Page 118 of My Undead Love Life

He took one step forward, and the light caught his face. His usually clean-shaven face sported a beard, but his cheeks were thinner. Exhaustion carved deep shadows beneath his blue eyes.

But they were his eyes.

Keith’s eyes.

And they were wide with terror, looking at me in shock.

Somewhere behind Luck, the broken office door creaked on one hinge. Something wet dripped steadily onto the floor. But even that horror faded for the moment.

“…Keith?” My voice barely came out.

His blue eyes filled with fear and love, and his lips quirked into a smile that trembled at the edges. “Hi, wildflower.”

21

SPENCER

He was alive.

I shoved myself up onto my feet. Pain flashed through my sides, and Luck grabbed me to help, but I barely felt it. I stumbled toward Keith as if my body couldn’t remember how to work. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.

He moved forward fast, and I’d only taken two steps before I fell into his arms.

“You’re alive,” I breathed. I moved my hands over him like I had to prove to myself that he existed. “You’re alive. You’re…how are you…Keith, how are you…”

He tugged me against him so hard it knocked the breath out of me again, his arms locking around me tightly. The rifle hung from its strap between us, awkward and cold, but neither of us cared. His hand buried in my hair, and his face pressed against the side of my head.

He smelled like smoke, snow, sweat, gun oil, and the kind of road-worn exhaustion that meant survival had been cruel to him, too. But underneath it all, he smelled like Keith.

My Keith.

“I thought you were dead,” he said into my hair. His voice broke. “I thought I lost you. I’ve been searching for you since I escaped.”

“I thought you were dead,” I shot back, crying as I pulled back just enough to look at him. His face blurred through my tears. I touched his cheek again. “You stayed behind. The gunshots stopped. You didn’t come back.”

“I know.” His thumb swept under my eye. “I know, wildflower. I tried. God, I tried.”

I leaned up and kissed him hard. All the fear and relief crashed together at once. He kissed me back immediately, just as desperately, one hand gripping the back of my neck and the other tightening at my waist like he couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was cold from the storm, then warm, then familiar in a way that made my whole chest ache.

Behind us, someone cleared their throat. We broke apart, both breathing hard.

I turned slowly toward my three boyfriends after just kissing my boyfriend we thought had died.

Mad stood a few feet away, axe still in hand, shoulders rigid and face smeared with blood that wasn’t his. Oxi was near the dead leopard, cane sword lowered but still ready, his green eyes locked on me in a way that made guilt twist sharply under my ribs. Luck stood beside him, shovel gripped tight, eyes wide and unreadable.

They were okay, though.

All of the men I loved were.

Then, my gaze drifted past them.

The office door hung half-broken in its frame. A long smear of blood stretched from the threshold into the room, dark and wet against the dusty concrete. A piece of Frank’s boot showed beyond the desk. My stomach turned violently as I looked away.

Keith had followed my gaze, and his arm tightened around me. His expression changed as he took in the broken office, the blood, the silence inside it. “Who were they?” he asked quietly.

“They were with us,” Mad said. “We had just met them yesterday.” His voice was clipped, but there was something rough underneath it.

“Frank and Jan,” Luck added, and his voice cracked on Jan’s name. “They didn’t have any weapons.”