Page 11 of Zomromcom

It was a valid question. Also a nosy one. While Max clearly wasn’t in his early twenties after all, she had no clue how old he might actually be. If he owned an original suit of armor…well, she’d know more, wouldn’t she?

His forehead creased in thought. “A gorget? No, unfortunately, I decided to—” He cut himself off. “No. I don’t have one.”

Aha! A clue at last!

“But you used to have one.” She bounced on her toes. “Because you’re a super-old, immortal vampire with firsthand knowledge of armor and buboes and witch burning. And chamber pots! Oh wow, you must have used chamber pots!”

“I’m immortal, yes.” Glaring at her, he drew himself up to his full height. “But not super old .”

“So what would constitute super oldness to you, then?”

No answer.

“Did you use chamber pots or not?”

No answer.

Fine, fine. She’d let it drop if he wanted to be a spoilsport about it. “I should grab my knives from my house when we stop there for food. I know you have the one you used last night, but do you need another? I could lend you one. Or do you have another weapon of your own?”

His lips pressed together. After grumbling unintelligibly for a moment, he reached between his shoulder blades and under his newly cleaned black leather hoodie and produced…a sword.

A giant, shiny fucking sword .

Yeah, Max was totally super old . Daaaaamn.

“You went with the Wonder Woman design option for storing that sword, huh? Do you have an incredibly hot blue dress under there too?” She tilted her head, trying to get a better look beneath his hoodie. “Because if so, I want to see it.”

She could only make out jeans and some sort of dark shirt, sadly. At least he’d traded in those cloven shoes for shiny but clearly well-worn boots. Much more practical and much less hideous.

He rolled his eyes at her, sheathed his sword in one swift motion, and returned to her earlier question.

“Anything short of a gorget, the creatures’ teeth and claws would be able to pierce.

Unless you know of a nearby armorer, human, we’ll simply have to ensure we keep our necks as far from the creatures as possible. ”

She laughed. “I mean, that was kind of always my plan.”

“How’s your ankle?” He’d been silently studying how she moved all morning, and now she knew why. “Still sore? Do you need to take more medication or wrap it?”

“Good as new.”

Well, more gently used , but that would have to be sufficient.

He narrowed his eyes at her but finally blew out a breath and nodded.

Presenting her with his back, he removed half a dozen blood bags from his refrigerator and tucked them into his enormous pack.

Luckily, the chill outside should keep them fresh for at least a couple of days, so he wouldn’t need to sate his hunger in… other ways.

Although that could be interesting too, now that she considered the matter.

“Ready?” His hands were as steady as his eyes on her.

She was…until a sudden surge of anxiety pinned her in place. He might be immortal, but he could still be killed, and for all his bluster about ensuring his source of sustenance didn’t go extinct, she knew he was only leaving his secure home for her sake.

If he died accompanying her on what he considered a stupid mission, how would that feel? Should she go it alone, as she’d originally intended?

“It’s going to be dangerous,” she said slowly. “Are you sure you want to risk your life for—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, come on.”

Despite his impatience, his hand—planted between her shoulder blades, hurrying her toward his bedroom and down the hall—wasn’t rough or hurtful.

When they reached the door at the end, he unearthed a small key.

With a twist of his wrist and a quiet click , a library of sorts opened to them both, softly lit by stained glass lamps and decorated in blues and ornately carved honey-toned woods.

Old-fashioned was one word that came to mind.

Cozy and warm were others. The room’s aesthetic emphatically rejected the minimalism and modernity of the rest of Max’s home.

And he’d locked it away from her.

All his other doors had remained open, both last night and this morning. She’d had ready access to that godsforsaken ladder too, which meant he hadn’t been preventing an escape. So what about this room in particular made him unwilling to allow scrutiny?

He strode across the room to reach for a thick book on a tall shelf. Something gave a decisive, muffled thunk , and the entire wall opened to reveal an elevator.

It was undeniably awesome. Like something from a movie. Also very over-the-top.

“Drama king,” she murmured.

The narrow elevator car was lit by an intricate crystal chandelier, paneled with satiny stretches of wood, and carpeted thickly.

It was also clearly meant to be a one-man—one-vampire—elevator.

She stepped in anyway, curious as to whether he’d try to make the cramped space fit both of them.

After entering a code on a discreet electronic panel, he half turned away from her and grabbed something small, round, and silver from a desk drawer, then shoved the object into a hoodie pocket before she could see exactly what it was.

When he squeezed into the elevator car beside her, there was no way to avoid contact.

Either they plastered themselves against each other, or the door wouldn’t close.

Surrendering to the inevitable, she simply blew out a breath, looped her arms around his waist, and leaned into him.

His entire body stiffened in her loose embrace, then gradually relaxed again.

The door closed, and the elevator began its slow ascent. She huddled closer to him.

After a few seconds, one strong hand settled on the small of her back. The other alighted on the nape of her neck and squeezed lightly.

“Claustrophobic?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

When she shook her head, her hair rubbed against his leather-clad shoulder. “Zombie-phobic.”

“I see.” Something nudged the top of her head. His chin? His mouth? “Based on what I saw last night, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I didn’t have time to think.” I didn’t have time to remember . “Now I do.”

The relative chill of his body seeped through his clothing and calmed her. She tended to run hot, and this hug was like cuddling up against a cool breeze made flesh. A cool breeze that filled her lungs with the scent of eucalyptus and apparently worked out quite a bit. Like, a lot .

They rested in each other’s arms, his hand slowly sliding up and down her spine. The scent and feel of him dizzied her in the best possible way. Comforted her.

If it was her last hug on this earth, it was a good one.

“We don’t have to go, Edie. One push of a button, and we can—”

“I have to go.” She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, gathering strength from the soothing contact. “You don’t, but I do.”

He sighed, still stroking her back. “Very well.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked one final time, for the sake of her smarting conscience.

“I’m sure.”

When the elevator halted and its door opened, he dropped his arms with another sigh, squeezed her behind him, and exited first. Another hidden mechanism let them into a part of his aboveground home she’d never seen, full of splintered furniture and other signs of thwarted, hungry rage.

He led the way to the broken front door and scanned their surroundings before stepping outside. She inhaled deeply and looked around too.

The sun was bright that morning, and she squinted a bit, her breath fogging in the frigid winter air. “I don’t see any—”

And, of course, that was when two zombies leapt onto the porch and lunged toward her and Max.