Page 7 of The Dead Don't Talk
My hand still stings from his slap.
I know I shouldn’t have been trying to grab the compass out of his hand, butstill.
He’s quite rude. I don’t know why I ever thought he was attractive.
The hair curling around his ears is nowunattractive.His muscles are too muscle-y. And his intricate tattoos on sun-darkened skin are nothing more than stupid little dots and lines made up to make him look mean.
He is mean.
Heis.
But what would that smack feel like on my ass—no.
No?
“No.”
“No what?” Moros asks, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.
Aw shit.
I shake my head to hide the way my eyes bulge at being caught thinking out loud. “Didn’t you ask me something?”
“No,” he answers plainly and just … keeps walking. No other words or questions or looks. Justwalking.
And no, I don’t watch the way his tapered waist tilts and twists with each of his steps.
“Where are wegoing?” I finally ask when the call of bugs grows too loud to ignore, the awkward silence between us pressing in almost as much as the forest. It’s getting thicker, denser, the deeper we go. Massive tree trunks block our views and roots make the pathway treacherous. The canopy over us is dense, stealing a lot of the fading sunlight and washing us in a haze. It’s eerie, almost, to be this far out and I swallow hard at the prickle on the back of my neck.
“Not much longer.”
“I’m not convinced,” I mutter low and catch a branch Moros lets swing my way. “Is there food where we’re going? I’m hungry.”
Unintelligible words are grumbled but none of them make sense. So, I’ll just assume the answer is a big, fat,no.
Which sucks because my stomach is ready to rumble, and my loins are starting to tingle in a way that makes me regret sticking with Moros on this little side quest to the unknown. Just the two of us. In the middle of nowhere. Where I can stare at his ass without worry of being caught.
There’s just something about being around him that makes me want to offer myself up to him on a platter. Maybe it’s knowing he’s queer, too?
Or maybe he’s just hot as fuck, and I’m desperate for a hand that’s not attached to my own body.
But his ass—
Nope. Nuh-uh. We’re not going there again. We said he’s no longer attractive because his personality is shit and that’sfinal.
I’ll just die a virgin, I guess.
The sharp flick of his fist into the air makes me freeze, the move off-putting and out of character for him. I’ve never seen him do that … did I miss part of his teachings somewhere?
I want to ask him what the fuck, but he’s gone just as still as me, even the sound of his breathing nonexistent amongst the chatter of insects and calls of birds.
Are there decomposed out here?
Slowly, so slowly I barely recognize movement, Moros turns his head to the side and lets out a low whistle.
The sound sends a chill all the way down my back.
I’m so focused on him, that when something wizzes by my fucking head and pings into the tree behind me, I startle violently.
