Thicker than Blood (32 page)

Swallowing hard, I pulled the bag out from
behind me and set it down on the mattress. “That’s it.”

For a moment, Leisel only stared at the bag.
Then all at once her nostrils flared and she angrily pawed through
the bag, tossing its contents aside one by one until it was
empty.

“It doesn’t matter—” Alex started to say, but
was abruptly cut off by Leisel, who crumpled the bag and sending it
flying across the room.

Shrugging off Alex, she jumped to her feet
and shouted, “It was all for nothing!”

“No, Lei.” Getting to my feet, I placed my
hand over her trembling arm. “It wasn’t for nothing, and this is
fine, this is great.”

Because it was great. If you were
starving—and we were—any sort of edible food was a great and
wonderful thing.

“It is not fucking great, Eve!” she screamed.
“This is bullshit!”

Snatching the can of creamed corn from my
hand, she sent it flying across the room. It smashed into the
opposite wall, nearly hitting one of the paintings hanging there
before crashing to the floor and rolling behind the armchair.

Idly, I found myself wondering if this was
exactly how the can had come to be in such poor condition, dented
and dirty, its label peeling and stained. I inexplicably found
myself feeling oddly protective over this poor can of corn, unloved
and unwanted by all. Dropping to my hands and knees, I started
hunting for its whereabouts.

“What are you doing?” Leisel yelled.

“Finding the stupid can,” I yelled back.

“Leave it!” she screamed. “It’s shit, this is
all shit!”

Finally, I could see the can. As I
flattened my body, stretching out my arm in an attempt to reach it,
I ignored the cockroach that scuttled by my fingertips, as well as
the sudden frantic beating of my heart
that
caused, until I finally found it, all alone
beneath this equally sad chair. Wrapping my hand around the poor
can, I dragged it free.

When I got to my feet, I found Leisel glaring
at me, incensed by my actions. Suddenly, she lunged at me, reaching
for the can, and I quickly darted out of her way, flinching when
she tripped and stumbled into the armchair.

“
This is bullshit!” she yelled as tears ran
down her face, smearing what little makeup remained. “This
is
all
bullshit
!” Curled into
fists, she brought her hands down hard against her
thighs.

“You did this, Eve!” she screamed at me. “You
made me go there, you made me leave, and now this is our life! This
is all your fault!”

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, shame
and guilt flooding me, I realized she was right. This was all my
fault. I’d made her go to Fredericksville, then I’d made her leave
it. And despite her protests and her willingness to die, I’d agreed
to follow Bryce and Mike to their camp, to Purgatory.

This was all my fault. Her misery, her pain,
it was my burden to bear.

Alex was staring at me, glaring actually,
silently willing me to set the damned can down, but I couldn’t, I
wouldn’t, and instead clutched it closer to me. I was holding this
stupid can as if it were a lifeline, this poor can that nobody
wanted, that nobody loved, that was only good for one thing. This
sad little can that people only deemed good enough to pass along to
someone else.

“Calm down, Lei,” Alex said, his tone
surprisingly conciliatory. Dropping beside her, he attempted to
gain her attention. “Food is food. It doesn’t matter. Eve and I are
both fighting today, we’ll earn more. Between the three of us,
we’ll make do.”

He reached for her only to end up smacked
away as Leisel began to sob again.

Making a strangled sound deep within his
throat, Alex’s features hardened. Grabbing hold of Leisel’s wrists,
he forcefully yanked her from the chair and into his lap. She
struggled at first, trying to wiggle her way free from him, but he
only gripped her tighter, forcing her to remain where she was. She
began to cry angry tears, her sobs sounding more frustrated than
sad, and eventually she gave up fighting and instead sank against
him, burying her face into his chest.

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he said, cupping the
back of her head. Leisel looked up, and directly into his eyes
while Alex attempted to wipe her tears away. “You did an amazing
thing, Leisel, you earned us this food.” He paused briefly before
continuing. “And you looked goddamn amazing doing it.”

