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Charlie tugged on black leather pants and a black silk tank top. If Miles was going to force her to be paraded humiliatingly in front of men like some damsel in distress, she was going to look the exact opposite of the part. Let him bitch about it. She tossed her long curls around her shoulders, satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. A small sliver of toned stomach peeked out from under her shirt, and her heeled boots completed the killer look.
She made her way from her room down to the Great Hall. Torches lined the walls, lending a burnished gold ambiance to the proceedings. And, to her amusement, two chairs were set up along the far wall, facing a wide-open space. Thrones? she thought to herself. Yikes.
“Charlie,” Miles called to her, striding into the room through the far door. Her uncle, Charlie noticed, looked undeniably dashing in his military uniform.
“This is what you’re wearing?” he greeted her. She smirked her most obnoxious smirk at him, nodding exaggeratedly. She could see him debating with himself before sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I guess these poor bastards might as well know what they’re getting themselves into.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” she asserted. “Or, what they’re NOT getting themselves into, actually.”
Miles sighed impatiently. “Bass and his son didn’t have to travel too far, but you know Tom Neville and Jason had to come halfway across the continent to get here. You know my expectations.”
“Sure, that I’m going to live happily ever after with one of these tools,” Charlie said easily. “Obviously, that’s not going to happen, but I guess if you just keep saying it will, eventually you assume I’ll cave.”
“You’ll cave,” Miles warned her in a low voice. “You know with the right leverage, you’ll cave.”
Charlie’s stomach dropped. Her mom was living in peace, now. But as Miles loved to remind her, that could change quickly. It could change for herself, too.
The Patriot war had ended in the Patriots being wiped out, and the opposing side - their side - being splintered into several factions. Three of which happened to be led by her Uncle Miles, his former best friend Bass Monroe, and their enemy turned co-combatant, Tom Neville. Charlie had been in the thick of the war and had seen and been through things she was not keen to repeat. Her uncle saw this latest gambit as key to uniting with one of the other factions and keeping the peace. Charlie wasn’t convinced it would work, and she was even less convinced she wanted to go along with it, even if it would.
“So when are they getting here?” Charlie asked in a bored tone, looking around. “And is there food? I’m starving.”
“Food later,” Miles intoned. “For now, go sit your ass up there, they’ll be here any minute.”
“I’m also cold,” Charlie whined, as she made her way to the chair on the right.
“Should have worn actual clothes,” Miles called over his shoulder as he strode out of the room to do God knew what.
Charlie grumbled to herself. So it was November in the notoriously drafty statehouse. Why should she have to bundle up inside? She was never sure why they couldn’t figure out how to run the heat without electricity. Didn’t it just require fire and gas? Obviously, she had absolutely no clue.
The door on the far side of the room banged open, and Charlie looked up, startled. There before her, about fifty feet away, stood Tom and Jason Neville. Charlie bit her lip as she considered Jason, striding toward her confidently, his father just a step behind. He had always been good-looking. It had been a few years since she saw him, and he’d only gotten sexier. His face was more rugged and chiseled, growing into maturity. His hair was much shorter, and she could see that he’d grown more built. Hmm.
Miles hustled back into the room from the other side. “Hold on, fuck,” he called out, skidding into the chair beside Charlie, smoothing his shirt as he did so. After a few seconds to arrange himself, with the other three watching him impatiently, he looked up. “Alright, go ahead,” he invited them.
Jason cleared his throat. “Charlotte Matheson. We’ve known each other for years, though we’ve been apart for a while. You’ve grown even more beautiful in that time. You know that I have always been singularly devoted to you, and that hasn’t changed. I’m here tonight to ask you to unite with me, in marriage, and to unite our factions as one as well. To our everlasting happiness, and for everlasting peace.” Tom nodded behind him, smiling in oily satisfaction.
Miles broke in, “What are your territorial holdings like these days?”
Charlie tuned out as Jason immediately began rattling off latitude and longitudes, descriptions of natural resources, and population density statistics. He was good looking, no doubt about that. And he’d always been pretty nice to her. She did not want to get married, but she also didn’t want to provoke the Butcher of Baltimore. There had to be a way to seem to be going along with this plan without actually going through with it.
As Jason was finishing up his description in response to Miles’ latest follow-up question, the door at the far end of the room eased open again. This time, it swung open on silent hinges, revealing two more men behind it. Leading the way into the room was Connor Monroe, nee Bennett. Charlie’s stomach turned at the memory of their one debauched night together. It had been fine, but only made enticing at all by the slightly forbidden nature of it. Forbidden due to…
Finally, she allowed her eyes to drift over to him. General Sebastian Monroe. He was staring right at her, meeting her gaze with fiery intensity, as always. As fucking always. Communicating a thousand things she couldn’t even begin to understand, making her feel raw and naked in the middle of a crowded room. She bit her lip and took a deep breath in as he came toward her. He’d long been the object of her fantasies, since the first moment she saw him; she’d never seen another man who made her want to scream on sight.
Wrenching her attention from him, she remembered why she was supposed to be there. Considering Connor, and Jason. Connor stepped beside Jason and reached his hand out for a handshake. Jason took it after a second’s hesitation, and they briefly attempted to wrench each other’s arms off. Charlie supposed she was meant to be impressed by who had the harder handshake, but she couldn’t really tell who had won. Her eyes kept drifting back to Bass, who kept her pinned with his. God, could the man not look at something else? After a few seconds of eye contact, he raised an eyebrow and stepped back, glancing away, leaving Connor in her view. Right, that.
“Charlie, it is amazing to see you again,” he led off. Miles snorted impatiently beside her. “You and I both know why I’m here, and I won’t insult you by pretending I expect you to be okay with this. But I promise you, if you choose me, if we go through with this, you will have my utmost respect, and complete independence from me. I will never try to control you or hold over you that you’re my wife. Or expect anything from you. The only way anything will change for you will be if you want it to.” He paused, “And of course, our factions will be all the stronger for our union. So that’s something.”
