A Mad Zombie Party

  This is really happening? Frosty is kissing me? Then his tongue rolls against mine and the most intense pleasure consumes me, and I kiss him back with everything I've got, plowing my hands through his hair.

  He tilts my head the way he wants it and takes my mouth deeper, harder. I whimper. I have wanted this, needed this, for so long, and now he's giving it to me and, and, and...

  He anchors both hands under my bottom and hefts me up. "Wrap your legs around me."

  The moment I obey, he walks me to the bed, every step causing us to rub together, creating the most delicious friction. He lowers me, settles his weight on top of me, and I realize he isn't the only one who needs more.

  Heat wafts from him, enveloping me, and my blood turns molten; my bones liquefy. My body moves of its own accord, arching up, into him, grinding against his hardness.

  He hisses. "I want you, Milla."

  He said my name. He knows I'm the one he's with.

  "Yes." Oh, yes. I pull at his shirt, but I can't get it off him while his hands are still on me. "Shirt. Off," I say between thrusts of our tongues.

  He rips the material over his head and suddenly my nails are scraping over the tattoos on his back. I'm purring, and he's groaning.

  "Your turn." A command.

  I lift and he quickly divests me of my shirt and bra, leaving me bare from the waist up. He goes still, peering down at me with wonder.

  "You're so beautiful, Mills."

  The way he's looking at me, I feel beautiful...even cherished. "Kiss me, Aston." I use his name for the first time, and it tastes good on my tongue. "Don't ever stop."

  His eyes grow darker as he dives back down, claiming my mouth in a kiss that sears even my soul. Our chests are skin-to-skin, and I want the rest of us that way, too. I've never felt anything so--

  "Frosty?" Kat's voice intrudes.

  "Kat?" Frosty wrenches away from me and stands. He's fighting for breath as he turns to face his ex-girlfriend, is paling as she backs away from him. "Kat," he repeats, taking a step toward her.

  She disappears.

  He takes another step, this one toward the door.

  First, confusion hits me. He's leaving me? Then, horror dawns. He's definitely leaving me--for his ex.

  Oh...hell. He's leaving me for his ex.

  I sit up, scramble for my shirt and yank it over my head, desperate to cover myself.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he tells me, anguish in his eyes, dripping from the words.

  Sorry isn't good enough. "Don't do this," I whisper. "Stay."

  He scrubs a shaky hand down his face. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I have to... I owe her."

  What about me?

  He strides from the room without another word...leaving me alone. Always alone. Never good enough. Never "the one."

  He didn't bang me, but he sure did bail.

  My heart breaks. All I can do is curl into a ball and sob.

  I'm trembling as I shut myself in one of the empty bedrooms and shout for Kat. What she saw...

  Witnesses aren't allowed to view romantic or intimate moments. When the screen--isn't that what she'd called it?--went blank, she must have come looking for me. What happened...hell, it never should have happened. I knew it then, and I know it now. And not because of Kat.

  I've been a dead man walking since Kat's death, and Milla helped bring me back to life. I owe her, just like I'd claimed to owe Kat. But if we'd had sex today, would I have offered her more afterward? A happily-ever-after I've only ever imagined with Kat?

  Probably not. Because, even though we're friends, I'm not falling for her. I can't be falling for her. Yes, she matters to me. Yes, I'm borderline obsessed with keeping her safe. Yes, I crave more time with her--to talk, because she's smart and funny. But I told her I wouldn't hit and run. And committing to her, just so I can touch and kiss her... I can't do it.

  Are you sure? Temptation whispers. You're still on fire for her, desperate to be with her. Only her.

  Shut the hell up.

  If our history is our foundation, then our foundation is built on blood, guilt and sorrow. Whatever we manage to build will come crashing down during the first storm. I'll lose her, and I can't survive losing another girl.

  Maybe I'd be willing to risk it, though--maybe I'd be willing to risk everything--if Milla put me first. I put my girl first, and I expect the same from her. But River is and will always be her top priority. With good reason.

  "Kat," I shout. "Let's discuss this. Please."

  She appears between one blink and another, tears streaking down her cheeks. "How could you kiss her?"

