by Gina Kincade
Why? Why had she done that?
Because she was a pathetic person, a lousy nurse, and a terrible fiancée.
The dead shuffled closer. She drew in a long, deep breath, and that vague nagging weight of the past weeks eased from her chest.
Now she would finally be with him again.
Wylee threw down the machete. It clattered against concrete. Then she stuck the barrel of the weapon in her mouth and stared into the glazed eyes of a male rotter.
At the very second she pulled the trigger, she realized they were the same turquoise eyes that had held her spellbound countless times during lovemaking. They widened in disbelief and horror, and she heard a panicked voice moan, “Nooo!”
But it was too late. Everything went black.
Chapter Two
The squeaking and bumping off in the distance could have awakened the dead.
Although Wylee knew she was already dead as dirt.
At least she felt dead. She rolled her head to the side, sensing a pillow beneath it. A wince escaped her parched lips at the throbbing between her temples. The pillow didn’t ease the pounding in her skull, so it was highly possible she just had a hangover. More softness cradled her back and legs yet every muscle and bone in her body ached.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” She blinked a few times and gradually opened her eyes. A coffered ceiling shrouded in moonlight hovered above her. The scent of brine mixed with magnolias wafted on a breeze carried in through gauzy white curtains billowing above a window seat. A quick scan of the room told her she was in an older but well-kept home. “But where? Where the hell am I, and how did I get here?”
When she rubbed at her forehead, images slid across the backdrop of her mind. She remembered being in town near the beach and getting cornered by a mob of munchers. There had been enormous amounts of adrenaline coursing through her system, and she had to kill dozens of them by the time she’d…
Wylee sucked in a ragged breath and sat upright, realizing she lay in a bed. She slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d slid the gun between her lips and set her mind to ending it all, yet with some frantic exploring of her face, she discovered she still had her chin and cheeks—she ran her hands through her matted hair—and her head remained attached to her neck.
She could have sworn she’d pulled the trigger.
“Maybe…could I be an angel?”
As a nurse she’d been skeptical of the supernatural and notions of heaven or an afterlife, because nothing seemed as final to her as watching the life fade from someone’s eyes.
Her fingertips brushed a bump on the right side just above her ear. She winced and sucked in a hiss. “Damn, what happened to my head?”
Something didn’t bode well even though she could talk, see, smell, hear—and feel every twinge of pain from the knot on her head to her raw toes. She pressed a cool palm to her breast and verified breathing and a heartbeat. No doubting that one, because it thumped in her ears and made her long for a Xanax.
So she could recall that last moment of making a life-versus-death decision, then everything went blank. A squeeze of her eyes and more rubbing of her left temple did little to coax the information from her brain. The timeframe between town and here—wherever that could be—was a big black inkblot in her mind.
Yet she was alive, all right, and as if to prove it to herself, a memory of that life assailed her. She recalled how her heart had practically burst from her chest during those amazing lovemaking sessions with Gabe. She rubbed at her belly, stared down at her lap.
“Gabe, oh my God, Gabe.”
Just when the sob erupted from her throat, something groaned and scraped. It sounded as if it had come from outside the window.
She slid her gaze across the room toward a door. It stood ajar. A quick glance to a bedside table assured her that an assortment of weapons lay within reach.
She gathered her courage, swung her legs over the bed, and stood. It was then she noticed she wore nothing but panties, a bra, and a fresh tank top. No blood or brain matter. Even the pleasant aroma of detergent wafted up to tease her nostrils. It had been days, weeks since she’d smelled or worn clean clothing.
Wylee took a step across an intricate rug toward the wooden floor beyond. Hm, she had socks on, too. The room spun around her but she managed to swipe a gun off the coffee table, assure it was loaded, and storm toward the door.
A short hallway led her past a side table set below some hall stairs in what appeared to be a grand vintage-styled home of some sort. Moonlight spilled in through the tiny stain-glassed windows at the top of the heavy front portal and bathed the wood floor with a multicolored gloss. An oval of inlaid glass filled the upper part of the door. And that was when she realized her location.
