Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Chris's hands moved with practiced precision as he sliced the last of the onions, his muscles flexing slightly underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. He glanced up at Emma, who watched him with curiosity, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride that he was the one preparing this meal for her. In a world where every day was a fight for survival, these small moments of normalcy were rare and precious.

He'd wanted to do this as a way of thanking her for helping him find himself. Somewhere along the way over the last week, he'd lost who he was and what he stood for. He'd become so narrowly focused on delivering Emma safely and what it could mean for his team.

She no doubt found it surprising when he'd asked her to do this, but it was all the more reason why he needed to. She was a gift to his unit. While she might be gone in days, she unknowingly gave them the mission they needed to find more than just death and destruction in the world.

You're not going to acknowledge the way your body heats when she's near or how you nearly pinned her against the stucco wall during training and kissed her until you were both dizzy from it?

Liam had gotten into his head two months back when he suggested they find someone. Their lives were filled with many things, but a relationship would stand to be the hardest thing of all because of the choice and promise they made to each other last year.

Brothers first. The unit first. Their family first.

Still, it didn't stop Chris from wondering if Emma would be so averse to a life with all of them. She fit in perfectly, even Ranger was one of the team after just a few days.

And then there's the whole, she's likely a fertile female, side of things. You need to get her to the government so she can be matched with perfect males to ensure humanity continues.

"Chris?"

He pulled himself from his thoughts and looked up at her. Concern was etched into her brow.

"I'm sorry. A lot of thoughts up in this head of mine after what we did the other day." He hoped she wouldn't press what kind of thoughts. He'd told enough lies the past week to protect her, he didn't think he could like directly to her.

"I'm sorry, I should have known."

"No, I asked to spend some time with you, to cook this dinner and eat with you as a thank you." He lifted the pan out of the flames so he could focus on her beautiful hazel eyes. "If not for you, I would have lost myself in the who I became, thinking my only purpose was to protect you. Thank you for seeing past yourself when I couldn't."

Her cheeks turned red with a flush, and Chris guilt washed over him because he'd not intended for that response.

"I don't think I did all that." She whispered.

"You did. I swear to you. "

She glanced away, and Chris didn't want to push her. He let the silence fall between them and returned the pan to the flames.

The fire crackled softly between them, casting a warm glow on their faces, and the delicious aroma of cooking food filled the air. Cooking over an open fire was strange, but if he tried, he could allow it to trick him into thinking they were merely camping, not getting ready to sleep under the stars because they'd found no safe place to commandeer for the night.

Emma would have called to him if life was normal. Drawn him in like a siren. He wasn't certain how much of who she was could be blamed on the bomb, but she checked every box he hadn't known he'd looked for in a partner.

Chris spiraled away from the pan and the fire, his thoughts dropping back to the before. To when men and women didn't necessarily live in harmony, but they lived—not survived.

Emma's stomach growled reminding him of where he was, and Chris couldn't blame her. It had been a few hours since they'd left their last fill up and even longer since she'd had something besides a protein shake or bar.

In only two days, they'd managed to cross a great portion of the country with little incident. She'd seemed worried but not afraid as she had when they'd met. In just over a week, she'd grown stronger in her self-defense training, too. Chris and Liam agreed days ago she wasn't a flight risk, but kept the training going for her safety.

Tonight was unique. They'd found shelter, but the house had long since been vandalized. There were no light bulbs, and the gas line had been torn free, but he could bring the food inside if there was trouble and they could sleep inside with less worry.

As Chris stirred the sizzling veggies in the pan, he found himself lost in thought about their time together. He had started this seeing Emma as just another member of his unit, someone under his protection. But ever since her body had pressed against his during the training, he couldn't help but see beyond even the desire she stirred to the woman underneath.

Emma's strength, resilience, and unwavering determination to survive in this harsh world had stirred something within him. Her demanding they put her in danger to save others was the nail in the coffin of his attempt to pull away from her.

Chris never thought he'd find himself caring for someone again after losing so much, yet here he was, risking everything for her.

They were a unit—the five of them. They'd always sworn off love because they never wanted a female to come between them. But for all purposes, it would seem Emma felt something for them—all of them.

"Chris?" Emma's soft voice brought him out of his reverie again. "What's on your mind? You look a million miles away."

