Page 84 of Whispers of the Dead

I gasp for air. Strong arms catch me before I fall, keeping me upright. I look up into the beautiful hazel eyes of my savior, and Benji looks right back at me, his gaze locked on mine. His breathing comes out ragged. His hands squeeze my waist.

His gaze searches mine, and I see something I’ve never seen or felt from him before.

Fear. Pure, undiluted terror etches into his face with such intensity that I can’t speak.

He does, though. “You scared the shit out of me, golden girl.”

35

BENJI

The tunnel is chaos.

Blood splatters the walls, painting the stone in dark, wet streaks. The thick stench of burning flesh clogs my nose, a mix of rot and charred bone that turns my stomach.

Damon and Cole are still fighting. Their movements are brutal and efficient, nothing but snapping necks, flames roaring, and rotters collapsing into piles of unrecognizable parts. Despite the kaleidoscope of death going on around me, I can’t stop looking at her.

The flickering firelight from the piles of burning corpses casts a glowing halo around Zoey’s face. Her skin glistens with sweat, her chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, and her eyes—God, those wild, fierce, beautiful eyes—are alive.

She’s still alive.

The realization that I almost lost her punches through me with the force of a bullet. I fix the strap of her white tank top where it’s slipped down her shoulder. My fingers linger, unwilling to stop touching her, unwilling to let go.

She turns, and her wide, searching eyes scan the flickering darkness, completely oblivious to the madness going on inside my head. “Cole?”

“He’s fine,” I tell her.

She exhales in relief, but when she moves to step forward, her knees buckle. I catch her before she hits the ground, with my arms locking tight around her. I should have never let go of her in the first place.

“Zoey,” I rasp, my voice shaking as I roam my hands over her, across her arms, down her legs, searching for injuries.

My pulse roars in my ears. My mind is a whirlwind of worse-case scenarios. Her fingers tighten around my wrist, but I don’t stop. I need to find the injury. I need to fix her. There isn’t time. I won’t lose her again.

“Where are you hurt?” My words are frantic when they tumble out. “If it’s a bite, then we can fix it. We’ll amputate right here, somehow. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.” My fingers dig into her arms, her waist, her legs, searching. I lift her shirt, searching every inch of exposed skin, but the only wound I see is the cut on her side from before.

“Benjamin.” Her voice is soft, but I barely hear her.

I’m still searching, still panicking, because if I lose her?—

“Benjamin, look at me.” Her hands grip my face and force me to meet her gaze.

That’s when I see it. A wreckage of emotions inside her that mirrors my own. The terror. The raw, unrelenting fear. Then the bone-deep devastation of nearly losing each other.

Her expression softens, and her fingertips press against my skin. “I’m fine. I promise, Benjamin.”

My hands still grip her like she might disappear, and I shake my head. I don’t believe her. I can’t. Not until I see for myself. However she’s hurt, we’ll fix it.

“I slipped, that’s all. No bite, no injury. Nothing but loose stones and clumsiness.” She gives me a small, crooked smile, and I come apart.

My body shakes from the rush of adrenaline. The relief that hits me is crippling, and I almost collapse right here.

She presses her forehead against mine. “I’m sorry for being upset with you. For holding onto things that don’t matter anymore.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“The choices you made before you knew me shouldn’t be held against you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Something inside me cracks wide open, and before she can say another word, I crush my lips against hers. The kiss is hard, desperate, and all-consuming. My hands frame her face, holding onto her like she’s my last tether to this world.

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