by Tera Shanley
Moonlight reflected from the blue fire in his eyes—reflected from a revering hunger like no man had given her before. Gray light touched the flexed planes of his chest and disappeared into hollows between each muscle, and she traced the map of his body with the tip of her fingernail until he closed his eyes and shivered under her touch. When he opened his eyes again, she could see it. He’d let go. The reserved, controlled Sean wasn’t here anymore. All that remained was this alluringly built man who saw nothing but her, wanted nothing but her. She pressed against the urgency of his need, and he leaned forward and grazed his teeth against the tender skin of her throat.
She’d give him anything in that moment.
If he asked, she’d give him everything.
“Laney,” he whispered against her neck.
Chapter Twelve
VANESSA CONSUMED HIM LIKE FIRE. Sean was lost in her scent, the feel of her silken skin against his fingertips, her hair entwined around his fingers, the sound of her pleading sighs when his lips touched her flesh. He’d kept his physical attraction to her in check, but her inviting him in, allowing him to see her cry, and her sharing the dark secrets of the day with Jerry had done him in. He was helpless against his need now. He was burning.
“What did you just say?” she rasped.
The question was strange and unexpected here in the dark of the woods. He hadn’t said anything.
Lips against her throat, he murmured, “Nothing.” Wrapping his arms more tightly around her, he pulled her closer to his hips. God she felt good against him.
She eased her head back and glared at him. “You just called me Laney.”
Jerking back, he searched her face for humor. Surely he hadn’t. He’d been here, with Vanessa. Laney hadn’t been on his mind but a handful of times since they’d left Dead Run River last week. “No, I didn’t.” Why did her accusation seem to niggle at him in such an uncomfortable way though? Had he?
“Yeah, you did. Why would I make that up?”
What could he say? The more he thought about it, the more him saying Laney’s name felt familiar. Oh God.
Vanessa pulled back and slid from his lap. The chill from the absence of her body against his was a physical ache. “If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She sat on the rock beside him with wide, vulnerable eyes. “Are you still in love with Laney?”
Reaching for her and holding her hand, he shook his head, but when he opened his mouth to explain how wrong she was, nothing came out. Was he still in love with her? Had he ever loved her, or had she just been something he couldn’t have and that much more alluring for it? Had she just been a way to fill the void after Aria, or was it something more? “I don’t think so.”
If he hadn’t seen how tough Vanessa was firsthand, he would’ve sworn her eyes were rimming with moisture. Maybe it was just a trick of the creek water, but she pulled her gaze away before he could be certain. “I don’t know what this is, or even how I feel about you,” she said softly. “But I made a big mistake with a man last year, and I don’t want to do it again.”
He was too risky for her. The somber tone of her voice all but sang it. How could he have been so lost in the moment to utter Laney’s name to Vanessa? She’d allowed him to see her vulnerability, and he’d repaid her by hurting her. The scruff of his week-old beard rasped against the palm of his hands as he rubbed his face and wished for talent with words—for a way to soothe what he’d done. He’d pulled this crap with Laney too. It was like Aria had ruined him. He’d let the dead parts of her infest how he treated people he cared about, and he was so damned tired of failing. Of hurting people who deserved so much more from him. He didn’t deserve Vanessa. He didn’t deserve anyone’s affection. “Do you still love Mitchell?”
“Not enough to say his name when I’m here with you.” She stared at the river for a long time before she spoke again. “Mitchell was never mine. Even if Laney didn’t exist, we didn’t fit somehow. It was jerky when I was with him. Like him, hate him, like him again. I wasn’t his type, and maybe he wasn’t mine. It had just been such a long time since I’d connected with anyone, it was nice to feel wanted again, you know?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t even guess how much he understood that relief.
“It’s okay. At least we can see this won’t work early on so we can just avoid each other.”
Jerking his head toward her, he demanded, “What? Vanessa, I like you. I messed up. I messed up bad, but I don’t think it means we’re doomed before we start.”
“Then why did you call me Laney? Me—the actual flesh and blood woman you were kissing and touching?”
“I don’t know. I was just in the moment, and you do something to me—I can’t think when I’m around you sometimes, and I made a mistake in the heat of that moment.” Desperate to redeem himself so she’d understand how completely into her he was, he tried to explain. “The only time I think about Laney is when you do something funny or strong that reminds me of her. You’re a lot alike and—”
“I remind you of Laney?” Her delicate eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Maybe that came out wrong.”
“I remind you of the woman who ruined the last year of my life. Of the woman who got the man I cared for?”
“What? Laney didn’t mean to ruin anyone’s life. She’s not like that.”
“I know, Sean! And I even kind of like the skank now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she got something I wanted. I’ve been so lonely! I’ve had to raise Nelson on my own, with no help, knowing that I was a poor substitute for our parents. We spent the first year just the two of us running, and it was up to me to get my little brother somewhere safe. And the second I decided there was a man I could share my concerns, my burdens, my life with, he couldn’t love me back. And now I’m kissing a man who is hung up on the same girl who got him? Hell no to all of this.” She stood and snatched her backpack. Whirling, she spat, “I’m nobody’s replacement Laney.”
