Free Soldier's Choice by Morgan Blaze

for a long time, as if he could memorize every inch of her face and body to keep with him when she was gone.
    He knew he couldn’t have forever. Whatever dark seed had been planted in his father, it had taken time to cultivate, to grow into the evil that eventually burst out and turned on those who were closest to him. And since Reese ended up following in his footsteps, the same fate was probably in store for him.
    He was determined to be alone when that happened.
    An hour dragged by before he finally decided to get up. He disentangled himself gently from Luka, making sure she was still asleep, then slipped into a pair of shorts and headed for the kitchen. There, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and tossed back a shot.
    It would’ve been easy to keep going, to drink straight from the bottle until he collapsed. But passing out wasn’t sleeping. He’d still be just as exhausted—and as a bonus, he’d feel like shit too. So he put it back on the shelf.
    Just as he closed the cabinet, a voice said, “You weren’t kidding about the sixties explosion.”
    He turned to see Luka in the doorway, wearing nothing but panties and a shirt. His cock immediately stirred, and he was glad it hadn’t recovered enough to rise fully to the occasion. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry I woke you.”
    “It’s all right. I’ve always been a light sleeper.” She took a step forward and stopped. “Mind if I come in? That is, if you weren’t heading out.”
    “No, I think I’m up for a while,” he said. “Come on in, if you can stand it.”
    She grinned and sat down at the kitchen table. “Did they steal this from a diner? It’s kind of…truck stop retro.”
    “You don’t think it goes great with the floral linoleum?”
    “Yeah, and the fridge from the Great Depression,” she said. “Does that thing even have a freezer?”
    “Sort of.” He opened it and showed her the frost-caked square of plastic at the top. “It’s an icebox. And that’s about all it’s got room for, too.”
    “Wow. No wonder the Wards ate out all the time.”
    Reese closed the fridge and wandered over to the sink, suddenly at a loss for words. Not that he couldn’t talk to Luka. But having her in his house, dressed in practically nothing and making herself at home, was beautiful and painful at once. He wanted this to be normal. An everyday miracle.
    “Reese?” Luka said softly. “Can we…talk about something?”
    His heart wrenched. He turned to face her, and she must have read the misery in his eyes, because she said, “Still friends. Okay?”
    Somehow, that hurt more. But he tucked the pain away and sat down across from her. “Still friends,” he said. “All right, then. What is it?”
    She drew a deep breath and folded her hands on the table. “I have to ask you something, and you’re probably not going to like it,” she said. “But I need to know the truth. Can you give that to me?”
    He swallowed. “I hope so.”
    “Me, too.” She lifted her gaze to him, and her green eyes glittered as she struggled for words. “The day you broke up with me, before you left…what really happened?”
    He closed his eyes as the memories washed over him. He’d never told anyone about his father—all through school he’d hidden the bruises, cutting classes when the damage was too bad to hide and making up excuses the few times anyone had asked. Like the cabinet story he’d told her. But maybe if he explained this, she’d understand why they could only be friends.
    The fear and anticipation in her face burned him, and he almost couldn’t speak. Finally, he decided to just get it over with. “I didn’t walk into a cabinet,” he said. “Guess you already knew that, though.”
    Her jaw clenched. “It was my brothers, wasn’t it?”
    “No!” The surprise that bled through the word might’ve been funny under other circumstances. “They ribbed me a couple of times, especially Mark. But they never touched me.”
    “So…what