been sent to see—the Colonel with the light grey hair and all too knowing eyes—kept calling it PTSD, kept saying it wasn’t something Jacob could will himself past. That it would take time and closure and healing. That his mind needed to heal.
But these dreams were getting worse. He’d had to stop sleeping with his Gerber under his pillow, because he was so afraid he might lose control. Holy shit. These nightmares were the one big thing he couldn’t control. He needed control. That was why being in charge called to him. It wasn’t just his natural leadership, no, it was his need to have as much control over things as he could. And the military suited him. Until nighttime. Until he had gotten two of his men killed.
Donovan’s corpse sat up—eyeless now, because the rats had taken them, and shook him. “Wake up!”
He flinched back, but Donovan got closer to his face, and a rat tail squirmed between his lips before he spoke. “Cherry’s here. They’re going to take her down next. You can’t protect her.”
His mouth opened and a rat jumped out, still holding the remnants of his severed tongue. But Jacob could still hear him. Could hear Cherry begging from the darkness to save her. Weeping, sniffling, begging.
Donovan’s voice became rougher and higher pitched like some fucked up version of a rat/man hybrid. “Cherry’s going to die, and you can’t stop it. You can’t control any of this.”
“Please wake up,” Cherry cried. He still couldn’t see her, couldn’t help her. “Jacob, please wake up.”
Donovan laughed and taunted him as his pitch-black eyes gave him the perfect view of evil. How he got eyes, Jacob didn’t know. This nightmare had taken a new turn, and all he could do now was ride it out. Pray it ended soon. He had no control over where his mind took him. He wished his dream self would just let him die so he could get it over with. But it never happened that way. He always got to watch his buddies die instead, harboring the new and improved horrific visions every time they morphed into something worse. He couldn’t believe Cherry had worked her way into this one. Please, dear God, don’t make him watch this woman die. He’d beg, if he thought God was listening.
Chance Donovan, his best friend for years, became the worst evil he had ever imagined, over the next few seconds.
“I’ll kill her.” His voice now sounded low and hissy, almost snake like. “You can watch, frozen right there, while I kill the woman you’re falling for.”
“Please wake up!” Cherry’s voice called from the darkness, sobbing.
He roared and flung himself out of his immobile state, and the momentary second of satisfaction that he gained from breaking free only to slowly choke his former best friend to death turned to terror when he woke up and looked beneath him.
All the breath sucked out of him as his vision became less blurry.
“Wake up,” Cherry croaked as she lay on the floor, his hand gripping her throat.
“Shit!” He released her neck and she coughed and sputtered as he climbed off her and helped her stand up. “Are you all right?”
Fuck no she wasn’t all right. He had almost choked her to death. He stumbled to the bed and tried to catch his breath and get the sudden dizziness to pass.
“Put your head between your legs, big guy.” Her gentle voice accompanied a soft touch, and he let her push his head down. “Take slow breaths. In and out.”
Her voice sounded like the most beautiful music. Like a siren singing to him amid an ocean storm, the worst imaginable storm of waves crashing over him. Yet, she called to him, and each time he thought he would sink to the bottom and never breathe again, she would pull him back to the surface.
They did this for what seemed like an eternity—him choking on dark, salty water, unable to breathe, then a coax from her. Her soft voice, the caress on his head and his sweat-drenched back, the scent that was all her. It brought him back to the surface. And the storm finally dissipated. The sun shone and warmed his aching bones as she held him tightly in her arms, talking to him about…Was she talking about baking?
“And then I add the dirt. It’s a combination of chocolate chip cookies and those cream filled ones. I like to crumble them together before adding them to the top. My favorite part is the gummy worm addition. Sometimes, I do sour worms, just to make the kids laugh. They really like the different surprises. I can also do a chocolate kiss in the center. I guess it just depends on the mood I’m in. How’re you feeling?” She reached over and grabbed a glass of water off his nightstand. “Ready to try to rehydrate? You sound like your breathing has gone back to normal at least. Come on. Just a sip, please.”
He exhaled a shuddering breath and tried to take the glass from him, but she didn’t let it go. “I don’t like not being in control, little girl.” He felt bad for the growl in his voice, but she showed no fear. No wide eyes like women normally gave him when he got grumpy or used what Chance liked to tease him by saying was his alpha asshole voice. Nope. She sat there and faced him down, her brows furrowed and her lips tight. Not angry, but not taking any shit either. She pressed the glass toward his lips and, with a sigh, he let her tip it toward his mouth.
The cool water soothed his parched, aching throat, and he closed his eyes and let her take care of him. Just for that moment.
