Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
You know how to ruin a girl’s fun.
Even knowing Joe was lethal as hell and any minute might lose his patience—although he wasn’t known for that—Draden still felt like smiling. He had the impression of Shylah pouting, and that made him happy. Just talking to her made him happy. The fact that she would circle around, hunt and find the man watching from the forest, was a complete turn-on. He liked that his woman would be his partner.
He waited for her on the porch. She walked into the clearing, shoulders back, head up, straight as an arrow, completely unrepentant. She even gave him a little smirk. He wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed her. Kissing her was an experience that could get out of hand fast. She was addicting. Hot. Her mouth a kind of paradise he hadn’t experienced until he kissed her, and now he didn’t want to stop.
For God’s sake, Draden. I swear I’m going to put a bullet in your leg if you keep that shit up. I’m hot and hungry and I’ve got Trap calling me every ten minutes. You ever experience Trap when he’s in full-blown research mode? Get inside and give me your blood. Now. Consider that an order.
Draden debated. Kissing Shylah was worth getting shot. Still. He lifted his head, looking down at her dark eyes and the golden dusting of freckles he loved. He wanted to spend time kissing every single one of those spots. “Joe’s getting antsy. Let’s get inside and take our blood, give it to him and then we’ll contact Whitney.”
“I don’t have anything to say to Whitney,” Shylah reiterated. “But since I’ve been kind of mean to your friend, I agree we should give him the blood.” She looked away from him, deliberately concentrating on the door as he opened it to allow them both inside. “You said we were fighting it off. What does that mean?”
“I honestly don’t know what it means, sweetheart.” Draden kept his voice gentle. She needed gentle. The news was overwhelming emotionally. They’d both tried to prepare themselves for the ordeal of dying a horrific death and now they’d been handed hope. He wasn’t certain if hope was a good thing, not knowing the virus was inside of them, attacking their bodies every way it could. “Trap is good at what he does, and he’s sharing everything we give him with the best in the military. Everyone is working to try to save us.” He washed his hands and pulled on gloves. He didn’t want to tell her that of course their bodies would attempt to fight the virus. That was what immune systems were for. They both needed hope.
She gave him her arm. “You do know if they find a way to save us, I can never meet your commanding officer face-to-face after the things I said to him.”
He flashed her a grin. “I think he’ll be so glad we’re both alive that he’ll forgive you the comments. The gun aimed at him is a different matter.”
“We’ve got weapons aimed at us,” she said, wincing as he took out the needle. “I don’t mind them going in, but I hate it when they’re pulled out.” “I’ll try to be more careful.” He hated hurting her. A stick with a needle wasn’t anything, he knew she’d say that to him. But it was to him. He had the feeling she’d had a lifetime of needles and experiments with no one caring whether or not it hurt her. “Shylah, if we survive this, I want you to stay with me.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. It was clear, from her expression, she hadn’t expected there was a chance of survival and she hadn’t thought what would happen if she didn’t die.
“I’m never going back to Whitney.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go back to him, but if you survive this, you have choices. I know Lily, Whitney’s daughter, would give you the money for a clean start. She’s helped out all of us. Hell, I’d do that. I don’t want you to think you don’t have choices, but when you think about what you would want to do, think about staying with me. Making a go of it, the two of us. The things we talked about yesterday, we could make them real.”
They’d lain on the bed together, talking for hours. Laughing. Putting together a mythical household. Designing the rooms. Talking about what their days together would be like. How many children they wanted.
He had stretched out, full length, head propped up with his hands, looking at the woman he knew would forever have his heart. Not once during those hours had he thought about dying. Not one single time. He’d thought about their life together and how they were so well matched. He’d found himself finding ways to make her laugh just to hear the sound.