Chapter 3
HUNTER
It takes me less than ten minutes to get from the alley to the apartment with Fiona slung over my shoulder.
When she fell from the bin, she banged her head against the wall. It’s not bleeding too badly, but I need to tend to the wounds before germs can taint it, which is a very real possibility with the dead rising.
She’s so tiny and malnourished, she feels almost weightless. It’s hard to imagine that she was able to get by for so long on her own.
I cover the couch with a clean blanket and place her on top of it. She doesn’t rouse, which is good because I don’t need her fighting me with what I have to do next. Of course, the worry of a concussion or worse rattles my brain, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I still can’t believe she attacked me. I can understand that she might want to have a go at the apocalypse on her own, and she has more reason than most to hate men, but in the short time we’d spent together, I hadn’t hurt her.
I grab a pair of shears and start cutting her clothes off so I can check for bites. She’s dirty, and I could play connect the dots with all the bruises on her pale, white flesh. Abrasions are everywhere, but there’s no sign she’s been bit.
Her hair is now dull copper from dirt and grime, and her nails need scrubbing. Nothing a good bath won’t fix.
Staring at her naked form, I study my emotions. The men of the Keep are wildly protective of their women, and not just their own. Gage would scour the earth searching for Suki if she went missing. The same can be said for any of the men.
But not for me. That’s why I needed to find Fiona. The feelings I get when I’m around her are different in a way I can’t make sense of.
The truth is, I don’t know how I feel when I look at Fiona, which unsettles me, because typically when I look at a naked woman, I feel nothing.
I’m not like the Keepers, but there is something inside me that stirs when I think of Fiona. I just don’t know what it is.
I grab my first aid kit to clean the wound on her head. As I apply the antiseptic, she winces, her eyelids fluttering.
“Where…” She tries to pull herself up, so I place a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“You’re going to want to stay supine until I’m done treating your wounds.”
Her body jerks at the sound of my voice, and what was slow, sluggish movements turn sharp and feral. Realizing she’s naked, she grabs the blanket I have underneath her and twists it around her body.
“Get away from me!” she snaps.
While I could tie her up and patch her wound, her fear won’t help me understand the way I’m feeling. It’ll only cloud things.
“You have a head wound I need to treat.”
“Over my dead body!” Her green eyes are wild and frantic, which makes me curious. Does she fear me because of what I did to Madam Levy?
“If you’re going to act stubborn, you may end up getting your wish.”
She scans the room. “Where are we?”
“My place.”
“Let me go!”
“I’m not touching you.”
“I mean, let me leave this place!”
“Why would you want to? It’s safe, there’s electricity, clean clothes, food, a warm bath. It’s a luxury suite as far as apocalypse living goes.”
“Because you are in it.”
I furrow my brow, annoyed by her unwarranted hatred. It’s not so much that I want her to like me, but I would like to understand what exactly drew her ire.
“Why are you so afraid of me? I haven’t hurt you, and I don’t plan to.”
She snickers. “Yeah, you haven’t hurt me. You let others do the dirty work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about when you sold me to your dirty little friend!”
I blink back at Fiona, stunned.
“Now let me go!”
“You’re not leaving this apartment without me tending to your wounds.”
“Will you let me leave after?”
“Probably not.”
“You fucking bastard!”
I exhale a long breath, trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. Maybe she mistook me for someone else? Or perhaps when she hit her head, it damaged her memory.
Either way, I didn’t sell her to anyone. I’ve done a lot of nasty shit, joyfully, but I don’t peddle flesh.
“Your wounds will get infected if I don’t treat them.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will. Trust me.”
“Why should I ever trust you?”
“Because all I did was help you. Not that I’d wanted to. It was an unintentional consequence of my predilection.”
“I’m sorry, but that just went over my public school educated head.”
“I think the head wound you suffered is causing you confusion.”
“No, I’m seriously not that smart. I have no idea what pred-a-lect-whatever-it-is means.”
“Not that. You’d accused me of selling you to a friend of mine, which I’ve never done. Not only do I not have friends, but I’d have no reason to sell you.”
“Bullshit!”
“I took you from a brothel; I didn’t put you in one.”
She looks at me skeptically, which I find grossly annoying.
“The last time I saw you, you were asleep in one of the safe houses around the city. I left to clear my head and put down a few ragers, and when I came back, you were gone.”
“Your friend told me you sent him.”
“What friend?”
“His name was Caspian.”
Deep inside me, a feeling close to rage stirs. It’s not that I have feelings for the girl, but I absolutely loathe being tricked.
“Tell me about your interaction with him.”
“He came, knocked on the door, said he was your friend. He knew your name and where you were staying, so I figured he was telling the truth.”
“He didn’t just walk right in?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“What’d he look like?”
“Blonde, tall, a scar under his ear.”
Definitely Caspian.
“Did you let him in?”
She nods. “The moment I opened the door, he grabbed me.”
“He was not my friend.”
“He took me someplace else, tied me up, used me…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “It took me weeks to escape.”
I clench my jaw as a wave of primal fury rushes through my veins. I’d checked the scan-in log at the safe house, just to make sure no one had entered while I was away. It never picked up Caspian because she’d opened the door for him.
She holds up her hands like I have a gun pointed at her. “Look, I won’t hold any grudges if you let me go.”
She’s different from when we met months ago. Louder and less despondent.
“I’m not letting you go, but you don’t have to worry about me selling you to anybody. That’s not my thing.”
Her lip sneers up. “Yeah, ‘cause torture and murder are your thing.”
“Last I recall, you seemed to like it.”
“I was angry.”
“Are you still?”
She responds with silence.
“I need to tend to your head wound.”
She looks down, mulling over my words.
“And if you’re wondering what’s going to happen after that, it’ll be bath time.”
“Do you really have warm water?”
“Warm water, fresh food, and guns to protect us.”
“Us? So you’ll never let me go?”
I don’t know what I expected to happen when I found her, but this isn’t it. I had this crazy idea that I’d want to claim her.
But I’m surging with annoyance. Maybe once she’s cleaned up, I’ll feel differently.
“Not sure. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Gazing around the room, she repositions herself, lying back down on the couch.
“I guess you can patch me up.”
“I can’t promise this won’t hurt.”