“Vanessa, wait! I didn’t mean it the way it came out.” He ran after her and grabbed her elbow in desperation. She had to listen until he fixed this. Until he let her know he couldn’t stop thinking about her, watching her, dreaming about her. Vanessa filled his head every moment of his life, and now she was getting this wrong because he couldn’t find the right words.
She flung his arm off and spun around with fire in her eyes. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Sean. Don’t tell me stories to get me addicted to you. Don’t make me care for your daughter. Don’t involve me in this effed up love triangle you’ve created. I’m not battling Laney Landry in a round two. History proves she wins, Sean. Unless it’s an order for this mission, don’t talk to me anymore.”
Nope, he hadn’t imagined the building tears, because right at that moment, when she revealed how much his mistake had really hurt her, two matching drops of crystal pain rolled down her flushed cheeks and made tiny pings against the dry pine needles below them. Clenching his hands in an effort to relieve the hurt those tears churned inside of him, he whispered, “I’m sorry,” as she retreated into the woods and away from him.
He hadn’t been with anyone since Aria, hadn’t been affected so wholly since Aria, and what did he do? Pushed Vanessa away before he even had a chance to make her happy. Damn it! Squatting down, he watched her steady retreat into the dark woods. Maybe this was it for him. Maybe this was some bigger force telling him he wasn’t the type of careful man who could nurture a woman the way she needed. Perhaps being a soldier and a father were the only two successes he could expect in life, no matter how long or short it was.
He’d have to learn to be okay with solitude. To wear the loneliness that followed him like a badge of honor because it was his lot in life. The faster he accepted that, the happier he’d be.
Vanessa took a detour in the woods and came around on the other side of the truck. Even if she’d thoroughly dried all of her tears, her cheeks would be flushed and her e
yes puffy, and she’d rather swallow a sticker patch than listen to the guys’ jabs on this one. This little disaster was her secret shame.
She shouldn’t be so upset. It’s not like she didn’t know he had feelings for Laney. The sadness in his eyes that first day, when she’d seen Mitchell again and he’d seen Laney, made it obvious he was still into her. A week with her wasn’t going to change his heart. Love wasn’t magical or logical. From what she’d seen of love, it didn’t even feel good as much as it hurt. Hopping into the Terminator, she yanked the door closed behind her and turned her back to the men laughing around the fire outside.
Tonight she’d be pathetic and nurse her wounded pride, and tomorrow she’d pretend that little intimacy party with Sean in the woods hadn’t even happened. At least she found out now and not months from now, so there was that.
Why did her heart actually hurt? It was hard to breathe without a nagging, stinging pain that only served as yet another layer of annoyance over the entire situation. She’d only known the man for a second, and he’d ignored her for most of it. Screw him and his perfect body.
Laney. Pfft. She couldn’t believe he freaking called her Laney. It would probably be funny in the morning. Or at least a year from now when she compared worst boy stories with Eloise one future night over shots of Ricky’s rotgut.
The door to the truck opened, and Finn stuck his head in.
“You don’t have to worry about Sean and me anymore, so spare me the lecture.”
His dark eyes were steady and worried. “Are you all right?”
She meant to laugh, but it came out a sob and then a defeated sigh. “Yeah. I will be. Thanks.”
“Yep. You’ll spell Carpenter in a few hours so get some shut eye, okay?”
She nodded, and the closing door rocked the truck. For the next two hours she tried to do as Finn had suggested, but only managed to stare at the back of the bench seat in front of her and replay the night over and over. For a moment, she’d had him before Laney took him back. She’d felt so good and warm and wanted for an instant. Now her stupid heart hurt even more at the absence of a man. Homesickness warred with the uncomfortable anticipation of seeing Mitchell again. She didn’t feel the same about him anymore. Maybe she had Sean to thank for that. He’d shown her she could feel something for another, and it was time to move on. Way past time. Still, she didn’t look forward to the awkwardness around the others who thought she was the rejected one who deserved the pitying looks. Those were the worst.
With a growl, she sat up and kicked the door open. Steven stood droopy-eyed against a tree, scanning the woods around camp, and she gave him a little wave as she headed for the river. With a mental pat on her back, she straightened her spine at the fact she hadn’t even spared a glance for where Sean was sleeping.
The call of the river beckoned her, but she listened for more. The woods seemed darker somehow without Sean beside her, and she flicked her flashlight in an arc around her. It seemed to take a lot longer to reach the water and by the time she got there, the feeling of complete aloneness was an overwhelming weight in the darkness. One last look around and she stripped out of her clothes as fast as she could. No way was she hanging around splashing like a little fish kabob for any Dead who felt like a midnight snack. Goose bumps rippled across her flesh as the cold wind bit into her, and before she could change her mind, she cast herself into the gentle waves. Clamping her lips together to hold the scream of shock at bay, she dunked her head and stayed under as long as she could hold a breath. When she emerged, she scrubbed her body with rose scented soap from a woman at Dead Run River everyone called the Cleaning Lady.
