Emerge (34 page)

Fingers traced my hair along my forehead… and down my cheek. It wasn’t until I felt the touch reach the scars on my face that I realized I was not in a dream.

My eyes flew open. My body jerked, and I was hugged tighter. “Shhh. It’s me. It’s West,” he whispered close to my ear.

I stared up at hazel green eyes that glistened in the light of the fire. “West? What are you doing here?” I pushed against him, tried to break away from him, but he was strong and wouldn’t budge.
 

“You can’t hold me like this, West. We can’t—” I cut myself off with a labored breath, left over from the long, hard cry I had allowed myself. “Oh West,” I sobbed, turning my face into his chest this time. Even if I was infected with Bad Sam, he was immune. At least I didn’t have that to worry about.

I didn’t know how long we lay there. He rocked me at first, then he placed me in front of him and covered us with some sort of blankets. They felt like the down comforters we’d used on the roof of New Caelum.

“Sleep now.”

And I did. For how long, I didn’t know. When at last I awoke, it was to the smell and sounds of a stoked campfire. Warmth and limbs were wrapped around me like vines. It wasn’t a dream. West was really there.
 

I tried to turn over to face him, but the instant I moved, his arms tightened, keeping me in place. I almost laughed at the possessiveness of it.

“Why are you always so eager to flee?” he asked, his morning voice coming out raspy.

I smiled. “I’m not even trying to get up. I’m just trying to face you.”

“Oh, in that case.” He let me turn over so that our faces were inches apart. “Good morning.”

“How did you know…”

“Doesn’t matter.” He let his hand slide to the nape of my neck and massaged the muscles there. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I won’t let you watch me get sick and die.”

“You don’t get to make that decision. That’s
my
choice.”

A tear fell from my eye, and West was quick to swipe it away. “And here I didn’t think I had any tears left,” I joked.

With pressure to my neck, West leaned in and kissed my cheek where the tear had left a trail that turned cold in the late fall air. “You can cry as much as you need. I’m willing to bet these tears are way overdue.”

“Mmmm. Maybe.”

“Did Caine give you the treatment?”

I shook my head. Then I sat up and reached for my pack. I pulled out the two vials and the syringe, and laid them between us.

“What are these?”

“One is my antibodies and bloodstone. It might help me survive the virus again. The other is Dr. Hempel’s creation; it might help to regenerate the antibodies in my blood. It could prevent me from suffering at all.” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It could also kill me.”

West looked up at me, his eyes wide. “You don’t know which one to take.”

“I didn’t, but I do now.” Now that he was here. After I prepared the medication in one of the syringes, I tied a band around my arm above my elbow.
 

West placed a hand over mine. “Let me.” He took the syringe from me and injected the medication directly into my vein.

I replaced the supplies in my pack and lay back down. Then I let my hand rest on West’s waist, and I stared into his eyes. “Why did you come?”

West slid his arm around my back, bringing me closer to him. Then he shrugged, leaned his head closer so that his breath feathered against my face, and after a sensual kiss, he whispered, “The timing was right.”

~~~~~

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Acknowledgements

I’m weird, I think, in that I enjoy reading the acknowledgements of a book. It’s one thing to write a story. It’s a whole other thing altogether to actually publish a book for the whole world to see. And in doing so, a lot of people and a lot of stars must align.

To my most amazing husband. Thank you for encouraging me every single day to keep reaching for my dreams. And for being the first to read that junk we writers like to call a first draft. With
Emerge
, I gave new meaning to the word “rough” in rough draft. Also, thank you for wrapping
Emerge
in the most beautiful cover you’ve designed so far.

To my beautiful children. I couldn’t ask for more supportive children. To my daughter, who is quickly understanding what it means to write and publish a book as her first book is scheduled to come out very soon. And to my son, who provides unlimited hugs and shoulder rubs when Mom’s had a long day at the computer.

To my dad, who this book is dedicated to, for inspiring my love for science. I knew I wouldn’t follow in his footsteps and be a veterinarian after I watched him perform a C-section on a cow when I was very young, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying and respecting all things scientific when I grew up, leading me to clone humans in one book series and destroy America with a deadly virus in another.

To David Gatewood, editor extraordinaire. David was integral to the final version of this story. He brings a certain fierce intelligence and organization to a story, and those things take storytelling to a much higher level.

To Jessica Patch for inspiring me daily and always pushing me to be a better writer and a better me. And for being another one of those early readers. It takes great patience to read my early drafts.

To my ninja typo checkers: Melissa Bybee-Fields, Jamie Deann, and Jenny Kays.

To Lori Kennedy Neville. Thank you for naming the Samael Strain, the virus that killed 99.9% of Americans six years ago. You are a perfect example of why readers are so awesome. Thank you for helping me with this in a Facebook conversation.

To that Kentucky group of writers (you know who you are) who keep me sane in a sometimes irrational world.

About the Author

Heather Sunseri was raised on a tiny farm in one of the smallest towns in thoroughbred horse country near Lexington, Kentucky. After high school, she attended Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina, and later graduated from the University of Kentucky with a degree in accounting. Always torn between a passion for fantasy and a mind for the rational, it only made sense to combine her career in accounting with a novel-writing dream.

Heather now lives in a different small town on the other side of Lexington with her two children and her husband, Mike, the biggest Oregon Duck fan in the universe. She is a recovering CPA, and when she’s not writing, she spends her time tormenting her daughter’s cat, Olivia, and loving on her son’s Golden Retriever, Jenny.

Heather loves to hear from readers. Please sign up for her newsletter—
A Piece of My Mind
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Heather Sunseri

P.O. Box 1264

Versailles, KY
 
40383

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