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Thankfully, I won’t have to hear her complain because I’m taken to a military-grade command tent, where I will sleep, plan, and take my meals over the next few days.
I have Amber rooming with me. I tell myself it’s to keep her safe from those who might take her, but the truth is, my head is fucked up.
Ever since landing, he’s been dead quiet, obeying commands issued to her without complaint.
I hate the way I am around her. How I struggle to maintain control. She gets under my skin in a way I’m not used to, driving me mad with anger and lust so powerful, it makes me want to throttle her.
And no, I’ve never been a wife beater or anything of the sort. I knocked a man in my platoon cold after I found out he gave his girlfriend a black eye, and it only stopped there because three men pulled me off of him.
But Amber isn’t some sweet, innocent girl struggling to get through the apocalypse. She’s made her allegiances clear. She’s the enemy.
By trading her, it could solidify my alliance with Russ’s people. They are still a little salty with how much we took from the farm, but they know we’re not savages, and without friends, all you’re left with are enemies.
A week ago, this transaction would be a no-brainer, but the last twenty-four hours have done a number on my typically rational brain.
Biology fucks everything up, and I’m not just referring to the dead rising. Since the dawn of humanity, men have done dumb shit for pussy. It’ll cloud your senses. Make you go fucking insane.
And Amber is worth going crazy over. My dick throbs in agony just thinking about forcing her legs open and fucking her raw. I want her to fight me.
I want to destroy her.
I wasn’t always like this, though. I had a heart. A soul.
“God, he’s gotten so big!” I scoop Henry up and plant a raspberry on his cheek.
My mother forces a smile. “He certainly has.”
“Where’s Carol?”
Her mouth forms a straight line. “She had a headache.”
The joy of my homecoming recedes slightly, but seeing the smile on Henry’s face sets my mood right.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” ma says.
“Can it wait?”
“I’m heading back home tomorrow, so no, it can’t.”
I throw my deployment bags in the back of the car, buckle Henry in, and take a seat behind the wheel.
“Lay it on me.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd Henry was born two months early?”
“Women give birth prematurely all the time.”
“To premature babies. Henry was eight pounds.”
Amber grumbles, pulling me from my thoughts, and I look over to see she’s shifting oddly.
Taking pity on her, I pull the bag off her head and ask, “What is it?”
“I have an itch.”
Just looking at her, I realize I do too. One I’m all too eager to scratch.
“Where?”