He glanced up, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It's nothing. Just … nothing." He focused on the food, a strange heat spreading across his cheeks.

Emma arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, but she didn't press further. Instead, she changed the subject. "So, what's the plan after we reach the safe zone?"

Taking the pan from the fire again he set it on the ground. Using the same spatula he cooked with, he scooped the finished meal onto two metal plates and handed her one, their fingers brushing briefly.

"We'll regroup and figure out our next move. There are still others out there who need our help." He didn't mention the nagging feeling in his gut that even if they reached the safe zone, their problems wouldn't be over. He didn't know what women went through there, but he knew none of his men were going to leave her in anything less than perfect conditions.

Sliding the plate in front of her, he tried his best to look at peace .

"Thank you, this wasn't necessary."

"You've spent a week in the back of my truck. You've been attacked twice. The least I can do is give you some of the normalcy you'll have once we get you to the safe haven.

"Hey boys, come and get it," Chris hollered, moving to make more plates so the others could come and grab it.

They filed outside like campers rushing for smores and, with quick thanks, headed back inside.

Chris wasn't certain, but he believed there was a chance his men thought he was speaking to Emma about staying with them, not just thanking her for being who she is.

At first, they ate in companionable silence, the only sounds coming from their utensils scraping against the plates. Chris couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this at ease. In the midst of the chaos, Emma had become an oasis of sanity, a beacon of hope in a world gone to hell. He knew she was too good for him, a reminder of the life he'd once had but could never have again.

"Do you mind if we talk?" She sounded so unsure as if she were afraid he would lash out.

"Of course, I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've really been around people outside of those knuckleheads inside. "I am an open book."

Emma was quiet for a moment, her face soft with an almost dreamy expression as she stared at Chris, taking in the way his muscles rippled under his shirt when he chuckled. She reached across the table slowly, tracing her fingertips over the scar on his cheekbone, feeling its raised ridge against her fingertips.

Chris barely held but a moan of pleasure at the gentle sensation of her hand on his skin. His heart beat so fast in his chest he worried she would see the way his body responded to a single touch for her.

His eyes closed slightly at the contact, and he leaned into her palm before pulling back quickly, giving her a small smile .

"Can you tell me about your scar?"

"Sure, it's not a secret," he murmured softly, his voice husky from the desire she'd drummed up with her touch. "We all have our demons. There's no grand or exciting story behind it." He took a deep breath and tried to keep himself from slipping into the past. "When the first two bombs went off—before we knew what they truly were—Bash and I were part of the ground unit that went in. We were on site when the fourth one went off. Something, I have no idea what, sliced across my cheek." He gave a small snort. "To be honest, I didn't even know it happened until about fifteen minutes later when we got out of the chaos, and the blood ran down too quickly to avoid notice."

"That's good it didn't hurt then. I guess adrenaline is good for something."

He laughed. "Not great for story telling though. Perhaps I should change it. Maybe I got it rescuing a dog and her puppies from the bomb when a panicked person slashed at me with a blade not realizing I was there to help."

Her laughter was soft but genuine.

"I think the real story is better. You got it being a hero, and who said all scars need exciting stories?"

Chris's gaze followed the direction of her finger to the tiny white scar on her elbow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I leaned on an iron I didn't realize was on. I was begging my mom for an ice cream cone before dinner when I was five."

He smirked, unable to help but notice the way her eyes lit up when she told the story.

He leaned across the table and gently traced her scar with his finger, feeling a rush of warmth from their skin-to-skin contact travel up his arm. A soft sigh escaped him as he pulled away, his cheeks flushing slightly in response to the sensation. The way she talked about ice cream made him long for such simple pleasures they once had before everything changed .

"I don't know, begging for ice cream seems pretty darn important, too."

"I've never seen you cook before," Emma said softly, breaking the spell between them as she took another bite of her food. "You're really talented. How did you learn?"

Chris smiled genuinely at this compliment before answering, "Well, I grew up in a big family where everyone had to pitch in with chores. My mom taught us all how to cook at an early age." He glanced off into the distance for a brief moment before returning his attention back to Emma's face, a faraway look in his eyes as he reminisced about simpler times. "She used to say that sharing meals brings people together like nothing else could."

