“Why did you do that?” Zeke whispered as we followed the tall, bony woman into the compound. “These people don’t need more mouths to feed—it’s probably hard enough for them to feed themselves.”
“I’m tired, Zeke.” I didn’t look at him as I said it. “It’s nearly dawn. I’m hungry, I’m covered in someone else’s blood, I don’t want to go tromping through the woods again, and for once I’d like to sleep on a bed instead of the cold, hard ground.” Well, that last part was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “You can relax—I don’t think they’re cannibals or secret vampire worshippers, unless you think the old lady is a devil in disguise.”
He gave me an irritated look, then sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Jeb isn’t going to like this,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Chapter 15
When I awoke the next evening, I felt…different. Not in a bad way or in a way that nagged at me, like something I had to worry about. But something had definitely changed. Then it hit me. I was actually clean.
I threw back the quilt and sat up, stretching my arms over my head as I remembered the morning before. Soaking in a tub of hot, clean water, the steam rising into the air to fog the windows, was the purest form of bliss I’d felt in a long time. Getting rained on or falling into a muddy, churning river didn’t count. And there had been real soap, something I’d only heard about in the Fringe. The Archers made their own soap from lye, sand and goat milk, and I’d used the strange yellow lump to scrub through the caked layers of grime and blood, until I could finally see the pale color of my skin. Sadly, with dawn fast approaching, my bath had been short-lived, but I had stayed in that tub for as long as I dared, until the rising sun had forced me out of the bathroom into the borrowed nightgown left on a pillow, and under the covers of the bed.
I stood, taking in the small room. It had probably been a child’s room at one point, if the cheery sun quilt and faded cloud wallpaper were any indication. For a moment, I wondered what became of the child whose room I was borrowing, but quickly abandoned that train of thought.
There was a squeak in the hall outside, movement over the wooden slats, and I froze. Was there someone outside the door? I listened and thought I heard footsteps, moving rapidly away from my room and down the stairs.
Mildly alarmed, I gazed around and spotted my clothes, lying clean and neatly folded atop a dresser. Frowning, I thought back to the previous day. Had I locked my door? Last night, I’d left my clothes in a bloody heap on the floor. Someone had been in my room, if only to wash and fold my clothing, and that made me more than a little nervous. What if they had decided to wake me and couldn’t? What if they’d noticed I wasn’t breathing? My katana lay on top of the pile, not next to the bed where I’d left it, and that made me even more nervous.
I slipped into my clothes and buckled the sword to my back, vowing not to be separated from it again. I could not afford to be careless, especially when surrounded by even more strange humans. Pulling the coat over my shoulders, I turned to leave when there was a knock at the door.
“Allie?” came a voice from the other side. “You up yet? It’s Zeke.”
“It’s open,” I called back. Though after tonight, that is going to change.
The door creaked as it swung inward, revealing a very clean, smiling Zeke on the other side, holding a candle. He wore a white shirt and slightly baggy jeans, and his blond hair feathered out over his eyes and collar, looking very soft and touchable. His pistol, machete, hatchet and various weapons were still in place, but he looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.
And, though I tried to block it out, I could hear his heart beating, low and contented, in his chest. I could sense the pulse at his throat, echoing it, and the blood flowing through him, hot and powerful.
Cursing myself, I shoved those thoughts away. Maybe it was the overload from last night, being forced to see the wound, smell the blood soaking everything. To be that close, unable to tear into the man’s throat, as I’d wanted to do all night, made me crave it even more. I was getting to the point where I’d better feed soon, or I’d go crazy.
Or maybe it was Zeke himself.
That was going to be a problem.
“Oh, wow,” Zeke said quietly, his blue eyes dancing with mischief as he held the candle up. “Look at that. There was actually a girl underneath all the blood and dirt. Though you’re a bit paler than I expected.”
I snorted, hiding my sudden alarm. “Seen yourself?”