Page 45 of Sadist

“That’s my girl,” I whispered, as her thumb moved of her own volition to trace along my lower lip.

Her whole body trembled slightly, and I hooked a hand under her bent knee, scooting her closer to me.

“I like it when you touch me,” I whispered, pushing aside my own shock as I realized it was true. I wasn’t just tolerating this. Ilikedthe feel of her hands on me.

A whimper slipped past her lips at my words, though she said nothing, her thumb skating over my cheek then under my eye, her fingers pushing back a long lock of hair that had escaped its braid as I slept. Her other hand slipped down my neck to my chest, and I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion I felt as she pressed a hand over my heart and closed her eyes. Her lips moved silently, her body relaxing bit by bit as we sat in the back of my wardrobe, Octavia counting my heartbeats in silence.

“Can I get out?” she whispered after the silence had stretched into minutes and the tremors had stopped.

I didn’t answer, just took her hand and stood, pulling her up with me and leading her out.

Jesus Christ, she was pale.

She had a death grip on my arm, though I don’t think she even realized, and I led her to the bed, getting onto it myself and pulling her in until she was curled between my bent legs, her head on my chest as I reclined against the headboard. It took a little while, but she slowly relaxed, her heartbeat slowing to match mine as we lay together in silence.

This woman had been through so much in the past few weeks, and she had taken it in stride. I hadn’t seen her break once in situations others would have lost their minds…but ten minutes in a dark vault had broken her so thoroughly that she was clinging tome.Her captor. The woman who had caused all of this. It didn’t make sense. None of this reaction made sense. Zichen had hit her before I’d had a chance to step in, but she had taken an elbow from me and came up ready to fight.

Her arm snaked out, and she plucked my dog tags from the table beside the bed, bringing them close to study them as she brushed her thumb over the raised metal indents of my name and number.

“85108909. Is that your identification number?” she asked quietly.

“My service number,” I amended. “Though I have been scrubbed from the database, so don’t bother trying to look for it. I’m as much of a ghost as you are.”

“How long were you in?”

“Six years,” I said after a quick tally. “I did my basic training in the UK, then was transferred to the US. I would have stayed there if I hadn’t been discharged.”

“So, what did he do?”

“My commanding officer?”

She nodded against my chest, her thumb still tracing my name.

“He hated me from the start,” I replied, my lips quirking up at the memory of him. “He tried every trick in the book to get me to crack, and I would show him I was stronger every time. If he made me run fifteen laps, I’d run thirty. If he wanted fifty push-ups, I’d do a hundred. Then he tried to get me for ignoring his commands, so I hit him with malicious compliance and didexactlywhat he asked. To the letter. He never could control me, and his clear personal dislike began to be noticed. No one else was drilled like I was, and a rumor circulated that he was reprimanded for it. It ran like wildfire through the bunkhouses, and his reputation tanked. No one respected him, so he stooped low and tried to intimidate me into hanging my boots up in the showers one day. It had been a particularly long week. I was exhausted and in pain…it was fine until it wasn’t. My temper took the wheel. Dishonorable discharge for my efforts.”

“You have a temper?” she murmured. “I would have never guessed.”

“Younger Theo was a nightmare,” I said, chuckling softly. “She was all biteandbark with a chip on her shoulder and a point to prove.

“Not much has changed, then,” Octavia muttered.

“I have way more self-control,” I protested. “Case in point…Zichen. I’d have made him chew and swallow his own testicles if he had pulled that shit in my house in those years.”

Octavia hummed softly, the sound nearly amused, and I relaxed a little, daring to let my hand rest on her arm as I hooked the trailing chain from my tags and looped it over her head. It was a small thing. A necklace with my name punched into it. But she had let me put it on her…hadn’t refused it. Had letmesoothe her demons and chase them away.

“Wear them,” I said into the silence that followed. “I like seeing it.”

She tilted her head up to look at me, her fingers closing around the small silver plate possessively as she studied my face with a look that made my stomach flip.

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” I said, hoping she understood it for the apology it was.

She looked away, her face freezing, and I thought she wasn’t going to answer me until she sat up abruptly.

“I’m not,” she said, wiping a hand over her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she trailed off and shook her head. “Sorry.”

She was off the bed before I could say anything, padding silently to the kitchen in only my T-shirt and tags. It felt like a guilty pleasure seeing her draped in things that were mine, and I contemplated switching all of the clothes I had given her for my own, just to keep seeing her walk around in them. The tap started running a moment later, and I listened to the sound of her moving around in the kitchen as I mulled everything over.

I couldn’t get the image of her curled up at the back of the vault out of my head.

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