Howling In The Rattlers Den

Chapter 1: Howler

Here I am, again with the same memories that haunt me eternally. I hate that they make me feel anything, because the truth is... I want to feel something, but not this. I pick up my whiskey and down it in one gulp, the taste consuming my buds. Wishing I could forget that fateful night where it was all my fault. I grab my head in frustration, slowly feeling the whiskey take its course, the buzz consuming me whole, the desperation to numb these emotions succumbing me to a deep void.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I look up to see a set of blues staring right at me. I glare into them, while he pulls a smirk that only a devil could wear. I roll my eyes, unfazed at what I take is a threat and look away without giving a second thought. Hearing my phone buzz, I reach into my pocket pulling it out. Frowning, I answer the phone call.

Howler: "Good evening sir, what can I do for you?"

CPT Russell: "You're needed at the company tomorrow at 0800. I know it's supposed to be your day off, but you will be briefing your new soldiers about the hand-to-hand combat class you'll be teaching"

Howler:"I understand, sir. "

CPT Russell: "Very well, see you tomorrow."

Howler: "Yes sir.."

I hang up and pocket my cell, dissappointed. My hands rest on my forehead as I let out a long sigh, it's 0100 and he had to pull this shit on me now? Why couldn't this wait til Friday, like originally planned? It just has to be on my day off. I sigh and call over the bar tender, asking for another shot of whiskey. She brings it over to me and places it down on the counter. I give her a nod in approval, but as I am about to gulp it down, I feel a presence next to me that absolutely sends jolts of anger and sparks down my spine.

I turn over to see the blue-eyed man, now sitting next to me and studying my face intently. I put on my military bearing and make my face emotionless, bare of any expressions, his ocean-blue eyes turning just as cold as me, giving me a taste of my own medicine. The last thing I needed is for some stranger to attempt reading me and thinking he will get anything out of me. He smirks that same evil grin, the one he gave me not too long ago, just hungrily staring with desire. I don't give in, while he is sexy, I know he's just trying to antagonize me. He's tall, towering over me like a rattlesnake, with brown ruffled hair, blue eyes like the sky with gold rings sorrounding his irises, the lighting making his eyes darker and colder, a body that looked like it was carefully carved by angels.. so perfect that you could even see the definition of the abs, shpulders, and back through his shirt. His black shirt was hugging his biceps tightly, giving the air a delicious taste, almost like I could get drunk off of it with whiskey.  However, this doesn't feel like an angel, no... it feels like a snake waiting in the grass ready to strike me and deprive me of my air. A man wanting to devour me whole with no remorse, no remorse at the oxygen he is making me lose. The air tasting... wicked.

I'd be lying if I said this man didn't spark a long-lost fire I never knew existed. It was as if with his stare, he was burning me inside and out, reducing me to ashes, as I did him. And the tattoos down his arms... wolves and snakes at war with skulls all around, almost like bringing back the dark memories that I wanted to bury 6 feet deep. Lord help me, because i'm pretty sure my legs are betraying me, his presence in this very room make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my knees shaking like maracas in winter. But I cant give in, I have to stay strong. He wantsd me to lose my mind, but he won't find it.

Refusing to stoop to his level, I glare at him, refusing to go-down without a fight. I was absolutely ready for one tonight.  He looks at me in surprise as I kick my chair back full-force, making it slide to the end of the room, my 5'4 frame ready to take on this giant that could absolutely make me fall to my knees with one look. However, his eyes soften like a puppy with curiosity, his thumb reaching out and caressing the scar on my left cheek-bone, rubbing circles gently as he trails his calloused. Yet gentle hand to the eye-patch on my left eye. His hand could easily cup my entire cheek.. but refusing to give into this sorcery that made my legs clench and feel something, I step-back and scoff at his gesture.

"I don't need your fucking pity"

Sticking up my middle-finger as I walk off, desperately wanting to get back to my barracks. I didn't have time for distractions tonight. As much fun as a one-night stand sounded, which is what I absolutely would have used him for,  I have never entertained any man that came near me, nor ideas of doing sinful and lustful things. I have only been in one relationship, but never intimate. The one relationship that made me realize men are dogs and that I refuse to be a punching bag again.  But, this man... made me want to do sinful things tonight, and I fucking hate him for placing these thoughts into my head. Why am I even thinking about this?? Why do I even care to begin with? I have a bed waiting for me at home, that's all I need in my life. No man is worth more pain and heart break.