No longer crying, Leisel looked up at Alex as
a blush rose in her cheeks. A moment passed by in silence, and then
another and another. Then suddenly they were kissing fervently,
Alex’s hands buried in her hair, Leisel gripping the back of his
shirt. It was noisy and messy and extraordinarily passionate, and I
was left standing there feeling awkward and incredibly jealous.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy for her, for
them, because I was. But I hated that I was happy for them, and I
was jealous that I didn’t have what they did. My thoughts quickly
strayed to Jami and the ways he’d always eased my pain with his
experienced hands and sinful mouth. And right then, I needed
him—needed that. I needed something, someone to fill this hole
inside me, to fill this hole that watching them just made
worse.

Still clutching tightly to my can of corn, I
padded toward the door and slipped quietly out into the hallway,
forcing back my angry, bitter tears.

Once I was outside, I headed toward the
marketplace, the delectable smell of grilled rat calling my name.
But when I arrived, I found myself feeling guilty at the idea of
trading this can for something better, something more fulfilling.
It wasn’t the can’s fault that no one wanted it. The can was simply
doing its best, making do with what it had to offer, hoping that
one day someone would…

I glanced down at the can, suddenly realizing
that I was being ridiculous.

“You hungry, Wildcat?”

I didn’t bother to turn. I’d sensed his eyes
on me the second I reached the marketplace, as if he’d been waiting
here for me, waiting for me to leave my room and find him. As if he
had already somehow known that I would need him.

Eventually, he came to stand in front of me,
leaving me no choice but to look up at him. He looked the same as
he did the day before—big, tattooed, and scary as shit. Without
breaking eye contact with me, he gestured toward the man and woman
manning the grill. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched them,
their eyes flitting between him and me, until the man silently
handed him two skewered rats without him having to ask. Or pay.

He offered one to me and as I stared down at
it, still clutching tightly to my can, trickles of traitorous guilt
welled inside me at the thought of giving it away. But eventually I
held it out in offering, this poor can of corn, simply because I
was weak. Weak and hungry.

Breaking eye contact, he glanced down at my
can, his mouth twitching, his dark eyes dancing with laughter.
Seconds passed, during which he still didn’t take my can, and I
didn’t take his rat. It was him who ended our standoff, laughing
and turning away. As he walked off, he glanced over his shoulder
and jerked his chin, signaling that I should follow him.

As he walked off, his obscenely large frame
casting dark shadows down the walkway, everywhere people hurried to
move out of his way, their reactions telling me this man was
exactly what I’d figured him to be. Dangerous.

Several more tense moments passed before I
found myself trailing after him, part of me curious as to where he
was going and wanting to know why he wanted me to follow. The other
part of me already knew exactly what he wanted from me, and knew
that I was going to give it to him.

Right before he was about to round a
corner, he stopped, waiting for me to catch up. I didn’t hurry,
simply took my time reaching him, already knowing how this game
worked. I’d played it before I married Shawn, and then again after
I lost him. In a way, with the exception of my first marriage, my
only real marriage, I’d been playing this game my whole damn
life.

But for the moment, I didn’t care. I needed
this. Needed someone to take away the ache and fill the emptiness.
Someone to quiet the insane buzzing inside my head.

Because this was what I did, this was my
thing, the only way I knew how to survive. It was what I did, who I
was. I needed that connection to make me believe I was complete and
whole and sane again, something to still the constant churning of
useless emotions that coursed through me. We all had our ways. Alex
was quiet, forever internalizing his demons, always a silent
soldier. Leisel was the victim, constantly relying on everyone else
to save her from herself. And I was…

I was the whore.

Leisel

“You’re holding back,” I accused Alex, narrowing my
eyes at him. Here I was straddling his lap, wearing nothing but my
lacy red bra and matching thong, and he was being so infuriatingly
gentle. While his kisses had initially been demanding and full of
hunger, they had slowed and softened, his touches nearly
nonexistent as his hands barely skimmed over the surface of my
skin. I wanted the Alex I’d seen last night, the one with the fire
in his eyes, his body strung tight with wanting.

