3

Ethan walked toward me one measured step at a time.

When he stopped in front of me, something hard pressed against the center of my forehead.

I did not dare look up.

Then the one working scrap of my brain produced a brilliant idea.

I was a zombie.

I could bite him.

I opened my mouth and aimed for his chest, because before the apocalypse, I had liked his chest far too much for my own dignity.

Before I could sink my teeth in, his hand clamped under my jaw and forced my face up.

Ethan gave me a slow, crooked smile.

"Maya," he said, "you're conscious, aren't you?"

My eyes slid toward the object pressed to my forehead.

It was a branch.

A branch.

That bastard had bluffed me with a stick.

I flew at him, or tried to. He caught both my wrists and pulled me against him like I weighed nothing. His other hand patted my cheek.

His voice dropped next to my ear.

"You were hardheaded before. Now the rest of you matches."

My gaze followed his down.

My ruined shirt barely covered me.

Well. My chest was still doing fine. Death had not taken everything.

I thrashed harder and growled at him.

"Cursing me out?" Ethan asked.

Absolutely.

Pervert. Jerk. Shameless bastard.

Unfortunately, all I could say was, "Hhrrr."

Ethan took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. Then he smiled wider.

"You're much easier to deal with when you can't talk."

That was how Ethan dragged me back to his team.

He tied me to a support post and trimmed my nails one by one, careful as a man clipping a cat's claws.

I bared my teeth.

He studied them. "Those teeth..."

I closed my mouth at once and gave him what I hoped was a friendly smile.

No teeth would be ugly. I had standards.

Ethan stared at me for a long moment. His expression went distant.

"Still know when to behave," he murmured.

For a second, I thought his eyes looked red.

No. Probably sun glare. Or dust. Or the universe mocking me.

Annie came over and tugged at Ethan's sleeve, all trembling mouth and wet eyes.

"Ethan, are we really bringing her with us? She's a zombie. We should kill zombies if we want to stay safe, shouldn't we?"

Excuse me?

If not for me, you would never even have met him.

I snapped my teeth at her and made the ugliest sound my throat could manage.

Annie flinched behind Ethan.

Ethan stepped in front of her. His fingers closed around my jaw, his eyes cold.

"Maya," he said, each word clipped, "you're the one depending on us now. Learn to behave."

I stared at him.

Depending on you?

Sir, I am a zombie. I can walk through half the city without a pulse. What part of me needs your little campfire sleepover?

My mind caught up with my temper. I snapped at him again.

"Hhrrr!"

I meant: I was only growling at her, not you. Move.

But all Ethan heard was a threat.

Drew gave me a disgusted look. "Ethan, she's already a zombie. Just put her down. Look how scared Annie is."

Ethan lifted the pistol and pointed it straight at me.

"Maya," he said, "do you want to die that badly?"

The barrel was black and round and steady.

Something inside me hurt.

Ridiculous. I was a zombie. What heart was there to hurt?

Still, I quieted down.

Ethan put the gun away and led Annie to the other side of the shelter. She leaned into him, small and delicate, and he only frowned. He did not push her away.

I lowered my eyes and watched them fall asleep.

I stayed tied to the post. I could not break free. I could not sleep.

If I could have spoken, I would have asked him one thing.

Ethan, did you forget how much I wanted to live?