Charlie gave a small smile. Now that was a pretty speech. She wondered - it sounded like it came from - She eyed Bass, who was watching her again. And at once, she knew. Connor had been coached on every word of that speech, from someone who knew and understood her much better than he did. Understanding gained on a long journey from New Vegas to Texas, and daily on the battlefield for years thereafter. Connor was in and out, down to Mexico then back again, but Bass knew her. Knew what it would take to win her. Which almost made her wonder why he didn’t…
That was a dangerous thought. The alliances between the factions represented here were fragile indeed, only recently negotiated to even allow this meeting to take place. Blood for blood exchange, they said they required for the peace to last. And whoever she didn’t pick was to be granted three days’ safe passage out of Miles’ territory. Then the truce was over. This much Charlie had been told by Miles, to prepare her for the stakes today. Point being, he, Bass, and Tom would still take any opportunity to kill each other in the right circumstances. Trying to use their kids to broker peace was a last resort.
As she considered, Miles had distracted Connor with questions about strategic positions, which Connor answered ably. To Charlie’s ear, Connor’s - really Bass’ - faction sounded better positioned than the Nevilles. But if she had to choose between the smooth but fake Connor and the steady, kind Jason, she was leaning toward the latter.
Miles piped up with another question, “And what is each of your position on children?”
Charlie gaped at him. “Hold on, I’m pretty sure you’ve never even asked me MY position on children,” she protested.
Miles waved her off. “I just want to know if these men have given any thought to whether and when they want you to bear their children.” Charlie noticed Bass clench one of his hands into a tight fist by his side, but his face remained neutral. For once, he would not meet her gaze.
Jason cleared his throat, “With utmost respect, it would be my honor to father children with you,” Jason said confidently. “However many you want, entirely your choice, if it happens, of course. I hope that’s alright.”
Miles nodded approvingly. “Fine.” Charlie threw her arms up. Well, great that it was fine with him!
Connor cut his eyes toward his father. Clearly, they had not rehearsed this answer. “Uh, yeah likewise, whatever you want, Charlie,” he said easily. “I like kids. There were always a ton of them running around the compound growing up, they liked me fine.”
“Hmmm,” Miles seemed less pleased with this response. “Well, Charlie, don’t you have any questions for these guys? How are you going to make your decision?”
Charlie contemplated for a moment. She was very aware of Bass’ presence just behind Connor, though she restrained herself from staring at him directly. Inspiration struck her. Not quite sure where she was going with it, she asked:
“How are you boys at sword fighting?”
“Sword fighting?” Connor laughed slightly. “Explain?”
“You know,” she said, warming up to her idea. “Say you had to defend me. And the only weapons you had to your name were a couple swords. How many fighters do you think you could take down if you had to? Two? Three?” Half a dozen or more, she thought to herself, remembering Bass’ killer performance in that bar in Pottsboro. The look he gave her afterward. The same look he was giving her now, as they both remembered.
Jason and Connor said something, she wasn’t sure what, who cared. Next question:
“And how are you guys at fighting? Like, you know, no weapons, just bare knuckle brawling.”
Miles scoffed. “Hardly a fair question when the best fighter any of us have ever seen is standing right over there.” He gestured at Bass, who rolled his eyes.
“Can we get on with this?” Bass cut in, his first words of the night. “Does she have to pick one of the kids for us to get to eat, or what? I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Charlie announced. “I’m not doing anything on an empty stomach.” She stood up, and as she did, she could feel Bass’ eyes raking over her body. “Let’s go.”
Charlie was seated across from both Jason and Connor at dinner, which meant Bass was to her left, Miles to her right, and Tom Neville next to his son on the other side. During the meal, thank God, they talked about things other than who she should marry. Politics, gossip, strategy - Charlie loved it. The wine and liquor was flowing freely, and she let herself get tipsy. The whole situation was so awkward, she just wanted to forget.
As they talked and the food was gone, Charlie suddenly found herself and Bass the only two who weren’t involved in separate side conversations. She turned to him, and he pursed his lips, glancing at her then turning back to his glass of whiskey.
“What do you think I should do,” she murmured, just out of the hearing of the others.
Bass swigged back his drink. “I can’t tell you that,” he answered.
“But you have an opinion.”
He smirked. “Don’t we all?”
“I’m surprised you’re not telling me to pick Connor.”
He studied her for a second, then replied, “Before we got here, I would have.”
“And now?”
His lips twitched as if he was suppressing a smile, “Not Connor.”
She glanced across the table at the two men, who were in a heated debate about football strategy. “So Jason then.”
He fixed her with a look of disbelief. “Not Jason.”
Frustration welled up inside her. “Well, everyone here expects me to pick one of the two of them, so sorry to disappoint you,” she snapped.
“Yes, and you famously always do what everyone expects of you, right?” Bass shot back sarcastically, turning toward her finally. As he did, his knee touched hers, setting off delirious heat throughout her body.
“Almost never,” she replied.
“There you go,” he said, as if something was decided. And though he turned away from her, he left his thigh resting against hers under the table.
—
Later that night, Charlie wandered down to the kitchen to forage for a snack. She’d been to distracted at dinner to eat much, plus it was now the middle of the night. She found her footing surely in the dark, having done this many times.
She was rummaging in the cupboard when she felt behind her a whisper of another person’s presence. Whirling around, she placed her hand over her heart where it was racing when she saw it was just Bass. Unlike her, who was in her nightgown, he was still in his clothes from the day. His military uniform, just as perfect as Miles’ had been. Charlie immediately felt a surge of lust at the sight of him in the dim light coming through the kitchen windows.
“Sorry,” Bass said quietly. “Was just looking for some booze to grab before I head up to my room.”
Charlie nodded, gesturing he should follow her to the opposite corner. She opened one cabinet, revealing rows of gleaming bottles. “What do you want?”