Ashbourne Funeral Home
It had been painted in fancy script on the glass. She didn’t need to open the door and read it. She recognized it now from those days a couple of weeks ago when the town had a mass burial after hundreds had succumbed to the plague. The house sat next to a graveyard, and it had once been Twilight Cove’s main funeral home before all the dystopia had set in and the owner had passed away, too. Had it become a shelter, maybe, an abandoned home for anyone happening upon it? A quick glance around confirmed it—the plush entryway with double doors just to the left. They led into the big room with a large fireplace, where bodies were viewed and somber ceremonies were conducted.
Wylee shivered and took a few more cautious steps, gun aimed directly in front of her.
It sounded like something smacked against the wall outside the front door.
“Will those rotters ever stop?” she growled under her breath.
In the days before the pandemonium, Wylee would have been terrified. But not now. Now this shit just annoyed her. Mostly. She tightened her dry hand around the weapon and raised it. When she neared the door, she jerked it open and stepped out onto the wide, covered front porch, gun targeted toward moonlight and shadows. “Get back, you creepy…”
The words faded when her gaze fell on the chest of a tall, broad-framed figure. She gulped. With the lunar light behind him—oh, yes, there was no doubt it was a man—he appeared as nothing more than a looming apparition. But he didn’t snarl or thrash like the infected did. Her gaze latched onto the snug, faded T-shirt. Turquoise, the color of Gabe’s eyes…
She swayed, suddenly remembering that flash second when she’d pulled the trigger while looking into eyes very much like Gabe’s. Agonizing pain had ripped through the right side of her skull and everything went black.
A gasp escaped her tight throat. She flipped on the porch light, briefly wondering if electricity would eventually be snuffed out across Twilight Cove.
Her gaze rose inch by inch. It climbed up the nice ripple of clothed abs and the swell of male breast, finally coming to rest on the face.
“Wylee, you’re awake. Thank God, you’re okay.”
Her heart gave three quick thumps. “Gabe?” Wylee backed away from him and leaned into the doorjamb to keep from falling to her knees. But she didn’t lower the weapon. It could be an apparition, or she could be hallucinating again. “How…? How did you—? I-I mean… How is this possible? I thought you were d-dead. I…I shot you.”
He moved closer, covering the distance she’d added between them. “You missed.”
Missed? Her eyes widened. “No. That is not possible.”
“You’re a lousy shot.”
“I am not.”
He chuckled and slowly wrapped his hand around the barrel. “Maybe not anymore, but you were last thing I knew, when we got separated. Now, give me the gun, babe.”
Her hand trembled. She eased out a shaky breath and lowered the weapon, allowing him to take it from her. He tucked it in the back of his waistband.
“What…what’s going on here? I-I don’t understand.” She stumbled forward and fell into the wall of his chest. Inhaling rewarded her with the first musky scent of him in a week. His strong arms closed around her and sh
e finally let the emotions break through the dam of defenses she’d subconsciously set up. Sobs and hiccups erupted from her chest. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t talk.
“Shh, shh,” he whispered, and kissed the tears from her cheeks. He skimmed his palms up her body, held her face in his hands, and massaged the base of her skull with his fingertips, just like he used to do. “Remember? We were fighting them together. We were split up during an attack near the beach. Oh, God, I thought I lost you.”
“No, I thought I lost you. You were bitten.” Her voice sounded panicked to her own ears. She struggled to keep her pulse from exploding in her throat. She didn’t want to say the words, but she damn well knew what she saw that day. “You were going to turn into a rotter. I shot you to prevent it, and then I—”
“No. They were overpowering us, so it must have looked like it from your angle, but they didn’t bite me, sweetheart. I escaped. Barely, but I did escape. And you didn’t shoot me, either. Like I said, you were a lousy shot.” He added a deep rumbling laugh to his words. His eyes glistened a dark aqua in the soft yellow glow of the porch light.
She shook her head and squeaked out an odd noise mixed with pain and disbelief. Her hands fisted in his shirt. “Then what about me? I shot myself! Oh, my God, I know I did. I remember it. I…” Her eyes widened. “You. You were there. I looked right into your eyes when I-I… Am I dead?”