  The first spark of anger burns through me. "You can't have it both ways. You can't cut me loose and act jealous when I'm with someone else."

  She flinches. "I'm not jealous. I just... I told you anyone but her for your benefit."

  I scrub a hand down my face. "I like her. She's a good person, and she's had a crap life. She's my friend."

  "Do you usually suck the air from a friend's lungs?"

  "That's no longer your concern, is it?"

  "I know. I know." She draws in a heavy breath, holds it, and as she slowly releases it, her eyes beseech me. "I want you with someone else, want you happy...but you can't be with her, Frosty. You just can't. Pick anyone else, and you'll get my gold-star stamp of approval."

  Over the years I've faced zombies, toxin, injury and the death of loved ones, but this...this might be worse. "I said I would love you forever, and that hasn't changed. I do, and I will. You're one of the best things to ever happen to me, but you're not my girlfriend. Not anymore. If I decide to be with Milla, I will. You don't get a vote, and your stamp of approval isn't necessary."

  "Frosty." She clasps her hands together, creating a steeple. "Please, don't do this. You don't understand."

  "Kitten--"

  "You remember my cousin Teresa, right? She's smart and pretty, and she has--"

  "Kitten," I repeat gently but firmly. "Enough."

  "No." She closes her eyes, tears catching in her lashes. "She's going to... Frosty, Camilla is going to die."

  "Of course she is. Death is hereditary."

  "Yes, but her death will come sooner rather than later. Ali's vision..." Kat's voice goes soft. "Camilla will save you...but she'll die doing it."

  The words reverberate inside my mind--she'll die, sooner rather than later, she'll die--and an unholy rage overtakes me. "Tell me everything you know about the vision. Every detail. Now."

  Kat flinches, but says, "You're inside a building. You're cut, bleeding. Cole, Ali and the others are lined up behind you. There's a gun trained on you, held in a very feminine hand. A series of shots go off. Camilla moves in front of you and takes the hail of bullets."

  As she speaks, a thousand-pound weight settles on my chest.

  "I never thought you'd grow to like her." Kat's eyes plead with me to forgive her. "I thought she'd get what she deserves, and that would be that. I made Ali promise not to tell anyone, not even Cole, because I thought the end justified the means. I wanted you safe. More than anything I wanted you safe."

  "So you did to Milla what we crucified her for doing to us? You decided to trade one life for another, Kat." Damn her! And damn the entire situation. "I can't imagine those higher courts would approve."

  "They approve of sacrifice," she says haughtily. Then her shoulders droop and she adds, "When it's by choice."

  "But you haven't given Milla a choice, have you?" My bitterness is like a train that's gone off the rails. A crash is inevitable.

  "No," she admits, "and for that, I'll be booted out as soon as Camilla... When she's gone."

  Gone. Dead.

  I reel. I burn. "You need to go. Now."

  "I'm sorry," she whispers.

  "You're sorry? You're sorry? Do you think that makes everything better?" I don't give her a chance to respond. "Do you have any idea how badly I suffered when you died? I was shredded, Kat. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. Milla brought me out
of the abyss. She showed me again and again how to live, how to move on, and now you're telling me I'm going to lose her, too. That I'm going to survive and watch, helpless, as another girl dies in front of me."

  She wraps her arms around her middle. "If she doesn't take the bullets for you, you'll die."

  "If you think I'd rather watch her bleed out, the way I watched you, you don't know me at all." I stride to the far wall, away from her--I have to get away from her. My hands fist and I throw a punch, cracking the plaster, and she gasps. I throw another and another, creating a hole.

  The leash on my temper breaks, and I punch and punch and punch again, my skin splitting, my knuckles cracking and swelling, but I can't stop.

  I'm not sure how much times passes before Cole grabs me by the wrist, preventing me from continuing.

  "Did you know?" I demand, wrenching free.

  "Not until two minutes ago." His features are hard, determined. "To be honest, I'm not sure I would have done anything different if I had. I would have thought you'd be relieved. When Kat approached her, Camilla was your enemy. You hated her. You wanted her dead."

  "You know my feelings for her have changed. You all know."

  "We guessed. You haven't been forthcoming with details. For all we knew, you were playing a game, hoping to break the girl's heart and punish her for her crimes." He adds, "Don't worry. I'll deal with Ali."

