Page 21 of Glitter Rose
“No.” His eyes pore over my glitter eyeshadow, lips curving. “But I did know the first part. You’re exactly what I’d expect from a Jane Austen fan.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Princess in a tower, waiting for someone to rescue her.”
I slam my glass down, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “I rescued you, remember? While you were bleeding out in the street?”
“Point taken.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, but I catch the satisfied glint in his eyes. He wanted to provoke me.
“So what did you do before all this?” I ask.
“Marine Corps. Demolitions.”
“You blow stuff up for a living?”
“Used to.” He studies me over the rim of his glass. “What about you?”
“Existed. Took up space. Spent my father’s money.” And was his little experiment and my brother’s nuisance. “Nothing useful.”
“And now you garden, filter water, and perform emergency medicine. Not bad.”
“Necessity is a bitch.” I twirl more pasta.
“And the katana?”
“I fenced.”
“That explains it.”
“Not really. Completely different weapon. But the footwork transfers.”
Outside, the sun sinks lower, painting the room in amber light. In the distance, a zombie howls, the sound like metal grinding against bone.
Stupid Wolf-zombies.
“They’re more active at dusk,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything. I never like the noises, which is why I usually sleep with headphones on.
Knox nods, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. “You ever worry about them finding you up here?”
My fork clatters against the plate. “They don’t… I mean, they haven’t yet.”
“Yet. Luck doesn’t last forever, princess.”
“Speaking from experience? Did you lose your community?”
He sets down his fork, shoulders tensing. “Something like that.”
I shouldn’t dig. But my mouth moves faster than my brain. “Something or someone?”
His eyes meet mine. “Both.”
“Sorry.” I push pasta around my plate. “I don’t usually… talk to people. I’m out of practice.”
“It’s fine.” His tone says it’s anything but. “Everyone’s lost someone.”
Truth is, I’ve never had enough people in my life to lose in the first place. I concentrate on my wineglass, swirling the burgundy liquid, admiring how it catches the dying light like rubies. Three sips to finish it. Maybe four.
He drains his wine glass in one long swallow. “You mentioned no friends. Not even in school?”