“Had enough?” Her eyes were bright and alert and the most consuming, beautiful things he had ever seen. Even with the dark circles under them.
He nodded and gazed down to her neck at the small bruises that circled her throat. “Fuck, I am so sorry about that. Are you okay?”
“I’m better than you at the moment. Chill.” She gave him a sad smile and placed the water back on the stand.
“Doctors say it’s PTSD. I should get the hell out of here before I hurt you worse.” Guilt clawed at his heart. He could have killed her and devastated his best friend. Two lives in the grip of his fucking hands. If he had known he was this bad, he never would have agreed to come. Shit. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been with a woman since that mission. The dreams were bad enough, but if they were going to seep into his real-life actions. Fuck. He needed to get back to the base and get taken off duty before he hurt someone else, or worse killed someone. Then he needed some high dosage medications. Dr. Finlay had suggested a low dose of some sort of anti-depressant, but he had blown him off, not realizing things were this bad, this fucked up.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” He met her frown with his own.
“Your face. Your head.”
“I think you’re going to have to give me a bit more explanation than that, Curly.”
She took his hand and held it tightly against her chest. It was so warm, so soft. He never wanted to take it from its current spot. “Your face is showing all the different emotions you’re going through. I can see you over-thinking, over-analyzing, condemning, judging. The way your brows furrow, and your eyes darken. That scowl you give right before you push out your lower lip. Then your eyes get this far away kind of look like you’re contemplating holding all the weight of the universe. Your body is expressing fear, anger, confusion, resentment, guilt, then a sort of despondent ‘fuck it’.”
His eyebrows rose, and she laughed. “Yeah, I only use curse words for special occasions.”
She was correct about it all. His mind was still whirling with unresolved issues and no course of action. “How can you tell all of that?”
She shrugged. “I took my Bachelor’s in Psychology and opened up a bakery. I try to help when I can, with a baked good, and an ear. Some sweet comfort food, and a person to talk to can really help.”
“I’ve never really talked to anyone about this sh-um-stuff. The doctor on base wishes I would open up more, but says he understands, that we can go slowly.”
“It makes you feel vulnerable.”
He nodded. This was so crazy. He was the fucked-up person who almost hurt her because he couldn’t control his fear and lost control. And here she was helping him! Completely blowing off what must be a tender neck and sore back. God, he had thrown her down on the floor and started strangling her.
“You’re doing it again. I’m all right. Just a little shaken up.”
“I don’t know how to make it up to you, how to make sure you’re okay, how to know this won’t happen again.” His frustration poured out of him in waves, and he pounded the bed. He had torn off all the sheets during his nightmare, so his fist contacted bare, soaked mattress.
“Well, first of all, I’m a big girl. You didn’t do much harm. I am tougher than I look and am going to shake it off. Second, you can make it up to me my joining me for some muffins, creamer and decaf in the living room. I’m a little too awake to get back to bed yet. Third, it won’t happen again, because I won’t let it.”
“What?” He looked up and saw the proud lines of her face. She stood up, which only put her half a head above him, and placed her hands on her hips in sheer defiance.
“You’re going to sleep with me for the remainder of your visit.” She started laughing. “Oh my gosh, have you ever heard the phrase about someone’s eyes bugging out of their heads? You just went so pale, and your eyes are literally doing the buggy thing.”
It took him a moment to clear his head, and get what he hoped was a no-nonsense, sans bug-eyes look on his face. “That is not a very good idea. We’re just going to have to come up with some ground rules, like no coming in when I’m sleeping, and I’ll lock the door.”
“You’re not going to hurt me again. You know my voice. You stopped when you realized it was me. I’m the one that can help you get a good night’s sleep. Even you have to have noticed that I help ground you.”
He hated the hurt look on her face, but he wasn’t going to pursue this. Even though a part of him grudgingly agreed with her logic—yes, his mind had woken him up as soon as he realized it was her, and yes, her subtle scents reminded him of her presence all the time—he still wasn’t following this direction. This was his best friend’s sister. The best friend who pretty much said, “You touch her, you lose your balls.”
He didn’t want to cross the line his buddy had set, no matter how much her curvy body appealed to him. Shit, he needed to get the hell out of here. But he couldn’t. Someone had to stay here and quietly keep an eye on things to make sure she wasn’t in any danger.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He forced the sternest look he could onto his face. The kind that would have his young soldiers shaking in their boots. “After we have our coffee, you are going back to your room, by yourself. I’m locking my door, and you will not under any circumstances, I repeat, under any circumstances, enter this room. Do you understand?” He looked up, expecting to see sadness, hurt, at the very least, a pout.
