Traitor

by Alyson Santos

  “Is that so?”

  I approach his desk and swing his chair around to face me.

  “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you, Lance Corporal?” I ask, and his grin breaks.

  “I think Vi’s been through enough. I didn’t need her worrying about that asshole anymore.”

  I bite my lip at the sudden swell of emotion. I should be used to his random acts of compassion by now.

  “Well, she figured it out. She told me to give you this.”

  I lean forward and press my lips to his cheek. He flinches in surprise and blocks my retreat.

  “What about from you?”

  His teasing smile plunges through me, settling low, hot and pulsating. It’s a dangerous offer, because soon, I’m on his lap, grasping his hair, claiming his mouth before he can change his mind. Our kiss intensifies, and my brain surrenders to instinct. It wants more, weeks of imagination straining for release. I want to own the smile that melts me, the eyes that haunt me, the compassion that transforms me.

  He braces his hands on my back, and I gasp at the flames ripping through my veins. My groan leaks out when he hardens beneath me, and my body instinctively tries to pull him in. God, he feels so good, tastes so good. He’s infinite. There is no enough of this man. There are too many layers, and each one leaves me aching for the next.

  I grip the collar of his shirt as he tugs at my hem. Fabric can be damn frustrating, and I’m desperate to fight through it. I want it all: mind, body, and soul, but he pulls back. Eyes clenched, captivating in that moment—overwhelming—I can’t bear the pain of the separation about to come. I’m already suffering the chill of the space between us. I breathe in my own recovery while he hauls himself together, but I don’t object. I care about him too much to make his battle unbearable with a direct assault on his will. I know his struggle against feelings he’s not supposed to have. A relationship he’s not allowed to have. I already broke my promise and won’t cause more agony for the man I’m terrified I’m coming to love.

  It takes all my strength to distance myself when he can’t break us apart this time. His expression mirrors my heart, anguish and relief, as I round the corner of his desk to lean on a safer side. Our eyes lock through the gap, both of us aware of what happened, and all the reasons why it shouldn’t have.

  We’d kissed before, but not like this. This was a new line, an irretraceable one that I wouldn’t trade for a lifetime of good choices. I hadn’t just kissed him. I’d let him into my soul. I’d made a decision. I want him. I choose him, and I don’t care about the ramifications. I’m not worried about the future or consequences. I just want to repeat that moment every minute I can. That’s the cry in my heart but not what comes out of my mouth.

  “It was an interesting breakfast, anyway,” I trace back to our former subject.

  He covers his surprise with a snicker. “Apparently. Sorry I missed it.”

  “Same gruel as always. No big deal.” I clear my throat. “Well, that was fun, but I should probably get back to work.”

  Pain flares in his gaze at my abrupt dismissal, but I’m stuck in uncharted territory. I have a lot to sort through and there’s no way I can reveal that I’m falling in love with him. I’m not ready to cross a bridge I just learned was there.

  “Yeah, sure,” he replies before I’m replaced by his computer.

  The silence that follows unexpected intimacy can be rough; ours is excruciating. My brain catalogs every phrase it knows as I pretend to work, rummaging for a combination that might break us from the distance. But after an hour of uncomfortable coughs and unnecessary throat clearing on both sides, I still have nothing. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since I gave him my heart and then acted like I was killing time.

  I’m startled, and maybe grateful, for the intrusive beep of Kaleb’s phone.

  “Hello, sir… Yes, sir… Of course. Thank you, sir.”

  Kaleb seems to forget about me, and I forget all about our previous discomfort as I study his troubled features. His voice is all confidence, firm and respectful, but it doesn’t match the lines of concern on his face. He doesn’t say much as the conversation continues. Mostly affirmations, a few confirmations, and a ton of acting like he isn’t distressed by whatever is being conveyed from the other side.

  I don’t believe his fleeting smile of reassurance after he disconnects.

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No.”

  “Who was that?”

  “None of your business.”

  “What did they want?”

  “Definitely none of your business.”

  I may actually huff then, but my protest only draws a smile from his lips. “Kaleb’s locking me out. There’s something new.”

  “You’re seriously the nosiest person on this planet.”

  “Maybe it’s because I care about you?”

  “Could have fooled me. Oh wait, no. You just like to fool around with me.”

  I check for hurt in his eyes, but only find humor.

  “What else was I supposed to say?”

  “Well, I would have settled for anything besides what my grandfather used to say after finishing a puzzle for the eighth time.”

  “Come on! You know I loved kissing you.”

  “Yeah? And how would I know that?”

  “You want a dramatic thank you for giving me the best kiss of my life? Is that it?”

  His grin is totally worth the confession. “Now you’re getting closer.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t stop my smile. “Fine. It was amazing, okay? It was perfect and I didn’t know what to say so…” I stop. We both know what I said.

  “So you quoted Pappy Lambert.”

  “He sounds like a wise man.”

  “I dunno, but he definitely loved puzzles.”