Bass came up behind her, looking with interest into the cabinet. Right behind her. He leaned over her shoulder, the warmth of his body close to hers, but not quite touching. He ran his fingertips over the bottles contemplatively, seemingly unaware of their closeness, of his effect on her. He was positioned such that if she just bent over, hiked up her nightgown, he could…
Charlie inhaled deeply at that thought, leaning back slightly into Bass, just as he closed his fingers around the neck of a bottle, grabbing it triumphantly. “This will work,” he declared, looking down to meet her eyes. She gazed back up at him, knowing she must look a little wild-eyed, as it’s certainly how she felt. Bass was so close to her, he could easily kiss her, and for a crazy second, she thought he would. Instad, he stepped back. “You want some of this before I take off with it?”
She took the bottom of the bottle in hand and shifted it so she could see the label. “Johnny Walker Blue? Miles is going to kill you, so hell yeah, I want in.”
Bass chuckled. “That’s hardly the most valuable thing of your uncle’s I’m planning to leave here with,” he said.
Charlie wasn’t sure how to respond. It sounded like he was referring to her, but not clearly enough that she thought she could respond. She thought she didn’t like being referred to as Miles’ possession. But somehow, she did like the idea that Bass was leaving with her as his spoils. Liquid heat pooled within her again, as she watched Bass efficiently search the cabinets for suitable glasses and, having thus procured them, pour them both a couple fingers of the whiskey.
They raised their glasses partway, in mutual agreement to toast out of respect for this fine liquor. “To peace,” Bass said quietly, the ever-present toast post-war. Then he added, “And to you. For putting up with the bullshit ideas of three old men who are just trying to hold it together and somehow put it all on you.”
Charlie smiled at that. “Hey, you’re not that old,” she automatically reminded him. It was a frequent joke between them. His ancient, decrepit self. Her fetal, naive nature. Often it felt like a way of reminding themselves, putting distance between them. Years, decades. A way to deny this delirious attraction that surely could never be. They sipped their drinks.
“Old enough,” he replied. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling about all this? Your uncle talked me into this insane scheme after about a hundred back and forths, but still, when we got here today, I almost walked the hell back out.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because if we did, then I was afraid you’d end up with Jason Neville. And that I can’t have.” He met her eyes seriously.
“Because of the territory.”
“No.”
Charlie fought to keep her expression earnest. “Because you want me to choose Connor.”
Bass put his glass down on the counter. “Not exactly.”
She shivered, feeling the meaning behind his words, the truth clawing its way to the surface. “But you want me to go with you.”
He shifted slightly closer to her. “That’s the plan. We’re leaving in the morning. I want you with me. Us.”
A draft blew through the kitchen, fluttering the sleeve of Charlie’s nightgown, making her shiver involuntarily. It was thin cotton, and she had nothing on underneath it. She had only meant to be out of her room for a minute. Bass noticed, and rubbed his hands up her arms. “It’s too cold in here for you,” he said. “Come here.” He pulled her against his warm chest. In theory, this was nothing new. They’d held each other against cold, or in tight hiding spaces, dozens of times. But in reality, Charlie’s body sang with satisfaction as she stepped into Bass’ embrace. Her hips fit easily against his, her head onto his shoulder, their legs twining slightly together.
Charlie took a deep, satisfied breath in, let it out. Bass rubbed her arms and back, ostensibly sharing his warmth. Charlie’s head swam with arousal, the thin cotton of her nightgown providing almost no barrier between her tight, hard nipples and the rough fabric of Bass’ military uniform. She shifted slightly, craving that friction, rubbing against him with a slight gasp. In response, Bass groaned, pulling her closer, shifting so his leg was between her thighs.
Charlie tilted her face up to his, meeting his eyes, his gaze intense and searching. Carefully, he reached a hand up and brushed his thumb over her lower lip, and her mouth dropped slightly open instinctively. Softly, she touched her tongue to the tip of Bass’ thumb, and she felt the pressure of his touch increase slightly before he drew away with a deep sigh. Stepping back, he put some chaste distance between them, rubbing her upper arms and shoulders before dropping his hands.
“You should get in bed,” he said roughly. “We travel at first light.”
Charlie did not want to go to bed, unless it was with him. But tomorrow would bring a new opportunity, and tonight was clearly over. “Goodnight, Bass,” she said, brushing past him and out of the kitchen. She felt his gaze heavy on her back the entire way.
—
The next morning, Charlie dressed in her warmest clothes - jeans with fleece leggings underneath, a thermal with a sweater. Her trunks had been packed for weeks, in anticipation of this day. She rushed down to the hall, knowing it was already past the time Bass had said he wanted to leave. When she arrived, indeed all five men were waiting for her.
“Finally,” Miles grumbled. “Gotta get a move on, here. Charlie, what’s the verdict?”
Charlie was somewhat affronted that he was being so casual about what was certainly the biggest decision of her life to date. She stood facing the group, and Connor and Jason stepped slightly forward. Miles was by her elbow. She studied the two men one last time. Jason, strong, sturdy, and with devotion shining in his eyes. Connor, tall, cunning, and smirking at her with confidence while unable to stop himself from glancing around the room in distraction between looks to her.
Charlie stared at the men before her, watching as Miles lobbed questions back and forth among himself, Jason, and Connor. Presently, Jason was explaining the wealth of their faction by the amount of diamonds they hoarded. Connor had just finished the technological advances of their development group, including finding a way to create rockets.
Once more, Charlie’s eyes strayed over to Bass. He’d been watching her, and their eyes met. She was overwhelmed with the urge to run over and leap into his arms. Not since the first day she’d met him had her want for him felt this overwhelming. When she was hunting him, then during the war, yes it was always there. But present concerns had pushed it to the background.
Now, they were in peace time. And he stood before her, somehow more devilishly handsome than ever. Older, they both were, but in a way that had further distinguished and refined his features. His corded strength, which had saved her life countless times, was ever-apparent in the way he moved, the way he stood. Charlie’s fingers curled against the urge to touch him.
