“Here’s our goal,” he says, tapping a spot on the worn paper.
I’ve already got our route memorized, but Rex believes in being prepared. We’ve had to separate before, splitting up to hunt or because of Carrionites. So now we plot our routes real careful to avoid those psycho cannibals.
And he always makes sure I know where we’re headed next. A pain in my ass, but it keeps us breathing.
And it beats one of us getting caught by those sickos.
My gut twists. The thought of them getting their hands on Rex, about waking up and finding him gone for good, it’d gut me deeper than any Carrionite blade.
I shake my head, then turn my attention back to him, not wanting to think about those cannibals or about him being gone.
Or about why it bothers me so much, causing me to rub the center of my chest.
Chapter 2
We eat dinner as we walk south through the mountains. Wish we were back on flat land. However, Rex feels it’s safer going this way. But the damn rocky paths are never-ending today.
Thank fuck for the small town up ahead. The sun’s already low in the sky, and with the temperature dropping, no way I want to be sleeping outside. Plus, my legs burn something fierce from all the uphill walking.
Most of the buildings are run-down and looted, but at the end of a street is a small house with faded white paint that’s peeling off the wood siding in curling strips.
Kinda reminds me of a town not far from the shithole where I grew up.
Not that I visited often.
My father didn’t like goin’ anywhere. Didn’t stop me, though. Would cut school sometimes and walk for miles, only to hide in the park and watch the people.
Sometimes I wished I lived there . . . with a different family.
Rex grips my shoulder, steadying me when my legs buckle. “This house should do for the night. Looks secure enough.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t need your help walking.”
He quirks a brow. “Sure about that?”
I huff and head toward the house.
The musty scent of mildew wafts out of the crooked, half-closed front door. Inside, the floorboards groan under our feet. Moth-eaten curtains hang askew over cracked windows so dirty the last rays of sunlight barely penetrate. Cobwebs shroud the corners, and a fine layer of dust coats every surface.
While Rex scopes the place out, I collapse face first onto the lumpy bed in the back room, old springs creaking loudly beneath me as I groan into the limp pillow, every muscle aching.
This thing is kinda like my old mattress growing up—until my father took it away, making me sleep on the floor with nothin’ but blankets after he’d caught me touchin’ myself one day.
My dick had gotten hard. Didn’t understand why.
All I did was touch it for a second, but my father lost his shit. Choked me and I’d gotten so scared I pissed the bed. He’d said if I’d wanted to act like an animal I can sleep on the floor like one.
Rex’s footsteps approach and the bed dips as he settles in. I grumble as he shifts me to take off my jacket.
Once we’re both under the blanket, he wraps his arms around my chest, then tugs me close. “No other signs of life. We can rest easy tonight.”
“I ain’t your fucking teddy bear.”
He just chuckles, the bastard, and hitches his leg over mine. “No, you’re my psychotic little shit.”
Dammit.
I ain’t into all the cuddling, especially since the asshole clings to me like a freaking octopus all night, every night. But I can’t deny how I like the way my skin tingles everywhere we connect.