The determined gaze and crossed arms were the opposite of hurting and pouting. “You seem to think I’m afraid of you or that I’m some wimp you can just boss around. I’ll tell you something, Sergeant.” She heaved in a breath, and he couldn’t help but love the way her gorgeous breasts rose and fell, her nipples peeking through the thin material of her cotton tank top. Yeah, no bra at bedtime. Awesome. “Eyes up here, soldier.” She did that cool breath thing again, and he willed himself to keep from licking his lips as he ogled her gorgeous tits. “I am not a china doll. You can’t treat me like my brother does, like I’m some rare, breakable antique that can’t even get her own glass from a cupboard. Yeah, I know that sounded weird. But no weirder than you making those strangled noises in the back of your throat, while you shift your cock in your pants hoping I don’t notice that you’re aroused. Or the way you drool when you look at my boobs. Yes, you drool.”
Shit. He wiped the corner of his mouth.
“Now if you want to play this whole thing out and tell me you’re not attracted to me, fine. I don’t want to have sex with someone who won’t be honest with me anyway. But I’m not asking you for sex. I’m offering you a safe place to sleep, so you can rest without the nightmares plaguing you. And to be perfectly honest, I won’t sleep well either if I know you are having difficulties. So this is just as much for me. Easy peasy. Sleep. That’s it. No sex. What do you have to say now?”
“I don’t want to have sex with you.”
Her eyes widened, and she jolted back like he had slapped her in the face, but she recovered quickly, and replaced the hurt confusion with an angry, but unyielding glare. “Fine, but what I’m offering is still—”
“What I want to do to your body is illegal in fifteen states.” He cut her off and stood up to tower above her. “I don’t want to have sex with you, because sex can’t begin to describe all the ways I want my cock to pound into your mouth, pussy—” He gripped her ass cheeks hard and pulled her forward so she was pressed against his raging cock. “—right here in your little, puckered asshole.” He gripped her harder and ran his finger up the back of her ass, pressing against her virgin hole.
Her soft gasps filled the room, and her cheeks filled with the pink he loved to see on her ivory skin.
“You’re a virgin here, aren’t you, darlin’?” He tapped the cotton shorts right over her puckered hole and watched her eyes dilate. “You don’t know how badly I want you—to taste you, to suck on every inch of your body, to lick you and bite you. Make you scream my name over and over, begging me for release. And that’s before I take you with this cock. Yeah, baby this one right here. It’s bigger than you’re used to, isn’t it?”
She blinked, and her lips trembled as she licked her lips and nibbled along the bottom one.
“Answer me, little girl.” He gripped her harder. Damn, he was going to leave bruises on her hips, but he needed to scare her off, get her to change her mind, before he threw her on that messed up bed and fucked her six ways to Sunday.
She swallowed and met his gaze. “No, I’ve never had a cock this big. And I’m still an anal virgin. But if you decide that’s something you want to try with me, I’m game.” Her face turned a deep red. She was out of her comfort zone, embarrassed, but she wasn’t budging.
Shit.
“Dammit, you need to drop this. I’ll be fine. Forget the coffee, just go back to bed, and don’t come back in this room, or else.”
Her head cocked to the side and she didn’t back up when he released her. “Or else what?”
“Girl, I will bend you over my lap, strip off that sorry excuse of for night shorts you got on, and spank your bare ass so hard you won’t sit for the rest of the week.”
Besides the barest hint of grin, she didn’t move a muscle. She just stood there staring at him with those warm, emerald eyes, hearing everything he said, and everything he didn’t. Then she turned for the door. Thank God. “I’ll be back with our coffee, my pillow and a change of bed linens in a few minutes.”
Shit. The spitfire had called his bluff. Now was he really going to have to spank her ass, or just accept having a new bed partner for the night? He shook his head and stripped off the rest of the mangled sheets and flipped over the mattress. His cock would be angry with him. But he was making the right choice. A strategic retreat was in order here. Damn, if this was any other female, he would have her ass up, head down already. But Cherry was more than any other woman. She was special. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to have casual sex. It wasn’t just about Chance either, and their bro-code don’t sleep with my sister stuff. Cherry was strong-willed—probably as much as him—beautiful, smart, funny, and special. She deserved so much better than him.
He’d allow her in and then sneak onto the couch while she was sleeping. Yeah, great. Retreat, asshole. He was such a wuss.
“Let’s get ready for bed, honey.” Cherry dumped the linens onto the bed and exaggerated the domesticity of their situation with a smile.
“Don’t make me regret not whipping your butt,” he grumbled.
She laughed and wiggled her cute rear end while bending over to put the top corner of the sheet onto his bed. “There’s still time.”
It was going to be a long night. His cock groaned in agreement.