Another night terror. My God.

I trip off the bed before righting myself and flip on the light. “I’m so sorry. Holy fuck,” I exclaim. I turn back to her and pause at her unmoving form. Shaking her. “Lilly. Wake up. Wake up.”

She’s unconscious. I take a sharp inhale through my nose as I check her pulse. Alive. Next, I raise her bare legs over my shoulders to promote blood flow to her brain. Years of boxing and twelve years in the SEAL Teams have taught me a thing or two.

Sixty-four seconds, and her glossy blue eyes open. She’s looking at me, confusion in her irises, as though she isn’t sure what’s happening. I turn my gaze to the bedside clock. It’s 1:04 a.m. It takes a few seconds for her puzzlement to leak into fear.

My handprints—I can see them against the column of her white throat. Her breathing is somewhat normalizing.

Sweat drips from my forehead. “I hurt you. I didn’t …” I pause, my hands rubbing against the back of my buzzed hair. “You’ll be okay. It’s happened to me before. Getting choked out, I mean. You might have a headache later, but you’ll be okay.”

She stares at me, dumbstruck, not unlike the deer I used to shoot every October.

“S-Slade?” Her voice is hoarse as her delicate hands move up to her neck. She winces, white-blonde hair twisted above her head like a wild halo.

We just met tonight. I stayed until closing, just watching her wipe down the bar top.

With a little T-shirt that shows off her midriff and red-painted nails, she bends down to grab something below the bar. The last few tired patrons leave some cash for her before walking out.

“They’re pulling out their keys.” She nods toward the door. “I’ve got a crazy good sense of hearing.”

“My younger brother, Aaron, had a keen sense of smell as a kid. Like a dog, he could sniff what the neighbor was cooking in the house next door. No joke.”

I drink more of my beer, and her heart-shaped face laughs.

“Where’s he now?”

“Who?” I polish off my drink, not wanting to speak anymore.

I want to get this woman into my bed and lose myself in her body. We’ve only met tonight, but she’s sweet and pretty. Reminds me of the girls I used to know.

“Your brother?” Light eyes squint in curiosity.

“Oh.” I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck. “He wanted to be like me. Join up. But …” I lick my lips, not finishing my sentence.

“Oh shit. Sorry.” Her gaze nervously darts to the side.

“Yeah.” I get off the stool. “Ready to go? My bike’s outside, and my place isn’t too far.”

Presumptuous of me, sure. But women are strange. They claim to want freedom, but most of them just want to be told what to do. Not that I mind. I’m a decent man, but I know what I like—to be in charge.