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“I don’t like it.”
“Which part?”
“The part where you’re unhappy.”
“Oh, Kody.” I step into him and rest my cheek against the hard, sweaty terrain of his chest. “There’s so little to be happy about right now. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but as long as we have this…” I wrap my arms around his formidable frame. “The four of us alive and together, I have a reason to keep fighting.”
A vibrating purr sounds, so low and deep it rises from the earth, winds up my legs, and hits me right between the thighs.
It’s going to be a long winter.
“Did you say I’ve been here three months?” At some point, I lost count.
“Yes.” He palms the back of my head, stroking my braids.
“When is Christmas?”
He falls still.
I inch back. “What?”
“I don’t know. We don’t…”
“No calendars. No holidays or birthdays. Just seasons of polar nights and midnight suns.” I groan. “Hoss sucks.”
“It’s a rare phenomenon.”
“What is?”
“A month of continuous night. From what I’ve read, this is one of the only places in the world where you can experience it. Unless you live in the remote Alaskan town of Utqiagvik or have a private bush plane on standby to bring you this far north, it’s something most people won’t ever witness.”
“When we get out of here, I hope to never see it again.”
“Yeah.” He kisses the top of my head. “Me, too.”
“Put some clothes on,” Wolf says in greeting as he ambles into the room. “But not you.” He flicks a finger at me. “Feel free to remove yours.”
“You good with him for a bit?” Kody asks in my ear.
“Yeah, go take your shower.”
Kody casts Wolf a warning glare.
“Stop making eyes at me, you dirty animal.” Wolf ushers him out the door. “Come on, Frankie. Let’s grab dinner.”
If we can call it that.
In the kitchen, Wolf wanders into the pantry while I portion out a can of kidney beans. An excellent plant-based source of protein, rich in minerals, vitamins, and antioxidants, but it’s not enough to feed four brawny men and a woman.
“What else is there?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Vodka,” he says from within the pantry.
“Try again.”
“There’s some hardtack in the cabinet above the fridge.”
Great.
I retrieve the container and scowl at its unsavory contents.
Hardtack wants to be a biscuit, but it’s nothing more than flour, water, and salt. Hardened into a tooth-breaking bar, it tastes like sawdust. But hey, it has a twenty-five-year shelf life. Learned that in those Foxfire survival books.
“Explain this to me.” Lifting the can of beans, I scan the nutrition label. “In all of Denver’s pillaging, why he didn’t collect things like Vitamin D3, fish oil, or multivitamins for men.”
“That shit doesn’t keep us alive.”
It would do wonders for their nutrition and longevity.
I divide our paltry dinner into five plates, wondering if graveyard dirt would have more flavor. It would certainly be more filling.
The fifth plate is what irks me the most. Sharing our rations with that sick fuck makes me want to break something, but keeping him alive means we must feed him.
I stare at the portions, move a bean here and there, until the count is equal.
This isn’t enough food. Not even close.
“Wolf?” I wait for the sound of footsteps. When it doesn’t come, I stride across the kitchen and peer into the pantry.
He sits on the floor, legs stretched before him, chugging a bottle of Kody’s vodka.
“Where did you get that? Never mind.” I grab it, trying to wrestle it from his hands.
“Don’t.” He tugs back, refusing to release it. “Let me have this one goddamn thing.”
The plea in his tortured eyes gives me pause. We stare at each other, our hands curled around the bottle. Finally, he loosens his grip, and I pull it away, bring it to my mouth, and gulp down a burning swallow.
“Take it.” I hand it back and grab a can of diced peaches off the shelf. “I’m taking this.”
“Be my guest. One less can of food means one less day on this miserable planet.”
I waver, staring at the can in my hand. “How would you spend that extra day?”
“Thinking about you.” He lets his gaze travel over my body. “Taking my cock. You’re so hot I would totally chili ring you.”
“Stop.”
“Are you really going to let me die a virgin?”
“Your virgin status is not my responsibility.”
“But you can change it.” Groaning, he adjusts his hips. “It’s your fault. This would be easier if you weren’t so damn beautiful.”
“That’s not fair. I can’t control how you feel about me.” My pulse pounds heavy in my throat. “This is making me uncomfortable. I won’t engage in any more talk about—”
“Can I at least get a rim job?”
“I said, stop.” Unease chills the base of my spine as I back out of the pantry, holding up the can. “Fuck your extra day.”