  “We could try again now that I have my speech prepared.”

  He laughs, but I wasn’t entirely joking. I’m not optimistic when he shuts off his desk lamp and gathers his belongings.

  “You know I’d love to, but I have to go. Can you lock up when you leave at clock-out?”

  There’s nothing I like about that sentence. “Go where? Was that the call? Is this related to that reprimand from Sergeant Dennel?” His humor fades and triggers a stab in my gut. “Wait, is my mother in trouble?”

  “She’ll be fine. You promised not to ask any more questions.”

  “I know.” My grip tightens on a folder. “Sure, I’ll lock up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Kaleb, wait. Are you going to be okay?” He stalls at the door and our eyes meet.

  Oh god, he’s not.

  I catch the deep rise and fall of his chest before he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow. And Andie, the kiss was amazing for me too.”

  There’s a message waiting for me the following morning. No, not a message—a scream. Kaleb’s disturbing exit barrels through my consciousness, polluting it with visions of the fear in his eyes as he left. I’ve been put on a temporary assignment: Laundry with…

  “We’re on together!” my roommate says, way more excited than anyone should be about laundry.

  I can’t rally the same enthusiasm but try to muster a smile for her sake.

  Despite her attempt to put the fun back in laundry, the weight of Kaleb’s disappearance is a heavy burden I carry through each stage of the day. I’m drained by the end, and when my status hasn’t changed the following morning, I can barely make it to breakfast. I tell the others I’m not feeling well and explain my sudden transfer on the truth that I have no idea what happened.

  “What’s up with you?” Vi asks after my second day of moping.

  “I’m sick. I told you that.”

  “Uh-huh. Want me to get you into the infirmary? I know people.”

  “No thanks.”


  “I guess Kaleb didn’t warn you about the transfer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have a fight or something?”

  “What are you implying?” Sometimes I miss the days when she hated me.

  “Don’t get pissy. I’m just asking.”

  “Kaleb didn’t transfer me. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Okay, geez. Calm down.”

  I drop to my pillow and search for tonight’s ceiling entertainment. I settle on the snowman playing a guitar.

  “Maybe he’s sick or something,” Vi continues from below. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon and you two can work on your filing.”

  “Shut up. We do file. We’re coworkers.”

  “Sure.”

  “We are. We work hard.” I cringe. She snickers.

  “I bet.”

  I slam my pillow toward the bottom bunk, and she returns a kick to mine.

  “Hey, I’m just saying, if you’re not interested in filing with him anymore, I’ll gladly takeover. I know how much you love the greenhouse.”

  “Funny, I remember someone throwing a fit at the thought a couple months ago.”

  “Yeah, well, Kaleb has a way of changing a girl’s mind.”

  “You hit your head harder than I thought.”

  “Oh, please. Kaleb isn’t just your average knight. He’s sweet, funny, and hot as hell. That cocky smile he has? Damn.”

  “Thanks, Vi. This is helping a ton right now.”

  She really needs to go to sleep.

  “Seriously, Andie. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “I’m sure.” I’m not. She doesn’t know about the phone call. The scars. The thirty-four days of horror. The week without my rations.

  “Maybe you can contact the other guy and find out what’s up.”

  “What other guy?”

  “The one whose info is on our screen. What’s his name… I don’t know. Sergeant something.”

  “That’s his rank.”

  “Shut up.”

  “It’s Dennel. Sergeant Max Dennel, Director of Residential Affairs.”

  “Yeah, that sounds right. He’s Kaleb’s boss, right? They said we’re supposed to contact either of them with questions. I’d say a suspicious transfer qualifies as a question.”

  My pulse picks up at the thought. “Maybe.”

  I run to the information screen by our door and shrink.

  Andie Sorenson, Temporary Assignment (Laundry)

  I scroll to the contacts page and stop at Sergeant Max Dennel. My hand hovers for a second until images of Kaleb’s smile twist through me. Vi is right. He’s not your average knight. I push the button and try to calm my breathing.

  “Sergeant Dennel,” a gruff voice informs me.

  “Um, hello, sir. This is Andie Sorenson from 9B. Lance Corporal Novelli’s assistant?”

  “Oh, right. What can I do for you, Miss Sorenson?”

  Great question.

  “Well, sir, I’ve been transferred from his office without an explanation and I wanted to find out why. Did I do something wrong?”

  Silence.

  “No.”

  Silence.

  “Oh. Okay. Um, good? Do you know if I’ll be transferred back?”

  “No. Anything else?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Great. Have a good day, Miss Sorenson.”

  “Thanks. You too, sir.”

  I slam my finger on the disconnect button and turn to find Vi’s usual cynicism replaced with concern. “I’m sorry, Andie.”

  “Something’s not right,” I whisper, and she nods. “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know.” She hooks her arm in mine. “But it won’t help if we’re late for breakfast.”

