Page 20 of Bitten By Zombie

All the tears she’d cried failed to move her mother or even her father. The only one moved by them had been Stan, and even that had turned out to be a false assumption on her part.

That had been the last time she’d felt so deeply sorry for herself and expressed it with waterworks. Even when Stan told her all the vile things he had the day he’d essentially tried to kill her, she didn’t cry. Rage? Puke? Scream? Yes to all that and more, but cry for herself? No.

Even last night. The tears she remembered shedding had been for Zombie. His mother mangled him and still he found forgiveness. Shit, he was a better human than she was. Stan deserved nothing. Neither did her mom. Even her father who stood by and let his wife plan what she had for her child, garnered no forgiveness from her.

Heidi’s eyes drifted over Zombie’s sleeping form. The cover was riding low on his waist. He was lean and cut, with ink covering so much of the exposed skin.

It was the tattoo peeking above the covers that commanded her attention. She wondered how far down it went and what it was. With an incomplete picture, she could only guess, and she didn’t have a clue. Her gaze snagged on the well-defined vee for a moment before tracking down.

His right foot was sticking out of the bottom of the cover, and it looked perfectly normal. As far as the left, she couldn’t tell. He had his knee bent, and the foot was, she assumed, plastered against his calf under the covers.

He seemed to have recovered because she barely noticed anything amiss when he walked. Maybe an almost imperceptible limp sometimes, but you’d have to be looking for it to notice.

Lazily, she dragged her assessment back up to his face. Relaxed in sleep and almost childlike if not for the sexy scruff and the kissable lips.

Boy, were they kissable.

Snap out of it, chica. You do not need to think about his kissable lips. Or how he was angry on your behalf last night and ready to punish your whole family.

She wouldn’t drag him into that shitshow. He was too good for the likes of her. Funny. Before she’d met them, or any other bikers, she had preconceived notions about who they were and what they did. Zombie was proving her wrong at every turn.

Just a week ago, she would have never thought a biker too good for her, likely the other way around. Not that she was conceited, but they were a gang of outlaws, is what she’d always been told. She’d had no reason or experience to contradict that.

Now, she admitted to herself that was not the case. Any woman would be lucky to snag any of the men she’d met.

Except her, she didn’t want a relationship. She wanted to just live her life. Pay her bills with her art and grab a man when she wanted one.

Never need one.

Never need anyone ever again.

Zombie and the rest of the Royal Bastards would help her get away from Stan, and then she’d pay them for their trouble. They owned a private security firm, so surely, they had a pricelist for that sort of thing. She’d talk to Wall Street or Virus first chance she got.

They’d help her get away, start over. She’d invested her money wisely and could afford it. Of course, she’d have to get a new car, which would cut into her savings a bit.

With those thoughts in place, she tried to dislodge her body from his. She didn’t want to lead him on. Clarity was the key to this whole unfortunate quagmire she found herself in and now, by virtue, them. However, if she hired them, there’d be no lines blurred. No mixed signals.

A good start would be asking for another room. It sounded like there was space with the club girls. After breakfast, she’d start there.

Trying a little harder to get away, she still failed. The man was strong as an ox in his sleep.

“You’re thinking so hard I can hear your brain working. Relax, Rabbit.” His tone was sleep-roughened and not unpleasant, so she caught herself relaxing back into him. “I’ve got you, promise.”

The last words stiffened her right back up.

Professional.

Hired service.

No relationships.

Her struggling to extricate herself brought Zombie fully awake and he cleared his throat. “It’s barely dawn, no need to start the day just yet.”

She felt the weight of his gaze. Without meaning to, she shifted her eyes to his, and he held them prisoner. The eyes she thought were simply warm brown were so much more than that. The amber striations and almost black ring were captivating.

“Um, I want to get cleaned up and talk to Virus and Wall Street.”

His chuckle vibrated through her body as if it had come from his very soul.

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