Free Unfaded Glory by Sara Arden

anything to me,” she teased.
    â€œI’ve been up for thirty-six hours.”
    Of course he hadn’t said anything. As if it was unmanly to sleep or something. “So go to sleep.”
    â€œI’m trying, but you’re having mouthgasms with your lamb,” he said drily.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Her apology was sincere.
    â€œIt’s all right—I was only teasing. I never sleep well anyway. Insomnia.”
    â€œAfter thirty-six hours, I imagine you’d have to pass out sometime.” She thought about the pain she’d seen in his eyes. Damara would bet anything he had nightmares and that was why he didn’t want to sleep. She thought about the way he’d watched over her while she’d slept on the
Circe’s Storm.
He’d stayed awake to make sure she was safe. She could do the same for him.
    â€œNow that I’m full, I’m tired, too.” She got up from the table and made sure the door was locked, all the shades were closed and the lights were off. “Come to bed with me, Hawkins.”
    She made sure to use his last name so it wasn’t too intimate. So he didn’t think she expected or was trying to give anything more than what he wanted.
    â€œI’ll feel safer knowing you’re in bed with me,” she prodded.
    â€œI’m dirty.”
    â€œAnd I have lamb breath.” She grabbed his hand, and he hauled himself up from the chaise and followed her the short distance to the bed.
    He flopped down on the bed, shirtless, his fatigues half-unbuttoned and his feet hanging off the side. A gun had somehow managed to make its way to the nightstand.
    She studied him in the dimly lit room. His chiseled body, his scarred hands, the enticing way his fatigues looked like a half-wrapped present. Then back up to his face.
    â€œAre you going to stare or get in bed? Thought you were tired,” he grumbled.
    â€œYou really don’t ever sleep, do you?”
    â€œCertainly not when I’m being stared at. I feel like a hare being stalked by a wolf.”
    She blushed. Her comportment tutor would probably have apoplexy if she could see her now. Damara wondered if there was even protocol for this. “You’re pretty to look at. What do you want from me?”
    â€œPretty?” He cracked an eye open. “How’s that?”
    â€œNever mind. Go to sleep. I am.” She slipped under the covers and curled against him and pretended to sleep.
    â€œNo, you’re not, but I’ll let you get away with it this time.” He wrapped an arm around her and held her close.
    With his arm around her, Damara felt as if she’d been hidden away from the world at large. Nothing could find her and nothing bad could touch her.
    * * *
    B YRON H AWKINS HAD fallen asleep breathing in the scent of jasmine with a soft woman in his arms.
    He awoke with a strangled scream in his throat and a cacophony of suffering in his head.
    His team.
    His whole team.
    Christ, the way they screamed.
    And it was his fault. His fault they screamed. His fault they never came home. Barnes with his easy smile and the dog-eared picture of his three-year-old daughter. Foxworth and his dreams for a life after his service.
    â€œThere’s more to life than this, hoss.” Foxworth’s Texas twang thudded behind the noise of death.
    But there wasn’t. If Hawkins could go back and exchange himself for them, he’d do it. He never wondered what it would be like if he’d never given the order, because if it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. He knew that.
    No matter what Renner told him. All his talk about PTSD, and therapy... He didn’t have PTSD. He was just born bad, and he knew it.
    Gentle fingers cupped his cheek. “Are you okay?” she murmured.
    He looked down at her, eyes half-lidded and sleepy but concern plain on her face. “Fine. Go back to sleep.”
    Somehow it was more horrible because she was