Page 1 of Under His Command
ONE
Five years ago
Iblink once, and the smoke is everywhere.
In the car, surrounding the car—everywhere. I cough into my elbow, stabbing the seat belt buckle with my other hand until it sets me free. I stumble into the street, tears burning the backs of my eyes both from the dark cloud of chemicals, and from the frustration coursing through me.
It’s the second time it’s happened this month, even though I’ve already spent all my savings on the repairs. They told me there was a problem with the brakes, but Trent insisted they were morons and asked them to check the coolant system instead. In the end, neither the mechanics nor my ex-boyfriend figured out what the hell was wrong with my brother’s old Honda.
They still took my money—a shit move on their part—and now I’m left with a smoking car in the middle of the road, just a few feet away from my parents’ house. Great.
Pulling my T-shirt over my nose, I open the hood and look at the engine as if I know how to fix this myself. I start touching random parts until I stain my fingers with oil and dirt, making me curse out loud.
But I don’t curse the car. Or my brother. Instead, I curse my dad, who should have taught me how to handle shit like this before he ran off with his mistress, leaving his family behind. Even if I wanted to call him for help, he wouldn’t answer. He hasn’t—not since he left, anyway.
And my brother… I’d call Cole in a heartbeat if he wasn’t fighting for his life in the war zone of the Sylvestrian Ridge. So I pull the hood of his Honda back down and accept the fact that I’ll have to take a few extra shifts at the cafe to get the car towed into the repair shop. Again.
After locking the doors, I peer through the thick cloud of smoke when the figure of a man standing in front of my parents’ house enters my visual field. He’s tall and imposing—taut muscles rippling through the tailored army uniform as he extends his hand forward to knock on the door of our house.
Instantly my heart drops, a pit forms low in my stomach, and my palms break out in a sweat all at the same time. Why would the army be here, on a Tuesday morning, when my brother isn’t scheduled to come home for another three months?
Why else, Dove? Because he’s dead. Because your nightmares were real.
A thick web of unshed tears pools around my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to bring the thought to life. Cole isn’t dead. He can’t be, because he promised he’d come home in time for my high school graduation. He promised he’d take me to the beach with his friends this summer before I head off to college.
He never did keep his promises though, did he?
I don’t realize I’m standing right behind the man until after he turns around to meet my eyes. And when he does, a wave of raw, primal energy rolls off of him, coiling around my body like a tempestuous flame. I can feel it squeezing my lungs, trapping all the air inside me and making my cheeks flush.
He cocks his head to the right, observing me, his eyes darkening from hazel green to the color of the leaves in the shadows. The summer breeze dances through his naturally tousled, velvet-black hair, causing a few rebel strands to sway across his eyes like phantoms. His jaw is sharp and prominent, supporting a lush symmetrical mouth that’s opening to say something before it closes again.
For some reason, the way he looks at me makes me feel exposed—naked almost, even though his gaze hasn’t left mine long enough to take in the rest of my petite body. Still, I wrap my arms around myself, my breathing shallow as I try to think of something to say. Anything.
“Dove Finnegan?”
The way my name rolls off his tongue finally draws the trapped air in my lungs out. It comes out as a soft gasp, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m feeling dizzy, and I don’t know if it’s from the smoke I’ve just inhaled or from the way this man is staring right into my soul.
“That’s me,” I whisper.
For a second, his somber face seems to soften, a sad and kind half-smile stretching across his lips. And when he does it, I wonder if this is another one of my dreams. I wonder if perhaps I’m sleeping, because there’s no way this perfect man smiled at me and the heavens haven’t opened up above him.
“Are your parents around?”
I shouldn’t tell him the truth. Is he really from the army? He could be anyone. With a smile and a face like that, he could be anybody. I steal a glance at the military medals adorning his broad, muscular chest. Since when do they put men so young and handsome into leadership positions? He looks to be about the same age as my brother—in his late twenties.
But it’s the way he’s looking at me that makes me blurt out everything he wants to know. All he has to do is ask and I’ll give him everything. “My mother is at work. And my father moved out.”
“Okay,” he says, offering a soft nod—too soft to suit him and his ascetic figure. I’m almost angry at the gentleness of it. “Here’s what you’re going to do, then, Dove. You’re going to go inside, bring me a glass of water, and then sit on the stairs in front of your house while you listen to what I have to say. Do you understand?”
His voice is grave now, as if I’m one of his soldiers… or a little sister he has to keep out of trouble for his mother’s sake. I gulp once, nodding, and struggle to grasp the odd sensation taking over me.
“Good girl.”
My cheeks flush and my pussy clenches as the words leave his mouth, taking me and apparently him too, by surprise. I look away, but I don’t fail to notice the way his eyes spark with intrigue before I do.
He drags a hand down his face, stepping back into the street to let me get into my house. He walks past me, the smell of leather and pine and something muted, like amber, enters my nostrils with ease, hugging every nerve ending I have and making sure I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.
I go inside, and with trembling hands I run water from the tap into a tall glass, bringing it back outside as carefully as I can in my disoriented state.
