14. Emily

14

This feeling of being safe and secure is something I could get used to if it were real. I haven’t felt this way since the dead rose. I must still be dreaming, because there’s no way I’m wrapped up in someone else’s arms. Unless Zoey got tired of sleeping alone and climbed into my bed again.

Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe the dead didn’t rise, and I wasn’t held hostage by three insanely strong and good-looking guys who risked their lives by going into a dreg’s hideout for me, for a friend of mine, someone they’d never met.

Fingertips brush against my belly. My bare belly beneath my shirt. Someone’s face rubs against the back of my neck. That’s not Zoey.

My eyes pop open. I see the inside of Griffin’s tent, filled with various weapons laid out around us. Either I’m still dreaming, or it was never a dream.

Deep-seated grief washes over me and I take a moment to compose myself while all the memories rush through me. The loss. The betrayal. The endless pain. Waking up in a trunk and then being handcuffed. Our moments before falling asleep. Why did I ask him all of those questions? It feels too personal now. Personal enough for his hand to be underneath my shirt. Not that I hate it.

Then there’s the kindness. The sacrifices. The scarce food they shared with me. My racing heart calms down. I’m disappointed it wasn’t a dream, but also relieved. I don’t understand why anyone would be relieved to wake up in a world like this, but here I am. Maybe I’m a little fucked up after all.

My body radiates with warmth, and I recognize that most of it is because of the proximity of the breathing furnace wrapped around me. I can’t decide what to do. On the one hand, I want to get up and start the day so we can get started traveling and continue the search. Wake everyone up. Maybe even be a little too noisy about it and draw in some rotters, so we’re forced to get moving. But on the other hand, I’m comfortable and I don’t want to leave. In fact, I want even more. I’m enjoying being in Griffin’s arms.

Too bad that thought is ruined when I think about Max’s kiss last night, and then the hurt when Max told me not to go to his tent after. I’m so conflicted. How can I have these sorts of feelings for more than one of them?

Griffin’s thumb brushes over my nipple, which is quickly hardening into a peak. His palm slides up my rids and squeezes my breast, and I let out a slight hum. Yes, this is nice. Maybe I’ll stay here. Only for a little while. I move a little so that his hand can brush over my nipple again.

His words come out groggy when he speaks. “I badly want to move my hand lower, and I think you might want that, too, princess.”

Mortified, I leap up. My head barely touches the top of the tent. Griffin sits up, his shirt off and his muscled torso on full display. The blanket slides down to reveal he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. I can tell how thin and worn the fabric is when I see his dick straining against it.

“What happened, and why aren’t you wearing a shirt? And where are your pants?”

“You had a nightmare that only stopped when I cuddled, but you were too hot, so I had to take off my shirt because I couldn’t let go of you without you whimpering again.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“You’re cute when you turn red, but don’t be embarrassed.”

My brain short circuits. I hate him. But also I don’t. But also I do. Maybe I don’t?

I open my mouth but nothing comes out, so I do the only logical thing that I could do in a moment like this. I run away. I shoot out of the tent so fast that I barely notice anyone else is out here.

“Good morning,” William calls out from where he’s stoking the fire. “Where are you headed?”

“Gotta pee.” I barely get out before sprinting away, ignoring the pain of the pebbles and twigs beneath my bare feet. I curse myself for not sleeping in my shoes. That’s going to be a habit I need to break. From now on, shoes are on feet at all times. No exceptions.

I find myself lost in a thick of trees and stop to catch my breath. It’s so quiet out here. No one followed me. I can’t decide if I’m relieved by that or disappointed.

What was that back there? Griffin was so different, protecting me in my sleep this morning and how he opened up last night. I saw a side to him that I didn’t want to stab in the eye. Which makes it even more confusing. Those three amazing men back there are closer than anyone I’ve ever met. What is wrong with me?

Not to mention, what would Griffin do if he found out I belong to a colony that he so desperately wants to be a part of more than anything? And I’m forced to keep that information from him. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I press my palm against a tree and bend over. Nope, guess I’m not.

Still, no one comes after me. It’s almost flattering how trusting they are that I won’t run off. Not that I can go too far without shoes. Or Buddy. I’m never leaving that big pupper. He’s probably been through more than I have.

My bladder protests. Realizing that I wasn’t lying to William after all, I find a spot and prepare to squat. The sound of someone following me has me turning around and I let out a shriek when I see a one-armed rotter stumbling toward me over upraised roots. It pisses me off a little that he’s having an easier time walking through here with decomposing feet than I am without shoes.

Reaching for my weapon, panic runs over me when I realize it’s not there. My weapons are still sprawled out in Griffin’s tent, which I was supposed to grab when waking up. Although, the fact that I felt comfortable enough to disarm around him while I slept is the most shocking right now.

