“Kennedy.” The second voice lowers, softens. “Can you hear me?”
The hands run down my back again. “Give her a minute.”
A minute. Time.
Minutes, hours. Days.
My mouth shapes, moves, but nothing comes out.
Images, words, memories, come burstingin.
The forest. I was in the forest, and it hurt. The memory of the pain makes me shrink away in remembered agony.
“Steady,” the voice murmurs. “You’re safe, Kenny.”
Safe.
“Theo. Your neck.”
Theo. My hold tightens.
Theo.
“I’m fine.” Rough, hoarse words, a shift beneath me that has me tensing. “You think I care? I’m staying right here. Not moving.”
Fine. Fine, fine.
Why would Theo be—
My eyes open again. His skin – his neck, is damp.
And… red.
I lower my fingers slowly. Press into it.
Wet. Iron. Blood.
My heart thumps as I stare at it, smeared across my hands.
I… did that. I can taste it in my mouth.
And then I remember.
Who I am.
Who they are.
What I am.
Feral.
And why I am here.
Day 365 – Max
Theo’st-shirtissoaked,sticking to his body as he sways. But he grips Kenny tightly, his hand cupping the back of her neck where she straddles him, her teeth buried in his neck.
He chokes on her name. “Kenny.”