Finally, Miles sat back, apparently having exhausted his supply of questions. “Well,” he asked her. “Who’s it going to be?”
Her and Bass’ eye fucking had gotten obvious at this point. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Nevilles exchange confused looks. Connor glanced back at his dad, who had eyes only for Charlie.
“Monroe,” she spoke a single word. Bass straightened and frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. The name she had called him for a long time. Until at some point he became “Bass.”
“Great,” Miles said. “That’s fine. Connor, congratulations -”
“No,” Charlie cut off Miles forcefully. “Not Connor. Him.” She gestured with her chin at Bass. He stepped toward her, moving past Connor to stand before her and Miles, not speaking immediately, clearly carefully weighing his next move.
Miles laughed. “I get that you’re not thrilled about this situation, Char, but this is serious. No more games.”
“Not a game,” she replied evenly. “I want Bass. No one else.”
“Miles,” Bass broke in, focusing only on his friend, not on her. “It’s alright. She can go with me.”
The room erupted. The Nevilles both made sounds of protest, while Connor broke into an amused smile and laughed. But Miles’ voice carried over it all, driving the rest into silence.
“What the fuck, Bass? Was this your plan the whole time? What did you do, threaten her?”
Bass met Charlie’s eyes briefly, and the understanding that passed between them warmed her whole body. “No. I had no idea. We never talked about it.”
“So you’re actually serious about this? Explain yourself,” Miles demanded, turning to her.
Charlie kept her face and voice neutral. “I’m serious. I want him. That’s my offer,” she replied. She hardly understood her own reasons for this, let alone would she be able to explain them to Miles.
“We’ll unite our factions,” Bass reminded Miles. “Same as before. Just… me instead of the kid.”
Miles scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this. I can’t believe I’m considering it. You’d really marry Charlie?”
Bass’ voice was low, convicted: “Yes.”
Miles threw his hands up. “Well, for fuck’s sake, seems like for some reason she’s decided she wants to marry you. You get that, right,” he addressed her. “You’re agreeing to marry him?”
“Of course,” Charlie said lightly. “That’s the whole reason we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Really, Ms. Matheson, if you were looking for someone a bit older, I regret that I’m unavailable to throw my own hat in the ring,” Tom Neville spoke up. All eyes trained on him in annoyance, then looked away. Jason seemed poised to raise his own protest, but a quelling hand on his father’s arm silenced him.
Miles sighed heavily. “Bass I swear to god, if you hurt her, if you make her anything other than blissfully happy for a single second, I will hunt you down like a dog and make you regret you ever drew breath.”
Bass smiled at that. “No worse than what I’d do to myself in that case, brother. You have my word.” He met Charlie’s eyes, still smiling, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
Miles addressed Connor, “And you can live with this?”
Connor shrugged. “I mean, I heard all the best pre-Blackout porn had hot stepmoms in it, so…” At the stony silence that met his joke, he quickly changed the subject, “Um, we’d planned for Dad to stay behind and negotiate the treaty formally while I left with Charlie so, uh. I guess… I’m staying now? And they’re going?”
Bass nodded decisively. “We’re going. Now.”
Charlie turned to Miles and grabbed him in a hard hug. It was just sinking in that this would be the last time she saw him, maybe for months, maybe ever. His mind seemed to be in the same direction, as he told her, “You’ll always be welcome here. We’ll write, we’ll visit. It’ll be alright.”
“Say bye to Mom for me,” Charlie asked, and Miles nodded. With one last parting hug, and a tentative, awkward handshake for Connor and a wave at the Nevilles, she turned to Bass. He stepped forward and offered a hand to Charlie, who took it. She glanced back at Miles, who rolled his eyes, but nodded slightly. Cautiously excited, she turned to Bass, who looked like he felt the same. Without another word, he led her down the long aisleway, through the room, and out the door to the front courtyard.
The sight that greeted her there made her gasp. There were at least forty men, about a dozen or so on horseback, most on foot. Their clothes were utilitarian and suggested uniforms but weren’t actually. There were a few pack horses with supplies, including one, she saw, with her suitcases loaded. Listening ears at the door must have prepared them as soon as she announced her decision. Impressive.
Two horses without riders waited closest to the door, saddled and ready to go. Bass stopped beside one and held out a hand to help her up. She turned to him, looking up at him, feeling as if they were alone even though at least half the men were staring openly.
“You ready?” he asked her.
“Pretty impressive maneuvering back there,” she couldn’t help saying. A smug smile pulled at the corners of his mouth before he schooled his features back to neutrality.
“Glad you approve,” he said. “Now get up there before they change their minds.”
Charlie grinned happily and clasped Bass’ hand, feeling an electric thrill even through the layers of gloves separating their skin. She hopped onto the horse, settling into place, watching appreciatively as Bass did the same and immediately nudged his steed into action, gesturing that the group should move out.
—
Several hard hours of riding later, they stopped for a break for the horses and the men. Charlie joined a group that was unpacking a backpack full of rations, including a flask of liquor. Given the bitter cold and high winds, she readily accepted their offer of a sip, savoring the warmth sliding down her throat.
One of the men was explaining to the other their route for the afternoon, referring to geographic features in the area. “There’s a river up ahead, and we’ll skirt along that for a few miles, then the crossing is easier toward the north.”
Charlie’s brow creased with concern. “Hold on, I know that river. We should be careful going to the north. There’s a clan that ranges around there that’s pretty aggressive. We should be fine in a group this size, but I’m pretty sure there’s also a crossing to the south that’s a little closer and should be safer.”
The men exchanged looks, then back at her. “General Monroe would be the one to talk to about that,” one of them said. “And Pickney, the nav.”
Charlie nodded, hopped up. She searched the group for Bass, finding him near the middle, conversing seriously with a group of his officers. She approached them, and their conversation ceased. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked. Bass nodded, and she explained the situation with the navigation.