The rotter stumbles closer. I look around, but there isn’t anything to help me. I could poke it with a stick, but that’s not strong enough to do what needs to be done.

The pants that William lent me for the night fall down over my hips with how oversized they are for me. Getting an idea, I step out of them and grab each foot hole, wrapping it around the rotters’ neck and twisting until the head is severed and then drop it to the ground in triumph, which is short-lived when another one stumbles through. I don’t have the strength to keep repeating it over and over again. There has to be another option.

Deciding I’ll outrun it, I turn around, but am met with two more rotters moving even more quickly than the first. I grab a large rock at my feet and lunge it at them, but it bounces off one of their heads and doesn’t slow them down in the slightest.

They’re closing in on me. My chance for a quick getaway is gone, so I do the only thing I can think of right now. I turn around and climb the tree. Dead fingers snap when they grab at my foot and I kick them back, pulling myself up to the second branch and out of their reach.

The only thing I can do now is sit and wait. Maybe they’ll give up on me and chase after a squirrel that runs by.

I don’t know how much time passes, but my bladder wants me to get down. It’s impatient, and it’s starting to hurt. “Come on, go away already,” I mumble, but of course, the rotters don’t listen. I’m the only thing on their breakfast menu. Another rotter joins them until there are four of them snarling and hissing and snapping their jaws at me. One of them loses another tooth, it just falls out.

“You know what, fine, have it your way.” It’s not an easy feat, but I maneuver on the thick branch enough to relieve myself. I don’t aim for anything. I merely let gravity be in charge. I’m pulling my underwear back up when I hear a snap of twigs nearby. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’m not even enough to satisfy the four of you, let alone a horde.”

I lower my head and squeeze my eyes shut. This can’t be happening. Never have I been without a weapon on me. I’ve been caught in some shitty situations, but I’ve never been this helpless. Imagining rotters piling up below, climbing on top of each other to get up the tree, doesn’t help. I can keep climbing, and I’ll keep climbing for as long as I can. But for now, I need to breathe. Well, not too deeply. The stench rising to me is almost unbearable. It’s something I can tolerate for now, but that still might end up killing me before they can get to me.

Sounds happen below me and I keep my eyes shut, not wanting to see how many rotters have congregated to the one-woman buffet. Instead, I focus on trying to control my breathing.

“Emily?”

My eyes snap open and I look at William down below, standing there looking up at me with his face twisted in confusion and looking like an avenging angel. I think he even has a halo shining over his head. “William?”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Oh, you know, just thought it was a lovely morning to climb a tree.”

“Emily.”

I motion to the dismembered rotters strewn around his feet.

“Are you okay?” His voice is stern and laced with concern.

“I’m fine. I was cornered and couldn’t outrun them.”

He looks around on the ground. “Did you drop your weapon?”

“I forgot to grab it.”

His head snaps back up to me, his eyes narrow.

“I know, I know, it was stupid. Believe me, it won’t happen again.” I go to move off the branch I’m sitting on, but when my feet touch the branch below, it snaps off and lands on the ground with a loud thump. “Shit, sorry.” I glance down and am relieved to see that William managed to jump out of the way in time.

“Let go, Emily. I’ll catch you.”

I’m dangling from the branch high enough to know that if I land wrong, I could really hurt one of us. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me, Emily. I’ve got you. Trust me.”

Trust him, he says. I want to laugh. The crazy thing is that I’m starting to trust all three of them. “Okay, here I go. One, two—” the bark I’m holding onto detaches from the branch and I fall with a scream.

My arms land around his neck and my legs wrap around his waist. He catches me with ease, his arms wrapping around my back, holding me against his hard, broad chest.

“See,” he says, grinning down at me, “told you I’d catch you.”

“Thanks. Seriously, thank you. I wasn’t sure how long I would be trapped up there for.”

Covering my head, he jumps to the side and the branch I was dangling from moments ago thumps to the ground where he was standing. “Not much longer, I would say.”

“Oh, man.” I bury my face against his neck, his warm neck. I can feel the gentle thrum of his pulse against my cheek. It gradually speeds up. I can’t believe how close I came to joining the rotters. If William hadn’t come looking for me when he did…I rub my face against his throat, trying to push the thought away. He rubs small circles along my back with his thumb.

“I got you, Emily. I wouldn’t ever let you get hurt.”

“Thank you,” I say, but my voice comes out meek.

When I pull my face back, embarrassed, I can barely see him through the curtain of tousled brown hair. He chuckles before setting me down on my feet. I don’t complain when the tiny rocks and twigs dig into the skin. He raises one hand and pushes the hair back until I can see him clearly again. “That’s better.”

