Through the Zombie Glass - Showalter Gena - Страница 43
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“Me, either. But someone is, and I have to find out who before this escalates and my friends get hurt.”
“What if Justin is playing both sides? What if he told you all of this, hoping you’d take him back? He could pretend to help and secretly sabotage.”
“How would he have already known stuff he shouldn’t before I welcomed him back?”
“Spying from the outside before spying from within.”
Grim, he said, “I’ve been watching him, and have even fed him false information. So far, he hasn’t taken the bait and moved on anything. And by the way, he mentioned you’d asked him if I’d talked to him and that he’d played dumb because he thought that’s what I’d prefer.”
A smart move, whether he was the spy or not. It covered all the bases. “Is that why you got so friendly with Veronica? You were spying on her?”
“At first, yes.”
My eyes narrowed, even as my heart skipped a beat. “And then you began to believe you belonged with her.”
His hands curved around my waist and held me tightly, as if he feared I would run away. “Yes.”
Part of me did want to run. But I wouldn’t. What he’d done had cut me and left a wound, and it needed to be cauterized. “And then you...made out with her.”
He held my gaze unflinchingly, despite the pain now gleaming in those violet depths. “Yes. But I didn’t tell you everything—”
“And I don’t want you to,” I interjected, placing a finger over his lips. His soft, soft lips. I shivered— No! No shivering. “There’s no need. We’re not together. So what are you still doing here, Cole?”
He pulled my finger away, held it, stared at it as if it contained the cure for all of his ills. “I don’t know.” His head dropped, as if he was ashamed, but still he held on to that finger. “I just... I can’t seem to stay away. You’re like a magnet, and I’m drawn. And what about you? You’re supposed to yell at me, scream profanities and tell me to go and never come back. Why aren’t you yelling?” he asked almost bitterly.
Because, despite everything, I liked that he was here.
Foolish girl.
“You want me to yell?” I said, and drew in a deep breath, preparing. “I will.”
He shook his head, looked up at me through the thick shield of those dark, dark lashes. “It’s too late for that. I’m going to kiss you, Ali.”
Kiss... Yes... No! “You made your bed.”
“I know. But I still want you in it.”
Just. Like. That. Every cell in my body woke up, stretching, reaching for him. Desperate for him. I had been thirsty for so long, and he was my water. Had always been my water.
One last time, I thought. Just one more. It would be closure. The end.
The very end.
“It...it won’t mean anything,” I whispered.
What are you doing?
Common Sense Ali poked out of the mire of my thoughts.
In that moment, I hated her. I needed this and wasn’t going to argue with her.
“Let’s hope,” he said, the words nothing more than a low growl.
He meshed his lips against mine, infinitely tender, going slowly, savoring every moment, as if he could draw out a response—or was willing to do anything necessary to earn one.
That was all it took.
The spark that had always burned between us exploded into a wild inferno. I thrust my tongue against his, and he thrust back. Neither of us was gentle. I clung to him with all of my strength, demanding more, taking more. Taking everything.
It wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t sure I would ever get enough.
He moved his hands through my hair, fisting the strands at the base of my neck and forcing my head to tilt, allowing him deeper access to my mouth. In that moment, he owned me.
The past ceased to matter. I was the girl who’d been starved, and he was more than the water. He was the honey. I devoured, unable to get enough of him.
“You feel so good,” he rasped, “taste so good. I’ve missed you. Have to have you. Soon. Soon. Don’t send me away.”
“Stay.” My blood fizzed with energy. I tore at his shirt, the force I used causing the fabric to rip. He stumbled backward. Separation. No. I jumped off the counter to follow after him, then pushed him to the floor and straddled his waist.
Our tongues met with even more force. I took more and I gave more, and it was wild, untamed, but it still wasn’t enough for me. He tasted of mint and strawberries, my two favorite things—I needed more. He was firm where I was soft, and every point of contact was electric heat—I needed to be burned.
“Touch me,” I demanded.
He rolled me over, pinning me to the carpet with his muscled weight, his hands frantic as they moved over me. I licked his neck, inhaled his scent.
Yes. Yes!
He came back down for another kiss, but paused just before contact, and frowned. “Your eyes. They’re red.”
In an instant, horror doused the flames. Horror and fear, such ugly fear. I wiggled out from under him, then crab-walked backward, widening the distance between us. “St-stay away from me. You have to stay away.”
“Ali,” he said, reaching for me. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.”
Oh, glory. “Leave,” I commanded, barely stopping myself from kicking his hand away. I had attacked him once. I wasn’t going to give myself the opportunity to do it again. “Go to school before you get a tardy.”
His hands fisted, fell to his sides. “School is closed today. Twenty-six people were found dead in their homes this morning, and three students were among their numbers. They aren’t in your grade, so I don’t think you ever met them,” he added quickly. “Reports claim antiputrefactive syndrome is now contagious and sweeping through Birmingham, and precautions are being taken until it’s known how it spreads.”
He moved toward me, determined.
“No,” I shouted, scrambling back until I hit the wall. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Guess I wasn’t done crying, after all. “Go! Please!”
A long while passed before he stood. He peered down at me, different emotions playing over his features. The anguish of before. Anger. Yearning. “I’m so confused right now.”
The tears fell harder, faster. “Let me clear things up for you. I thought we could be friends. We can’t. I don’t want to see you again. Go away and never come back.”
Chapter 16
We’re All Mad Here
The next few weeks passed in a blur. I no longer hung with the slayers, and I wasn’t willing to patrol the streets on my own. So, I got a part-time job at the coffeehouse down the street, determined to make as much money as I could before I... Well. I worked Wednesday through Sunday, from five to ten. I walked there and back, and had yet to come across a zombie. My coworkers were nice—at first—but my distant attitude eventually got to them, and they soon stopped trying to be my friend.
Thanksgiving came and went, and I realized I was all out of to-do lists. I was living one minute at a time.
Nana tried to draw me out of my “protective shell,” bless her heart, but I was too firmly entrenched. Besides, I hated the holiday. Emma visited for half an hour, but Mom, Dad and Pops didn’t, couldn’t, and celebrating without them sucked.
School started up just a few days after the “illness” hit. No one else had gotten sick, and doctors were still baffled. I wondered if the slain had turned into zombies. I wondered if the slayers had had to kill people they knew.
I wondered—but I never asked.
Reeve avoided me as if I’d contracted social leprosy, and though it was for the best—what I wanted, needed—it wounded me.
The slayers kept their distance, as well. Frosty especially. He couldn’t get over what I’d done to Cole, and now he and Kat were at war because she refused to end our friendship.
For her safety, I confessed my problems to her, explained Frosty was simply concerned for her well-being, and that she would be better off listening to him and staying away from me, and for the first time in our acquaintance, she got mad at me.
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