  I scoff. "What? You'll spank her?" How am I supposed to cope with this? How am I supposed to go on my merry way, knowing Milla will one day die because of me?

  Actually, no. I'm not. I absolutely refuse to let her die. If she isn't protecting me, she won't be in danger. She'll live. I'll die, but she'll live, and I'm totally okay with that.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm leaving, and I don't know when I'll be back. Don't follow me. Don't come after me."

  "You'll get no promises from me. I'll do what I think is best. But you better be careful out there. We don't know where Rebecca is or what she's planning."

  Let her come after me. Let her feel the full brunt of my wrath.

  "Do what you have to," Cole says, "but get yourself together. We're at war, and distraction can get you killed."

  "According to the vision, bullets will do the job. But better me than Milla." I stalk from the room.

  *

  I'm being followed, and not by my friends.

  The sedan with dark tinted windows has trailed me around several corners, making no effort to hide. Now the driver is even flashing his headlights at me, despite the glare of the sun.

  One of Smith's guys hoping to chat? Well, fingers crossed.

  I drive to a nearby shopping center, where fast food abounds and superstores flood the streets with traffic. At a green light, I slam on my breaks rather than speeding through the intersection, causing the sedan to bump into my tail.

  I put the truck in Park, turn on my hazards and exit, my weapons hidden under my shirtsleeves.

  "I'm fine," I tell the witnesses standing on the sidewalk, watching. "No worries."

  A slender woman with milky-white skin and jet-black hair anchored at her nape emerges from the back of the sedan. She's pretty in a military-commander type of way. If the military commander in question is posing for a pinup. Her lipstick is bloodred, a perfect complement the tight black dress and six-inch heels she's wearing.

  Rebecca Smith in the flesh.

  Hatred mixes with glee, and I reach for a blade. Slow your roll. Witnesses equal cameras. Cameras equal jail time.

  Okay. No flashing metal.

  "You picked the wrong time for a meet-and-greet." I smile at her. "But it's nice to know you got your stupid back."

  "We have a few minutes before the cavalry arrives." She drops her chin to look at me over the top of her sunglasses. "Do you really want to waste precious seconds exchanging insults?"

  "I want you to die."

  "And I want Tiffany."

  "Aw. Look who's finally grown a heart. You normally don't give a shit about your agents." As long as I've known her, she's only ever used others as shields.

  Kinda like what I've been doing with Milla.

  I swallow a curse.

  "Everyone in my employ means something to me right now," she says. "I'm rebuilding my business, and good slayers are hard to find."

  "Still trying to unlock the secret of immortality?" My tone is as dry as a desert. The thought of someone like Smith, with no moral compass, having no expiration date--horrifying.

  She tsks. "Go ahead. Continue to scoff. If I'd succeeded, your girlfriend would still be alive. But who knows? Maybe we'll save the next one."

  I take a step closer, and she takes a step back.

  She lifts her chin. "Look. These past few months, I could have killed you and your friends a thousand times over. Did I? No."

  "Maybe because you've been too busy cloning zombies."

  "Would you rather I make new ones?" She pushes her sunglasses up her nose. "I've been content doing my work and allowing you to do yours. I've kept my distance, only sent one agent into your midst and only so I could keep track of your activities and ensure you weren't coming after me."

  "Tiffany claims you paid her to poison us. Oh, and did I forget to mention she slit the throat of one of my friends?" My best friend.

  Smith blinks in surprise. Or what she wants me to believe is surprise. "Well, that certainly explains why the girl ran from me when she ran from you. I didn't tell her to harm anyone, and I'll punish her for acting out of turn."

  "Taking you at your word isn't something I'm willing to do."

  "As for the poison," she continues as if I haven't spoken, "that was payback, plain and simple. Ali took my abilities, so I took hers."

  "And the red flames?"

  She shrugs. "Tiffany acted out of panic. The serum was meant for zombies, to make them hunger for each other rather than humans, but Miss Marks gave chase and Tiffany hoped the serum would slow her down." One of her perfectly plucked brows arches. "See? I can be one of the good guys, too. If zombies only feed on each other, your precious humans are no longer in danger."

