Page 45 of Moros
“In the vault.”
I smiled and nodded.
“My team and I were on a mission in a conflict zone.” I explained, trying to be as vague as I could. “Things went sideways. Boss was hurt—I couldn’t leave him.”
“You went back?—”
Shaking my head, I finished my water.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I shrugged. “Anyways, there was a second wave to the attack. While my team was reeling from the first. We piled into the one vehicle that was running and tried getting out of there. But we were bottled in. They took us out with a ground-to-ground missile.”
“No…”
“I lost two members of my team—almost lost Boss and well—” I tapped the side of my head. “I won’t ever be quite right again.”
“And the—the scar?”
“This?” I pointed to my eye. “A gift from a war before the explosion. People throw the phrase battle-scared around all the time. And usually, when I hear them say that I smile because they have no idea what it truly means.”
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at her for a moment, her eyes brown and deep. They were filled with concern and sorrow. It made no sense—the bad things happened to me. That was one of the reasons I became a soldier. I did it so that good men and women didn’t have to.
‘I knew what I was walking into.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier.” She exhaled, loudly.
“I’ve accepted my life and the way it’s going a long time ago.” I explained. “I knew from a very early age that even with the financial stability my parents raised me with, that life wasn’t going to be easy. Anyway, maybe you should try sleeping again.”
“I won’t get any rest. I know my body.”
Unable to stop myself, I allowed my eyes to roam her frame then scoffed softly and shook my head.
What was the matter with me?
Picking up the cup, I figured it was time to change out of my wet trunks. It was also a reason for me to leave her in the space without her seeing how hard I was fighting with my body to not grow hard with just the sight of her.
At the sink, I was washing the cup when she cleared her throat from behind me.
I closed my eyes, knowing something was coming.
“Um—Khadri?”
“Why is it you never call me Moros?”
“Moros is the Greek God if impending doom.” Her voice was soft. “I don’t see you like that.”
“You don’t?” I shifted to glance at her quickly over a shoulder then return my attention to rinsing the soap from the cup and turning off the water. “Give it time.”
She sighed loudly.
“Remember when we kissed before?”
“How could I forget?” I set the cup in the drainer but looked out the window rather than face her. “I was there.”
“Some guys wouldn’t want to remember—I mean, it wasn’t like—shit?—”
“What are you trying to say, Shorty?”