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CHAPTER 13

Reed

I know what he’s doing. The moment I told him I was going to bend him over and basically shove my dick into him, I knew he was going to get on my nerves. Noah likes to be a little brat when he’s upset. I may not have known him for long, but it’s one thing that’s clear as day. He wants attention on him all the time. And I find myself wanting to give him that craving. Even if he’s a blabbermouth.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

I don’t say anything, knowing he’s going to tell me anyways.

“How many paws does a white cat have?”

Peering over at Noah, I find him already staring at me. His lips spread into a smile, waiting for me to answer.

“Four,” I mutter. I play along; it's better to put him out of his misery than make him throw a fit.

“Great, okay, now how many tails does a white cat have?”

I sigh, regret slipping in, “One.”

“Now, how many eyes does a cat have?”

“Are you getting to the point of this joke?” I ask.

“Come on, just answer the question.” Noah sticks his bottom lip out. My steps falter to a stop, a flash of light shining into his captivating green eyes. The color reminded me of the forest back at the cabin. The flick of gold and brown adding just enough intensity to his gaze, I begin to lose myself in what secrets and stories he holds. He’s drawing me in, and he has no idea. The space around us seems to become a little brighter. I’m suddenly not worried about the dangers that could pop out at us. Standing here in his presence feels like a pleasure I had no idea I had. The world almost feels too harsh for Noah to be in it. Like he doesn’t understand how dangerous it is to be standing next to me.

“Reed?” Noah's brows furrow together, tilting his head as he studies me. For maybe the first time, I don’t mind him wanting to understand me. Right now if he were to ask anything, I find myself wanting to answer. I might not know much about Noah, but at this moment, he’s making it difficult to restrain myself. I want to shove my worries away and claim him. I always thought people were crazy when they said love at first sight. Not that I’m saying I love him, but for maybe the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of the word. I want to know what it would be like for someone to love me, for someone to want me because of me. Not because I’m someone or something else.

Just because I’m me.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Noah breaks eye contact with me, glancing around. Shaking my head, I snap out of whatever trance he put me in. Quick to start walking again, I refuse to acknowledge whatever was going on inside my head. Noah is just a means to an end. I’m going to Georgia, to the cabin, and then he’s off on his own.

“You didn’t answer me. How many eyes does a white cat have?” He asks me again.

“Two,” I mumble.

“Correct. Now, how many feathers does a chicken have?”

This has to be a trick question, but nonetheless, my brain still thinks it can come up with a number.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmmm, you sure know more about pussy than cock.”

I lose my footing for a moment, nearly face planting to the ground. My jaw just about hits my chest. The things that Noah thinks about make me wonder if he’s fully sane.

“Admit it, it was pretty funny.”

I shake my head, refusing to admit to anything. Even if under my muzzle I’m smiling, just a small one.

“You’re no fun.” Noah grumbles under his breath. If only he knew the thoughts running through my head, he wouldn’t have said that.

* * *

“So why are we heading to Georgia?” Noah asks an hour later.

I tried not to clench my jaw at his millionth question. After his terrible cock joke, he went on a tangent about college classes and questions about what my life was like before the dead came back. I didn’t know how to answer him, so for the most part I kept quiet. Not that it was any different than how I was acting before.

“I need to check on something.”

I can feel the irritation radiating off Noah at my answer. I can’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, I'd probably beat the shit out of the guy. But I have a feeling Noah has never been in a fight in his life.

A sudden knot forms in my chest at the idea of someone wanting to fight Noah. A sharp, boiling heat sweeps over my skin, causing my fist to involuntarily clench. Anger spikes down my spine. Noah, while he gets on my nerves, I hate the idea of someone wanting or even attempting to fight him.

Murderous rage courses through me; the thought of hurting anyone that comes near him makes me almost miss the sound of lurkers nearby.

A sense of unease hits me; the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The shift in the quiet air and the subtle shifting of feet shuffling make me slow my pace. My senses heighten as my body prepares for anything to jump out. It’s the sound that gets to me first before I see a small group of four zombies brushing past the abandoned car on the side of the road.

