He nods. “My birth name is Nicolas Jeffries, but Dr. Yates suggested I change it if I wanted to reenter the world. She made me a new license and all the accompanying identification documents with the name Dominic Jennings.”
“Hm. Similar, but different enough to sell it.”
“Exactly.” He chews on the inside of his cheek, looking shy. “Why didn’t you meet me that following day? At the beach. I waited. For as long as I could, I waited for you.”
I let my memories take me back to that camping trip, to that sweet first kiss. I wish I could’ve met him that next day. It would’ve been a lot more fun than what actually happened. “My parents got into a big fight. They made us leave a few days earlier than expected.”
I remember the hushed exchange of insults from their side of the camper so vividly. Before bed Isla and I were reading before bed on the kitchen table that morphed into a small bed inside our camper, while Mom and Dad were arguing on the other side of their thin bedroom door. Isla kept looking to me for assurance that everything would be okay, and that’s what I gave her, because I had no idea what else to do.
The next morning, when they told us over breakfast we’d be leaving immediately, I completely lost my shit. As tears streaked down my face, I tried to explain that I’d made a friend and had plans to meet them at the beach that day. Both of them were too busy angrily packing to even acknowledge my emotional state. “Sorry, kiddo. We’re leaving today,” was all I got from Dad.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Nic now. “I wanted to meet you. I begged them to let us stay long enough so that I could at least meet you and tell you that we were leaving. They wouldn’t even give me that.”
“You know what?” he says, clapping his hands together. “That honestly makes me feel better, knowing that we were both miserable that day.”
We share a laugh that lightens the tension significantly. When the laughter settles, I decide to take a chance. There’s a question I’ve been trying not to ask, because it feels rude, but I think the time has come. “Do you still, um, need to eat brains? From humans?”
He seems to register the waver in my voice and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze in response. “The craving has waned significantly. I still need it as part of my diet, but less, and I probably always will.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Are you craving it now?”
“No,” he says softly. “Dr. Yates sends me the amount I need to hold me over for a few months. And it’s not as bad as you’re picturing. She grinds it into a powder and bakes it into a type of granola bar. I eat one a month.”
Okay, that does seem a lot less frightening than what my imagination created, so that’s a relief.
“Can you smell people’s brains?” I laugh, embarrassed by the way I phrased it. “I mean, is that what triggers the craving? Is it akin to smelling brownies baking in the oven?” Before he can reply, I add, “Can you smell mine in my head right now?” I don’t ask him what they smell like, but of course, now I’m wondering that too.
“No, I can’t smell yours, or anyone else’s.” His smile fades. “Not while you’re still alive, anyway.”
“Oh.” I don’t need him to explain further. Once a person is dead and their skull is cracked open, the smell is there.
His eyebrows lift in a sweet, eager expression. “But your brain does tempt me in other ways.”
I shoot him a smirk. “Oh yeah?”
He nods. “You might be the smartest person I know.”
Other men would be intimidated by a smart woman. Not Dominic. There’s nothing but wonder shining in his eyes.
We’ll need to return to the powdered human brain food at some point, but I’m comfortable enough to move on for now.
“Whatever happened to your brother? Does he know you’re like this now?”
Nic looks away, his jaw clenching. “Kenny and I were reported missing when we left Tennessee for Alaska. He was trying to get away from some people, and I followed along, liking the idea of starting a new life somewhere I’d never been. We went on a hike and found this discarded wooden crate filled with berries. At the time, we were out of money and starving, so I didn’t hesitate to eat them. He was more reluctant.” He rubs the stubble on his chin as he continues. “The next part is blurry, but I remember vomiting and feeling a crippling pain in my stomach. Kenny was shouting at me to get the berries out of my system because they were poisonous, and then everything went dark.”
My eyelids are getting heavy, but this story is far too interesting to bail on. “Did Kenny turn into a zombie too?”
He shakes his head, still avoiding my gaze. “No.”
A yawn escapes me as I ask, “Do you know where he is now?”
Nic pulls the blanket over my exposed shoulder and tucks it beneath my chin. “To be continued, lioness.”
“But wait…” I protest, just as sleep pulls me away.
I wake up much warmer than I was when I fell asleep, and that’s likely due to the large arm that’s encircling my waist, and the solid wall of a chest pressed against my back. Not that I mind since I’ve never felt more protected. What does present a bit ofa problem is the rock-hard dick that’s poking me in the ass, and it’s only a problem because based on the snore that’s tickling my ear, Nic is still very much asleep, and I’m so turned on that it takes everything in me not to wiggle my backside against it.
Gray light streams through the narrow space between the curtains. It’s that shade of gray that says it’s way too early for my eyes to be open. I’d guess it was around four or four thirty.
