Page 137 of Forcing Fate

“Separate from the companies? If I’m not good at anything, why would you want me?”

His logic made no sense. Were his insults supposed to convince me?

“I’m returning to the front next year. I’m taking my team with me,” he said.

My eyes went as wide as saucers, even as the butterflies in my belly died at the mention of him leaving. “You make no sense! You tell me I’m no good at anything, offer me a position on some secret team, and then tell me that you’re heading out next year? Even for the soldiers who are somewhat decent at training, they wouldn’t be ready in two years!”

“I’d be your Commander,” he said. “You’d be ready.”

“Pah!”

His arrogance could only get him so far. I eyed him, trying to piece together his logic.

“Up, again.” He shoved himself to his feet, his good mood fading fast.

I stood and brushed the sand off my clothes. What was this about a team? To be honest, the only thing I felt adequate at was what he trained me in—hand-to-hand combat.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be bad to have him as a teacher in everything.

I readied myself and watched him. He stood as still as a statue, waiting for me to attack. I danced closer and made a kick at his shin. He snapped his leg out of the way and around mine, bringing me in. I growled and fought for my leg as he pushed me to the ground.

The more I thought I advanced with my training, the more he proved I still had a lot to learn.

I tried to scramble up, but he dropped his weight to sit on my stomach, bracing his feet at my sides. All the air rushed out of me as the whale of a man pulverized my internal organs. My eyes bugged out of my sockets as I pushed at him. He crossed his arms and stayed right where he was. Like a boulder—an immovable, heavy boulder.

“Give up?”

I hissed and rocked my hips, attempting to unsettle him, but he weighed too much.

“Yes,” I wheezed.

He stood, and I gasped for air, holding my chest.

“You could… lose a little… weight,” I said between gasping breaths.

He made an amused sound, more of a scoff than a laugh.

“Fatty.”

His eyebrows rose at the insult. I rolled away and put some distance between us, wary of how he would respond to a friendly jest. He peered down and patted his abs. Looking back at me, he winked. Or that could have been a blink. I wouldn’t know, as I couldn’t see his other eye.

“Cut your hair.”

I blanched and gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

“Your hair. Cut it,” he said slowly, as if spelling it out for me.

“My hair?” My voice came out in a squeak.

He stalked closer, and I shirked from his grasp. I struck at his jaw, and he took the blow, rolling his head with it. His hand whipped around at the same time and snatched my hair.

Tears sprung to my eyes as he manhandled me, hauling my back to his chest. My hair was always braided up on my head. I wasn’t dumb enough to leave it down, but I had never thought of it as a weakness.

“Cut it. I won’t have anyone on my team with such an obvious weakness.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear.

My breath came fast as the butterflies woke with a vengeance. My head was tucked against his chest, the height difference between us glaringly obvious. His warm body pressed against mine and I struggled to form rational thoughts.

He tugged my hair again, and I snapped back to reality. General Rafe wasn’t a man I could let my womanly feelings impede. How could I feel like this toward a man like him?

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