Servant of the Undead

"Don't try to play me."

The circle of torn and broken bark was fresh. "Did you bring me this way to see if I'd notice the tree?"

Her mouth stayed shut.

"They do the rituals outside, even in the winter?" he asked.

Mattie pointed to the branches, some weighted with snow, others blown bare by the wind. "They think the tree adds power, energy, to the ritual."

"They?" Hayden repeated the word, forcing her to recognize that she hadn't included herself with them.

She turned her back to him and spoke over her shoulder. "I could've brought you here last night instead. Is that what you wanted?"

She didn't want the others to know how she felt. Good to know. "This isn't about what I want. It hasn't been ever since the start."

She shoved aside the edge of her cloak, exposing her firm thigh. A stream of melted snow ran down the inside of her leg and rolled down the curve of her calf. The trail of moisture disappeared into her boot, and he looked up, connecting with her gaze. She lifted an eyebrow. The memory of her perched on the library table and him shoving his cock into her tight pussy exploded in his mind.

Had he really wanted that? Really?

"Not everything's about sex," she said.

Hayden laughed, a rough, dry bark. "Tell that to Matthew."

She winced, stepped back, and tugged the chain.

He jogged forward to release the sharp tension. "What's going on with you two?"

"It wasn't always like this, but things changed. He changed."

"What about Rachelle?"

"What about her?" Mattie quickened her pace, speeding up to a jog and pulling him across the snow, toward her cabin.

The fire had burned down and the cabin was cold.

After locking the chain to the ring embedded in the bed, Mattie crossed to the cabinet beside the wood stove. Her shoulders jerked as she pulled out two cans of corned beef hash and set them on the table. She set the teakettle on the corner of the stove then stood with her back to him, arms crossed across her chest. "Are you satisfied Rachelle is okay?"

"That's not why we went over there," he said.

She spun on her heels and had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling, the telling green gaze in eyes. "You see, Hayden, that's why I need you. You're smart. You think."

"Fine, I get it. I think. What is it you want me to think about? It's not Rachelle. It's not Matthew, either."

Still holding the table, she laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. "So far, so good."

She swayed, the green glimmer lingering in the depths of her gaze.

"How often do you need it?" he asked, leaning back on both hands. The fur cloak, still wrapped around him, fell open. He ignored the chill in the air.

"It varies." She leaned heavily on the table and stared at him, the morning sun coming in from the window behind her streaking across her shoulders and the tangles of her hair. "We don't have any way to regulate. It can be hours, minutes, sometimes days."

"Come here, I'll take care of it," Hayden said, ready to find a way to take advantage of her weakness.

She disregarded his offer, moving around the cabin uneasily to start a fire in the wood stove, then put the cans of hash in a pot and set it on the stove. She set a bucket next to him, told him he could use it when he needed it, then put extra blankets on the other side of the bed. Her movements were automatic, practiced, like a hotel housekeeper arranging a room to exactly the same way, no matter who the guest. He was one of many and if he didn't figure out what she wanted, he'd be dead or around somewhere.

The room continued to brighten with morning light as the temperature rose as the wood caught. Weariness found Hayden, his eyes grew heavy and he welcomed the temporary release of sleep. He lay back and started to pull the cloak over him, but Mattie stopped him as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him.