Love in the Time of the Dead by Tera Shanley

why you’re so scrawny?”
    His observation pricked at insecurities she tried her damnedest to keep buried. That lash of hurt he caused, that obnoxious little affectation against her pride, was too much. “I wasn’t meaning to be rude.” She had to find a way to explain without giving too much. “I guess I just need certain conditions to eat.”
    “Like what? Filet mignon? You don’t like the house? A different colored table? What?” Sean’s serious blue eyes pierced hers. He wasn’t going to let her get out of this conversation.
    “She has a smelling problem, sir,” Finn spoke up from the doorway.
    “You’re saying it smells in here?” Sean was only growing more offended if his tone was any indication.
    “Daddy? All done. Can I play?” Adrianna asked sweetly.
    Saved by the three-year-old with fresh tomato sauce all over her face.
    “Yes, you can, but I want you to bring your toys in there.” He pointed to a small sitting area at the entrance to the bedrooms, within easy view.
    When Adrianna had disappeared to her bedroom, Sean looked back at Laney with exaggerated patience. He waited.
    Stalling, she took a drink of water and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I smell Deads. The smell of them is overwhelming for me sometimes and it makes it hard to eat when it is like that. I didn’t mean to offend you. The food is delicious. I just don’t feel very well.”
    “It’s true, sir. She was eating just fine in the barn, but as soon as she came out of there she got pretty sick.”
    “Finn,” Sean warned.
    “Yes, sir.” Finn disappeared into the kitchen.
    “Seems you’ve bewitched him,” Sean said.
    “I’m much too scrawny and unwomanly to bewitch anyone.” She took another bite and chewed it slowly, focusing on the pattern of her plate instead of the dizzying smell and the churning of her stomach.
    Sean sighed and let his fork drop. The tinkle of the metal against ceramic sounded quite beautiful.
    “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For this morning. The way we handled the gate check in front of everyone. And for your face, too.” He gestured in the direction of her newly stitched cut. “Losing Reynolds—” He cleared his throat. “Well, I didn’t handle things like I should have.”
    She nodded her acceptance, impressed with Sean’s ability to apologize but unable to trust her voice enough to respond.
    “The tattoo on your back,” he started. “Did you have it done before or after?”
    His eyes never veered from her face as she answered quietly. “After. I had it done the first year of the outbreak.”
    A thoughtful look crossed his face as he chewed another bite. He seemed to find her answer interesting, though she couldn’t fathom why.
    “Laney Landry, is it? Do you mind if I take another look at that gunshot wound?”
    She stood and lifted the hem of her shirt until Doc’s new bandage was exposed.
    “Do you mind?” Sean asked, gesturing to the gauze.
    “Go ahead.”
    Sean unwrapped it slowly and gently before removing the pad of gauze from the wound. When the injury was uncovered, Sean leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jawline. “So you weren’t shot. You were bitten.” It wasn’t a question.
    “I have the same mark on my leg where I was bit for the first time two years ago,” she admitted.
    “And being able to smell them, that’s been helping you and your team avoid the Deads when you are between colonies?”
    “More or less. It isn’t an exact science.”
    “Could you always smell them?”
    “No. Right after I was bitten the first time, I noticed I could smell them from a distance.”
    “So you are the cure.”
    “No. Not the cure. I think the most they’ll be able to get out of me is some type of vaccine. Something preventive if we’re lucky.”
    “You think, but you don’t know.”
    She sighed. How much should she admit to Sean? Could she even trust him? “I know enough. We’ve done experiments. My blood can bring the mind back but not the injured