Zombie Romance

Chapter two

The attack came from nowhere. One minute Bryce had the zombie in his grip, squeezing him into submission, and next a body of sweet-scented curves had landed on his back.
A forearm pressed into Bryce’s Adam’s apple. “Run, Mitchell!” a woman screamed in his ear.
His fingers still gripping the zombie’s neck, Bryce spun, but the woman held tight. With his free hand, he reached behind him to jerk her off his back.
"Run, Mitchell!" she repeated.
At her second call, the zombie’s head tilted. A bit of recognition, humanity even, flashed over its face. The woman rose higher on Bryce’s back and slapped her hands over his eyes. At that moment the zombie twisted from his hold. With a curse, he reached over his shoulder and tossed the female who had cost him his quarry onto the concrete.
She fell hard. He moved to step over her, but she rolled to a crouch and grabbed him around the thigh.
Then she screamed.
The zombie was already disappearing into the gloom, leaving the female to receive Bryce’s wrath.
He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.
She was maybe six inches shorter than his six-foot-two-inch frame. She only had to tilt her head a bit to meet his gaze with hers. After her bold attack, he’d expected to find defiance and challenge in her blue eyes, but fear and desperation met him instead. The intensity of it caused him to pause.
"The school knows I’m here. Knows Mitchell is, too. There are others following." She took a step to the side, trying to follow the zombie’s example and twist from Bryce’s hold. But he was ready this time. He gripped her by the other arm and pulled her against his chest.
She smelled of baby powder and permanent markers. The mixture was disconcerting, soft and harsh. Just as contradictory as her actions were to the fear he saw in her eyes.
Her hands spread over his white cotton shirt. Her fingers were stained with blue and green ink—the markers.
He didn’t bother glancing around for the saviors she claimed were coming. He could see by the way her gaze darted, the words were a lie.
She jerked against his hold, but he held tight.
"Why?" he asked.
Sweat beaded on her upper lip. She dug her fingers into his chest until he thought her nails would poke through the fine woven cloth and scrape his skin.
He yanked her closer, until there was no room between them for her to even bend her fingers, much less continue her attack. "Why are you following him? What do you know?"
"I…" She threw her head back, baring her neck.
Bryce froze. Her throat was long and pale. Her pulse beat wildly under the skin. He could see the rapid twitch at her collarbone, could smell the blood now. The need to taste it, fed by the adrenaline ripping through him, almost overwhelmed him.
He lowered his head.
She jerked again.
His lip rose, and his fangs descended. A snarl broke free from his throat. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to taste this woman’s blood. He dipped his mouth toward her neck.