Page 99 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Cal’s expression stayed steady, but something lit behind his eyes, bright and pleased, like a flame catching. “Yes.”

I swallowed. “It was manageable.”

His mouth curved. “Manageable.”

“It was,” I insisted. “I could file it away under not my problem.”

Cal’s gaze held mine. “And now.”

Now the egg bond sat like a live wire under my skin. Now the earlier glimpse of his desire had twisted something in me. Now my dreams were traitors.

“Now it is different,” I admitted. “Because of the baby. Because I am tied into this. Because I can feel things I should not.”

His voice went quiet. “You can feel me.”

My face heated again. “Yes.”

Cal moved slowly, giving me time to pull away. He did not reach like someone taking. He leaned in as if he were asking.

“Salima,” he said, voice low. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I should have told him to stop.

Trust did not come easy. Safety did not come easy. Desire came far too easily, apparently, and my body had already voted.

I did not say stop.

Cal’s mouth met mine, and the kiss was not gentle.

It was the kind of kiss that felt like months of restraint finally snapping. His hand slid to the side of my face, warm, steady, thumb brushing my cheek as if he needed to confirm I was real. I gripped his shirt without thinking, pulling him closer, and the egg bond pulsed in my soul as if it approved.

That thought was so absurd I almost laughed into his mouth.

He kissed me harder instead, and I forgot how to breathe properly.

Then my phone rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a knife through silk.

Cal froze. So did I. We both stared at the nightstand like it had personally betrayed us.

It rang again.

I fumbled for it with clumsy fingers. “Hello.”

Mina’s voice burst through the speaker, breathless, high, and pitched on the edge of panic. “Salima, we have zombies at the university quad.”

My stomach dropped so fast it felt like my organs rearranged.

“At the quad?” I repeated.

“Yes,” Mina said. “They are attacking students. People are filming. It is already online. This is bad. It’s going to expose us if we don’t do something quickly.”

Behind her, I heard screaming. Shouting. Someone yelling to run.

Cal’s posture shifted instantly, protective focus snapping into place like a switch.

Mina continued, fast. “I can spin it. I can tell people it is an elaborate flash mob, performance art, like a horror-themed campus stunt. I have a crew. We can control the narrative, but we need you here. Now.”