“Wylee, no, you didn’t do it. And no, of course you’re not dead.” He shook her gently and continued to ease the tension at her nape. In spite of the nerves tearing up her insides, desire raced over her scalp and down her spine, through her bloodstream.
“Thank God you passed out when you did. I knocked the gun away right before you pulled the trigger. I accidentally hit you in the process. Turned out it was a real challenge to fight them, to get you away from them, but we made it. Then I brought you here.”
She collapsed against him again, and shivers of relief quaked through her body. “So this is real? I’m alive—you’re alive?”
Gabe held her close. “Yes, baby, we’re both very alive.” He caught her to him when she backed up, launched into his arms, and wrapped her legs around him. The gun grazed her calves so she hooked her ankles lower. The movement caused her to grind over his crotch.
Fire ignited between her thighs. She rubbed against him, kissed his warm neck, inhaled the musky scent of him. “I want you. I’ve needed you so badly. Missed you so much.”
“Mmm…” He moaned and found her mouth with his, claiming her. His tongue explored her lips and swept into her mouth. She devoured the salty flavor, and tightened her arms and legs around him, unable to get enough. His cock stirred beneath her and she could swear she’d died and gone to heaven. How had she survived the last week without him?
Gabe stumbled across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him. “Shower. I need a shower,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
He chuckled and nipped at her lower lip. “Thanks a lot.” He carried her back into the bedroom where she’d awakened.
She stared at him and drowned in the pools of his eyes, studied his glistening, swollen lips by the moonlight spilling through the window. “You’re right—shower. We need to wash it all away. I don’t want them to come between us any more.” She shuddered with revulsion, attempting to erase the foaming ragers and their destruction from her mind. “I want it to be just us, Gabe. Just you and me and the love we almost lost. Not that crazy world out there.”
Just this one last time before they do kill us.
Her eyes stung. She didn’t want to think of it, but how could she not? They’d both come so close to losing each other and to suffering defeat with their lives. She yearned for normalcy and a life like it used to be. For this one night, at least. They could pretend everything beyond these temporary walls didn’t exist.
“There’s no other world, Wylee. It’s just us—our world, right her, right now.” He set her on the bed and rubbed away her tears with his thumbs. His gaze bore into hers with desperation, and her breath gave an involuntary hitch when she caught the glittering wetness masking the bright color in his eyes. He dragged her shirt over her head and followed it by removing his.
The need to touch his bare, rippled chest ate at her until she pressed her palms on the corded flesh and explored. Sparse hairs tickled her skin while her fingers pushed upward and tested the tough, solid wall of muscle. Her sob erupted and echoed in the room, floated on the floral night air billowing in through the window. “I thought I would never see you or touch you again.”
“Hush.” He reached for her hands and pulled her to a standing position. “We’re together now. That’s all that matters. That, and getting you out of these clothes…”
She giggled, swallowing back the emotion that had settled in her throat. “And you, too. Naked. I want you very naked.”
He unfastened her bra and pushed it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a soft whoosh. The breeze teased at her nipples, but his probing, hungry gaze made them taut and tingly. His fingers burrowed in the waistband of her panties and he dragged them down over her hips. She kicked them aside as soon as they pooled around her ankles. Now she stood nude before him and wondered how she’d gone so long without this, without him.
“Isn’t naked usually how people shower…and make love?” He toed off his boots, tossed the gun on the bed, and ripped off the rest of his clothes. “Damn, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, and then he swept her in his arms and carried her to an en suite bathroom.
A window perched over a garden tub, bathed in lunar light. Double sinks lined one wall, a walk-in closet another, and next to that, the shower. Gabe set her down and her bare feet soaked in the coolness of the tile. He fiddled with the faucet and flipped the handle to get the water flowing.
He twined his fingers in hers and tugged her inside the shower enclosure with him. “Come on, gorgeous. Get in with me.”
Warm wetness flowed over her shoulders, breasts, and back, soothed her aching muscles, and washed away the grime. “Ah, this is such heaven.” His arms wrapped around her from behind. She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest.