One of the men in the group nodded as she described the clan and its loose territory borders. “That explains some of the evidence of human activity we’ve seen. Population is pretty sparse out here, but there was some indication of organization.”
Charlie bit her lip. “Miles didn’t love it, but this far out, it was harder to control. They stay away from us, and generally don’t harm our people. But travelers passing through…”
Bass nodded. “Ok, thanks. Pickney, can the scouts confirm whether the southern crossing will work?”
The short, stout man to Bass’ left nodded. “I can send a pair ahead now, they’ll circle back before we reach the point of decision.” He turned to find the right men to send on their way.
Bass turned back to her. “Helpful,” he commented. “Thanks.”
She shrugged. “Of course, I don’t want us to have any trouble, either. It would probably be fine, but why risk it?”
“Yeah,” Bass agreed, as the group around them dispersed, leaving them alone. “Not too late to turn back, you know.”
She shook her head. “Actually, it kind of is. Miles made pretty clear what would happen if I didn’t go through with one or the other of these weddings.”
Bass’ eyes narrowed. “What, he threatened you?”
Charlie rolled hers. “I mean, you think I agreed to marry you because it’s my heart’s fondest wish?”
Bass’ face darkened. “Listen, you don’t want to go through with this, I’ll deal with Miles,” he said, stepping toward her. “I don’t need to force you into anything.”
Charlie sighed, “Let’s just get back and deal with this then. I can’t think about it now.”
Bass nodded, his features still tight with annoyance. Behind him, someone called out, “General Monroe,” gesturing that it was time for them to move. Bass nodded at her, and she walked back over to her horse, ready to continue the journey.
—
The southern crossing did indeed work, and they made another half day’s progress before setting down for the night. After dinner and setting up camp, Charlie was exhausted. She was fully prepared to sleep under the stars. She had countless times, and although it was cold as fuck, at least it was clear, and they’d have big bonfires built. So she was surprised when Bass approached her as she was settling in by the fire.
“Come with me,” he ordered her. Giving a sidelong glance to the men on either side of her, who were clearly pretending not to notice their exchange, she got up and followed Bass over to where he’d set up a two-person tent.
“For me?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to assume.
“For us,” he said roughly. “The plan was for you to share with Connor, but he’s not here, so.”
She gazed up at him. They’d tented together many times. This shouldn’t have been a big deal. But that was in the middle of war, when they were too busy trying to stay alive to even consider… other things. Years ago. Before she’d agreed to marry him.
Silently, she nodded, slipping off her boots to crawl inside. She noticed that Bass had put her day pack in the back corner, which contained her sleep clothes, and he’d set up her sleeping bag. She quickly changed and crawled inside. A while later, she was nearly asleep when she heard the zipper slide open, and suddenly she was wide awake again. She stayed still in her bedroll, watching Bass crawl inside. Her heart was in her throat as he pulled off his jacket, overshirt, and pants, leaving himself in just his undershirt and boxers. It had been a long time since she’d seen him like this, and if possible his body had gotten more cut, stronger, in the intervening years.
He glanced over and saw her watching him. His face was unreadable as he slid into his sleeping bag. “All ok out there?” she asked.
“Mmmhmm,” he replied. “Some of the usual shit among the guys to sort out, and updates from home. But fine. We’re on schedule.”
“Ok,” she replied softly. She could barely make out his features in the dim moonlight filtering through the tent, but she could smell him. Feel his warmth. He was very, very close.
The sound of two of the guys talking as they walked by their tent reminded her. The nylon walls might provide visual privacy, but everyone around them could hear every sound they made. She stared into Bass’ bright eyes, her body aching, yearning for contact with him, for something, his heavy heat on top of her. It was a thought she’d had many times, had put it out of her mind in the time they’d been apart, but now it was roaring back. How had they resisted each other all those times before? She could hardly remember why it had seemed important to do so.
Bass chuckled softly then whispered to her. “After all this time, I still feel like I can read your mind, Matheson.” It was an old trope of theirs. They fought together so well, anticipated each other’s moves so perfectly, their nonverbal communication was in many ways more effective than talking.
“Then what am I thinking,” she challenged him.
He shifted toward her slightly. “That people just outside this tent can hear absolutely everything going on inside. And that it’s been a damn long time since we were together like this.”
“And how would those two things be related?” She also shifted toward him, so their chests were nearly touching,
“A lot changes over the years,” he said in a near-whisper. “And then again… some things don’t.” His eyes dropped to her lips, and she wet them. She met his eyes, begging him to kiss her, parting her lips and breathing in deeply. He looked at her seriously, bringing a hand up to her jawline. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, almost overwhelmed by the wave of lust that washed over her just from his simple touch. He stroked his fingertips gently down her jaw, down her throat, placing his thumb beneath her chin. Slight pressure there, and she looked up in shock, her arousal peaking.
Bass drew close to her, keeping his hand on her throat, and she swallowed hard against it. Definitely pressure. Definitely making her impossibly wet, the suggestion of dominance, of him holding her in place and having his way with her. Such a simple, small gesture, turning her absolutely helpless for him.
“I want to do this,” he murmured against her lips. He rested his forehead to hers. “Tell me I shouldn’t.”
Instead, she said, “Please.”
He pressed his lips to hers, and she moaned slightly, quietly so only he could hear. He moved into her pressing his body to hers, just as she’d been craving, and she rubbed against him, cursing the slight rustling sounds of their sleeping bags that might give too much away. His mouth was hot and demanding, moving quickly from soft to harder, needier kisses, using his hand on her neck to tilt her open to him, plunging his tongue inside. Charlie took it eagerly, pulling him close to her, rubbing herself against him.
They broke apart, breathing shakily. “We can’t,” he half-panted. “Not here. Everyone will hear. Probably already have.” Charlie nodded, knowing this was right. She pulled back, and he did the same. He reached out and ran his thumb over her eyebrow, her cheekbone, her lower lip. She put her hand over his and pressed into him, then let go. They said their goodnights and, somehow, Charlie was able to fall asleep.