She closed her eyes and dragged gentle nails across her soapy scalp, giving the moon her neck. Her fear had disappeared with the realization that she had somehow managed to procure a moment of private time. The team was great, but good grief she was enjoying a few minutes away from the pepper of fart jokes.
Her body had become used to the cold of the rapids, and now the air outside was the offender, making her sink lower into the water.
A twig snapped.
The flashlight was on the beach in the front pocket of her waiting backpack, and to retrieve it, she’d have to streak naked. Water lapped at her chin as she tried to make out any shape in the dark. “Sean?”
Another twig snapped, and the brush just behind the treeline moved. Her heart pounded so hard, surely her chest was making those tiny ripples in the water. “Finn?”
A shadow moved from the forest and lumbered toward the shoreline. Toward her. It stumbled in the dark, and she couldn’t make out anything except that the Dead was big. And dressed in—Steven’s clothes?
“Steven? What the hell are you doing out here?”
He stopped just shy of the waves lapping at his boots.
“Hellooo.” She waved. “Did you hear me?”
Something wasn’t right. Steven stood there frozen, and the gray of his eyes stared unblinking at her. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Fear slithered up her spine as she imagined Keeter’s steel grip around her. “Steven?” she squeaked.
A soft groan came from his lips and broke her heart. Oh no, no, no. Had the others been attacked in their sleep too? There had been no gunfire, and surely they would’ve put down Steven before he turned. If they were alive.
“Steven,” she pleaded. “You’re scaring me.” She paddled up the current, and he followed along the shoreline.
He’d been awake when she left, so how could he have been bitten unawares? Oh Steven, that half-lazed idiot. How had he let this happen? And now she was going to die by a Dead she’d known as a friend. What a sad fate for both of them.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” she chanted, swimming harder. Fear thickened in her veins until she panted with panic.
His boots scattered loose pebbles and scuffed the earth clumsily as he followed her along the shore. Deads didn’t like moisture—wasn’t that what Sean had said? But she couldn’t tread the near-frozen water all night. He’d wait her out until she drowned or got close enough for him to reach her. Then her friend would eat her just like Keeter had tried to do.
Maybe if she called out, someone from her team would hear. It was a long shot because they were so far away, but maybe. Or maybe her screaming would alert every Dead in the area. Maybe her entire newly turned team would show up on the water’s edge to eat her alive.
Think, think, think.
He didn’t want to get in the water—that much was obvious—so she swam closer to the other shoreline. He stopped his pursuit and stayed lined up with where she was in the water. When she hit the beach she ran straight back through the trees until the shadows covered her. The ground was unforgiving against her tender, bootless feet, and the air bit into her unclothed skin with such a bitter vengeance, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Huddling in on herself, she hid in the darkness and watched Steven-the-Dead. He stood just where he had been, watching the area where she’d disappeared.
Okay, she would travel back down river and cross at a safe distance. Then she’d run for her bag and get the heck out of Dodge. Tiptoeing through the woods was a pointless endeavor, of course, because everything there was trying to kill her and sounded like cannon fire under her clumsy, frozen feet. Every bramble reached for her bare legs, and every blade of tough autumn grass cut at her ankles. Every rock jutted out just in time for her to step painfully on it. She found every branch to snap in half, but Steven remained where he was, patiently waiting for his meal to return to him. Stupid Dead.
The wind picked up and whipped the tree branches around her as if it were telling her to flee and live. Or maybe it was warning her of what was to come. She picked up her pace and peeked her head around a large evergreen. She couldn’t even see Steven-the-Dead anymore, so she padded to the shore and sank quietly into the waves. Swimming as fast as she could, she reached the other side and looked up in time to see the Dead’s dark figure ambling up the shoreline toward her. Shit.
She bolte
d for her bag. She needed a weapon and warm clothes if she was going to survive this. Her legs prickled like they were falling asleep, and her fingers were stiff as she slowly froze. She reached her backpack before he did, but not by much. It was better this way. She couldn’t live with herself knowing she’d let him go to survive as a Dead. A sob wrenched itself from her throat as she fumbled for the Glock in the dark.
She was about to shoot her friend. No, he wasn’t her friend anymore. Steven had died when the Dead bit him. She couldn’t think of him as human now. Not when her time had come to pull the trigger on a teammate.
He picked up his clumsy pace, and a string of slurred of nonsense left his lips as he bore down on her.
The cold metal of the Glock was a solid weight in her hand as she lifted the pistol to his head. She aimed and put her finger on the trigger. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
A movement rushed from the woods, and it shocked her into stillness. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, Sean tackled the Dead and hit the pebbled beach head on. Both figures collapsed onto the rocky shore, and Vanessa stood shaking like a leaf as the Glock rattled in her grip.
“Don’t shoot him!” Sean yelled. “Don’t shoot! He’s sleepwalking.”
“Wh-What?” She sagged to her knees into the earth that was absorbing her warm tears.
“Look.” He gestured, sitting up. “He’s asleep. He’s not a Dead. He’s asleep.”
“I almost shot him. I had it aimed at his face, about to pull the trigger!”
