Page 52 of His to Burn
I turned to face her.
She stood ten feet away, her body partially blocked by the police car. Her eyes were wide, fixed on me and the ruin at my feet.
“You okay?” she asked.
I barked an ugly, harsh laugh. “Peachy.”
She flinched.
Part of me liked that.
Other parts hated it.
I swiped my boot on the sidewalk. It didn’t do shit. The drying blood and smell clung anyway.
Rot always did.
Asia stepped closer to me.
Too close.
Her hands were in front of her, like she didn’t know if she should reach for me or keep them where I could see them.
Smart instinct.
“Jack…” Her voice cracked. She sounded like she might apologize.
For what?
For being alive?
For needing me to keep her that way?
I shook my head, slicing the air with a rough gesture. “Don’t.”
Her mouth snapped shut. Hurt flickered in her eyes. She tried to mask it by looking at the corpse.
Bad idea.
Her eyes went glassy, throat bobbing like she might gag.
I almost told her to look at me instead.
Almost but didn’t.
She needed to keep her eyes open, to take in the horror.
One day, that might save her.
For now, we needed to move. “Stay close. Eyes up. Next one might not be alone.”
She nodded. Her chin jerked. Then she did something that made my chest lock up.
She stepped right up to me, then, after a moment’s hesitation, settled her hand flat against my chest. Light, barely there, like she needed proof I was still here.
What the hell was she doing?
I should have shoved her off.