—
Several days later, Charlie was dressed in the outfit she’d been told was for her wedding day. On balance, it wasn’t awful. A simple, short white dress with filmy long sleeves, a concession to the cold weather. Bass’ compound was just as grand as Miles' statehouse, clearly once having been the mansion of someone important, pre-Blackout.
She made her way to the dining room, where Bass had told her to meet him. By now she was familiar enough with the place to at least find that room.
Bass was already there, waiting for her, even though she was a few minutes early. Her heart raced at the sight of him in a formal black suit. “No uniform?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Didn’t seem right for today.”
Charlie sighed, the word “today” reminding her what they were there for. Her attraction to Bass was undeniable, but since their passionate kiss in the tent, they hadn’t done anything more. The rest of their travel was so exhausting that she fell asleep each night before he returned to the tent, and he was typically gone before she woke. Charlie got the sense he was avoiding her.
So, now, their wedding day had arrived. And she was feeling pretty pissed off about the entire situation, how she had ended up there, even if she desperately wanted Bass in some ways. She was still Charlie Matheson, and she still didn’t like being told what to do.
“You alright?” he asked with concern.
She laughed slightly. “Not really. I’ve never been okay with any of this. Choosing one of the two sons. Going with you to get married off. It feels like none of this is really my choice.”
Bass’ face turned stony. “I see. It certainly seemed like I was your choice. Back at Miles’.”
“I mean, compared to Tweedledum and Tweedledee, yeah,” she said snarkily. Obviously Bass meant much more to her than that. But the situation was making her nervous as hell, causing her to lash out.
Bass studied her face for a moment, then said evenly, “Well, I’m glad I’ve at least got that much going for me. But regardless of how you feel, Charlotte, we are getting married today. Your uncle and I both need that treaty for our factions to survive, and he’s just crazy enough to demand I fulfill it to the letter. So that’s what I intend to do.”
“And what about what I want?”
“You made your decision,” Bass said coldly. “I believe Miles has made it pretty clear what will happen if you back out now.”
Charlie’s chest clenched at the implicit threat. Coming from Miles, it was bad enough, but now, Bass, too? It was nearly intolerable.
“Got it,” she said bitterly. “Then I guess we better get this over with.”
They proceeded to the front parlor which had been set up as a small chapel. Since they had no friends or family locally - or none Bass cared to invite - two members of the household staff served as witnesses, and the clergyman performed a basic, simple ceremony. Charlie avoided meeting Bass’ eyes, though she could feel his searching gaze the entire time. The priest had them hold hands to exchange their vows, but as soon as they were done, Charlie dropped Bass’ hands and turned to leave the room.
“Wait,” Bass commanded her, and she froze at his tone in that single word. Never had he spoken to her that way.
The staff and priest disbursed, tactfully leaving them alone. “We’re married now,” Bass said, that peremptory tone still present. He stepped toward her, and Charlie held her ground as he came close, closer, nearly touching her. Her breath caught as she looked up at him, beautiful and a little frightening with a glint of contained rage in his eyes. “So you don’t walk away from me.”
“What do you want?” she answered, her voice coming out breathy, not sarcastically as she’d intended.
Bass reached out, caressed down her arm, took her hand. Instead of answering, he ran his other hand around her waist, splaying it on her back. Charlie shuddered at the feeling of his warmth, his strength, so close. He pulled her into him and just held her there, and Charlie felt arousal flood her body. She could feel his chest moving as he breathed, and her mouth somehow fit perfectly at the the base of his neck, where she was desperately tempted to kiss and lick. Her hands wrapped around his biceps, her fingers curling over his strong arms, and she held herself in place, resisting him, temptation personified.
“Come upstairs with me,” he murmured into her ear. He moved and tried to pull her along with him, but she resisted, stubborn, warring with herself. She wanted him, but not to be coerced into it. Bass frowned, dropping her hand. “You’ll walk on your own, or I’ll carry you, but you’re coming. What’s it going to be?”
Nodding, she followed after him. He strode ahead quickly, his earlier tenderness gone. Through winding corridors, she trailed him, realizing she hadn’t known til now where - she assumed - his bedroom was. They arrived at the end of a hallway, and he unceremoniously opened the door and gestured for her to follow him in.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he closed the distance between them, grabbing her roughly by her upper arms and kissing her, hard. Charlie gasped and opened to him, having no choice as his lips, his tongue pushed her mouth open wide, demanding they allow him in. She groaned involuntarily - in lust, in protest, both. His hands were everywhere, all over her body, which sang with satisfaction at his rough touch. He bit her lip slightly then kissed his way down her neck, sucking hard then biting, earning a desperate cry of pain from her.
“You’re my wife now, Charlotte,” Bass grunted as he slid his hand up her thigh, under her dress. “Which means I can finally fucking have you.” He ran his hand over her ass, grabbing it tight, then his fingers found the desperately wet place between her legs, grazing over her panties. “Fucking soaked for me,” he groaned, thrusting the fabric aside and feeling her silky folds. “Stop pretending you don’t want this.” He tugged her underwear down and off, leaving her bare.
“Fuck you, Monroe,” she gasped, even as his skillful fingers made her tremble as he stroked her clit, filled her inside. “I didn’t want any of this.”
Abruptly, he withdrew his hand, his face a storm. “I’m getting pretty tired of hearing you say that,” he spat. “You’re such a liar, even to yourself.” Charlie gasped as her took her in his arms, half-dragging her across the room, throwing her on the bed. He quickly covered her with his body, laying himself between her legs, which she spread wide for him. She pressed on the bed, trying to sit up, and he pressed her down with his chest, his pelvis between her thighs. She felt the hard demand of his cock, pressing against her bare flesh through his pants, and she tilted her hips up toward him, chasing the sweet pleasure of that friction.
