Frequency (The Frenzy Series Book 3) by Casey L. Bond

know.”
    “How do you know?” I asked curiously. I hadn’t said anything aloud.
    “You keep looking toward the city, you’re quiet, and I can tell you’re concentrating.”
    Why did I feel so guilty? “I have to try, Tage. And it’s quiet here. Here I’m not worrying about Mercedes. I mean, I am, but she isn’t right in front of me. There aren’t any distractions.”
    “I know, but I don’t have to like it. Especially the fact that I’m not distracting you enough.”
    It was quiet in the forest. Other than the occasional animal, I didn’t hear much at all. The wind stirred the branches, clacking them against each other. There wasn’t constant chopping or rolling or hammering like in Blackwater. In the Colony, everyone worked until dark. They stayed busy because they had to. This time of year, the residents were preparing the land for spring planting. Everyone pitched in. It was deafening during the times that my hearing was more acute.
    Tage handed me a piece of willow bark. “Chew.”
    “Ugh. I hate this stuff.”
    “Well it likes you, kitten. You’re feeling better, holding down food. I’m proud of you. We need to strip some more bark while we’re out here tonight. I won’t let you forget. Don’t worry.”
    Putting the bitter strip of bark in my mouth, I began to chew, grumbling, “Gee, thanks.”
    Tage smiled, but it was fake. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Chew, try to tune in to Loverboy, and I’ll keep tracking those mangy mutts.”
    Something on the wind, from the west. “Forget the dogs. Let’s go.”
    “What is it?” he asked.
    My eyes lit up. “Bear.” I remembered the taste of bear’s blood. It was the first thing I drank after becoming a night-walker, and Tage had helped me then, too.
    Tage tossed his head back and laughed. “Your itty bitty fangs can’t bring it down.”
    “No, but yours can.”
    “You look excited, kitten.” I was. It was exhilarating to watch an enormous animal being brought down. “ Very excited,” he continued, a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll have to find bears more often.”
    “Let’s go!” I took his hand and tugged.
    The bear didn’t know what hit her. I rammed into her side, knocking her over while Tage pierced her throat. She bellowed and clawed, but it was too late. Tage drank fast, his eyes growing dark as he fed from her.
    When she faded and stopped fighting, he pulled his fangs out. “Hungry?”
    I shook my head. I wanted the blood. I wanted the meat. I was hungry, but I felt good and didn’t want to ruin that feeling. It was so rare.
    “Just a little will help you, Porschia. Just take a few sips.”
    I walked toward him where he held the giant animal’s head and neck for me. I tried to ease my fangs in the holes he made, but no matter how hard I pushed, they were too small to puncture her hide and find a vein.
    “Drink from me,” he ordered in a gravelly voice.
    “I might hurt you.” My voice was shaking as violently as my lips.
    “Drink. From. Me.”
    He didn’t have to ask twice. I tackled him, straddling his hips and pulling his throat to me. Night-walkers didn’t have to numb other night-walkers in order to feed, but I dragged my tongue down his throat out of habit or some deeper need I didn’t want to name.
    He moaned and clasped my waist hard. I sank my teeth into him and slowly took some of the blood from his body. His scent, masculine and dangerous, filled my nose along with the coppery scent of the blood filling my mouth. After a few gulps I eased my fangs out of his flesh, but couldn’t bring myself to let go of him just yet.
    He had the same problem. Our erratic breaths visibly danced in the cold air, intertwining and coexisting as one. “Porschia,” he breathed, as though I was the answer to his problems.
    “Tage,” I said, as though he were the answer to my prayers.
    Drunk on blood and the feeling of wellness, I let him reel me toward him. I let his lips touch mine, soft and strong and filled with