Christine Bell - A Valentine from Harlequin: Six Degrees of Romance

“It’s them,” Charlotte cried. She gripped the priest’s arms and helped him to stand. “Please, do it now!”

John made a frantic search of the dark kitchen, dashing to the counter where florists had been preparing the flower arrangements earlier. He gathered bits of damaged calla lilies and shredded leaves into his frantic fingers then shoved the makeshift bouquet at Charlotte. “Can you forgive me for being so stubborn about the priest?”

She wanted to grab him and kiss him, but the doors to the kitchen were starting to splinter and bulge inward. “Forgiven. Hurry,” she ordered, giving the priest a rough shove.

“Dearly beloved—”

“Skip the prologue and get to the necessary stuff.” John tugged Charlotte over to the patio doors and opened them. A small breeze brought in the scent of the fragrant gardens, and the dazzling moonlight fell upon their joined hands. No sign of the living dead stalking the rosebushes. Yet. “Father, hurry up!”

“Do you take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do!” Charlotte sucked in the corner of her lip, eyeing the kitchen doors. The groans on the other side were increasing.

“And do you take this woman—”

“Yes, yes, I do. Always and forever, no matter what the world forces upon us.” John squeezed her hands, sending bits of calla lilies across her gown. “I love you, Charlotte Masterson.”

Her new surname suited her perfectly. John’s calmness centered her, bringing her into the moment. She would remember this moment always, the moonlight, the adoration on John’s face—

The kitchen doors smashed inward. Wood shards scattered. A horde of zombies stalked clumsily inside.

The priest shouted, “I now pronounce you man and wife, may no man put asunder—”

John swept Charlotte into his embrace. He kissed her deeply, lovingly, perfectly. And there, amidst the full moon’s spotlight, they became man and wife—till death did part them.

The priest’s dying yell didn’t disturb their kiss. Charlotte clung to her husband’s hard muscles. She could cling to him forever.

She felt his desire harden against her thigh.

“I want you so badly,” he said, his dark eyes arrowed onto hers. An intensely dark beauty unlike any she’d seen captured his features and Charlotte wanted to touch him, hold him, please him. “Your skin. Your taste. Your…flesh. I need you. Now.”

She understood. She wanted to strip him bare and love him passionately for the first time. She prayed it wouldn’t be the only time.

“They’ve killed the priest,” she said.

“They’ll go to hell for that.”

She didn’t even notice his gallows humor as she fell into his mesmerizing gaze. The sounds of hungry monsters segued to the background, her pounding heartbeat surging to the fore.

“Let’s find a place to be alone,” he said. “I crave you, Charlotte.”

“You’re skin, it’s so hot, John. You’re like…a beast.”

“A beast who needs you, only you.”

John tugged her out into the garden as the swing of a zombie’s arm clocked Charlotte on the shoulder. Her party dress tore, leaving behind a slimy trail on her skin. John dodged the zombie that stalked toward them.

The creatures were much more stealthy than Charlotte had expected of the living dead. They lumbered, but quickly, and their arm and leg movements were fast. Their faces were whitish blue and their lips black; some had blood smeared on their faces and hands. Intelligence glimmered in their eyes. These were not mindless things, just as John had warned her.

“How could they have gotten here? I thought the outbreak was contained,” she said. “Doesn’t your research—”

“There are nests everywhere, and our research is just that, Charlotte. We’ve only begun to study the ones we have. They can speak, but they won’t speak to us, slowing the progress of our research.”

John swung Charlotte into his arms and leaped over a woman in white chiffon, crawling along the ground as she tried to get to her detached arm. It seemed to have a mind of its own as the fingers dragged it toward the lily pad–dotted koi pond.

As soon as they were in a protected spot, John set her down, planting his hands on the wall behind her and pressing his body against hers. Aggressive and determined, he bit kisses down her neck and to her breasts.

“You’re so lusty, John.”

“I need you. Mmm, your skin is so salty.”

Charlotte ripped open his black shirt and ran her hands up his chest. Hot and sweaty from running, his muscles pulsed under her touch. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question is that?” he asked, scanning down the hallway in both directions.

“The woman I found you with! It looked like you were—”

“No time, Charlotte. We need a safer place. It’s too open here.”

With a sigh, she nodded and shoved him down the hallway. But had she made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying a man who may have been making out with another woman? No, she knew John, she trusted him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt until the coast was clear and they could have a rational discussion.

If the coast would ever be clear… “Tell me the truth, John. Can you really get us out of this mess?” she called, following him through the dark hallways. “When all around us the world is coming to an end?”

“The whole world isn’t ending, Charlotte. Just a small chunk of it.”

“Yeah, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re on that chunk.” As they paused outside a door and John listened acutely, Charlotte’s nerves prickled the hairs all over her body. “John?”

He nuzzled her into a firm hug and kissed her. “I’m scared, too,” he whispered. His voice gentled her fears expertly. “We’ll be scared together.”

They crept inside the room, listening for any noise and scanning the darkness. Charlotte turned and flipped the light switch.

“What did you do that for?”

“I hate those stupid horror movies where they never flip on the light,” she explained.

“But what if the zombies see the light under the door? Remember, Charlotte, they are rational, thinking creatures. It is only when they consume massive amounts of carrion that their intelligence seems to wane.”