  It’s a full five days before the screen brings relief that I’m to report back to my permanent assignment in the administration office of 9B. Even Vi beams that morning and sends a greeting for Kaleb. I practically run to the basement sanctuary after breakfast. Time stops when his eyes meet mine, and I bolt across the room to shove him into his chair.

  “Good morning to you too,” he laughs against my hair but I don’t let go. I won’t. I’ve experienced life without him and I’m not interested.

  “What happened? Where were you?”

  “I’m okay, Andie.”

  I pull back, alarmed by his answer to a question I didn’t ask. His wince doesn’t help.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You know I’m not going to answer that.”

  “Kaleb, you were gone for five days.”

  “I’m aware. I have other duties besides paperwork. They put me on another project.”

  He’s lying. My stomach kinks in knots.

  “Yeah? What kind of project?”

  His eyes narrow, but I don’t care if I’m angering him. I press my hand to his chest, and he hisses in a breath.

  “A project, huh?”

  He won’t look at me. “Drop it. Please.”

  “What did they do to you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Let me see your tattoos.”

  “What?”

  “I want to see them.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want me to see what else is under your uniform?”

  “A dozen reasons. We have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Kaleb, come on!” I reach for his shirt, and he flinches away. Doesn’t he understand how it destroys me to think about his scars? What am I supposed to do with new ones? My wounds this time!

  “Andie, I’m fine. It was the hearing, all right? I answered it. Now, I’m back.”

  “What was your punishment?”

  It takes him a second to come up with another lie. “That other project.”

  “A random five-day project?”

  “Yes.”

  He’s not even trying.

  “Andie, work. Please, just work.” He’s the one pleading now, and it’s over. He won this debate the second he stole my heart.

  “Would I ever get a reprimand?” My voice shrinks as the words sputter out, and his frustration melts into sympathy. Those eyes, brimming with strength and compassion.

  “No. I won’t let that happen. But I need you to listen to me. When I tell you to drop things, you drop things. When I tell you to ignore things, you ignore things. When I tell you to forget, you forget, and when I tell you I’m fine, you pretend to believe me. Promise me.”

  But I don’t want to be a liar also.

  “Andie, promise me.”

  “I promise.” I’m a liar.

  His shoulders ease into the backrest of his chair. “Okay, good. Then where were we? Oh, right, five days of inventory reports to catch up on. You ready, Assistant?”

  I force the panic back to my gut and offer a weak smile. “I’m ready. Let’s RP-7 the crap out of stuff today.”

  I try to ignore his flinch when he chuckles.

  He thinks I don’t see him. I pretend to leave for lunch but peek through the crack in the door I left. Sure enough, after a brief scan, he shrugs off his jacket with a ginger movement. Eyes clamped shut, he leans against the edge of the desk and draws in a deep breath I feel in my own lungs. He pulls a bottle and gauze from his drawer and places them along the edge of the desk as he peels off his t-shirt. I shield my mouth at the evidence of his last five days.

  Kaleb is back in his chair when I return from lunch. Innocent in his pretense that this is just another day. That he’s not in excruciating pain. That he’s done an admirable job covering his tracks.

  I drop a protein bar in front of him.

  “What’s this?” No “thank you” because he’s clearly not grateful.

  “Food.”

  “You stole
this from your lunch?”

  Okay, worse than not grateful. His eyes burn holes into me.

  “You’re telling me you’re not hungry?” Because I know a person who skips as many meals as he does must be starving.

  Or has them taken away.

  “That’s not the point. Andie, you can’t smuggle food out of the cafeteria. If you’d have been caught—”

  “What? Would they have filled my chest with burns too?”

  His anger freezes into horror. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw them, Kaleb. You’re covered in bruises. Was that your fucking project? Did they test a new torture device on you or something?”

  My blood is screaming through my veins, melting my patience. He’s protecting the enemy, the truth, from me.

  “You had no right to spy on me.” The warning in his eyes is even more severe.

  “Maybe not, but I did. So now what? Are we going to keep pretending everything is fine? That all I should care about are files and fucking inventory reports?”

  “Watch your language,” he snaps. “This is not up for discussion.”

  “Excuse me?” My fangs are primed, ready to strike. “I’m so sick of this! These games, these constant questions. Maybe if you stop playing the martyr for a second and—”

  “Playing the martyr? What the hell are you talking about?” Every muscle in his torso tenses through his shirt as he grips the desk.

  “I know, okay? I saw the report about the rations. I didn’t lose mine because you gave up yours.” My solid case does nothing to soften his glare.

  “You went through my stuff?”

  “It was sitting right in the open.”

  “It was none of your business!”

  “It was my punishment!”

  His knuckles are white, and we’re past playing with fire. By his expression, we’re already burned.

  “I’m not doing this with you, Andie. Not today. Get to work or return to your apartment.”

  “I just—”

  “No. Just leave.”

  “But—”

  “Now!”

  “Fine! Have a good night, Lance Corporal.” I make damn sure to slam the door on my way out.