Chapter 30
THIRTY
DAKOTA
The next moments blur.
Julien scoops me up, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back, and his lips brush my temple, whispering words I can’t process against my hair.
Outside, the night air hits my face, cool against skin that feels feverish. I bury my face against his neck as he takes the path to his cabin at a near-run, kicking the door open and heading straight for the bedroom.
He lowers me onto the bed gently and disappears into the other room before climbing in beside me and pulling the blankets over us both. His arms wrap around me, tucking my head under his chin, one hand stroking my hair.
“Thank you.” The words hiccup out between sobs. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”
He doesn’t answer. Just holds me tighter, kissing my temple, my forehead, my cheek. Anywhere he can reach.
I cry. Great, ugly, heaving sobs that shake my entire body. For the little girl who tried so hard to be good. For the teenager who thought perfection would earn love. For the woman who almost married a stranger to save a family that never saw her.
For myself.
“I’m here,” Julien says, voice rough. “I’m right here.”
And he is. Solid and real and choosing to stay even when I’m a mess. Even when I’ve just imploded my entire family in front of everyone.
“I can’t believe I did that.” My voice sounds wrecked.
“I can.” He cups my face, thumbs wiping away tears. “You’re so much stronger than you think.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“You just told your father exactly what he needed to hear.” His eyes search mine. “That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
More tears spill over. “They’re going to hate me.”
“Your father might. The rest?” He shakes his head. “Amelia looked proud. Ramirez looked like he wanted to start a slow clap. Sienna actually did start clapping before Cameron stopped her.”
That elicits a soft, wobbly laugh from me. “This is a disaster.”
“Maybe.” He brushes hair back from my face. “But I’m right here with you.”
We lie there in the darkness, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist, the same pattern I’ve caught myself doing for years. When did he pick that up? Gradually, my breathing evens out. The shaking stops. The tears dry on my cheeks.
“I should probably go back,” I whisper. “Check on Amelia. Make sure—”
“No.” His arms lock around me. “Not tonight.”
“Julien—”
“Tonight, you stay here.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “With me. Let someone else take care of things for once.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Ju—”
“Shush.”
I huff. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead again. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”
And I believe him. I’m not worrying about who needs me more, what I should be doing instead, or whether I’m being selfish.
I just let myself be held.
Sunlight slices through a gap in the curtains, warming my face. I blink awake with Julien’s solid warmth wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep against my back.
I don’t need to check the time to know it’s late—the quality of the light streaming in speaks of mid-morning, not dawn.
Usually, I would be gone by now.
His arm lies heavy across my waist, giving me a reason not to move, although I should check on Amelia and face the aftermath of last night’s explosion. Instead, I burrow deeper into his warmth, stealing just a few more seconds of peace before reality crashes back in.
His fingers splay possessively across my stomach as he leaves kisses on the back of my neck. “Morning.”
“It’s late. I should go.”
His lips trail over to my shoulder. “Why?”
“Because—” I turn in his arms to face him, and the sight of him steals my breath. Sleep-rumpled hair, stubble darkening his jaw, eyes soft in a way they rarely are in daylight. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol or something?”
“Took the day off.”
I prop myself up on one elbow. “You what?”
“Told Ramirez and Cameron I needed a day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering on my cheek. “After everything that happened last night, I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“You shouldn’t—”
His mouth covers mine, cutting off whatever protest I was about to make. The kiss starts gentle, almost chaste, but when I sigh against his lips, it shifts. Deepens. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I melt into him, letting the heat building between us burn away the worry.
“I absolutely should have,” he says against my lips.
“What about—”
“Nothing about.” He kisses a path along my jaw. “Just this. Just us.”
His hand finds the hem of my shirt and slips beneath, splaying across my ribs. I arch into the touch, suddenly desperate for more contact, more heat, more of him.
“Julien,” I breathe, his name half-plea, half-warning.
He hovers above me, eyes dark with want, and his knee parts my thighs, settling between them. “Hmm?”
“Nothing.” I draw him down.
The kiss turns hungry, urgent. His hands push my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside before his mouth finds my breast. I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue circles my nipple, teeth grazing sensitive flesh. My hips buck against his thigh, seeking friction, seeking relief.
“Tell me what you want,” he says against my skin, one hand sliding down my stomach to the waistband of my underwear. “Tell me.”
“You.”
His fingers hook into my underwear, dragging it down my legs before settling back between my thighs. I’m already wet and ready for him. He groans when he feels it, his cock hard against my hip through his boxers.
“I can’t get enough of you.” His fingers find me, circling where I need him most. “Never enough.”
Three sharp knocks at the door freeze us both.
“Julien?” Cameron’s voice, muffled through wood. “You in there?”
“Fuck.” Julien drops his forehead to my collarbone. “Fucking hell.”
Another knock. “We’ve got a situation at the gate.”
“I’ll be right there!” Julien calls back. He kisses the hollow of my throat, a silent apology, before pushing himself up and grabbing his jeans from the floor.
I cover myself with the sheets while Julien yanks on his jeans, not bothering with a shirt, and stalks to the door.
He opens it, his body blocking any view inside. “What?”
