The Walls of Troy

by L. A. Witt

  I continued toward him. “Something wrong?”

  He jumped. “No. I’m…” He shook his head and stepped back from the window. “Never mind. One of the dogs was just getting agitated about something.”

  “Troy, if there’s something wrong, I need—”

  “Everything’s fine. I…” He laughed and waved a hand out at the yard. “We get rabbits on the lawn sometimes. I thought I saw one. Didn’t want to let the dogs out if there’s one out there, you know?”

  I regarded him skeptically. “A rabbit.”

  “Maybe a raccoon? I don’t know.”

  “Mmhmm.” I glanced at the window. “Are you—”

  “Chill. It’s nothing.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I also didn’t see anything out in the yard, and the Rottweiler sitting between us was calm and placid, so I let it go.

  “So, um.” Troy rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. “I know your shift is technically over, but do you want to”—he gestured up the stairs—“come up and study for that exam?”

  “I…” I don’t think I can study alone with you…

  “We do have an exam coming up.” His pierced eyebrow climbed his forehead.

  I gulped. “Sure.”

  What that smile meant, I have no idea. Subtle, genuine, and just enough to fuck with my brain. And probably warn me that following him up the stairs was a stupid thing to do. As if I didn’t know that.

  But I did follow him up the stairs, and as he let us into his bedroom on the second floor, my heart sped up again. I had no business up here. I was kidding myself if I thought I’d be able to focus enough to study. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be in much better shape at my own apartment. I’d just be alone, safely away from him since.

  But, hell. Why not? We did have to study.

  I’d fully expected Troy’s bedroom to be decked out in heavy metal posters with skulls and gargoyles at every turn, but his choice of décor was surprisingly mellow compared to the way he dressed. There wasn’t much on the walls. His high school diploma was in a simple black frame, flanked by his graduation cap and tassel and a set of honor cords. On the same wall was a photo of him and his dad, both in civvies with cameras and sunglasses in front of the White House. Otherwise, it was just simply furnished and sparsely decorated.

  The room was huge, though. It reminded me of a studio apartment, minus a kitchenette or something similar. One side was the bed and dresser. The other side had been converted into a study area—four chairs were neatly pushed up against a long, narrow table with enough space for a few people to spread out books, notes, and laptops. I suspected he’d hosted study groups here before. Or possibly role-playing games, if the row of Dungeons & Dragons books on his shelf were any indication.

  “You’re a gamer?” I nodded toward the books.

  Troy glanced at them, shrugged, and went back to fishing his notes out of his backpack. “I haven’t done much since I started college.”

  “No time?”

  “That, and most of the guys I gamed with are either at my dad’s last duty station, or they’ve gone to college in other states.”

  “Ouch. Damn.” I paused, not quite sure what to say. “I was part of a D&D group when I was on a ship. Kind of a pain in the ass to play when you have to use double-sided adhesive on everything.”

  Troy’s piercings rose with the arch of his eyebrow. “Adhesive?”

  “Yeah. Because we were on a ship.”

  “On a—oh. Gotcha.” He laughed. “Yeah, that would be a pain, wouldn’t it?”

  “It was. We learned the hard way, believe me.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Our eyes met, and we both laughed, but the moment didn’t last long. Troy muffled a cough and resumed getting his notes and books together, and I started doing the same even as I continued taking in my surroundings.

  A few cardboard boxes were stacked in the corner. Some still taped, a couple open with their contents partially pulled out. All of them had the distinctive colored number tags that movers put on to inventory them—some had three or four different ones.

  I knew exactly what that was like. Some boxes ended up packed during a move and were never opened until four or five moves later or when I needed to find something specific. When you moved that often, it was pointless to completely unpack every time.

  While Troy and I arranged everything on the table, Talos stretched, then dropped onto the floor at the edge of the rug beneath it.

  I carefully stepped around him. “So he’ll be joining us?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry. He won’t copy off your paper.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that’s promising.”

  Troy glanced at him, then me. “Do you mind him staying in here?”

  “Uh.” I threw a wary look toward the dog. “It is his house.”

  Troy smiled. “You really haven’t warmed up to him yet, have you?”

  “I don’t see it happening any time soon. Nothing against him, but…” I shook my head.

  “Not a fan of big dogs?”

  I swallowed. “Not a fan of any dogs, actually.”

  “Really? Any particular reason?”

  Leaning forward, I pushed my hair back a little—damn, it was still weird to have it this long—to expose part of my forehead, right up by the hairline. “See that scar?”

  He stepped closer, brow furrowed, then nodded. “Yeah.”

  I lowered my hand. “A neighbor’s dog attacked me when I was like two. I don’t remember it, but my mom said I was fine with dogs until that happened. Been terrified of them ever since.”

  “Looks like he took a hell of a bite out of you.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I guess I can see why dogs aren’t high on your list.” He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a thin, silvery line. “My grandma’s cat did that when I was eight.”