  There's a catch. With her, there's always a catch. "You--"

  "No more questions. Either you give Tiffany to me, or you go to war with me. Your choice."

  "We're already at war."

  Her lips pull back in a snarl. "You don't want to take me on, Frosty." She hands me a business card. "I'll give you twenty-four hours to release her. You do, and I'll share the antidote to rid Miss Marks of red flames. You don't, and I will kill you all."

  I get all up in her face.

  "What are you going to do?" she taunts.

  She's lucky I hear sirens in the distance. I walk backward, unwilling to give her an open shot at my back. I slide behind the wheel of my truck and peel out, spitting fumes in her face.

  So much for taking a little time to think about the future. I rage the entire drive home. A home Rebecca Smith just threatened.

  I may not trust her, but I do trust that she's evil and she'll stay true to her roots. She'll attack us, whether we relinquish Tiffany or not. She may or may not give us an antidote for thanatos. She may or may not even have one, might even give Milla something to make her worse.

  No matter what Smith says, our group stands in the way of her ultimate goal. Eternal life. She'll do anything to stop us from stopping her. Lie. Distract. Destroy.

  Turn around. Put a bullet in her brain now, before it's too late.

  Temptation again.

  You might spend the rest of your life in prison, but at least your friends will be safe.

  Maybe. But for the first time, I get why Ali let the bitch go last time. Two evils do not make a right. If I kill Smith, someone else will simply rise from the ranks and take her place.

  There has to be a better way.

  Black and white, Milla once said. And she's right. In this, there are no shades of gray.

  I reach the tall, wrought-iron gate at the front of the driveway and press my thum
b into the brand-new scanner for a fingerprint ID. As the gate swings open, an alert is sent to the cell phone of every slayer in residence, including Milla. No one comes or goes without everyone finding out. Where is she? What's she doing? Hating me for abandoning her?

  I park in the massive underground garage and storm upstairs to the kitchen, where Cole and Ali are waiting for me.

  "I'm glad you came back." She wrings her hands. "We need to talk."

  "We needed to talk weeks ago. Now it'll have to wait." My tone is sharp, cutting. "We've got bigger problems."

  Word of Frosty's encounter with Rebecca Smith spreads through group text.

  Gavin: Anyone else listen in on Frosty's convo w/our Mom & Dad?? Yeah. Me neither.

  Mom and Dad. Ali and Cole?

  Love: Deets! Gimme!

  Gavin: I don't like 2 gossip, so make sure U get what I'm saying the 1st time. Frost ran in2 Smith--there was epic battle w/words, promise of blood & gore. Looks like we're back @ war, folks.

  Justin: We've been @ war. Dibs on Smith!

  River: Fine but after U do her, I get 2 kill her.

  Justin: My "do" is gonna involve knives. Tag team?

  River: R U asking me 2 have a 3-way w/U? Always knew U had a crush on me. Alas, I must decline. I'm a lone assassin.

  Justin: Screw U

  River: So that's a yes to the 3-way???

  Gavin: Can U make it a 4-way? The ice queen is giving me the freeze out & I could use a little warming up

  Jaclyn: Say goodbye to UR penis, Gav.

  Gavin: If U can't have it, no 1 can??

  Love: Get a room! All this violent flirting is making me sick.

  Gavin: We have a room, thanx. We're currently cuddling

  Justin: My mind needs a bleach bath

  Jaclyn: U guys suck--I'm nowhere near UR room, Gav & I never will B again. Every1, we need 2 prepare 4 Smith's strike.

  Bronx: I'm always prepared 4 anything.

  Reeve: That's no joke

  I'm furious that Frosty had a semishowdown without me. I knew the moment he left the house, of course, an alert sounding on my phone. I should have gone after him instead of licking my wounds in our room.

  He kissed me. I liked it. Actually, I more than liked it. I loved it. I wanted more and would have given him everything. But despite his promise, he would have bailed on me afterward, just like all the others. There's no doubt in my mind now. When Kat appeared, he couldn't get away from me fast enough.

  Never good enough.

  "Household meeting in the gym." Cole's deep voice echoes over the speaker system wired into every room in the house. "Five minutes."