Page 97 of Her Wolf

The surrealism of the moment drenched her mind like anesthetic. Here she was, having a polite conversation about a dead body with her kidnapper. And, worst of all, they were both pretending he was still alive.

“Is he going to join us?” she asked. “For dinner?”

“No.” Zachary’s voice dropped a little. “I don’t think he’ll feel up to it.”

“Okay.”

A nose pushed into Cora’s palm, and she looked down. Lady began licking her hand again. The dog had gotten most of the blood off her except a little by her cuticles—dripping red popsicle—and the crease of her thumb.

She heard a scraping noise, and when she looked up, Zachary was inches away, having taken a seat beside her.

A normal person would have screamed.

She just blinked at him and asked, “When are you going to kill me?”

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