Las Almas, Mexico
ARZALEA 'SILK' BLACKWOOD

ONE WEEK. IT HAD been one week since that little encounter with Ghost on the secluded training field. And for one week, he had made my life a living hell.

Now, you might think I'm being over dramatic, but I promise you I'm not. This man, whom I still barely knew, seemed to make it his mission to break me. For one whole week, he has been barking orders and forcing me to wake up at the butt crack ass of dawn for training. And usually, training was easy for me — other than that time Soap laid me on my ass, but we don't talk about that — But Ghost was an observant man. He saw right through the façade I had put up and made sure to give me the worst type of training. 

I fucking hated him. I hated the way he spoke. I hated his little mask he wore like a crown. I hated the way his dark eyes watched me. I also fucking hate how hot—

"Did you hear me, Lass?" Soap's voice saved me from my thoughts.

We were currently in my private quarters, and I was lying upside down, my upper half hanging off the side of my bed, while Soap sat on my floor with my sketchbook in his hands as he flipped through the many pages, looking at my work. Surprisingly, over the course of one week, me and Soap had grown a little close. Yes, the man could be a big flirt. But it was all in good fun and if we were being honest, I didn't really have a choice but to become his friend.

The man was so easy to talk to, and one thing I learned about Soap was when he decided he wanted to keep you. There was no choice in the matter.

"I wanna keep ya' and put you in my pocket."

That is what he had said to me, and even though the thought of him shoving me in his pocket like a damn doll horrified me. I couldn't deny that he was breaking down the walls I had. I was highly amused with his charming attitude and his out right flirting because it meshed well with my snarky replies and witty attitude, so we instantly clicked. He reminded me a lot of someone I once knew, and the thought often sadden me. But it helped since he helped keep me sane when Ghost decided to be a pain in the ass.

I turned my head to look at Soap, "No, what did you say?"

"I asked your opinion on this sketch," His head thumped against my mattress as he leaned back slightly, lifting my sketchbook up so I could see what he was talking about, "Ya' think that'll go good with my other tats?"

I had to tilt my head in an awkward position to see what he was talking about. It was one of my oldest sketches of an aged clock. It had cracks and the hands were bent and rusted. "Hmm. Maybe. Where would you want it?"

"Maybe on the top of my shoulder, right 'er," He rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt to show me the bare skin of his upper shoulder.

I pondered for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, it should work."

Soap grinned his trademark smirk, "You gonna give it to me, Love?"

He looked kinda funny from this potion I was in, and I couldn't help but grin at the larger male. "You want me to tattoo you?"

"Well of course, your art is sick, and you have some serious talent, Lass. I'd be a bloody idiot to pass up a chance to have you mark up my skin,"

My heart swelled at his words and my smile stretched wider. Soap chuckled at my smile and poked my cheek.

"Ah shit, my weakness." He sighed in mock fondness as he stared at the side of my mouth.

I gave him a confused look, "Huh?"

"Dimples, Love. You've got dimples." Soap poked my cheek again, his smile softening. "They're bloody adorable,"

My mind blanked for a moment. No one had ever complimented me like that before. And no one definitely has pointed out my dimples. I knew I had them, and you could only see them when I truly smiled. But this was a first for me, and I couldn't stop the heat that started to grow up the base of my neck. I'm glad my face was already red from hanging upside down because Soap would have seen how much his comment affected me if I wasn't.

I laughed off his words, "Thanks, Johnny." 

"You're welcome, Silk." He said back before turning his head back to look at my sketches.

His eyes lingered on the old sketches, and the more he flipped through them, the more his expression softened. I watched him from the corner of my eye, gauging his reaction. I won't lie, at first when he asked to see my work, I was nervous. Which was odd, because I was pretty confident in my sketching skills, but this was all different for me. Soap was a harden solider, and for some reason, sharing my drawings with someone like him made me feel all types of emotions I didn't understand. It was like I was back in highschool, trying to make friends with the kids around me. 

That was an experience I wish I could forget, because it didn't go good for me back then, so why would it now?

"These are incredible, Lass." Soap lowered the sketch pad down, "Yer' really talented,"

I brushed off his comment as if it hadn't effected me even though on the inside I'm crying like a little bitch. "Eh, it's nothin' but a few sketches."

A few sketches my ass. There where probably over twenty sketches in that book and growing. I drew in my free time and often used them for my tattooing career. That book was like my sanctuary. It had all my thoughts and feelings poured into it. So little did this man know, his praise in my work was doing members to my bleeding heart. Shit, I was so soft. 

He regarded me carefully, blue eyes curious, and then his dark brow rose. "Aren't ya' getting' a headache by hangin' like that?"

I shook my head, "Nope. It's actually quite relaxing,"

He scoffed, "Right, having all the blood rushing to your head is relaxing."

"It is,"

Soap stared at me for a moment, and it was long enough for me to look back at him with a lifted brow. "What?"

"You're a strange one, you know that, Lassie?"

I snorted, "You're just now figuring that out?"

