Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(42)
“You have no idea how grateful we are,” I said. “If it wasn’t for you, we would have never gotten out of there, Alex.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t turn to look at me, or acknowledge in any way that he’d even heard me. He continued staring ahead, the hard lines of his body still unyielding, his expression still so furious. So I did the first thing that came to my mind, the first thing that I could think of doing to ease the sudden tension.
Grabbing his arm, I moved to my knees in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “I’m still cold,” I said, sounding surprisingly forceful to my own ears. “I can’t get warm.”
I don’t know why it mattered to me that he didn’t carry so much guilt, that he didn’t bear the weight of my world on his shoulders, but it did. For some reason, easing this man’s conscience suddenly mattered.
His hard expression instantly softened, his legs falling open as he gestured for me to come closer. I did so, half crawling into the space he’d allotted me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, hugging my body tightly to his. Although, already feeling blessedly warmer, it was still an uncomfortable position for me. To be so intimately close to someone, to a man, no less. Yet I didn’t fear him; I could feel that truth ring loud and true within me that this man wasn’t a man to be feared, that he deserved as much comfort as I could provide him.
I turned my head, tentatively pressing my cheek against his chest, hearing the sound of his strong heart beating a steady rhythm. How long had it been since I’d been held by a man without the heavy hand of fear pressing down on me, turning much-needed comfort into something else entirely, something dark and cruel?
Too long. So long, in fact, that I hadn’t realized how much I missed it, not until this very moment, enfolded neatly within Alex’s arms.
“Better?” he whispered. His chin tickled against the top of my head, his thick scruff catching like Velcro on my hair.
I tilted my head up, meaning to answer him, not expecting his face to be so close to mine. Our noses nearly touching and our breathing momentarily intermingled, I stared up at him in the flickering firelight as shadows danced all around us.
“I wanted to do this so many times,” he said, his warm breath fanning across my face. “Every time I heard you crying, it ate away at me. I wanted to hold you…or do something, anything to make it better.”
Feeling exposed, I sucked in a sharp breath. Alex knew things about me—had seen and heard things—that not even Evelyn had known. In fact, Alex knew me almost as well as Evelyn did. While he might not have known of my life before the infection, he’d known of my life after, known all of my secret pain.
“Not your fault,” I managed to whisper. Still staring at him, I was somewhat awestruck by how oddly right this felt, being in his arms, both our secret shames openly revealed. I was so used to hiding, hiding everything, every part of me from nearly everyone else that I couldn’t help but feel so…so…taken by this moment. This very freeing moment.
Alex breathed harder, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath me. His arms tightened around me, and yet I still felt no fear, no stifling sensation threatening to overwhelm my emotions. There was most definitely anxiety, an ugly burn in the pit of my stomach, but there was none of the familiar sense of fear and dread I’d felt when Lawrence had touched me.
I continued watching him, staring up into his half-lidded eyes, desperately wondering what he was thinking. Was this pity he was feeling? Pity for the woman he’d had to watch be beaten down both emotionally and physically, day after day, year after year? Or was it his guilt for simply standing by while Lawrence did to me whatever he wanted?
Or was it more than that? Did it go beyond Lawrence entirely? The thought that maybe whatever it was that was happening here had nothing to do with Lawrence Whitney was a joyous one. Yet at the same time, it was terrifying.
I wasn’t like Evelyn, I wasn’t able to just lose myself in a moment, forgetting everything else but the here and now, nor had I ever allowed myself to become distracted by the opposite sex. That was Evelyn’s thing, her way of dealing with her emotions, how she made the days a little less long and our situation a little more bearable. Instead, I resigned myself to a lifetime of frigidity, the thought of being touched by any man leaving me queasy and uncomfortable.
But out here, thrust into the middle of nowhere, our fate unknown, when any moment could be our last, I suddenly found myself feeling quite different in that regard.
I wanted more and yet…I didn’t. Or I couldn’t; I wasn’t sure which.
Looking up into Alex’s dark eyes, I found myself shivering again, only this time it wasn’t from the cold; I was anything but cold. An unexpected warmth invaded that forever chilled place inside of me, creeping in much like the morning sun. Tiny tendrils of light gently hit here and there, making it not quite so cold anymore. In fact, it was downright intoxicating.
His hand moved slowly up my back, leaving ripples of gooseflesh and anxiety in its wake. Brushing my hair away from my face, his fingertips gently smoothed along my jawline until he’d taken my chin in his hand, tilting my face toward his.
Was he going to kiss me? God, it had been so long since I’d been truly kissed, just for the sake of kissing. Even longer since I could remember wanting to return the gesture.
Was it wrong to want to kiss him? It seemed wrong, and yet…I wanted this. I wanted this comfort and warmth, this intimacy. I wanted something to relieve the fear, the cold, the crippling guilt and regret. Just for a moment, for a single moment, I wanted to remember what it felt like to be alive.