A Mad Zombie Party. Gena ShowalterЧитать онлайн книгу.
do know. I just need time to prove myself.”
“Time I’d rather not give you. I don’t need protecting.”
“Kat says otherwise. You heard her. Ali had a vision. At some point, I will save your life. Without me, you’ll die.”
He slams on the breaks as he pulls over to the side of the road. “Dying wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I’d be with Kat. So why don’t you do us both a favor and get out. Your services are no longer needed.”
“But—”
“Now.”
My lips compress into a thin line. My hand shakes as I open the door. I’m hurt by his refusal, yes, but as my feet hit the pavement, I’m also suddenly and inexplicably angry. “You would rather be shot in the chest than spend time with me?” I shout. “I’m that bad? I’m so despicable you feel it’s okay to abandon me on the side of a road, alone, in the middle of the night when light is scarce?”
I palm my daggers. Before Frosty can speed away, I stomp in front of the truck and, glaring at him through the front windshield, slam the tips of both weapons into a tire.
Maintaining a good mad is impossible right now. I’m just too freaking tired. Why did Camilla have to go and be all adorable and crap, throwing a bona fide slayer tantrum?
I stick my head out the window to yell at her, but all I end up saying is “Just...I don’t know...get in or something.”
A moment passes before she climbs back into the truck. She doesn’t meet my gaze. I get out and change the tire, then return to the wheel, gunning the engine.
“If we’re playing would you rather... I’d rather kiss a viper than continue our conversation,” I say. “So maybe let’s play the quiet game instead.”
No response. She doesn’t even stiffen.
This bothers me.
I’m the moron who keeps going. “Have you ever considered therapy? That temper of yours—”
“Doesn’t come out to play nearly as much as yours.”
Good point. “Difference is, rage is sexy on guys.”
As calm as can be, she says, “The guys you’re crushing on must not rage correctly. True rage? It’s a total loss of control, and it’s ugly. What I did to your tires? I meant to do.”
There’s a story there. One I’m strangely eager to hear. But I don’t ask.
Use her and lose her, don’t get to know her.
“Anything else you’d like to say before we get started on that quiet game?” I ask.
Silence.
Again it bothers me and I don’t know why.
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