Page 3 of Making Haven
The guy seems to be smart, this must be how he’s survived this long on his own. Before I can properly get in there to help take out the zombies below him, he pulls something from his bag, twists it a few times before tossing it over the roof. It lands a good distance away, ringing like an old fashioned alarm clock. The zombies hear it and begin to shuffle towards the noise.
“Okay, okay. Shit. Fuck.”
He turns around, staring at the sliding glass door. His body tenses just before the entire thing fucking shatters.
The guy screams before hastily climbing over the railing of the balcony and launching himself over the side of it. Time seems to slow as he flies through the air before hitting the ground. There’s a terrible popping noise that makes me wince. I’m moving before I even tell my body to follow, instincts taking over. The zere throws itself over the edge as well, scrambling towards their next meal. Their body is contorted into a half shift that I’ve only seen from zeres, their back hunched, their claws outstretched, ready to dig into the man.
My fangs drop down as I leap forward, covering the man with my body, my stance one of an animal protecting its territory. Thezere freezes at its competition and I use that frozen moment to my advantage, pouncing.
Thank Christ for that owly dinner, because without it, I’m not sure I’d have the strength to take this zere on.
My fingers wrap around the zere’s throat and I pull. The zere’s life is over quickly as his head pops from his neck. Blood sprays across my front, warm against my skin. I just barely keep myself from licking my lips. From desperate experience, I know the undead taste terrible.
I turn around, finding the guy I’d just saved looking at me with wide brown eyes.
Brown. His eyes are brown. He’s even more beautiful up close.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You can just call me Lawrence,” I tell him, the tiniest smile playing at my lips.
The guy stands up, breathing heavily. He winces when he puts weight on his right leg. There’s blood dripping from his palms and various places on his face where the glass nicked his skin when the glass door shattered.
“I realize it’s a lot to ask for trust since we’ve only just met but your alarm over there is about to run out and there’s no way you’re running on that leg,” I say carefully, looking around and finding a few stray zombies already stumbling in our direction. “So? Trust me?”
“Oh, fuck me,” he says before nodding in my direction.
With permission, I grab him around the waist, hoisting him against me. “Tuck your face against my throat,” I tell him before I start running.
A surprised noise leaves his throat and his arms tighten around me as his hair flies around in the wind. I keep moving until we’re completely out of town, halfway to my home. Once I know we’re in a decently safe place, I finally slow and set him onto his feet.
The guy turns away from me, bending over and throwing up. He straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Okay. I feel better.”
His hands are shaking and he looks far too pale to me. “You’re going into shock.”
“Might be. Did almost just die. Might have broken my fucking leg.”
“Here,” I murmur, pulling a carrot from my bag.
The guy takes it from me, staring at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “A carrot? Really? How is this supposed to help?”
I shrug. “Seems like you should eat something. Or drink something. Do you have some water with you?”
There’s a long pause before the guy gives a long sigh. He pulls his backpack from his back, taking out a water bottle and taking a swig. Right now is really not the time to be noticing small things, like the way his eyes stare at me untrusting, the way his jaw is strong, the way his fingers look wrapped around his water bottle. The way his Adam’s Apple bobs with each pull of water makes my mouth run dry. Fuck, I need to focus. Just because I haven’t been around another person in years doesn’t mean I can develop a fascination with the first guy I meet.
“Would you like to come home with me?”
A skeptical brow raises. “Why would I do that?”
“Seems safer than trying to hobble around on your fucked up leg. I live in an abandoned cul-de-sac at the top of a giant hill. Pretty safe while you rest up.”
“Yeah, that does sound safe, but what do you get out of it? I don’t really have much on me and I’m not about to kiss you for a place to sleep.”
“Hey!” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking for anything in return, man. Jesus. Who hurt you?”
“Everyone,” he says back, his voice sounding tired instead of ready for a fight. “Why the fuck should I trust you? That you’re helping me out of the kindness of your heart?”
“I guess you can’t trust me,” I say slowly. “But what other choice do you have?”
