Page 126 of My Undead Love Life

“No,” I agreed. “But we can close the door.”

Oxi finally moved. He stepped forward, picked up the bloodied blanket from the floor, and carefully laid it over Jan first. His hands shook once, but he finished. Then he covered Frank with what was left of another torn blanket from the corner.

It wasn’t enough, but it was the best we could do.

We closed the office door as much as the broken frame allowed and shoved a filing cabinet in front of it to block it off. Then, we secured the warehouse better than they had before the leopards got in.

Mad and I didn’t even have to talk much at first. He checked the weak points, and Oxi and I reinforced them.

Boards over doors. Shelving dragged into place. Debris and random shit stacked high enough to slow anything that tried to force its way through.

The storm still raged outside, wind howling through the broken edges of the windows, but inside, the danger finally felt manageable.

When we finally settled down, the room was different than it had been when I first walked into it. It was still cold, cramped, and full of strangers I apparently needed to figure out how to share my girlfriend with. But it felt safer now—emotionally speaking.

Spencer and Luck made a floor bed for all of us while we took care of reinforcing everything.

I lay beside Spencer and pulled her into me. She curled into my chest, her head tucked under my chin, and her hand resting over my heart. I wrapped my arm around her and held her as tightly as I could without hurting the bruises along her side.

Luck lay on her other side, his arm slung around her waist only after she reached back and pulled it there. I noticed that. I noticed a lot. Mad settled next to me, but his gaze was glued to Spencer. Oxi stretched out near Luck, his cane sword within reach. This was going to be complicated.

Spencer sighed against me softly.

“You okay?” I murmured into her red hair.

She nodded against me. “Yeah,” she whispered.

I brushed my fingers through a white streak near her temple. “Looks like you got a few more white hairs.”

“Whose fault is that?” she shot back.

“Probably the leopards.”

“Keith.”

“Fine. Mine too.”

She let out a quiet breath that almost became a laugh, then went still again. Her fingers tightened in my shirt. “I can’t believe Jan and Frank died.” Her voice broke.

I kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“I hate this world,” she whispered.

“Me too.”

The storm battered the warehouse, and the dead stayed down the hall behind a broken door and a filing cabinet. But Spencer was breathing against me.

“Are you really okay?” she asked.

My arm tightened around her. I looked at the three men who had kept her alive. Loved her. Made her smile when I wasn’t there to do it.

Was I okay? No. I was jealous. But I was also grateful, terrified, exhausted, and so relieved it hurt. I wanted to drag her away from everyone and never let the world look at her again. I also wanted to shake every one of those men’s hands and thank them until my voice gave out.

“I am now,” I whispered.

She pressed her face into my chest, and I felt the wet warmth of a tear through my shirt. I kissed the top of her head again. Her breathing slowly evened out against me.

For the first time in months, I slept with the love of my life in my arms. And if the world wanted to take her from me again, it would have to go through all four of us.