“I know you want it,” he growled, quickly undoing his button and zipper, freeing his cock, which sprang free, hard and reddened and ready. Charlie bit her lip as she saw him palm himself, align with her cunt. She threw her head back, closing her eyes against the inevitable. She felt the blunt tip of him rub against her, and she whimpered, desperate for him to fill her, furious at herself for giving in.
“Charlotte, look at me,” Bass demanded roughly, squeezing her ass for emphasis. She obeyed, meeting his eyes, then her gaze was inevitably drawn to where they were nearly joined, the sight of his hard cock poised to enter her. She wet her lips and looked back to Bass, whose eyes were hard and determined. “Watch me,” he commanded, slicking his cock in her wetness on several strokes, not entering her yet. He lowered himself down on an elbow. “Watch me as I fuck you - my wife. For the very first time.” Charlie felt his cock begin to enter her and recoiled naturally, in fear, in anticipation. Bass growled and grabbed her hip, holding her in place, driving himself the rest of the way in, filling her completely. Charlie cried out.
Bass fucked her relentlessly, setting a hard pace, giving her no time to adjust to the hot thickness now filling her over and over. She was so wet, he slid in and out of her easily, and she found herself fucking him back, pressing her hips up into him hard, wanting the punishment, wanting the pain. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, urging him on. Harder, faster. Bass took her mouth in another demanding kiss, plugging his tongue deep into her mouth as he fucked her hard, then slowing his pace, pumping in and out fully and deliberately, making her take and feel every inch of him. She cried out at the exquisite pleasure of it. She’d never felt like this, never. She hated him for knowing exactly what she needed, cried out as he pulled out completely then crawled down the bed.
“Gotta taste my wife’s sweet pussy,” he gasped out, seeming half out of his mind himself. He dove between her legs, licking and sucking her as hard as he’d fucked her, and Charlie was lost to coherence. It was so good, but too much. He added his fingers, filling her roughly and licking her desperately, and Charlie was soon thrown violently into her orgasm, her body spasming hard, near-panicked cries streaming from her lips.
As she came down, Bass climbed back on top of her, thrusting back inside, deep and hard. “Going to come in you now,” he told her. “You let me fuck you so good, baby. Tell me you don’t want it but this wet cunt says otherwise. Says you want my come in you bad.” Charlie grabbed his shoulders, dug in with her nails, wanting to hurt him, and Bass hissed. A few more hard pumps, and he groaned deep, holding in place as Charlie could feel his body shudder as he came, pumping deep into her, forcing her legs wide as he did, pushing every drop into her, collapsing on top of her. Charlie breathed hard as his heavy weight pressed down on her, closing her eyes in utter bliss.
Finally, he rolled off her, and Charlie moved to get out of the bed, sliding over to the side. Bass grabbed her wrist, hard enough to bruise. “You’re not leaving,” he informed her. “Get back here.” Charlie glared at him then rolled back toward him. He kept his hand wrapped around her wrist, changing his grip to hold her forearm in place. They were both still fully clothed in their wedding garb. “We’re married now,” he reminded her again in a low voice. “You stay with me. You don’t run off, not anymore.” Charlie felt panic rising in her chest, darted her eyes around, looking for her escape route, her contingency plan. Bass pulled her close, so the only thing she could see was him.
“Stop,” he said forcefully. “There’s nowhere to go. There’s only this,” he kissed her, gently this time, and against her better judgment she melted against him.
—
Hours later, Charlie was sore and battling between her feelings of being utterly blissed out, furious at Bass, and mildly terrified. Her lust for him was overwhelming, compelling. In truth, she had loved him ravishing her, but she was nervous about this new, possessive, imperious side of him. The Bass she had gotten to know in war was broken, humbled. This man seemed far more like the General Monroe she had first met.
Moaning slightly, she rolled toward him. He was laying back with an arm above his head, lost in thought, his brow creased. She fought the urge to kiss him, to climb back on top of him for another go. It was insane. Instead, she told him, “I need a bath. Something. I’m all sweaty.”
He eyed her up and down, smirking slightly. “You are. We are.” He gestured to a door at the far side of the room. “Bath’s in there. Go ahead.” Charlie glanced at him doubtfully, expecting him to follow her like the minder he was acting like, but he seemed very content settled in where he was. Self-consciously, as her clothes had long since been discarded, Charlie slipped out of the bed naked and walked across the room, feeling Bass’ gaze following her.
She turned on the hot water tap and was gratified when a few minutes later, the water ran out steaming hot. She filled the tub and got in, sighing in bliss. There was soap within reach on the counter, so she grabbed it and luxuriously washed herself head to toe, even washing her long hair, ducking under the water repeatedly to rinse. When she was finally done, she glanced around for a towel and realized she’d forgotten to get one. Shit. Weighing her options, she decided it would be rude to slop water all over Bass’ bathroom - hers, too, now, she supposed - and instead called out, “Bass?”
“Yeah?” came his answer from the other room.
“Um, can you hand me a towel?” Her toes curled at the utter domesticity of this exchange.
A moment later, the door clicked open and Bass stepped inside, himself still naked. He glanced over at her then made his way to a small closet at the corner of the room, pulling out a couple fluffy white towels. One he set on the floor beside the tub, the other he held out to her.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, raising up and quickly wrapping the towel around her. Bass moved back slightly but did not leave. She stepped out of the bath, very close to him. She paused and looked up at him, mesmerized by the intensity in his gaze.
“You are a vision,” he murmured. “So tempting like this.” She felt tension coiling in her body, making her both want to bolt and to grab him. Bass chuckled. “God, Charlie, were you always this easy to read? Or have my years of reimagining every moment I ever spent with you done it?” He pulled her forward by the edge of her towel so they were standing with their fronts pressed together. “I keep telling you. Don’t run. Stay here. Be with me.” He dropped his head down to kiss her neck, and she moaned in pleasure at the warmth of his mouth. His hands ran over the towel, and she felt her body flush with desire, so ready for him quickly.
