Commander’s Secret

The steel doors of the elite sector hissed shut, locking out the screams of the dying world.

The underground sanctuary smelled like cold concrete and filtered air. Garrison did not drop his grip on my wrist as he pulled me down the sterile white corridor. His boots clacked sharply against the metallic floor. Soldiers in armor saluted as he passed, but he did not acknowledge them. His jaw remained locked, a sharp line of tension tracking down his neck.

"Garrison, you are hurting me," I said, stumbling slightly to keep up with his massive stride.

He stopped abruptly outside a door marked Commanding Officer. He swiped his biometric card, and the panel beeped green. He pushed me inside the dimly lit room and slammed the door behind us, locking the deadbolt with a loud click.

"I saved your life," Garrison said, spinning around to face me. He ripped off his vest, dropping it to the floor with a heavy thud. "You almost let that ungrateful bitch kill you in the tunnel."

"She is my sister," I replied, dropping my backpack onto a sleek metal table. "It was an instinct."

"An instinct that would have left you torn to pieces on that concrete floor."

He stepped closer, his chest heaving as he closed the distance between us. His gray eyes burned with a dark, territorial fire.

"Look at me, Valerie."

I looked up, my breath hitching as his hands came up to frame my face. His gloves were rough against my skin, but his touch was surprisingly warm.

"She used you," Garrison murmured, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone where a smudge of soot remained. "Your father used you. They both treated you like an option. But you are not an option here. Not to me."

"Why did you throw her out?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "The contract was with my father. He will ruin your career if he survives this."

Garrison let out a dark, harsh laugh.

"Your father is currently trapped in the eastern sector. His political power died the moment the red fog breached the capital walls. Out there, he is nothing. In here, I am the law."

He leaned down, his forehead pressing against mine. The scent of leather and raw adrenaline rolled off him, filling my senses.

"You shouldn't have brought me here," I said, trying to find my voice. "People will talk. The other officers—"

"Let them talk," he growled.

His hands slid down my neck, his fingers wrapping around my collarbones, pinning me gently against the cold metal door.

"Six months ago, I let you walk away because I didn't have the power to stop your father from selling you off to another while he forced that brat on me. Today, the world ended. I don't have to play nice anymore."

"Garrison—"

"Tell me you don't want this," he demanded, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. "Tell me you don't feel exactly what I feel right now, and I will let you walk out into the common barracks."

I looked into his eyes and saw the raw hunger staring back at me. There was no hesitation left in him. The apocalypse had stripped away all the rules of society, leaving only the primal truth between us.

"I don't want the barracks," I whispered.

Garrison didn’t waste another second.

His mouth slammed onto mine in a fierce, bruising kiss that tasted of salt and desperation. It wasn’t gentle. It was six months of buried anger and hunger exploding at once. I moaned into his mouth as he shoved his tongue past my lips, kissing me hard enough to bruise.

He groaned against my lips, his hands lifting me effortlessly onto the edge of the table. My backpack slid off the edge, spilling medical supplies onto the floor, but neither of us cared. Garrison crowded into my space, his thighs pressing between mine, his large hands sliding under my jacket to grip my waist through my shirt.

"You are mine now, Valerie," he muttered between kisses, his lips moving down to my jawline, biting gently at the sensitive skin of my neck. "No one takes you away from me in this place."

"Garrison, wait," I panted, my hands pressing against his broad shoulders as a sudden thought struck me. "The driver said the elevator platform was capped due to power failures. Was that true?"

He pulled back slightly, a dark, dangerous smile touching his lips. "The transport had plenty of power."

"You lied," I gasped, the realization hitting me. "You just wanted an excuse to get rid of her."

"I told you," Garrison said, his fingers tightening on my hips, pulling me flush against his hard chest. "Who gets those seats was entirely up to me. I had no intention of keeping a viper in my sanctuary. Especially one that tries to kill my woman."

He didn’t give me time to process the words.

His hands were already under my jacket again, yanking it off my shoulders. I pulled at his shirt with the same urgency, buttons scattering across the floor as fabric tore. He growled low in his throat and shoved me more firmly onto the table.

"Fuck," he muttered against my mouth, one large hand sliding under my shirt and closing hard over my breast. His fingers squeezed, rough and possessive, thumb dragging over my nipple until I gasped.

"Garrison—"

"Quiet."

He ripped my shirt open the rest of the way. The cold air hit my skin a second before his mouth did. He closed his lips around one breast, sucking hard, teeth scraping just enough to make my back arch.

"Ah—fuck—" I moaned, fingers digging into his short hair.

He switched to the other breast, squeezing both of them in his hands while he sucked, the wet sounds of his mouth loud in the quiet room. My hips rolled against him without permission. He was already hard, the thick length of him pressing against my stomach through his pants.

I reached down and fumbled with his belt. He helped, shoving his pants and underwear down just far enough. The second his cock sprang free, heavy and hot against my thigh, a broken sound left my throat.

Garrison yanked my pants and underwear down in one rough motion. I kicked them off. He didn’t wait. He spread my thighs wider, lined himself up, and thrust into me in one hard stroke.

"Oh my god—" I cried out, head falling back.

He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me like he had been waiting six months to do it. Deep, aggressive strokes that slammed the table against the wall with every thrust. His hands stayed on my breasts, squeezing and pinching while he drove into me.

"Fuck—Valerie—" he groaned, voice rough.

"Harder," I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He gave it to me. The wet slap of skin filled the room. I was already close, the pressure building fast from the way he filled me completely, the way his fingers dug into my flesh like he was afraid I would disappear again.

"Garrison—I’m—"

"Come on my cock," he ordered, thrusting even deeper. "Do it."

My orgasm started to crest—

A sharp buzz cut through the room.

The intercom on the wall flashed bright yellow.

Garrison froze mid-thrust, still buried inside me to the hilt. His entire body went rigid. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he forced himself to stay still, breathing hard through his nose.

He didn’t pull out right away. For ten long seconds he just stayed there, buried deep, fighting for control. I could feel him throbbing inside me, the unfinished need still pulsing between us.

Then he closed his eyes, exhaled once, and carefully pulled out.

The sudden emptiness made me flinch. He kept one hand on my hip like he needed the contact while he reached for the receiver with the other.

"What is it?" His voice was low and strained, barely controlled.

"Commander Vance," a soldier’s voice crackled through the speaker. "We have an emergency at the secondary processing gate. An elite civilian transport just arrived from the private airfield. They have a direct clearance code from General Vance."

Garrison’s grip on my hip tightened almost painfully.

"Who is on the transport?"

"Director Kane and his immediate family, sir," the soldier reported. "And they brought a survivor they picked up from the outer tunnel. She claims to be your fiancée, Cynthia Kane.”