I shook my head hard. It was just a memory. But that didn’t matter. When the light turned green again, I revved the engine and shot the vehicle through the intersection and pulled into a no-parking zone. I smashed the hazard triangle before leaping out of the car.
My right side was numb.
I hobbled to the hood and ground my bare fist into the metal. “Get a fecking grip!”
No matter how I ordered myself, I was still so fucking weak. Squeezing my eyes closed, I breathed. Hard. Oxygen brokethrough the dam in my mind, sending a cooling burst of clarity. It took another five minutes, but by the time my vision no longer tunneled, the panic left me shaky.
Thankfully, I was alone. My crew couldn’t see their new king like this. I fisted my right bicep, trying to bring some feeling to the muscles. These attacks weren’t frequent, but when they hit, they were damning.
“I’ll get over it,” I hissed. “I have to.”
I snuck into the house and stood for five minutes at the crack in the pocket door. The bleeding pup was snoozing in Gabriella’s lap, oblivious to the threat. A fierce wolfhound, that one. I doubted any training would hone the wee beasty’s natural instinct.
Sliding the door into the wall, I stepped inside. Neither my wife nor our dog looked up. Not until I walked behind the couch and leaned down.
As my gloved hand settled around her throat, Gabriella gasped, shooting to the side in fear. The moment those warm brown eyes registered that it was me, she relaxed a fraction. The amber flecks danced.
My thumb stroked her wildly beating pulse. Delicate, yet able to face the strongest winds.
A little bird.
So fecking beautiful.
With my gloved hand, I plucked the book from her fingers. “It’s time to go.”
Storm shot up, baring at me, but his tail wagged excitedly against the sofa.
“Where?” Gabriella countered my command. The muscles of her throat shifted under my fingers, sending a delicious pulse straight to my dick. “I just put my jammies on.”
I leaned down. “Does it matter?”
She rolled her eyes. My fingers tightened reflexively.
A challenge flashed through those whiskey depths. Jaysus, this woman…. My cock twitched hard just looking at her. She was a fighter, through and through.
How did I get so fucking lucky?
“It matters,” Gabriella grit out, “because I need to know what to wear.”
My thumb brushed harder against her pulse. The rapid patter did things to me. It twisted and pulled at the black lump in my own chest.
“Does my hand around your neck turn you on, little bird?” I rumbled, leaning down until our noses almost touched.
Gabriella glared at me. As if this was a waste of time, and I was a lunatic.
I was.
Sooner or later, she would realize I was mad for her. Nothing in this life was going to take her from me.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I pressed harder on her pulse, proving to both of us that she was just as crazy. That a psychopath like me turned her the fuck on, and she couldn’t hide from the truth. “Go, put on a pretty dress or something equally as fine.”
“Fine?” she drawled.
I released my hold, drawing my knuckles across her jaw. “Fit for a queen.”
Gabriella didn’t jerk away. No…. Sheleanedinto my touch.
I dropped my hand to my side and straightened, suddenly overwhelmed with something—something I couldn’t name.
