Page 17 of Zinnia and the Zombie
Her hand tightened on his. “But that’s not how life works. Sometimes we survive when others don’t, and there’s no rhyme or reason to it. The only thing we can do is live well enough to honor those who are gone.”
Live well enough to honor those who are gone. It was not so different from the Zathix warrior’s code: Honor the fallen by continuing the fight.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You honor me with your wisdom.”
Her cheeks darkened in the moonlight, but she shook her head. “I’m not wise. I just had to figure some things out the hard way.” She paused. “Thank you for telling me. I know it can’t be easy to talk about.”
“It is… easier, with you.”
The admission surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her. Her breath caught, a small involuntary sound in the darkness, and then she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was gentle, almost tentative—a gesture of comfort, perhaps—but heat surged through him, his skin brightening with golden light that illuminated the small space around them. His senses heightened to an almost painful degree—the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the thundering of his own heart.
For a moment he remained frozen, stunned by the intensity of his response, but then he groaned and deepened the kiss, his hand threading through her hair as an almost uncontrollable blaze of need consumed him.
CHAPTER NINE
The groan that vibrated from Jaxx’s chest sent a shock of pleasure through Zinnia. His lips moved hungrily over his, kissing her with a desperate intensity that awoke an answering hunger in her own body. The golden light emanating from his skin cast strange, beautiful shadows across the ruins surrounding them. Heat flooded through her body, a rush of desire unlike anything she’d felt before.
For a moment she gave in to it, but then she gasped and broke away, her heart hammering against her ribs. She scrambled back, putting a few inches between them.
“Zinnia,” he said roughly, his voice deeper than usual. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s okay,” she said breathlessly. “I started it. It’s just…”
He waited patiently as she tried to assemble her thoughts, and she looked down at her hands, unable to meet his luminous gaze. The words came with difficulty, dragged from a place she rarely acknowledged.
“My mother had a… reputation. She took comfort where she could find it, usually with men who didn’t care about her. Just used her and left.” The old shame burned through her, memories of whispers behind hands, pitying looks, the cruel taunts of classmates. “I watched what that kind of need did to her. How it broke her, bit by bit.”
He remained silent, but she could feel him watching her.
“It didn’t stop me from making the same mistake a few times. The first boy I ever cared about just saw me as a trophy. I promised myself I’d never let it happen again. Never let myself get swept away by… by wanting someone.” She risked a glance up. “And now there’s you. And I… I don’t know what to do with how I feel.”
She had expected his expression to be blank or confused, but instead he gave her a breathtaking smile.
“I have never experienced anything like this either, my Zinnia,” he said softly.
“What is it? Why do I feel so…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t even have a word for it.
“There is a… bond between us. But do not fear, whatever path we walk, we will walk it at your pace.”
She had the distinct impression he wasn’t telling her everything, but his words reassured her nonetheless.
“We should try to sleep,” she said. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”
“A wise suggestion.”
He settled back against the wall, clearly expecting her to keep her distance. Instead, she surprised herself and moved closer and nestled against his side again. After a moment’s hesitation, his arm came around her, solid and warm.
“Is this acceptable?” he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest.
“Yes,” she whispered. Despite everything—her fears, their precarious situation, the strange alien world around them—she felt safe in his embrace. “This is good.”
Sleep came easier than she expected, cradled in golden warmth.
The next timeZinnia woke it was morning, daylight brightening the walls of their makeshift shelter. She blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the solid warmth pressed against her back. Jaxx. The events of the previous night rushed back—his story, their kiss, her confession.
She carefully extricated herself from his arms and sat up. This morning the ruins surrounding them appeared even more impressive—and more foreboding. Where had they gone, she wondered again, the people who had created such magnificence?
