“You’re handsome,” he said, reaching up to trace his finger along my jaw.
I’d never given much thought to my appearance–I had more important things on my mind–but I was glad that the attraction was mutual. I touched his hair and wondered if he might have imprinted on me like a duckling, if I was a substitute for his big brother. I hoped it wasn’t just that.
“Do you think I’m handsome?” he asked, and I didn’t think he was fishing for compliments. More likely, no one had ever told him he was beautiful, except maybe his mother.
“Very handsome,” I said. He grinned and lowered his head, bashful all of a sudden. I tipped up his chin with my index finger. “You’re gorgeous, Kitten. A real piece of work too.”
His smile widened and he flipped onto his back. I laid my hand across his warm belly, and he moved it to the center of his chest. His sweet little nipples were like magnets for my fingertips, and I teased them with light touches.
“Macon told me this would work,” he said, and I shook my head at their scheming.
“Yeah well, he’s right sometimes,” I reluctantly admitted. The meddling little shit.
“I really want to touch your dick.” He tilted his head to look at me. “Maybe even put it in my mouth?”
I chuckled at his enthusiasm. My previous romantic encounters had been stressed, desperate, and brief, usually with the transactional expectation of getting each other off and nothing more. I didn’t want that with him. I wanted to take my time, make it special for us both. Didn’t I deserve that? He absolutely did.
“We’ll get there,” I said.
“So, are we boyfriends now?” he asked.
I’d never had a boyfriend before, never wanted one either—too much risk and responsibility, too great a possibility I might lose them to an early and unfortunate demise. But despite the odds, I wanted him. I could have him today and tomorrow and maybe the day after. For a little while at least, he could be mine.
“Yeah, I guess we are.”
He beamed, casting his light on my dark, shadowy places. “That was my birthday wish. That and a cure for the virus.”
“One out of two ain’t bad.”
TWELVE
KITTEN
Cipher,our chief navigator (and also my boyfriend), was keeper of the map, and he showed it to me whenever I asked to see it, which he said was the equivalent to me asking “are we there yet?” And so, it became our habit. Every evening after our hike, he’d point to the map and tell me how far we’d gone that day and I’d marvel at how it had seemed like so much longer on foot.
Last night he’d said we’d be in Atlanta by this afternoon, but now that the day had finally arrived, I was having mixed feelings about it. I’d gotten used to life in Rabid Country. Sure, my shoes were shredded and I missed sleeping in a bed, the Rabids were a bummer and the raiders were a friggin nightmare, but at least I knew what to expect. Atlanta was a whole new animal. Hopefully my brother was there, and I’d find him.
“What’s it like?” I asked Macon. We were collecting wood for the morning fire, and I was pestering him for information while trying not to let my nervousness show.
“Dunno. Never been. My hometown and Rabid Country is all I know.”
“Like me?”
“Yep, that’s why I’m not too keen on staying in Atlanta for long. I’d rather we get what we need and continue on to Promised Land.”
“What have you heard about Promised Land?”
“It’s like a commune where everyone helps out with chores–cooking or farming or raising animals, probably masonry and carpentry too. They work together to keep out the Rabids and live peacefully with each other. Could be just the place for us to settle down and build something more permanent. Maybe even start a family.” His wistful gaze turned toward the woods where Artemis was keeping watch. We saw her in profile, crossbow at her side, ever vigilant in protecting our little pack. I had a hunch that I wasn’t the only one with a big ole crush.
“Kind of reminds me of our neighborhood before everyone started leaving.” For a while we’d made do, bartering and sharing what we had. Neighbors would hunt for deer and other game in packs and divvy up what they’d brought back amongst the few families who remained. “But then people started getting sick, and we had to keep to ourselves more.”
“Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Maybe, but why couldn’t a place like that exist?”
“I agree, but we have to make sure that it’s real, not just some fairytale for desperate wanderers.”
Macon, even more so than the others, seemed to want a place of his own where he could farm and tinker and build. “Why did you leave your home?” I asked.
