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EMILY
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.