“Sorry, man.” Cameron sounds genuinely apologetic. “Wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important. We’ve got a problem at the gate. Ramirez sent me to get you.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Dead kind. Except… different. You need to see it.”
Julien’s shoulders tense. “Give me five minutes.”
“Make it three.”
The door closes with more force than necessary. Julien turns back to me, frustration etched across his features.
“I have to—”
“I know.” I sit up, keeping the sheet clutched to my chest. “Go.”
He crosses back to the bed in three long strides, leaning down to capture my mouth in a kiss that leaves me dizzy and wishing for more. Stupid zombies.
His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones as he looks into my eyes. “I’ll take care of whatever this is, then come back to you.”
“I need to check on Amelia anyway.” The mention of my sister sends a pang of guilt through me. I try to bury it, but it lingers, a shadow at the edges of this fragile happiness. “See what damage I did last night.”
“You didn’t do damage.” His voice turns firm. “You told the truth.”
“Same thing in my family.”
He kisses me again, harder this time, like he’s trying to erase the doubt from my mind. “You okay?”
I nod.
He grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head, then grabs his machete from where it leans against the wall. At the door, he pauses, looking back at me. “Stay as long as you want. I’ll find you later.”
Then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
I sit on the bed, sheet still clutched to my chest, feeling the ghost of his hands on my skin. My lips tingle from his kisses. My body aches with unfulfilled need. And beneath it all, guilt churns in my stomach.
I need to face Amelia. Need to explain.
But what exactly am I going to say? That I’ve fallen for the man she has feelings for?
Outside, the morning air is crisp, and I head toward my family’s cabin, crossing my arms against the cold. At the gate, voices rise in urgent discussion. I catch glimpses of movement—Cameron’s tall frame, Ramirez’s distinctive profile, Julien’s broad shoulders as he gestures outside the fence.
I’ll join them after.
The door to my family’s cabin creaks when I open it. Voices filter through the closed door of my parents’ bedroom. My mother’s sharp tones, my father’s lower rumble, too muffled to make out words. I hover, uncertain whether to announce my presence or slip past unnoticed.
I choose the latter, easing toward the room I share with Amelia. She’s sitting in bed, a book open on her lap, though her eyes aren’t moving across the page.
“Hey,” I say.
She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
“Amelia?” I step into the room. “You okay?”
She turns a page, still not meeting my gaze. “When did it start?”
“What?”
“You and Julien.” She finally looks up, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “I saw how he held you last night.”
The accusation I expect doesn’t come. Instead, she just looks… disappointed.
I sink onto the edge of my bed, facing her across the narrow gap between us. “After the church. When we got separated.”
“Before we found you at Pine Lake? Or after?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
I look down at my hands, twisting in my lap. “Before. But it wasn’t—we weren’t—it wasn’t planned.”
“I told you about him.” She closes her book carefully, marking her place. “I told you I had feelings for him.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“I’ve spent my entire life watching you sacrifice everything for me. Your dreams. Your life. I never asked for that, Dakota. Never wanted it.”
“I was trying to help.”
“And now the one thing, the one person I wanted…”
“It just happened.”
“Things don’t just happen.” She coughs into her sleeve. “People make choices.”
“Amelia, I—”
“You know what’s the worst part?” She fiddles with her book. “I can’t even be mad at you. Because you deserve happiness. You deserve someone who looks at you like that.”
Her voice cracks on the last words, and I reach for her hand.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper.
“I know.” She squeezes my fingers. “That’s why it hurts so much. Because you never mean to.”
The guilt coils tighter in my stomach. “What do you want me to do?”
“What can you do?” She withdraws her hand. “It’s done. You’ve made your choice.”
Suddenly, a door opens, and footsteps come around the corner. My mother stands in the doorway, face flushed with anger.
“This is all because of you.” She crosses the room in three quick strides and grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. “All of it.”
I wrench my arm free, stumbling back a step. “What are you talking about?”
“Your little performance last night.” She laughs, high and brittle. “That man of yours. He doesn’t even like you. And you’re acting up because of him?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When the marriage came up, we wanted you to marry him, not his brother. But he refused. Said he wouldn’t be blackmailed. So why would he want you now? After a few days playing hero?”
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “That can’t be—”
“Because of your little adventure, your father decided it’s either the Moras or us who are going to stay here.” She paces the small room, agitation vibrating through her movements. “Everything was perfect, but you had to mess it up.”
“It can’t be my fault—”
“It’s always your fault!” Her voice rises, sharp enough to make me flinch. “Without you, this wouldn’t have happened. And now, it’s time to choose where your loyalty lies.” Mom’s eyes bore into mine. “With us, or with them.”
She can’t mean that.
I can’t do it. I can’t choose.
I want him. Want the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he sees me—really sees me, not as an extension of someone else’s needs.
Why can’t I have both? Why does it have to be one or the other?
I look from my mother’s rigid face to Amelia’s pale one.
“Dakota…” Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry, but I think she’s right. They hate each other. Dad and the Moras, they always have.”
“They don’t have—”
Sienna rushes in, blonde hair wild, cheeks flushed with exertion. “Hate to break up family therapy, but the gate is blocked by a dozen zombies standing in a goddamn line for a snack.”