Page 139 of My Undead Love Life

That was big for him to tell Keith. It had taken him months before coming clean to us, and even then, he’d handed over pieces with time like each one hurt to let go of.

Keith studied him, but there was no judgment in his face. “Sounds rough,” he murmured. “I’m glad you survived.”

“Me too.” Oxi’s gaze found Spencer’s.

Spencer wiped under one eye and looked between all of us. “I’m glad we all survived.” Her voice was soft. Then she added, even softer, “I’ve fallen in love with you all.”

All of us froze for half a second. Then, we grinned like idiots.

My heart thudded so hard it almost hurt. “I love you, too, slayer.”

She giggled, watery but real. “I think you’d get along with Nathan, my sister’s husband. He calls her killer.”

“Makes sense.” I nodded. “You two being sisters and all.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see her again.”

“Hey, snowfire,” Oxi whispered.

She turned to him.

“I love you.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“I love you, too, flare,” Mad said.

Her eyes filled again, but this time, she smiled through it. “I know the world is shit, but I’m so happy to have found you four.”

I was happy, too. So fucking happy. But as the radio crackled softly on the crate and the storm dragged snow against the warehouse walls, I knew we had more conflict ahead of us.

25

SPENCER

The storm roared back to life just before dawn.

At first, it was only a low rumble against the warehouse walls, and it was a miserable reminder that Mother Nature was fully in control. The wind sharpened, finding every loose piece of metal siding and every cracked window until the entire building sounded like it was about to collapse.

The radio crackled from the crate in the corner. Static, voices, and more voices. The cult sounded as frustrated as we were.

“…visibility compromised…”

“…blessed beasts restless…”

“…storm delaying the hunt…”

A woman’s voice cut in, warped by distance and interference. “The storm is a test of devotion. Wait for the sign. The sinners cannot hide forever.”

Luck lifted his head from where he was trying and failing to eat breakfast from a dented can. “I would like to formally reject being called a sinner by murder-cat worshippers.”

Oxi, who had barely touched his food, gave him a flat look. “Don’t we all?”

Mad cinched one of the straps on his pack so hard that the fabric creaked. “I don’t trust that they’ll wait out the storm.”

“Me either.” Keith crouched beside the crate and turned the volume lower, his jaw tight as the static faded into a distant hiss. “They’re organizing.”

There was too much happening. The cult, the storm, the death, and the leopard that had gotten away. We couldn’t stay here. Regardless of the storm, we couldn’t wait it out.