"No," He chuckled as he flipped another page of my sketchbook. "I knew that from the moment you kept me from falling onto my ass,"

I thought back on our first encounter and chuckled.

"Ya' know, you're pretty strong for a tiny thing,"

My expression was schooled as I gave him a lame shrug, "I workout,"

In the corner of my eye, I could tell Soap was giving me a look. He was studying me again like he often did. Like he was trying to figure something out, but didn't know what. I hated it when he did that. Because that meant he was noticing more of me. And I couldn't have that.

"No one can know of your abilities either. Only me and Price."

Laswell's voice rang in my head. It was getting harder and harder to keep this shit a secret. Especially with Soap and Ghost. While one was less observant, they were both good at sensing bullshit. And that was dangerous. I mean, I don't know how the team would react if they found out they had a lab experiment on their side. Maybe they would accept me and promise to keep it a secret. Or maybe they would exploit me and get me shipped off to some underground lab, where I would become some test subject for wicked scientists to pick and prod at.

The thought alone unsettled me.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Ghost had been watching me struggle with a neutral expression, his patience slowly growing thin. He could see that I was nearing my limit, but instead of offering me a hand or any support, he called out to me in his usual, calm and bored tone.

"Tink, stop."

I grounded my teeth together at the name he so kindly bestowed upon me. Even after a week, it still got on my nerves. But I guess I can't complain too much. It went from Tinkerbell to Tink in the span of a few days while training together. But god, did I hate it.

I came to a halt a few feet away from him, trying to catch my breath as my chest heaved. Ghost stayed where he was, his arms crossed.

"How tired are you?" He asked, his voice monotone as always.

I managed to catch my breath enough to speak, though it took a few seconds.

"Pretty damn tired." I replied with a hint of sass in my tone, glaring at him while wiping the sweat away from my forehead

Ghost rolled his eyes in response to my sass, his expression still unreadable. He knew damn well I was already at the end of my rope, and he was testing my limits.

He stepped closer, his eyes locked on me.

"Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Oh piss off. Is what I wanted to say. But I didn't.

I knew that when he got close like this it was trouble, but I did my best to hide my unease.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and hide my annoyance.

I hated not being able to read him because it awakened my flight or fight response, and right now, as his dark eyes stared down at me, I wanted to choose flight. It's not that Ghost scared me. Because he didn't. I just didn't like how I never knew what to expect from the big guy. Like, who was this guy? What were his secrets, his thoughts, his likes, his dislikes?

I mentally scold myself, remembering I don't give a fuck. Right?

Ghost stopped right in front of me, his tall figure towering over me, making me feel small. He tilted his head, his expression hard to read. Again.

"Perhaps we can test a theory," He said, ignoring my question as his voice held it's usual rasp and I hate myself because I like it. 

Shit. He was on this crap again? My heart skipped a beat.

"And what might that theory be?" I replied, trying to sound casual.

Ghost was standing so close to me that I could feel his heat radiating off of him, causing me to involuntarily shiver. What's up with him and being so close to me all the time? He didn't seem like the touchy type, so maybe he only did this because he could tell it made me uncomfortable. Satan. He is fucking Satan. 

His cold gaze bored into me, studying me like a specimen.

"I want to see how long it takes you, at your current exhaustion level, to break." He said in a low voice.

This man was out to kill me. Fuckin' Satan. I know he'd kill me if he ever figured out that's what I called him in my head.

My eyes widened slightly. His request made me feel uneasy, but I knew he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"And how would you plan on doing that?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my voice.

Ghost took a small step closer, again, invading my personal space, again, which made my eye twitch. His body was almost touching mine, and I could smell his unique scent, a mix of old leather and gunpowder. A blank stare met my annoyed gaze, the tall body I was trying not to ogle towering over me. Suddenly the air in the room was extremely hot.

His body is one of the nicest bodies I've ever seen, being hidden underneath the form-fitting tactical suit he was wearing. Did he ever wear anything else? It only made this bastard more attractive than he already was, the mask adding a hint of dark and mysterious vibe that would have any woman falling to their knees.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me silently for a few seconds.

"Physical exhaustion. Mental fatigue."

The heat radiating from his body combined with his proximity was almost overwhelming, making me feel a bit weak. I had to remind myself to maintain a strong front, even though he had a huge physical advantage over me.

"And how do you plan on causing all of that?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady, even though on the inside I was thinking of different ways to get away with murder.

I tried to hide the effect he had on me, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep my cool when he was standing so close. Even with the extra inch my Doc Martens gave me, I still had to tip my head back to look at him. I'm average height for a female, standing a good five-three on my best days, but compared to Mr. Jolly Green Giant here, I looked like a damn fairy.

Maybe his nickname for me wasn't so far-fetched anymore.

Ghost bent his neck, his face now a lot closer to my own. I could see the smirk in his eyes, enjoying my reaction. He was so close that I could make out the color of his lashes, which were blonde, giving me a hint of what color his hair might be. 

"By pushing you to your absolute limit." He husked, his eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed thickly, "Give me your best." I challenged, my gaze narrowing on his.