I pull my hair back and stuff it into the hair tie I keep on my wrist. “Much better.”

William looks down at my feet and frowns. “Where are your shoes?”

“Left them in the tent.”

“You must have really had to use the bathroom.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll keep watch while you do your business, then we can head back.” He looks around. Then, determining it’s safe, he walks a few feet away and turns his back.

“Um…I already went.”

“Before you were cornered?”

“Well…during.”

He glances at me over his shoulder with a look of disbelief. “You’re not joking?”

I roll my eyes. “I can announce it in the newspaper if you want. I know that’s front page news. Wait…why are you more worried about my shoes than my pants?”

He grins. “Well, considering the pants are wrapped around a rotter’s decapitated neck, I think I have a pretty good guess what happened. Though, I’m sorry I missed it.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Let’s get out of here, please.” I take a step and then wince.

William curses. “You’re not walking all the way back like that. Here.” He steps up to me and lifts me up so my legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck like before. We’re eye level now, and I lick the dryness of my lips and notice how his eyes dart down at the motion before meeting my gaze again.

“You can’t carry me all the way back to camp like this. What if more rotters show up?”

“I’ll fight better with you wrapped around me.”

“Use me as shield, you mean?”

He starts walking. “Absolutely not. Like I told you. I’ve got you, Emily.”

The man kneeling before me has me mesmerized. When we got back to the campsite, William had me sit down on a log while he inspected my feet. After grabbing my old pair of shorts, he’s been cleaning away the dirt they accumulated and inspecting the minor cuts and scrapes. It’s nothing serious, and he doesn’t seem concerned, but no one has ever been this focused on such a minor injury of mine before. I wouldn’t even count it as an injury, but apparently tiny cuts from the little rocks count according to him.

He’s incredibly attentive, and I could sit here all day admiring him while he works to make me feel better. The first aid kit lies open next to him while he applies ointment all over my feet before putting on my socks and then my shoes. I never want to take these shoes off again. I’ve learned the hard way what can happen.

Griffin strolls back into the campsite carrying a rabbit and a bowl of berries. He’s shirtless, with a fresh bandage on his thigh poking out from beneath his shorts, and a pang of guilt runs through me. His gaze finds me in an instant, as though he searched for me, and then zeroes in on William putting on my shoes for me. “What happened?”

“I forgot to grab my weapons when I ran out to the bathroom. And shoes, too. Got cornered by some rotters, William took care of them, and now he’s taking care of me because the ground here isn’t too friendly for bare feet,” I rush to explain while heat creeps over my cheeks.

“Don’t forget to mention the part where you took off your pants to decapitate a rotter. I don’t get all the credit for taking care of them,” William adds, turning the small fire in my cheeks into raging lava.

Griffin nods and then gets to work, preparing breakfast without a response. I don’t know what I expected his response to be, but I thought it might be…something. Anything. William glances oddly at him, but he doesn’t pry. I’m beginning to think these men can communicate telepathically. They always seem to read each other’s minds without saying a word. I don’t know how concerned I should be.

“There, good as new.” William sits back, his pale blue eyes sparkling in the early morning sun when he grins up at me.

“I’m never taking these off again,” I say.

A zipper opens, and Max emerges from his tent. He spots me in an instant. Then, as though drawn to me, he’s towering over us before I realize he’s even moved, his voice low and demanding when he speaks, his gaze zeroing in on my feet. “What happened?”

“Found her up a tree surrounded by rotters,” William replies, packing up the first aid kit. He doesn’t seem to notice the intense look in Max’s vibrant green eyes, or the swirl of darkness that passes through them. Okay, maybe I was wrong about the telepathy thing. Maybe they’re still only human after all.

“Why didn’t she just kill them?”

“I forgot to grab a knife,” I reply lamely.

“She still decapitated one with her pants,” William adds. I think he’s going to be happy telling that part of the story to everyone we come across.

Max goes silent and a chill washes through the air. Even William glances up and eyes him curiously before Max turns around and disappears back into his tent. When he reemerges, his gaze is even more intense and locked on me. I freeze in place, watching him move like a ghost toward me. Before I know it, he’s lifting my shirt. I’m caught by such surprise that I merely sit there instead of batting his hand away, but then he hooks his fingers around the fabric of my bra. I’m about to bite him when I realize it’s a small holster with a knife in it.

“I’ve been working on it for you and finally finished it last night. I had to work through the night to get it done, but I wanted to give it to you as a surprise.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me in your tent?” I whisper. I’m vaguely aware that William is watching this exchange with curiosity. I don’t know what he thinks. Heck, I don’t even know what I think. I’m beginning to realize that I don’t know anything anymore.