“And don’t say it’s because of the bruises.
They’re all nearly healed and you know it.”

As was typical of Alex, he didn’t respond,
just continued to sit there, his face an unreadable mask as his
hands gently held my hips.

Throwing my hands up in the air, I let out a
huff. “Fine,” I snapped, readying to move off him.

“Stop it,” he said quietly.

I paused, glancing back at his face. “Stop
what?”

“Stop acting like Evelyn.”

My eyes flew open, widening. Hurriedly, I
scrambled off his lap and stood. “What is that supposed to
mean?”

He looked up at me, his expression still
giving nothing away as to what he was truly feeling, and rolled his
eyes. “You’re pissed off, Lei. You’re pissed and you only want to
fuck because you’re pissed.”

“That’s not true!”

Only it was true, maybe a little bit. I was
pissed off, pissed that I’d been shortchanged after eight hours of
continuous dancing, pissed off that I’d had to swallow my pride and
my standards yet again, and pissed off at myself for blowing up at
Evelyn like I had when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. And
now I was pissed off at Alex for being such a big fat
know-it-all.

“You wanted to last night!” I yelled,
pointing at him. “So, what’s the problem now? No infected around to
turn you on? Or was it the other dancers that got you going? Or
maybe it was—hey!”

Taking hold of my waist, Alex lifted me clear
off my feet and stormed across the room with me half hanging over
his shoulder. When he released me, I landed on my back on top of
the mattress, and a loud whoosh of air burst past my lips. But
before I could do much of anything, even blink, Alex was on top of
me.

“This what you want?” He practically growled
the words as he jerked down my bra strap.

With no ready response, I simply lay there,
glaring up at him as he continued to somewhat violently undress me,
even going as far as to rip my new underwear as he yanked it down
my legs.

When I was naked beneath him, thinking he
would soon kiss me, he surprised me by gripping my arm instead and
flipping me over onto my stomach. I tried to push myself upright,
but he was already behind me, pushing me back down.

“You want me to treat you like you’re one of
the whores here?”

The thought wasn’t an altogether unwelcome
one. I wanted to be with him. After weeks of heavy make-out
sessions and every night spent lying in his arms wishing we could
do more, now that we could, I very much wanted it. I wanted to be
powerful, the way Evelyn was, the way she could wrap men around her
finger and get what she wanted. I was sick of being the timid
mouse…I was sick of being me.

“Or do you want it the way Whitney used to
give it to you?”

I went utterly still, unable to even blink
as I tried to process what he’d just said to me. What
Alex
had just said to me. And
suddenly I couldn’t see straight, or anything at all, I didn’t
know. All I knew is that I was screaming at the top of my lungs,
and fighting desperately to twist my body free from under him.
Somehow I managed, though I had no idea how. Then I was
face-to-face with him, still unable to see clearly, still
screaming.

My hand cracked across his handsome face,
sending it flying to his right. Unfazed, he turned back to me and I
slapped him again, this time across his other cheek. The second
slap was hard enough that not only did his head jerk to the side,
but his shoulders twisted and heaved as he tried to right
himself.

“Feel better?” he asked, rubbing his left
cheek as he faced me again.

“No!” I screamed.

I was exactly the opposite of better. How
could he have said that to me? What was he thinking, bringing up
something—some
one
—so awful at
a time when it was supposed to be just me and him being together
for the first time. Could he really not be the sort of man I
thought he was? It was a possibility; I’d only recently gotten to
know him. And considering it was me and Evelyn who did most of the
talking while Alex either grunted or rolled his eyes or spoke in
two- to three-word sentences, it was a very good possibility that I
didn’t know this man at all.

But I refused to believe that. I did know
him, probably better than anyone else still alive today, better
even than those who were dead, simply because I knew the Alex of
this world, a man who hadn’t existed before four years ago. This
man might be quiet and ridiculously gruff at times, but he wasn’t
stupid. There was method to his madness; whether it be for survival
or showing someone he cared about them, there was a
well-thought-out reason behind every one of his actions.