He cupped her breasts and rubbed his half-hard dick over her rump. “You’re the one who’s heaven, sweetheart.” He nibbled at her neck.
She tipped her head to the side to allow him further access, welcoming the delicious distraction. His lips and teeth and tongue brought her to life again. Excitement spilled through her system and settled in her womb. He twisted and plucked at her nipples, bringing her hard and fast to the threshold of passion, a sensation she thought gone forever.
Her legs trembled. He slid his hands down her arms, tangled his fingers through hers, and guided her to grasp a bar anchored vertically to the tiled wall. “Hold on tight.” He squirted some shampoo in his palm and lathered her hair, careful not to rub over the knot he’d put on the side of her head.
She moaned and aahed with each moment that passed.
He pampered her, stroked, kissed, and held her close, giving slow attention to her breasts and the sensitive folds between her thighs. He washed, massaged, rinsed, and repeated. Her body ached with delicious attention and zinged with cleanliness like she’d never experienced.
But then he rushed through a washing of his own body, and followed by returning his attention back to Wylee. “Slide your hands down farther.” He combed his fingers through the thick mass of her hair. Then he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her snug into the curve of his frame. “That’s it. Mmm, yes, bend over for me, baby. Show me your hot little ass.”
Wylee squeezed her hands around the handle, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek against cool tile. Steam fogged up the glass shower walls and wrapped them in a secure cocoon. Hot water spilled down her back, taking the cascade of her sodden, long hair with it. She held onto the slick bar and experienced complete bliss at being here like this with the man she loved more than anything, anyone, in this
entire crazy world.
He grabbed the soap and lathered his hands again, causing the clean aroma of it to dissipate through the shower. He trekked his slippery palms down her back, massaging her butt cheeks, while warm water peppered her skin and rinsed the suds away as soon as he coated her flesh with it. Then he reached around and kneaded her breasts. The heaviness and swollen sensation of them intensified as he lifted and squeezed them, and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples. Desire quickened in her lower belly. His hardness probed between her thighs and grazed her clitoris.
“Gabe…” She moaned and shuddered, pushing backward so she could grind her nub over him. She never wanted this to end. To stay right here forever, in this safe house, in his strong arms, would be a blessed dream come true. And why couldn’t they stay here? They could live inside the tall, wrought-iron fence and carry on inside as if the infected world outside the property’s perimeter didn’t exist. Wylee thought of her parents and many hospital friends. Dark doom descended over her and she stiffened and sighed. She’d lost them all. Why did everything have to be so…fragile and final?
She caught a glimpse of him over her shoulder. He didn’t seem to be in the glum place where she’d gone. A soft smile caused his face to glow with an expression of wonder and fascination. Of love. Did she do that to him, or was it simply Gabe making the best of the few days or weeks he most likely had left in his life?
He rested his forehead on her shoulder and gasped for air, interrupting her thoughts. Then he gripped her hips and guided her toward him until he had just the head of his cock inside her. “It’s written all over your face. Stop thinking about it, Wylee. Come back to me. Just make love with me, here. Now.” He bit out his sudden anger at her and at the world, and pushed into her, never giving her time to respond.
He succeeded in distracting her, all right, not with his words but with his actions.
She squeezed the bar, propped her forehead on the side of her wrist, and looked down between her legs where their bodies joined. Moonlight streamed in through the window and made the water droplets glisten like scattered diamonds. It sluiced over them, down their legs, over his sac. It was drawn up tight, his muscular legs flexed, his fingertips leaving pink marks on her hips. He stroked himself with her in a quick rhythm, pounding her bottom against his pelvis and coating himself with her cream. The sensation of fullness he caused inside her brought her close to release already. Breathing became a struggle; her legs trembled beneath her. He groaned, found her swollen clit with his free hand, and circled it with a fingertip. He never let up on the pressure. Wylee cried out and clamped her teeth down on her knuckle. He kept grazing her G-spot while rubbing her damp clitoris with vigorous strokes.