Page 71 of The Dead Don't Talk
The gasp catches in my throat when Wilson grabs me around my ribs, his arm too stiff and boarding on painful.
He swings me up and I scream, even as his arms wrap around me and his powerful legs spin us around. Away from Moros.
Who’s runningtowardthe sound.
“Don’t you dare.Don’t you fucking dare, Wilson.”
I push against him. Thrashing and smacking at his biceps and chest.
“Baby, please st—“
“Put me down.” I struggle and his fingers dig in harder. “Moros! Don’t leave me.”
But Wilson’s already carrying me away, back towards the center of our community, and my eyesburnas Moros disappears in the distance.
“Amo, baby, I need you safe,” he puffs between the sound of the sirens, his words too stiff. “Fuck, I never should have left my post.”
I don’t even bother to stop the tears as the sounds grow louder, the sirens growing longer, their purpose making my everything bind up so tight, I feel sick.
“I’m gonna follow you. You can’t leave me here alone.”
Wilson’s jaw works with a clench, his gaze hard and set ahead of us.
It only takes us minutes to get back to the edge where the shops start and the bustling people’s concerns filter in around us like static.
“Please,” he murmurs thickly as he sets me on my feet and reaches around me. “Don’t follow me.”
My world tilts when he grabs my hands, my wrists, and starts wrapping something around them.
“Wilson,” I cry, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. “I can help. Let me help.”
But my words are too small, and my emotions are too big.
And when he looks down at me, brown eyes swimming, I know that all he sees is a sniveling, uninfected kitten staring back.
Someone to protect. To coddle and hover over. Someone that will never go into the forest alone or face a decomposed without help.
I step forward, stopped only by my bound hands.
“Don’t do this.”
His hands, warm and calloused, encase my face.
He bends closer, his hot breath tickling my lips for only a moment before he claims them with his own.
It’s rough and forceful when he shoves his tongue into my mouth, like this might be the last time and I let him.
Every word he’s ever kept, every feeling, is embodied in this kiss he’s giving me, and I give it everything I have back.
“Please,” he begs softly, panting as he presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t follow me.”
And then he’s gone.
Running back toward what might be his death.
Chapter 36
You and me
