Tethered by Meljean Brook Page A

behind and then carried along as the zombies crowded, rushed through the door. She swung the machete, hacking, killing—but it didn’t matter, because she was dead now, too.
    But…no. When she made it through the door, all would be right. She would look up and see Archimedes clinging to the rope, above the zombies’ reach—holding on, just as she’d told him to. Then sharp relief would wake her.
    Except he wasn’t on the rope. And there was her heart, gone, gone, as the zombies surrounded him, tore at him, and he looked at her. There was nothing in his eyes. No love, no pain, nothing.
    Her screams tore at her throat again, and she hacked, hacked. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t bear it even in a dream, she had to wake up, had to wake—
    Yasmeen opened her eyes, her heart racing. With shakinghands, she reached for Archimedes, as she always did on waking from this nightmare.
    He was gone.
    She jolted up. Pain shot though her knees, still healing from the explosion that had destroyed her lady. Her relief at seeing Archimedes at the end of the bed only lasted a moment; sympathy took its place. Nude, he sat with his shoulders hunched and elbows braced on his thighs, his head in his hands. Despair and rejection traced every line of his body.
    Ignoring the ache in her knees, Yasmeen slid toward him. His head came up, fingers wiping at his eyes. Throat suddenly raw, she slid her arms around his waist, lay her cheek against the back of his shoulder.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Not completely. But I will be,” he said, and she heard his smile in his voice, felt his determination in the long, shuddering breath that he drew. His palm cupped her left knee, fingers softly massaging the stiffness away. “And I’m sorry.”
    “Why?”
    “A few times last night…I was rough with you.”
    That was all? It was true, the instability of his emotions meant that they’d gone a few rounds before exhaustion had finally worn them down, but nothing had been said or done that needed an apology now. Yasmeen gently nipped his shoulder. “And we’ve never been rough before?”
    “Never with anger. Not out of jealousy.”
    “And I deliberately pushed you to both, knowing that you would squeeze every bit of emotion out of them. Wasn’t that what you wanted after the device stole that from you?”
    His answer was a kiss pressed to her fingers, and a grin. “I’m squeezing out every bit of shame now.”
    “So you are.” And without needing her to push him to it. Some emotions had been easier to find in him than others. “Are you truly jealous of Scarsdale?”
    “No. But I was, once.” He moved his attentions to her right knee, fingers gently working. “I
am
envious of how much time he has spent with you, the years he’s been your friend—but I don’t begrudge him that time.”
    “You have me now.”
    “And I often feel like crowing that fact to everyone I see.”
    So did she. Yasmeen smiled, held him closer. His fingers paused on her knee.
    “And your reaction when I restrained your hands? That wasn’t deliberate. I scared you. I’m sorry for that, too. I didn’t know.”
    “I didn’t know, either,” she said. She’d been utterly shocked by her reaction.
    Tension stiffened his shoulders. “I wasn’t myself.”
    Oh.
He still thought she hadn’t trusted him because of the device’s effect on his emotions. Even if he were enraged beyond reason, she would put her life in his hands.
    She had more difficulty risking
his
life.
    “I trust you,” she said. “But I don’t trust anyone else. When you held my hands, I was terrified by the idea that someone could come into the cabin, and I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”
    Though he was quiet for a long moment, his tension didn’t ease. “I would protect us both.”
    “I know. But it wasn’t about
knowing.
It was more…instinctive.”
    Archimedes smiled faintly, reached up to flick her tufted ear—the one ticklish spot she had. Damn him. She squirmed,