Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2)(78)

“I can sleep anywhere. I don’t have a side.”

That sounded like absurd talk to Katrina, but she supposed there were some humans in the world who didn’t care what side of the bed they slept on. She craned her neck to look at him. “Are you okay with this position? Do you usually sleep on your side?”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m okay with it.” He tugged her close. “I’m tired, Katrina.”

The rebuke was as gentle as it could be, but she got the hint. “Okay, right. Good night.”

“Night.” In a matter of seconds, his breathing deepened and grew heavy.

She stared out into the darkness of the night, stroking her hand over his. In the history of the world, had any woman ever complained about having a partner who was too selfless?

Probably not. Despite that lingering sense of anxiety, she closed her eyes and did what she’d learned to do so well. She fell asleep with her breath matched to his, the heat of his body seeping into hers.





Chapter Twenty-Four


THERE WAS SO much noise, and the sharp taste of sweat and metallic fear in his mouth. He wanted to leave, but he was pinned, cursed to witness the same horrific sequence of events again and again.

Hands on his chest held him down. He had to get away.

He lashed out, kicking and swatting, and it was only when he heard a grunt that his eyes flew open.

He expected to see McGuire’s deceptively boyish round face over his, but that wasn’t the case. Katrina was on her knees next to him, eyes wide.

The bed. The room. He was in the little house, and Katrina was with him.

“Oh God.” Jas sat up and grasped her hands. They were cold in his, which didn’t bode well. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all. I shouldn’t have tried to shake you awake. Are you okay?”

He looked around the room, his grandparents’ old master bedroom. The climate was cool here, not hot or arid. Nothing smelled like blood. “Yes.”

“Let me get you some water.”

“That’s okay.”

But she was already clambering out of bed before he could finish speaking. He rubbed his knee through the blanket, but stopped when she came back from the bathroom.

She turned the light on the nightstand on, and sat on the bed next to him. “Does your leg hurt?”

Couldn’t get much past her. “No. Thank you.” He accepted the glass of tap water.

“You were rubbing it.”

“Sometimes it aches when it’s cold out.” Or when he had this dream, where he was shoved back into that horrific night.

“Can I see?”

He didn’t want to show her, but he couldn’t deny her anything, so he shrugged. She flipped the quilt, shoved his sweatpants up, and examined his naked leg.

“It’s ugly,” he said gruffly.

She traced the scars with a feather-light touch. “No, it’s just you.”

He made a deep noise in his throat, and drained the rest of the water.

“Is that what you dream about? This injury?”

Jas shook his head. Then he nodded. Then shook his head again.

The door widened and Doodle came padding into the room. The animal put her paws on the bed and hopped up, shoving Katrina aside to plop on Jas’s chest. Katrina chuckled. “She seems to really be warming up to you.”

“I snuck her scraps at the table.” Jas scratched the dog’s head and let some of his fear and sadness seep into each stroke. “Most animals aren’t so receptive.”

“Why do you think they don’t like you? Are you a werewolf?”

The unexpectedly silly question made him smile. “Do animals not like werewolves?”

“So I’ve heard. I also assume werewolves are taciturn and have perfect eyebrows.”

He squinted at her. “Perfect eyebrows, eh?”

“Beyond perfect.”

He shouldn’t feel so happy over such an odd compliment, but it was still a compliment, so he’d take it. “I don’t know why animals tend to be, at best, indifferent to me.” He scratched Doodle’s neck. “It used to make me feel bad, but I learned to get over it.”

“Why did it make you feel bad?”

“Animals are excellent judges of character, aren’t they?”

She side-eyed him. “Or they’re animals, and somewhat fickle and unreasonable?”

His smile was faint. Doodle hummed and scooted closer to him. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“Can you tell me about your dream, Jas?”

He hesitated, that same warring urge rising inside of him. He wanted that euphoria of unburdening himself, but he also wanted to bury it deep. To compromise, he switched into as robotic a tone as he could manage, eager to get through this with as few emotions as possible. “I led my infantry platoon. There was a bomb, a roadside explosion that killed two of my men. We got a tip about this guy who they said was the weapons supplier for the cell that placed and detonated the IED. Our superiors questioned him for two weeks before letting him go. There was no proof he was connected at all.” Jas had looked at the Draft Intelligence Information Report later. The suspect had been a civilian, by all accounts a quiet villager who lived with his mother and daughter. There had been nothing to tie him to the crime except a rumor.