  “Does this mean you don’t like cats?”

  “I like cats just fine. But fuck Siamese.”

  I laughed. “I can’t argue with that. Siamese are dicks as a general rule.”

  Troy laughed too. “They are, aren’t they?”

  “I think it’s a requirement for the breed. Aside from Siamese, though, I’m definitely a cat person.”

  “Cats are all right, but I love my dogs.” He snapped his fingers, and Talos immediately got up and trotted to his side. “And this one? He’s protective, but he’s really just a big teddy bear.” Troy wrapped his arms around the dog’s thick neck and kissed the top of his head. “Aren’t you, buddy?”

  I swallowed. Just the thought of having my face that close to those jaws was enough to make me shudder.

  And I realized Troy was watching me. As he sat up, petting the dog, he said, “I can send him downstairs if you’re more comfortable.”

  “No, that’s okay.” I gave Talos another look and shook my head. “I’ll get used to him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I held his gaze. “Seems like you’re more comfortable when he’s around.”

  Troy’s cheeks colored, and he avoided my eyes. “Kind of stupid, I guess.”

  “Not really.” I played with the corner of my notebook. “You’re nervous enough to need a bodyguard to go to school. If having Talos nearby helps too, then by all means.”

  “Even if he makes you nervous?”

  We locked eyes.

  He’s not the one who…

  I swallowed. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  He watched me, then, “Talos, go lie down.” He pointed toward the bed on the other side of the room and snapped his fingers. Obediently, Talos got up, lumbered over, and settled on the floor beside the bed. Troy turned to me. “Better?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

&nb
sp; We opened our textbooks and notebooks but had barely started going over the text before I lifted my head to say something and…

  And completely forgot what it was.

  He met my gaze from across the table, and in this light, the eyeliner fucked with my brain. As if I needed anything to draw my attention to Troy’s face, to the way the lights played on those intense blue eyes, the eyeliner may as well have said focus right here, Iskander.

  And suddenly I wanted to know what his mouth tasted like. And how warm his body was. And how fast his heart was beating.

  This was so wrong. So unprofessional.

  And impossible to resist.

  Fuck. What was I thinking? I was supposed to be focused on keeping him safe and passing this class, and all I could think was that Troy was fucking gorgeous.

  Studying with him was a terrible, terrible idea. I was better off risking an F on the exam.

  Abruptly, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight, the chair creaking quietly as he did. “Right. So. What chapters are we supposed to be studying again?”

  “He said the exam covers fourteen through”—my God, you have beautiful eyes—“uh, twenty-two.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. So, read them over, and then we’ll compare notes?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  We both focused on our books. To my surprise, I was able to focus enough to at least get the gist of what was on the page. When I wasn’t stealing surreptitious glances at him, anyway. I supposed as long as I understood the text, it wasn’t the end of the world if I was also aware of his long, nimble fingers idly flipping a pen over and over while he read. There was no reason I couldn’t comprehend the principles of photosynthesis and ponder the curve of his neck.

  Really, Iskander? Good God…

  As I was finishing up chapter fifteen, Troy laid his pen across his book and looked at me. “Okay, I have a question.” His expression was intent, focused right on me, and somehow I doubted his question had anything to do with chlorophyll or solar energy.

  Oh Lord…

  “Shoot.”

  “So the therapist was your idea. Dad said you thought I had PTSD.”

  I nodded.

  “And you were right.” He studied me, eyes narrowing a little. “Out of curiosity, how did you know?”

  “You broke out in a sweat after someone dropped a stack of books, and had a panic attack that looked an awful lot like a flashback after we walked through a crowd.” I inclined my head. “What was I supposed to think?”

  “That I was jumpy, I guess.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Most people don’t seem to notice.” He laughed bitterly. “I actually had one of those around my mom a couple of months ago. One of the ones like at the festival, where everything just…” He shuddered, then shook himself and looked at me through his lashes. “She thought I faked it.”

  “Faked it?” I stared at him with wide eyes. “Why the hell would you fake something like that?”

  His eyebrow arched in “really, dude?” fashion. “Why would I insist on a bodyguard and security detail I don’t actually need? Attention, obviously. That’s what Fowler thinks. I think the only reason he puts any effort into this job at all is to kiss my dad’s ass.”

  By all rights, I should have insisted that my fellow master-at-arms had the entire family’s best interest at the forefront of his mind, but given how he’d rolled his eyes at most of the concerns for Troy’s safety, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  “You’ve given a shit from the beginning, though,” he said, his tone softer.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “It’s what I’m here for.”

  “I know. But you’re different from the others.” Troy lifted his hand, and I didn’t realize what he was doing until a second too late, when his hand came to rest on the back of my arm. Across the table that I could’ve sworn was wider than this, our eyes met. “You’re the only one who hasn’t thought I was crazy.”