Ghost's smirk didn't waver as he looked down at me, his balaclava moving as if his smirk shifted into something more. He could probably sense the challenge in my tone and knowing him, he was up for it.

"Very well." He said, his eyes never straying from my own. He was ready to push my limits, and it showed.

Without warning, He suddenly lunged at me and attempted to grab me around the waist. My senses went into overdrive at his move. I reacted fast, dodging his lunge and narrowly avoiding his grab. Ghost recovered quickly and took another step forward, his eyes locked on me as if he were trying to figure something out. He slowly circled around me like a shark, the tension in the air thick.

"Nice reflexes." He commented, eyes lazily analyzing me.

I narrow my eyes on him as my body buzzed, "Thanks,"

Ghost nodded at my response, "Impressive reflexes." He repeated, his eyes still scanning me. Something told me this wasn't just about him challenging me. He was up to something. "But that wasn't good enough."

He lunged at me again, this time making it seem like he was going for a tackle, just like before, but at the last second, he changed his course and lunged for my legs, attempting to sweep me off my feet. I reacted quickly, dodging the unexpected move and managing to stay on my feet, but I stumbled slightly.

"You're quick, I'll give you that." He said, his eyes watching me carefully.

What game was this man playing? I narrowed my eyes into slits and made the next move, taking a swing at his masked-covered face. I was so sick of him.

Ghost was caught off guard by my move. The punch connected, the force pushing through his cheek, causing him to stumble back slightly. He cursed under his breath, taken aback by my unexpected attack. He touched his cheek, feeling the sting from where I hit.

"Not bad." He said through clenched teeth, the hint of accent thickening in his voice.

I couldn't help but smirk. Hitting him felt good. "Did that hurt, Big guy?" I couldn't help but taunt.

Ghost's eyes narrowed under his mask as he took a step closer, his jaw clenched tight. He was clearly angry, but at the same time, he seemed more impressed than anything.

"That little punch, coming from someone as small as you? It just tickles." He retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Oh, so he was going to make fun of my height? Fucking asshole. I didn't even hit him as hard as I could. Fucker. I could feel my face shift of its own accord, and I knew I was scowling. Ghost snorted at my reaction, enjoying riling me up. He took another step closer, his eyes still locked on mine.

I raised my fists and got into a defensive stance. I was tired and felt as though my body was ready to give out, but I wasn't ready to back down just yet. He wasn't going to get the pleasure of seeing me fail. It would be a cold day in hell Satan.

Before I could lunge and knock him on his ass like I wanted, I sensed someone enter the training compound. My attention snapped around to see who it was, and of course, that was a big mistake on my part.

A gasp slipped past my lips when a pair of large arms encircled my waist, and a hard body collided with my own. I landed on my back with a hard thump. Mother fuck. My head bounced off the mat and for a moment my world spun.

Breathing heavily, I opened my eyes and frowned when I saw Ghost hovering over me. His dark eyes almost taunted me. His vibe is as stoic as ever, giving nothing away. Still, I'm close enough so I don't miss the shift in his balaclava as the muscle in his cheek jumped.

"Get. The. Fuck. Off." I hissed, struggling in his grip.

Somehow, he had managed to pin my hands on either side of my head, locking me into place and making me feel small. My body was in fight or flight once again, and I started breathing heavier. I hated it when people touched me without my consent. My body would always lock up and my brain would shut down. Hell, it took me years to be able to hug someone without cringing. So, the fact Ghost was practically plastered to my body like a damn piece of tape had my mind kicking into overdrive.

My breathing caught in my throat and I felt that familiar tightness in my chest. Panic attack. I hadn't had one in a few years, and boy did it come back with a vengeance. I tried my hardest to keep my internal panic off my face, but it was hard because I felt like I could no longer breath.

I wanted to get away. No. I had to get away.

"Let me go!" I suddenly cried out, sounding pathetically weak at that moment.

Ghost must have heard it, the shift in my tone. Angry to panic. Because as soon as the last word passed my lips, the weight on top of me was gone, and the burning around my wrist disappeared. I quickly sat up, placing a hand over my racing heart as I stared down at the mat trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. It had been a long time since I'd had a moment like that, and shit did it freaked me the fuck out.

I could feel Ghost's eyes on me, and so I chanced a look up at him. Him, being observant as ever, could probably piece together what I just experienced. Because I wasn't receiving the normal stoic look I usually got from those chocolate brown eyes. Nope. This man was staring at me with a look I couldn't recognize and again, I hate him for it. Something passed between us it made me hyper-aware of what I must look like right now.

"Silk?" Soap called from the entrance of the training compound.

The moment, whatever the hell it was, broke. I looked away, jaw ticking. I stood on my feet, and tipped my chin down as I still panted. "Permission to be dismissed, Sir?"

"Granted,"

I quickly left the mat, snatching up my hoodie as I went. I offered Soap a nod, who looked concerned and like he wanted to say something, but I moved past him before he could.

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