Each time I've found myself in this situation, I’ve been on edge, alert, and ready to fight. But this time feels different. I not only have to protect myself but Noah as well. Before, I didn’t have much of a care if he made it through or not, and yet the sudden realization that I care enough to not let him get bitten is a wild wake-up call.

“Oh no,” Noah whispers behind me.

I don’t get a chance to tell him to be quiet or give him a stern look before the four zombies' heads snap towards us.

“Oh shit,” Noah once again babbles.

“Head first, use the mallet,” I order. Over my shoulder I barely get a glance at Noah; his eyes widen at my words when the group of them rushes towards us.

I reach around and grab my bat from my back, my knuckles white as I grip it tightly. Sweat beads around my forehead, my breathing picking up. My jaw clenched, determination racing through me.

The zombies close in, their guttural growls mixing with the shuffling of their decaying feet against the cracked asphalt. They move between the overturned cars and broken glass.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Noah shouts behind me. I hear him shuffle around behind me. Moving forward, I lift the bat behind my shoulder and swing. It connects with the nearest zombie’s temple with a sickening crunch. The dead being drops to the ground. I don’t get a chance to catch my breath before one of the other rotting corpses lunges towards me. Jumping out of the way, I vaguely hear it moving towards Noah.

“Swing for its head!” I shout.

Adjusting my grip around the bat, another lurches forward to take its place. I don’t have time to swing; instead, I jam the tip of the bat towards its jaw. The gruesome snapping sound echoes around, brain matter falling through the missing jaw, and the zombie collapses to the ground.

“Reed!” Noah screeches behind me. The fourth dead guy grabs at my arm. Shoving him down, I peer over my shoulder at Noah swinging the mallet. He doesn’t hit anything, not that I expect him to. Biting my bottom lip, I swing the bat up and smack it down onto the fourth lurker's head. It explodes, brain matter flying everywhere.

Panting, I turn on my heel and slam my foot into the second zombie's head, making sure it’s dead.

“Shit,” Noah's voice carries through the wind. Peeking up, I watch as the mallet flies from his hand, dropping to the ground. Rolling my eyes, I rush towards the only zombie that got past me. With no time to think; I swing my bat forward and bury the tip into the side of its head. Sending the zombie sprawling to the ground. Breathing heavily, I lean forward, trying to catch my breath. I don’t remember fighting ever being this hard. Granted, the only times I’ve fought with someone else were with Ghost and Viper, who knew how to take care of themselves.

“Reed?” Noah breathes out.

“Not right now.” I grunt. I’m not sure if I’m angry with him or myself. I want to blame him, but not everyone grows up and learns to fight. Not everyone is used to fighting for their life left, right, and center. But I won’t acknowledge that I’m angry with myself for caring about Noah.

After a few minutes of keeping my eyes closed and focusing on slowing my heart rate, I glance up to find Noah nervously watching me. He plays with his fingers, a habit I’ve seen him do when he’s not sure what to say and he’s trying his best not to talk.

“We need to keep moving,” I tell him. Thankfully my voice is steady, despite the unknown slipping into my chest. I need to teach Noah how to defend himself, and it needs to happen now.

Standing to my full height, I walk over to where he flung the mallet. I bend over and pick it up before handing it out to him.

“Don’t lose this.”

Noah nods, his hands shaking as he reaches for it. Before he can move away from me, I grab his wrist and pull him towards me. I’m not sure what I’m doing, feeling more than I have in the past. His eyes widen as I drag him merely inches from me.

“Are you okay?” I find myself asking.

I’m not sure who’s more surprised, myself or him. For the first time ever, Noah opens his mouth and nothing comes out.

“Noah, I asked if you’re okay.” My voice was more stern this time.

“Y–yeah, I’m g–good. I’m great, good, yup. I’m good.” He mumbles his way through.

I nod my head, still gripping his wrist, holding him hostage in my space.

“We should get going.” Unsure if I’m trying to convince myself or him.

Minutes pass before Noah seems to find himself again.

“You’ll have to let me go if we’re going to go.”

“Right.”

I drop his wrist like he burned me. Not sparing Noah a second glance, I move around him and hold my breath.

Oh, I’m definitely fucked.