  “Your dad doesn’t think you are.”

  “He’s just overprotective. Always has been. He drove me to school for a year after I told him someone on the school bus was teasing me.”

  “Still, I think he’s taking this seriously.”

  “I know he is.”

  “And no, I still don’t think you’re crazy.” Though I knew I was crossing another line, I put my hand on top of his on my arm. “I’ve never thought you were crazy. I’m just worried about you.” I swallowed hard, lowering my gaze to my arm, his hand, and my hand. “And the thing I’m worried about the most”—besides what the fuck we’re doing right now—“is that I can’t protect you.”

  “You’re the only one who’s even tried.”

  We locked eyes again, and then slowly lowered our gazes to the complicated mess we’d made out of platonic contact in the middle of the table.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I whispered.

  “I know.”

  He didn’t pull away. I didn’t pull away.

  Goddammit, don’t make me be the adult here. I don’t think I can. Not when I want—

  I withdrew my hand and leaned back. “We really shouldn’t.”

  He sighed, drawing away too. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We just…”

  Can’t. Shouldn’t. Need to.

  “I should, uh…” I cleared my throat. “I should probably go.”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head and closed his textbook. “I guess we’re not getting much work done, are we?”

  “Not really.” Meeting his eyes, I added without thinking, “I don’t see that changing tonight.”

  He gulped.

  Shit. I wasn’t imagining any of this, was I?

  Somehow I found the presence of mind to slide my books and notebook back into my bag, and we both got up.

  “I’ll, um, see you Monday?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. See you then.”

  I headed for the door and got as far as putting my hand on the doorknob before—

  “Iskander, wait.”

  Damn it. Don’t. Don’t wait. Go!

  There was nothing but a single door standing between us and common sense. All I had to do was reach behind me, turn the doorknob, and the barrier would be gone. This dangerous privacy would evaporate.

  But I didn’t. I faced him, and my shoulder blades brushed the door, and my eyes were locked on his, and even though I should have been anywhere but here, I planted my feet.

  He took a deep breath and came a little closer. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Do you really think we’ll get any studying done if I stay?”

  “No.” He said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, my breath caught. “Studying has nothing to do with why I want you to stay.”

  “But you probably know as well as I do why I should leave.”

  “Yeah. I do.” He came even closer, pushing all the oxygen out of the room. “Doesn’t change the fact that…” He closed his eyes for a moment, then met mine again. “Look, I know it’s a bad idea. Believe me, I do. But I saw the way you looked at me yesterday. At the range.”

  Shit. Busted.

  “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” he said, almost whispering. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He laced his fingers between mine, and my heart sped up, especially as he added, “I don’t want to stop thinking about you.”

  Against all my training, sense, and professionalism, my fingers curled between his. “Troy, we…”

  “I know. We shouldn’t.” He swallowed. “You’re off duty, right?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m your bodyguard.” I pressed against the door, not to increase the space between us, but to keep myself upright. “I’m supposed to be… God, we shouldn’t do this.”
/>
  “I know.”

  “Your dad…”

  “He won’t come in here. As far as he’s concerned, I’m no different than if he rented out a room to someone else.” Troy inched closer to me. “We have complete privacy.”

  My heart beat even faster.

  Complete privacy. In a closed room. With him. And a bed.

  This was so deliciously dangerous.

  “I know all the reasons we shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, “but I’m finding it really, really hard to give a fuck.”

  I gulped. “We… Damn it, I can’t resist.” I curved my hand around the back of his neck, and I didn’t even have to draw him in, because he came closer on his own.

  “Maybe it’s not so wrong, then.”

  “Oh, it is.” I dragged my lip across his. “We shouldn’t… This is so—”

  He kissed me.

  And to hell with it. Right or wrong, we were doing this. As I let him nudge my lips apart, I couldn’t find anything wrong with what we were doing except that it had taken us this long to get here. If I’d known how many goose bumps I’d get from his tongue teasing mine, I’d have done this ages ago.

  I slid a hand down his back to his waistband and pulled him closer to me. Troy didn’t resist—he pressed against me, exhaling through his nose as his erection brushed mine. Clothes rustled against clothes, and breath rushed across skin, but I barely heard any of it over my own heartbeat.

  I hadn’t been kissed like this in way too damn long. Even though we were both hard, both obviously into this, there was no hurry. Running my fingers through Troy’s cool hair, lazily exploring his mouth like this was as far as either of us had any desire to go tonight—God, it was perfect.

  And then Talos went psycho.

  Troy flew back from me, and that giant barking dog came thundering toward me. I shot out of his way, nearly falling on my ass, and fully expected him to knock me the rest of the way down.

  But he went for the door instead.

  “Talos!” Troy snapped. “Get down!”

  The dog didn’t listen. He barked and snarled, pawing furiously at the door. Troy opened it, and in a heartbeat, Talos was gone, barking all the way down the hall.