Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(68)
Taking the seat opposite him, I watched as he laid his forearms on the table, enabling me to clearly see his many tattoos. Numerous skulls trailed up both his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his T-shirt.
He seemed even bigger now that he was seated, his imposing stature engulfing both his chair and the small table between us. My eyes darted up to meet his, and I found him watching me intently with a strange expression on his face, a mixture of longing and anger.
“Lots of skulls,” I said lamely, my gaze dropping to his arms.
“One for every kill,” he said matter-of-factly, as if this was something every person did when they killed an infected.
My thoughts trailed off as my eyebrows rose. “Infected?” I asked. “Or people?”
His lips curved into a grin, yet he didn’t bother to respond. A scantily dressed woman appeared at our table, diverting his attention as she set down a drink in front of him. He picked up the glass and took a long swallow, then offered it to me.
I could smell it from where I sat, the bitter tang that emanated from all liquor, knowing that this was not the sort of man you simply took a drink from. He was dangerous; I knew that much just from looking at him. But as I continued to study him, I realized he wasn’t just dangerous, he literally radiated danger. Violence. From every pore on his skin, every taut, bulky muscle in his body.
And yet, I found myself reaching across the table, taking what he offered, then brought it to my lips and swallowed the burning, foul-smelling liquid. Feeling oddly like Alice in Wonderland, I licked a spilled drop from my bottom lip as the rest of the swallow burned a hot path down my throat.
“This one is mine.”
I glanced up, surprised to find Alex and Leisel standing beside me. Grabbing my arm, Alex pulled up my shirtsleeve, showing this man the brand on my wrist. My gaze flitted to Leisel, her big brown eyes watching me, radiating something like pity. I swallowed back a wave of shame. She knew me, knew how I worked, how I’d always worked, the things I did to fill the emptiness inside. Though my guilt and shame were obvious, my anger probably wasn’t. And I was suddenly so very angry.
Looking away, I found the man across from me glaring up at Alex before looking back at me. I shrugged apologetically, suddenly feeling like a moron for forgetting my place. It was imperative that the people here believed I did actually belong to Alex. For my own protection, and for Leisel’s.
Nostrils flaring wildly, the man pushed away from the table and cast hard glances at both Alex and me before walking off, his retreating form instantly swallowed by the pulsating crowd. Watching him, my chest began to ache—for the freedom he had, able to just get up and walk away. To get lost in a crowd, in the dark.
“We’re leaving,” Alex said, his expression one that brooked no argument. Neither Leisel nor I protested.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leisel
“Eve?” I whispered, nudging Evelyn’s shoulder lightly. An incomprehensible murmur slipped past her lips in response, signaling to me that she was sound asleep. Sighing, unable to sleep myself, I pushed up on the musty mattress and surveyed the dark room. Finding Alex seated upright in the armchair, his head lolling off to one side and his eyes closed, I rolled off the mattress and tiptoed carefully across the floor.
“Hey,” I whispered, bending down and placing my hand gently on his knee. Alex’s eyes flew open and he shot up and out of his chair, startling me and sending me falling backward.
“What?” he said loudly, his eyes darting wildly back and forth. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” I whispered. Getting to my feet, I glared at him. “Shh! You’re going to wake Eve.”
As understanding dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed and his panicked expression morphed to confusion. “Why are you awake?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
Reaching for him, I nodded slowly. “I couldn’t sleep,” I said, and fitted my body against his. His arms encircled me and he moved us backward as one, dropping back down onto the chair and bringing me with him.
Curling into his lap, I wound my arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You’re starting to look like a mountain man,” I said softly, smiling against his beard.
“I don’t like it here,” he said in response as he stared off across the room. “I want to try and get as much as we can as quickly as we can, and then keep moving. I don’t trust this place.”
“It’s better than nothing.” I pulled away from him somewhat, disappointment coursing through me at his lack of response to my kiss.
I didn’t trust this place either, but as far as I could tell there were no forced marriages happening here, no religious zealots feeding the living to the dead. And the brand still stinging on my wrist gave me a sense of comfort I’d never thought possible from a tattoo. We each had to work to stay, to contribute, but we were able to carry weapons to protect ourselves, we had a bed to sleep on and the promise of food and water come tomorrow. It was almost too good to be true, yet I found myself not wanting to wait for the other shoe to drop, just for once to not be consumed by fear of the unknown.
Alex didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the shadows cast by the moonlight on the opposite wall, but he lifted his hand and slipped it beneath the back of my shirt, settling it heavily on the small of my back. His warm, comforting touch caused a small sigh of pleasure to escape me. Arching my neck, I moved in to kiss him again as Evelyn emitted a small noise in her sleep, the springs in the mattress creaking loudly as she rolled over restlessly, then nestled herself against the wall.