Max’s lips quirk up in a slanted smile. “Absolutely. It’s not a surprise if you watch me do it.”

“Could’ve given me a warning. I thought you were trying to feel me up just now.”

“If I was going to feel you up, believe me, there would be no room for doubt.”

My fingers brush against the holster before pulling out the knife and admiring it. It’s imperfect, which makes it absolutely perfect. The ridges, the smooth metal, the way the sunlight glints off the edge, revealing the sharpness. “You made this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, pet. Wielding weapons isn’t the only thing I enjoy. Making them is almost as much fun.” He pulls out something else I didn’t realize he was holding and puts it over my head so it drops against my collarbone, falling down to rest right above my breasts.

Returning the knife to the holster and dropping my shirt down, I finger the small object before unclasping it and pulling it from the small sheath, and glance back up at him.

Max’s knuckles glide against the smooth skin of my neck while he traces the leather cord, a look of pride in his expression. “I never want you to be without a weapon again.” Then he mumbles something about now needing to make permanent shoes for me next, before walking off. I glance back at William and see him watching Max’s retreating form with the utmost curiosity.

“He makes weapons?” I ask.

“Before the dead rose, he invested his life in survivalist skills and anything sharp and pointy. Making weapons was his way of coping. Except, he’s only ever made them for me and Griffin.”

The knives look sharp, but I can’t help but wonder exactly how much. The knives I’ve had in the past were dull and I’d have to put substantial force behind them in order to kill a rotter. Holding the one from my new bra holster up to the sun with the rays flying off the smooth, pointed metal, I raise my free hand and touch my thumb to the tip.

I hiss out in pain and pull my hand away, but it gets caught in something. Someone else’s hand. With a squeal, I try to jump back, but Max holds on so I can’t. His head tilts to the side, and he watches a single drop of blood fall from the fresh wound. “What are you doing to yourself?”

“Oh, um, I wanted to see how sharp these are.”

His green eyes rise to meet mine. They’re so stunning and vibrant that I almost forget to breathe. “I would never give you a dull blade, pet.” He snaps his fingers. “In fact, I have something else for you.”

He pulls something out and I recognize it as my knife, the one that he was turning into the dirt the day I jumped out of the trunk. “My knife.”

“Mr. Pointy is now all sharp and pointy and ready for action.” We swap knives and I wrap my free hand around the familiar handle. The blade glints in the sunlight in a way that it never has before.

When I try to switch hands, I realize he’s still holding onto my wrist and the drop of blood is now falling down my thumb. “Um, can I have that back?”

Without breaking eye contact, he lifts my hand up to his mouth and pulls my thumb in between his lips, licking the blood and sucking away the sting of the cut. My heart beats harder at the intense look he’s giving me. When he frees my thumb and grins, there are spots of red staining his teeth. “Have you always been this way?”

“Only since my brother left me for dead, surrounded by rotters.”

I frown. “Wait, what? Your own brother?”

“The only family I had left until Griffin eventually found me. I almost slit his throat simply because I could. The stubborn bastard refused to give up on me, though, so now here I am wondering why I haven’t scared you away yet when I terrify everyone else I come across.”

“I don’t think you’re all that scary. A little unhinged, but not scary.”

“That’s because you haven’t crossed me yet.”

“Yet?”

He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe the knife clean. It’s almost impossible to tell where he wiped the blood off on the all black fabric. “It’s what people do. They betray each other to save their own asses.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve been trying to leave them since day one. Not to save myself, though, but to save someone else. “How did you survive?”

Once he deems the knife clean enough, he holds it up to the sun. It looks as brand new as it did before I sullied it. Then he lifts my shirt and returns it into the holster and pulls my shirt down before I can even react, smoothing down the fabric as though I’m a dress up doll. “I did so by using my weapons to fight my way through the hundred or more rotters. Turns out I’m much harder to kill than my brother thought. I’m sure I’ll give him quite the surprise to still be alive if I ever see him again.”

“Do you want to? See him again, I mean.”

He chuckles and, having finished fixing my shirt, he rests his hands on my hips, holding me in place. “I would love to return the favor. He’s the reason I’m ‘slightly unhinged’. I believe that’s the phrase you used.”

My cheeks flush and I lower my gaze.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

He moves one hand underneath my chin to tilt my head up and look at him again, his green eyes blazing. “Apologize. Never apologize for things you say and do. You’ll never please everyone, you’ll only drive yourself insane trying to. I don’t care what you say about me, as long as you’re being yourself.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Nobody should have to experience their own family turning on them like that.”

“It’s for the best. It helped me see who I can trust.”

“Can you trust me?”

He raises one hand to cup my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. His voice lowers to a near whisper. “I don’t know yet. I don’t want to, but you make it so hard to stay away.”