Meredistressandpaniccouldn’t describe her emotional response, not unless she redefined the words. Not unless they encompassed a riptide of gut-wrenching terror, twisting and yanking at her as she flailed helplessly, sucking her deep where she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but drown in her own fear and devastation.
She hadn’t experienced anything even remotely comparable in a long, long time. Twenty years, to be exact. And no amount of denial could fully hide the significance of that, despite how inconvenient her emotions were or how ill-fated her connection to him might be.
The unbroken stretches of her heart were no longer entirely her own.
Her instincts told her to run like hells. She even had a great excuse for leaving: The sooner someone alerted the witch and began putting together a zombie-containment force of Zone inhabitants, the better, right? And Edie could definitely find her, even without a trail-sniffing vampire or the internet. Almost certainly. Somehow.
So she could take her car and drive away right now. She could force a rupture in the ever-strengthening tether that connected the two of them. She could leave Max to his healing and pretend she was being noble and mission-focused.
But she couldn’t lie to herself. Fleeing wouldn’t be noble. It would be cowardly. The act of a woman unwilling to risk further agony and grief. And honestly, leaving wasn’t even a real possibility, because he was unconscious and vulnerable, and when he woke up, he might need her. He might be too weak to reach his blood packs, given how much of his own blood he’d lost. He might go feral or starve in her absence. If she were confronted by another stray zombie and died, who would help him? Who would even know he was down here, much less understand how to breach his security measures and reach him in time?
He trusted her.Her. A human woman with tangled, rarely brushed hair, stained coveralls, and a weakness for preservative-laden foodstuffs.
How could she just abandon him?
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
While he slept, she’d take a brief nap of her own. She’d get her shit together. She’d muster the courage she needed for the fight ahead and a future she could no longer predict.
When he woke up, she’d help him and let him help her. Thattether between them would probably keep strengthening, and if it broke, she wouldn’t be the reason why.
Come what may, she’d stay by his side. From now until…
Well, she hoped the end wouldn’t be bitter. But if it was, so be it. Some things were important enough to justify any risk.
Even a mere human could see that.
***
According to Maxi’ssecurity cameras, the sun had just dipped below the horizon when he woke again. From her comfortable little blanket-wrapped nest on his library sofa, she watched him blink in sleepy confusion for a few seconds before his gaze sharpened. Prodding at his neck, he gave a small, pleased nod.
Other than his continuing paleness, he looked good. Alert. Strong. Gratifyingly non-perforated. She let herself appreciate the sight in silence as she chewed.
Abruptly, his look of satisfaction darkened into a ferocious scowl. He sat up in a single swift motion, and the duvet she’d draped over him fell to his waist. He impatiently shoved it aside and leapt to his feet, his narrow-eyed gaze searching the room.
Then he spotted her. Her mouth still full, she raised her free hand and wiggled her fingers in a welcoming wave.
Letting out a relieved breath, he thumped back onto the rug. “There you are, human.”
“Here I am,” she confirmed after swallowing.
He scrubbed his palms over his face. “I thought you might have gone up to the surface to get your duffel. If you’d met another stray while you were alone…” His throat shifted as he swallowed hard. “Anyway. You were wise to wait. I can accompany you.”
Discreetly, she tucked the can by her hip beneath the blanket, along with her fork. “Yep. Super wise. That’s me.”
“What time is it?”
He began testing the recovery of his various muscle groups. His broad shoulders bunched and released, swiftly followed by his biceps and triceps, then his pecs, and her mouth promptly went drier than even a meal of not-falafel could explain.
“Right about dusk.” Dammit, she was thirsty. But if she got out her juice box—
“So it’s too late to find the witch tonight.” He rotated his neck, his mouth pinched into a thin line. “Fuck.”
Now. Now was her chance, with his face pointed the other way.
With an unobtrusive swipe of her wrist across her mouth, a telltale crumb went flying. “How are you feeling?”
Becauseshewas feeling pretty hopeful about his overall recovery. Also pleased with her exemplary level of sneakiness and subtlety.