“Right. So in other words, don’t feed the zombies. I just wanted to look around better.” She searched the room, realizing it was Tina’s. “No signs of the undead.”

Hearing a shuffling sound on the other side of the door, Charlotte slapped the switch off. John tugged her toward a closet door highlighted by a beam of moonlight. “In there,” he said. “Hurry!” 

The closet was huge, stocked with every brand of shoe in the universe. Classic Tina.

Charlotte kissed John’s bruised eyelid softly, the blood dried now, and then whispered, “So they’re as smart as us?”

“Yes, but they are ruled by their hunger. Consuming flesh makes them stupid, and…”

“Less durable?”

“The older ones, for sure.”

She let out a tiny, fearful moan.

“I’ve got you,” John said as he tugged down the torn sleeve of her gown and pulled her closer. “Mmm, you smell good. Your skin, your neck.” He kissed her there, laving his tongue along it in a delirious wave of sensation that set her nipples to tight buds. “Your brains.”

“Please, not now with the humor,” she muttered.

“Right.” He paused, turning serious. “Mrs. Masterson…I need you. Can you understand that?”

“Yes, I can. As inappropriate as the timing should be, it seems right.”

“Mmm…I’ve wanted you for months, but the desire I feel tonight? It’s a craving. Let me make love to you, wife.”

Bending over her petite frame, he kissed the top of her breast and dashed his tongue over her nipple. She arched her back, silently begging him for more. He tore aside her dress and kissed the other breast. The urgency of the moment heightened every touch and sensation. Adrenaline raced through her veins, making her drunk with desire and want.

Beneath Charlotte’s roaming hands, John’s muscles flexed and hardened, and she responded in kind. She gripped his erection through his dress pants, and he hissed at her breast then nipped her none too softly.

“Do you know how many times you’ve accidentally brushed over my cock when we’ve been making out and I’ve wanted to tear away your clothes and have my way with you?”

“I’m yours now, love. Let’s make up for all those times—”

He kissed her to silence. Many a night she’d lain in bed imagining her lover’s hands on her. It was real now. And nothing was more real than the two of them, skin against skin, urgently seeking satisfaction when around them the world was being consumed.

“End-of-the-world sex?” she asked as he lifted her against the door and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Wish it didn’t have to be this way.” Gliding his burning hands between her thighs, his fingers found her folds and he danced them into her wetness, igniting an erotic flash of fire that surged through her core and responded to his deft manipulation. “You’re so hot, Charlotte.”

“Not as hot as you.” His skin did seem unusually warm. “I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

“Not exactly,” he muttered.

Somewhere, not far off, the clang of steel against wood furniture alerted them both.

Breaths panting, Charlotte gripped John’s head and kissed him, sharing her desperation. “I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered urgently. “Your big, hard strength. Please, John. Take me.”

They heard the bedroom doors crash inward, and John shoved down his pants. His erection sprang out, heavy against her folds. Charlotte wriggled, directing his entrance. And when the groans of the living dead echoed in the next room, she cried out at the intense pleasure of her husband’s possession of her body. Finding a frantic rhythm, they became one.

John’s gasps stirred next to Charlotte’s ear. He clung to her, his fingers digging into her skin, his body like molten steel, their joining a culmination of strained patience and desperation.

Everything slipped away. The threat of death, the terror of the living dead, the agony of watching others they had known fall. Lost in one another, they surrendered to the brilliance of desire and trust. Together they could defeat any horror.

“I love you, Charlotte,” John cried out and his body shuddered against hers.

Her core tight and twisty with imminent orgasm, Charlotte sighed, and released. Something banged on the closet door. She screamed—not out of fear, but instead with utter bliss, as orgasm captured them both. 

Blissfully sated, Charlotte wanted to hold this man forever. Her husband. Her giddy smile was undefeatable. “That was amazing. I wish we could do it again.”

Clinging to John’s panting body, Charlotte winced as the door behind her moved a bit with every growling pound from the other side.

“Bad timing, sweetie. Sorry about this. Oh, man, you taste so good.” He laved his tongue along her cheek, and Charlotte’s skin prickled with delicious heat.

Another vicious thumping vibrated the door against her bare skin.

They’d had their moment.

“What do we do now?” she whispered. “Did your research determine how to escape a pack of zombies?”

He nuzzled his nose into her neck and kissed her, then gave a quick little bite. She smiled. Still his humor remained, even with the flesh-eating zombies beating on the other side of the door.

But he was serious when he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “We fight,” he said.

Her man had become…well, a man tonight. Or maybe she was finally seeing the real John Masterson, a man who rose to the challenge no matter the danger. Stuffy research coordinator? More like an adventurous hero.

Her hero.

Setting her down, he tugged up her dress and pulled up his pants. His shirt was somewhere on the floor. He wandered into the depths of the closet.

“If we can get through this,” he called, “I’m going to make love to you all day, every day, in every place but the closet. Here.” He slapped a few high-heeled shoes into her hands.

“John, I know you think it’s sexy when I wear heels, but is now really the time?”

“Weapons,” he said. “It’s all I could find.”

“Clever.” She fit the toes of the shoes into her hands, heels pointed out and ready to stab.