Page 38 of The Dead Don't Talk
For the last three fucking days, both of my lovely partners—fellow Guard members, not romantic—have been basically passed out. Incoherent. Nibbling on each other when I gave the chain too much slack.
But have they been able to say a single fucking word?
No.
Which means I’m fucking losing my mind when Wilson stirs again, his sleepy brown eyes cracking open and searching the room like he’s prepared for the worst. They flash with confusionwhen nothing is amiss except me being here, and his brow pulled low.
“Hey, there, princess. Welcome back.”
It’s loaded with all the sass that I’ve stored up for the last three days and dripping with sarcasm.
He smiles at me anyway and my heart does a little patter thing that I fucking ignore for the rumble of my stomach.
I ate the remaining ration last night when I took their chains off, convinced that they’d be coming back from the frenzy soon.
The sun’s already come up on another day.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs with a cracked voice, and licks his dried lips.
They both look like shit. Worn out and used—which they are, but that’s beside the point.
“Don’they, baby, me now, you fucker.” His brows shoot up to his sweat-slicked hairline and his grip tightens on the twitching arm slung over his middle.
“Was it that bad?”
He asks it so innocently that I almost break the hardass character I settled on when I saw him moving around. Instead, I hop up from the chair next to the bed where they lay intertwined because some messed up part of me couldn’t fathom leaving them to go through this on the hard floor, and I shove a hand in my frizzed curls.
“Yes,” I hiss, “it was that bad, Wilson. Why the fuck did no one tell me I was getting fucked by infected dick?”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
I roll my eyes at Moros’s sudden bark and crouch next to where he seethes. “You see it?” I point to my dropped-open lips. “It’s saying:you’re both bastards for not telling me.”
The growl that echoes from thinned lips is such a contrast to the soft sigh next to him, that my heart twinges.
My eyes burn.
“You could have told me,” I murmur, the words so much softer than I intended.
Moros clears his throat and pushes off Wilson to sit up, his gaze avoiding mine. “Assumed you knew,” he mutters and reaches for the nearest thing to cover his naked cock.
Wilson pushes up next with a wince, sitting more gingerly than his partner. He doesn’t seem to care about his state of undress, even as I watch his cock drag across his thigh and settle on top of his sac between his legs.
The cock that was inside me. That I sucked.
My stomach twists all over again.
What if they’d turned?
Shaking my head, my jaw ticking from gritting my teeth.
“How are you not, Amo?”
I blink hard at Wilson. “Not what?”
His gaze flips to Moros’s back before settling on mine. “You’re not supposed to be Guard if you aren’t.”
“What? No. No, that’s not a thing.”