"Are they . . . do you. . . " Emma's face twisted, and she paused. "Did you lose anyone to the bomb? I mean during the initial explosions? I know we've all lost someone after?"

A lump formed in his throat at the mention of that day and his family so close together.

He looked away, his gaze lost in thought as he remembered that fateful day when he had gone to pick up his two younger siblings from school. The sun had been shining, and the air was warm on his skin as he waited outside for them.

The explosion launched everyone dangerously within a fifty-mile radius, and the schoolhouse was no exception. He'd been fortunate to have grabbed them mid shift and been in full gear. The stupid helmet he wore to make them smile had saved his skull.

No one inside the school had been so lucky.

The memory always left a bitter taste in his mouth that nothing could wash away.

His voice cracked slightly when he finally spoke.

"Yeah, I lost two younger brothers after the blast. Honestly, it's why I allowed myself to jump in after it to save others." His jaw clenched tightly at the painful truth. Tears welled up behind closed lids but wouldn't fall just yet. "I was wearing a stupid helmet to make them smile. It saved me when I was launched forward, but they weren't safe when the school's roof collapsed," he muttered under his breath while taking another bite from his own plate, which now tasted bland compared to what she had marveled about earlier tonight. "I should've gotten there sooner, I could've known to get them out. . ." He trailed off into silence, lost in thought for a moment before shaking himself free from it all over again, like shrugging off an icy blanket draped over him.

He couldn't have saved his brothers. He had no way of knowing the danger that had been coming, but it never changed how he felt.

Chris's heart raced as he finished the story, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He hadn't meant to reveal that much, but something about Emma made him want to bare his soul. And as he looked at her now, he could see the same vulnerability in her eyes, the same knowledge that love could be found even in the darkest of times, and sometimes, it was all that kept you going.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand moving toward his face.

Chris caught her hand, his grip firm but gentle. "It's in the past," he said gruffly.

"I'm still sorry," she promised quietly. "But you don't have to carry that alone anymore." Her fingers intertwined with his, hoping to provide some comfort through their touch. "You have your men, and for the time, me."

With a deep, guttural groan of surrender, Chris leaned in closer to Emma, his face mere inches from hers. At that moment, he couldn't hold back his desire any longer. He needed to taste her, to feel her skin against his.

Their lips met in a delicate kiss that sent sparks through him, drawing him to move to the bench she sat on, to sit beside her, without his lips ever leaving her.

Her hands moved to tangle in his hair, and Chris shut everything else out except for Emma's lips on his and the feel of her lips under his.

As their kiss deepened,Chris's hands roamed over Emma's body, feeling the curves and dips of her form beneath his fingertips. He couldn't believe how natural it all felt as if they had been meant to be together from the start.

Emma's hands moved from his hair down to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer. She couldn't get enough of his touch, the way he made her feel alive and desired.

Their kisses grew more urgent as they lay on the bench, each one trying to convey their desire for one another through their lips and touch. And although they were surrounded by darkness and destruction, all that mattered was the moment responding to his touch.

Finally breaking away for air, they both panted heavily as they stared into each other's eyes.

Reality slammed back into Chris and he jerked away. She was not his to kiss. She had not consented to anything with his unit, and more importantly, she was promised to the country—to humanity.

"I'm sorry," he cleared his throat. "Thank you for letting me make you dinner. Let's get you inside."

Emma's lips still tingled from Chris's bruising kiss and her body still hummed with the desire he stirred up, but now she was alone in the room they designated as hers.

Alone except for Ranger.

She couldn't understand what happened. Not with the kiss. She'd known exactly why that happened, and had Chris not kissed her first, she would have given in to the need to kiss him.

For days she'd wondered what lay beneath the calculating surface, and when he opened up to her, she'd fallen even harder for the man in charge than she'd have thought possible with the way all five men seemed to occupy her heart.

"And now you're here, in a room alone."

She could go after him, grab his hand, and force him to explain what was with the hot and cold. Or she could go to Liam and Alex and let their charm and humor remove the sting of this rejection.

"And that's a mature way to look at it," she snarked at herself, setting a hand on Ranger's head. "It's just you and me. And when we get to safety, I'll insist they fly out and get Bo and Shadow."

Ranger's ears perked at the mention of the older dogs and her heart cracked wide open again with the pain of leaving them with someone else.

In this new world, even safety brought pain.