by Dia Cole
She crumpled like a rag doll at my feet.
I stared at the lifeless body, waiting to feel something. Horror. Sadness. But my reservoir of sympathy for these creatures was bone-dry.
I bent down to retrieve my knife only to find it stuck in the Biter’s skull. I gave it a futile tug and heard a loud sound. Startled, I looked up to see Reed slap his hand against the café window and point to my right.
Three men in tattered evening wear stumbled around the abandoned cars in the street and headed straight for me.
My mouth dried.
Crap. Where did these Biters come from?
My heart pounded as I tried frantically to free my knife.
As they shambled closer their blackened lips peeled back to reveal bloodstained chattering teeth. The sound was like bone on chalkboard and it sent an involuntary tremor through me.
The guy in the white tux was almost on me. Panic was a noose around my throat. I gave up on my knife and fumbled for my gun. I aimed between his rolling pearlescent eyes. My finger was on the trigger when I remembered that the noise would draw the horde.
Shit.
The guy in the tux lunged.
Instinct had me jumping back, barely avoiding gnashing teeth.
“Eat dirt!” shouted a man behind me.
Months of training conditioned me to drop to the ground.
I didn’t hear the knives flying through the air, but the guy in the tux and his friends collapsed one by one with Dominic’s blades embedded in the centers of their foreheads.
His knife skills are unreal.
I slowly picked myself up, my back stiffening at the sound of Dominic’s combat boots stomping down the weed-choked sidewalk.
“What the hell was that? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Inwardly cringing at the censure in his tone, I bent down to retrieve my knife from Ms. Sparkle’s head. This time a hard tug pulled it free.
“Remember the third rule of survival.” His deep voice rumbled like thunder.
He was close enough that I could smell the cinnamon gum on his breath and the spicy cologne he used to mask himself from the Biters. His scent did crazy things to my insides. I fought hard to keep my suddenly haywire hormones from clouding my mind. “Don’t get bitten?” I said, refusing to turn around. I stayed kneeling as I wiped my blade clean and tucked it back into my thigh sheath.
His massive shadow fell over me. “No. That’s a given. Rule number three is be aware of your surroundings at all times. Something you just failed to do.”
Dominic and his damn rules.
I finally turned and craned my neck up at the six-and-a-half-foot wall of muscle dressed in army fatigues and enough weapons to arm a small country. His sculpted cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and bronze complexion made him a direct threat to my vow of abstinence. Too bad he was also a domineering pain in the ass. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
“And what were you going to do about them?” He pointed at the guy in the tux and his pals.
My stomach curdled.
The truth was if Dominic hadn’t shown up, I didn’t know what I would’ve done.
“They would’ve surrounded you.” Dominic’s large warm fingers curled around my wrist. He unceremoniously hauled me to my feet.
I stumbled and crashed into him. The feel of his hard muscles sent frissons of heat pulsing through me.
He thrust me away and took two steps back.
I sighed, too used to the way he avoided all contact with me to be offended. “I would’ve figured something out.”
His neck muscles bunched up like they did when he was warming up for a fight or a lecture. “If you don’t start paying attention, you’ll end up like them.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the horde congregating around the memorial fountain.
I sucked in a shallow breath. Needing to divert his anger, I asked the question that had been on my mind since we got to the café. “Why are there so many of them here?”
He nodded south, where plumes of black smoke melded with the storm clouds in the distance. “The gangs are lighting fires to drive them north.”
I shivered and not because of the dampness in the air. We’d heard stories of how gangs roved the streets looking for female survivors. I’d choose taking on a horde versus being captured.
Some things are worse than death.
Of course, if they kept moving the Biters north, we’d join the ranks of the dead in no time.
“We need to move the safe house,” I said for the tenth time today. Every day there were more and more Biters around the school where we’d been staying.
His full lips pressed into a line. “It’s not your call.”
“It’s getting too dangerous to—”
“My orders are to keep you and the others on the list at the school until we’re evacuated.”
My eyes narrowed at his mention of the mysterious list he’d been given by his superiors. He and his squad had been ordered to locate and rescue everyone on it. “About that list, why is my name on it?”
The majority of our survivor group included the family members of soldiers from the nearby military base. It made sense for the army to try to bring their loved ones to safety. But Eden and I didn’t have any such connections, and the only member of the military we were related to was long dead.
May my father rot in hell.
Dominic ignored my question. “We’re not moving the safe house and that’s final.”
I huffed. “No one’s coming to save us.” There’d been no contact from the base since we’d gotten to the school. The evacuation date had come and gone. Yet, Dominic insisted on waiting for help that likely would never arrive.
The hard line of his jaw told me I might as well be arguing with a brick wall.
My attention slid back to the café.
I won’t let his stubbornness kill what is left of my family.
The digital watch strapped to Dominic’s wrist buzzed. He looked down and frowned.
Darcy and her scouting party must be late checking in. Darcy was never late for anything…
He pushed me in the direction of the café. “Get inside.”
Dominic’s high-handed tactics were getting as old and raggedy as my jeans. It was infantile, but I stuck my tongue out at him while he marched over to the guy in the tux.
It was impossible not to notice how the well-defined muscles of his shoulders went taut against his short-sleeve black T-shirt as he retrieved his knives.
The abandoned cars in the street, the boarded-up store windows, and the crimson stains on the sidewalk all faded away.
Damn. The man’s fine.
He looked up and caught me gawking. The corner of his mouth twitched.
No way would I let him think I was mentally undressing him. I pretended to shudder and scrunched my face up in disgust. “You’ve got brains on your vest.” I motioned to one of the front pockets of the black tactical vest he never seemed to take off.
“Oh.” His smirk faded, and he flicked the zombie goo away. “Inside. Now.”
“After you, oh mighty leader,” I said, with a mock bow giving my hormones a silent bitch slap. They could go back into stasis where I’d forced them to live my whole life.
He glared at me until I gave up and walked ahead. I could feel his gaze on my back as we walked to the café. I had to forcibly stop myself from swaying seductively from side to side.
He’s the last guy I should be encouraging.
I frowned. Not that he’s shown one iota of interest.
Since he first kicked down our front door, bloody knife in hand, and demanded that Eden and I evacuate with his squad, he’d done nothing but bark orders. Other than the mandatory daily training sessions, he avoided the very sight of me.
That’s fine. I need a man like Biters need their taxes done.
With that thought, I stalked into the café vowing to forget about the handsome sergeant once and for all.
DID YOU ENJOY THIS PREVIEW OF HEAVEN IN H
ELL: EPISODE ONE?
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