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18

Sage

Thechillatmyback sent a shiver through me. I tugged the duvet to my chin and nuzzled into the delicious-smelling warm body at my front.

Wait.The what?

My eyes shot open. In the early morning glow, I took in the muscular planes of Brandon’s bare torso. There was little else to look at since my cheek was smooshed against his firm pec. In the next microsecond, I realized two things. One, my limbs were sprawled across him, greedy for his body heat. And two, lying with Brandon felt like pure bliss. Mortified bliss, but heaven, nonetheless.

I jerked back and sat up, then tore my palm from his tanned, taut chest as if it’d been resting on a red-hot grill.

Brandon’s lips twitched when our eyes met. Both his hands rested behind his head, no doubt so he could remain completely blameless.

I glanced at the empty expanse of bed where I should’ve been.

“Good morning.” His voice rumbled through the quiet room.

I shimmied to the other side of the bed and brushed my wild hair from my face. “I…I don’t know how that happened. Did I wake you?”

He smirked. “You did.”

It was still early, judging by the dull light peeking between the curtains. “I’m sorry.”

“Sage.” He pointed to his jaw. “This isn’t my unhappy face.”

If my cheeks got any hotter, they’d burst into flames.

How had I ended up there? I wasn’t a snuggler. Not that I made a habit of letting guys sleep in my bed.

“You were having a bad dream,” Brandon said, as if reading my thoughts. “You cried out and started thrashing around as if bugs were crawling all over you. Scared the crap out of me. I reached across to wake you, except you clung to my arm like you’d never give it back. Then you fell asleep again just as fast.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “Was it about the shoot-out?”

Bile rose up my throat as images from the dream replayed in my mind. My recurring nightmare was always vivid, and last night’s had played out differently. Instead of the shooter in the clown mask taking aim at Kieran, he had Brandon in his sights. Only the weapon never fired. The dream had somehow just…ended. Normally I’d wake terrified in a pool of sweat thinking it was blood, but that hadn’t happened. Now I understood why.

“No,” I replied and tugged the duvet higher. “I mean, I don’t remember what it was about.”

“That’s lucky. It didn’t seem very pleasant.” Brandon’s assessing gaze told me he saw through my lie. He sat up and rested his back against the headboard. “Do you want to talk about what happened at Vixens? It’s true what they say. You always remember your first kill.”

I swallowed deeply. “The first guy I shot was Carlos…I don’t know his last name. But I know he raped Christina when he drove her home from the club one night. She warned me to stay away from him. I don’t feel bad about taking him out.”

Brandon tipped his head. “Good. You shouldn’t.”

I pulled my knees up and tucked them to my chest. “I don’t remember the order of the rest. It was kind of a blur after that. I know I should be traumatized, right? That would be the normal response. Is there something wrong with me?”

All I knew was those men would’ve killed me if I hadn’t gotten them first. Every one of them had committed unspeakable crimes and terrorized innocent people. I was distressed about the shoot-out and had probably been in shock immediately after. But I didn’t feel guilty about what I’d done, nor would I waste time lamenting the shortened lifespans of those assholes. They’d had it coming.

“There’s no right or wrong way to react. For some, the effects of trauma can be delayed. Others are more mentally capable of processing these things. Maybe that’s you.” Brandon held my stare. “But if you have flashbacks or any related anxiety, let me know, all right? I have enough experience in that area to help you through it.”

I nodded, too afraid to use words in case they sounded thick with emotion. This side of Brandon was…sweet. Thoughtful. A foolish part of me wanted to crawl to him, curl my arms around his neck, and thank him for his kindness. I knew what Brandon would do. He’d wrap me in his warm embrace and surround me with his comforting, spicy scent. He’d be a good hugger. Damn him for making me think about that.

Brandon propped his hands behind his head again. The position made his biceps stand out. He grinned when he caught me staring. “Did you know that when you’re in a deep sleep you make these cute little snoring sounds?”

Hallelujah. My smart-ass neighbor was back.

“What?” I scoffed. “I don’t snore.”