“I want to take you again,” he rasped in her ear. “But you just got clean. Do you want me to make you dirty, Charlotte?”
In response, she pulled the towel loose and let it drop from her body. Bass growled in appreciation, his hands immediately reaching up to cup her bare breasts, to press his thumbs over her nipples. She pulled him into her for a kiss, releasing herself to this wild drive, this need for him. She’d run later. Right now she had a man to fuck.
Their passion ratcheted up fast, and Charlie felt Bass grow hard between them, reached her hand down to palm his cock. He was rock hard, smooth, hot, and she wanted him in her bad. She turned and braced herself on the bathroom counter, in front of the mirror, meeting her own eyes, seeing how beyond herself she looked. She looked down, arching her back, presenting her cunt to Bass for the taking.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he breathed. “You want it like that?” Immediately she felt his cock brushing along her pussy, which was desperately wet for him. Without further word, he drove deep into her, filling her fast, and Charlie grasped the counter with a cry, pushing back on him. Yes, this was it. This was all she lived for, now, Bass’ relentless cock taking his due from her body. She reached back and held around his neck as he molded himself to her back, pumping his cock into her hard. She glanced up in the mirror and gasped at the lewd image they made - her body completely exposed, breasts bouncing, and Bass behind her, his cock driving into her clearly visible, disappearing into her needy cunt then withdrawing, only to fuck it into her hard again.
“Fuck,” Charlie breathed, “It’s so good. Feels so good, Bass.”
“Yes,” he said to her softly. “That’s what you call me. I’m Bass. Your husband now. You take my cock and love it.”
Charlie whimpered at this. She was insanely aroused, but she needed more. She twitched her hips, looking for the right angle, the right - something. “Bass, I need,” she cried out, looking for the words.
Immediately, she felt pressure on her clit, where Bass reached down with warm fingers, soaked in spit. “You need to come, beautiful,” he murmured. “Need me to touch you here, and make you come, is that right?” Charlie nodded on a half-sob. It felt so fucking good, taking him deep, him stroking her there, watching them rut like animals in the mirror. He was perfect, touching and stroking her, and she felt her orgasm building fast. At last, she shattered around him, writhing against his fingers and on his cock. He moved his hands to her ass and worked into her at a determined pace, grunting and straining, his tendons and muscles tense as he chased his own come. Finally, he exploded into her, driving her into the counter, smashing her legs against the cabinet as he emptied inside her, leaving them both stunned and winded.
Charlie turned and met Bass’ eyes. What she saw there was undeniably love. She felt fear start to overwhelm her again, and he stroked a thumb down her cheek. He pulled her in for another kiss. “That was good,” he murmured. She glowed with pride at his praise. “You asked for me. You wanted me. I like that.” Charlie nodded, and he nodded too. “Alright,” he told her. “Your stuff is in a dressing room through there if you want it,” he gestured at yet another door on the far side of the room. “I need to go check on some things.” Charlie’s body surged with relief that she would be alone, unsupervised. She’d wanted Bass but she was still her. Bass dropped a kiss on her temple, then swept out of the room.
—
The next night, they were in the dining room, eating with several of Bass’ officers and their families, mostly wives but a few children, too. Charlie undeniably enjoyed the sense of camaraderie, as long as it was limited to the hour or so of dinner, and then she was happy to retreat to her quarters. Hers and Bass’, she supposed.
A clamor outside in the hall caused a hush to fall over the group assembled as they turned into understand what it could be. Charlie heard the sound of raised voices, shouting, and stomping feet, approaching the door. Bass smoothly glided out of his seat, at the ready, as did the other men at the table. Charlie and the other ladies and the kids stayed put. She could hold her own in a fight, obviously, but she wasn’t sure about the other women, and in a situation like this, it was better for non-fighters to stay out of the way.
The door burst open at the end of the room, and Charlie gasped when she saw who it was. Jason Neville, disheveled and frantic. Two of Bass’ security were right behind him, looking furious.
“Charlie!” Jason shouted when he saw her. “We need to talk.”
Bass met the eyes of his guards, one of whom quickly explained, “He showed a document of diplomatic passage, so we didn’t want to detain him too aggressively. But we told him it would be better to wait until after dinner. He refused.”
Bass nodded, accepting this, then turned to Neville. “You are here on my sufferance alone, so why don’t you go ahead and satisfy me as to why that should continue to be the case?”
Jason sneered at Bass. “You can’t touch me. My father and his armies would be here in days if you do. Your little ragtag republic is nothing without the great Miles Matheson. As usual.”
Bass’ face remained neutral. “You can feel free to put your theory to the test if you’d like, Neville. You’ve got about thirty more seconds to try me.”
Jason turned to Charlie, “This is crazy. Charlie, please. Come on, forget the General, and marry me.”
All eyes swept toward her. “I - “ she started. “I can’t. It’s too late. I’ve married him already.”
Jason shook his head, frustrated, “No! God, no. You can get an annulment, it was coercion, he and Miles forced you into it. You don’t love him. Any minister would understand, would let you take it back. And be with me instead.”
Charlie glanced at Bass, who was looking at her very carefully, revealing nothing in his gaze, waiting for her to speak. She did.
“I don’t want an annulment,” she said clearly. “You’re wrong. It wasn’t coercion. I chose to marry him.” She met Bass’ eyes again and added, “I do love him.”
A rustling and murmurs rose up around the table as people reacted to this declaration, and Jason fell to his knees on the floor. The guards behind him sprang into action at a gesture from Bass, grabbing the intruder and hauling him away. As the other men settled back into their seats, Bass remained standing.
“Thank you all for dealing with that … interruption,” he announced. “And thank you to my beautiful wife. I love you too, sweetheart, always. A toast,” he announced, and the group raised their glasses. “To Charlie, to our future, to our family.”
Charlie raised her glass along with the others. “To our future.”
The End