Page 49 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
Histeam, too. I shake my head and climb out of my sleeping bag, dragging a pair of jogging bottoms over my briefs before I step up between them.
“Stop it,” I say. “You’ll wake the others. Dane, go to sleep.”
Dane growls. He wants to push past me and get to Mason, I know that, but now there are three of us, Callum looming not far away, and though Callum might not step in for me, we’re both sure he will for Mason.
Not that Mason needs it. He exudes the same quiet confidence he has every time he’s faced off against Dane, and I know that’s what’s making Dane angrier.
“You should listen, Dane,” Mason says, and a tickle of something trails down my spine.
Dane’s eyes widen before his expression hardens and he raises his hatchet. I secure my grip on my bat. I can take him out at the knees before his hit connects.
“You fucking—”
“Go to sleep,” I say, a little louder than I mean to. It seems to snap Dane out of it, at least in as much as he actually looks at me, blinking like he’s coming out of a trance.
“Isaac…”
“No. Sleep.”
I don’t waver, and though Dane glares at me for a moment or two longer, he gives up first. He wanders over to his sleeping bag and lies down, turning his back to the three of us. I sigh and shove a hand through my hair.
“You can’t stay up here,” Mason murmurs. He wraps a hand around my wrist, grip loose.
“I need to keep watch.”
“We both know no zombies are coming up here.”
I look him full in the face. “Do we?”
Mason frowns. He turns to Callum. “Can you…?”
“Of course,” Callum says quickly, though he doesn’t look pleased about it. The look he shoots me is full of suspicion. I don’t let go of my bat.
When Mason tugs on my wrist, I don’t argue. I only stop to scoop up my boots, tucking them awkwardly into the crook of my elbow as we make our way over to the stairs.
I don’t look back. I know Dane is watching us. Maybe Blake, too.
Once we’re inside his room, Mason closes the door and lets go of my wrist. I drop my boots carelessly on the floor.
“What just happened?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“What just—” I shake my head. “You did something, didn’t you? Dane saw something.”
“Isaac…”
“Just tell me. Please.”
Mason sighs. “In the morning?” For the first time, he looks tired. No,exhausted. “I need some rest. So do you.”
“Like there’s enough room in that bed,” I say, gesturing at it with my bat. Mason huffs a laugh and shrugs off his coat, then hangs it up next to the door. He drops onto the mattress to remove his boots, but his fingers are clumsy. Is he cold? I don’t know how long he was outside tonight.
I lean my bat in the corner—I’ll move it closer to the bed before I climb in—and then drop to my knees before him. The stone floor is cold, even through my jogging bottoms, and Mason’s eyes widen in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
I bat his hands away and pick at the knots on his boots. Doesn’t help he’s tied them so tightly. “Helping.” My face heats and Mason pushes a gentle hand into my curls, softly pressing against my scalp.
