"Honestly? I don't know." She sets down her water. "I keep waiting for the panic to hit. The guilt, the fear. But instead I just feel tired. And relieved."
"That's normal."
"Is it?" She looks at me. "I shot someone today. Killed someone, probably. And I'm not falling apart."
"You defended yourself. Defended all of us."
"Tell that to the guy's family."
"The guy who was part of the group that killed your entire crew?" I move closer. "This isn't the same thing."
She's quiet for a moment. "I keep thinking about what you said. About honoring the dead by living. I think I finally get it."
"Yeah?"
"They died protecting something that mattered. The best way to honor that is to keep protecting it." She takes my hand. "Not by drowning in guilt. By doing the work."
"Exactly."
"So that's what I'm going to do." Her eyes meet mine. "Build this network with you. Help settlements. Train medics."
I pull her up. "Come on. Let's get some rest."
Rebecca set us up in adjoining rooms, but Hazel follows me into mine. The door closes, and suddenly we're alone for the first time since the ambush.
"We survived," she says.
"We did."
"I wasn't sure we would. When those motorcycles showed up, when you made that jump—" Her voice catches. "I thought that might be it."
"But it wasn't." I pull her closer. "We're here."
She kisses me, and there's relief in it—desperate gratitude for being alive. We're pulling at each other's clothes before we even make it to the bed.
I back her against the wall, my hands finding her breasts through her shirt. She gasps, arching into my touch.
We strip each other and when we're finally naked, I take a moment just to look at her. The healing wound on her shoulder. The bruises from today's chase. The flush spreading across her chest. Every mark a testament to her survival.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell her.
"I'm covered in bruises."
"Beautiful," I repeat, backing her toward the bed. "Every goddamn inch."
I lay her down and start at her throat, kissing and biting my way down her body. When I reach her breasts, I take my time, circling each nipple with my tongue, then sucking hard enough to make her back arch off the bed.
"Travis!"
"I almost lost you today." I move lower, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hip bones. "So I'm taking my time. Memorizing every part of you."
"You can memorize later." Her hands fist in my hair, trying to guide me lower. "Right now I need your mouth on my pussy."
"Demanding." But I settle between her thighs, spreading her open with my thumbs. She's already wet, flushed and ready. "I like it."
I lick a slow stripe up her center, and she moans. God, I love that sound. Love the way she tastes, the way her hips buck when I circle her clit with my tongue.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her gasp. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, hot and tight, and I work her with deliberate precision—tongue on her clit, fingers stroking deep, building her pleasure until she's trembling.
