Page 5 of Zinnia and the Zombie
“And now the shop’s going to be empty again,” she told her zombie, her voice cracking. “They’ll think I ran away, that I’m as irresponsible as my mother.”
He didn’t respond, of course, but there was still something comforting about his presence. She leaned more fully against him, and the soft golden light that emanated from the statue increased. His temperature rose as well, growing slightly warmer—a welcome change, considering that the container wasalways chilly. She was still wearing the green summer maxi-dress she’d put on to go to the botanical gardens. At the time, she’d thought the dress, with its little daisy buttons up the front, was an appropriate choice. Now she wished she’d been wearing her usual jeans and T-shirt instead.
She hadn’t just told him about her past. She told him stories as well—some of them fragments of things she’d read, others things she’d made up.
“I used to do this when I was little,” she told him. “When Mama was out late and I was alone, or if she was… entertaining. I’d tell myself stories. Lose myself in another world.” She gave a rueful laugh. “And now I am in another world, and I still want to escape. What am I going to do, zombie? What’s going to happen when they come back for me? That’s going to be the end of our cozy little world.”
How ironic that her cell had become her safe place. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, sighing and leaning more closely against him. “I don’t think anyone’s going to want to listen to me.” A tear trickled down her cheek before she could stop it, but she sniffed fiercely and hugged her zombie’s legs harder, refusing to give in to despair.
Jaxx pushedat his stasis shell again. His female needed comfort, and he could not provide it, locked away as he was. He wondered yet again how long he’d been trapped like this. If he’d been badly wounded, it could have taken months for him to heal. Such a thing was not unheard of, but even those who’d been in stasis for so long had come back because someone had drawn them back.
This female was drawing him back now, but he couldn’t break through the shell. As far as he could tell, he was completely healed, but it didn’t seem to matter.
More memories had surfaced. There had been a storage facility. He thought he’d been there for a long time. And there had been another place, a place where he’d been displayed, where strangers had gathered to look at him. But even during those times when he’d been aware of his surroundings, there had been nothing—no one—to help him break free.
At last, his female sighed and rose to her feet, gently patting his arm before moving away. He knew when she touched him; he could feel the energy vibrating through his body from that spot, but he could not feel her. He didn’t know if her hands were hard or soft, if her skin was silky or textured like his own. He didn’t know what she looked like, but that didn’t matter. He knew her as well as he’d ever known anyone. He missed her touch when she moved away to rest. He could still feel her energy, knew she was close, but it wasn’t the same.
What she’d said troubled him. What would he do once she was taken away? He would be alone again, slipping back into that death-like sleep, and perhaps this time it would be permanent. He pushed at the stasis shell again, but the results were equally futile. He eventually stopped his fruitless efforts and settled back to think about what his female had told him.
As he focused, he became aware of something else. Someone was approaching. A hostile energy signature. He needed to warn his female, to prepare her, but he couldn’t. Growing increasingly frustrated with his uselessness, he heard a snarl of anger, followed by his female’s soft, startled gasp.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Do you know how much that Flutari rug is worth? If you’ve damaged it…”
“I haven’t damaged it! I just made a place to rest.”
He could sense his female’s fear and her defiance. Apparently, the male could sense it as well, because he snarled again. “Don’t argue with me, female.”
The angry energy approached, but now it was mixed with something else. Lust.
“Quite a cozy little nest you made here. Be a shame to waste it.”
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she hissed.
“I’m going to do more than touch you. You owe it to me for damaging this rug. It’ll be easier if you comply.”
“Never!”
The male laughed. “I always did like a little fight.”
He heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh, followed by his female’s pained cry.
No.
Anger—white-hot and scalding—blazed through him. He pushed frantically at the stasis shell. It resisted, as it always did. But when his female cried out again, his anger surged, and the shell finally shattered.
CHAPTER FOUR
Even knowing it was hopeless, Zinnia tried to fight off the guard. He grabbed her wrist, forcing her arm behind her back and lifting it until a streak of agony shot down her arm. His fingers curled in the neckline of her dress and he yanked, ripping the fabric.
“No wonder the old bastard wants you,” he sneered, his eyes dropping to her breasts with a smile that made her stomach churn.
“He’s not going to have me. And neither are you!” She kicked his shin as hard as she could.
He swore but didn’t loosen his grip. “That just got added to what you owe me,” he snarled, yanking her arm higher and forcing her toward the bed she’d made.
