His face felt hot and flushed when she pounced on him, turning so her back was facing him, her weight pinning him down, and he writhed and snarled in an attempt to get away from the hands holding his wrists.
When she raised her voice in anger, he stopped moving but stared at the back of her head in an attempt to understand exactly what she was attempting to do. The human holding his wrists looked rather distraught, and to his utter horror and dismay, another of the humans handed her a knife from his belt, causing him to resume his writhing with desperation.
What were they going to do? What were they trying to do to him?!
She had pulled his pant leg away from his wound, and he heard her say something loudly enough to be heard over his frantic growling and yelping, her tone making him feel rather cold.
She apologized for something…
Then pain tore through him, worse than when he was injured in the first place as she used the knife to cut away the adhesive keeping his wound closed. She pulled the adhesive quickly from his leg, tearing away what hair remained there and ripping his flesh open once more, the scream of pain that escaped him unable to be stifled.
He continued to howl in pain, but it was so great that he found he could hardly move, and great black spots were beginning to crowd the edges of his vision. She put something on his leg, something cold and wet, something that stung badly, then began to wipe it clean with a cloth…
Even knowing they were attempting to help him, he didn't appreciate being man handled this way, and he definitely didn't appreciate that they were giving him no choice whatsoever in the matter. This much pain, even caused by her, made him want to tear something apart.
He couldn't regain control of his body, his eyes rolling up as his vision went almost completely black, his back arched and a low moan of pain coming from him that made the man holding his wrists look away. He kicked one leg weakly, the one she didn't have ahold of, leaving a large series of dents in the metal cabinet that was close enough for him to connect with.
Another of the humans was shouting somewhere in the background, but the pain soon blurred all noises together into a crescendo that deepened the blackness in his vision, sounding much too loud but far away all at once.
He wasn't going to pass out, he told himself. He didn't want to think about what they might do to him if he did, and didn't quite feel up to waking up outside the safe room either, in a discarded heap in the rain with other infected attacking him because of his weakness.
Suddenly, her weight was gone, and his wrists were released, but there was nothing he could do now.
The blackness deepened further, finally covering his vision altogether and sending him falling forward into the dark.
…
Zoey's cheeks flushed when the Hunter began thrashing, his squirming making her both very distracted and very uncomfortable, but she set about her task without stopping. The knife she had been given slid through the tape easily, though she struggled to tear the tape off without doing too much damage to the Hunter and his leg.
The smell was rather terrible, but it was what she had expected. After all, he had wrapped the tape around his leg with filthy hands, and his body was working double time due to the irritation the adhesive part of the tape caused. She grabbed the bottle of vodka she had used earlier to treat Louis' arm, pouring a generous amount onto the Hunter's leg and listening with growing guilt to his cries.
She just wished he would stop wriggling…
Hissing a breath through her teeth, Zoey grabbed a cloth and began cleaning his wound, holding his leg still with one hand while she worked. His other leg began pounding into the cabinet he was lying in front of, leaving dents in the metal, and his cries began to weaken, falling into pained, indignant whimpers.
At last, satisfied that the wound was indeed clean, Zoey wrapped gauze around it and secured it snugly, not as tightly as the Hunter had secured the tape before, wanting to leave him some room to move. She slowly got up and nodded at Louis, who released the Hunter's hands and stood back, all of them watching as his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.
"Don't look so guilty." Francis muttered behind Zoey, making her turn with a burning look in her blue eyes. "It's a freakin' hunter."
"This one's different." It was Louis who said it this time, drawing Francis' eyes away from Zoey, a boggled look on his face. "Did you see how it responded to Zoey getting angry? Normal hunters would growl right back and not even give a damn, Francis. This one actually listened. Not to mention, he sought our help in that fight back there, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to take on the infected with his leg in that condition. An eye for an eye, man, an eye for an eye."
"Instead of helping' it, we shoulda shot it! This is definitely gonna come back and bite us in the ass." Francis fell into irritated mumbling, moving away from the Hunter but staying in a spot where he had a good shot just in case the thing woke up and everything started to go to hell.
"He may be partially right about that." Louis said softly to Zoey and Bill, the girl giving him an angry look while the old man sighed, exhaling cigarette smoke.
"I may also be right about this thing… I mean, about him showing us a way to live together without trying to kill one another, though." Bill murmured back, Zoey looking up at him hopefully.
"If there are more like him, maybe we can keep things from getting too bad while we're looking for a cure. Well… worse than they are, at least." She looked over at the unconscious form of the Hunter, then up at the top floor of the safe room. "Let's at least make him a bit more comfortable, hm?"
…
It took some time to get his unconscious body up the ladder, Francis' reluctance to assist them not making the task any easier. When Zoey had arranged the Hunter in a more comfortable position, she offered to take watch for the night so that the others could rest and so that she could keep a close eye on the Hunter in case he woke up.
Bill didn't know if she'd even be able to stay awake long enough to take watch, but let her do it anyway. He had stayed up the night before and needed rest more than any of them did, and Louis was still injured, Francis not to be trusted at the moment.
Francis was the first to fall asleep, his snores being joined by gentler ones from Bill and deep even breathing from Louis not long after, and Zoey took small comfort in the noises as she sat vigil over the Hunter.
There was a good vantage point from the top floor, offering her a view out into the city and making it easier to see any of the infected that might show up to give them trouble.
She wasn't sure exactly when she drifted off, but her eyes opened to see the Hunter crouched over her, his dark eyes carrying a peculiar light in them as he gazed downwards.
Her breath caught in her chest, but when there was no sound of the men waking below, she simply returned the Hunter's gaze and remained incredibly still.
He seemed content to stare at her for awhile in silence, but when she tried to sit up, opening her mouth to speak, he put his hand on her shoulder and eased her back down again, pressing one finger to her lips. Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, her heart was pounding, and she couldn't control her racing breath.
Leaning down, the Hunter inhaled her scent deeply, a low growl escaping him that she could feel rather than hear. His lips brushed over her hair, her forehead, her eyes and cheeks and lips, hands hovering over her without touching, almost as if he were afraid to.
He moved to her neck and collarbone, hands reaching up to hold her face gently, the realization that those claws, so good at ripping through flesh, doors, whatever else got in his way were so close to her flesh now enough to make her tremble and twitch.
…
This close, especially now that she wasn't torturing him with kindness, her scent was almost enough to make him faint again. He rumbled his appreciation as he set about exploring what skin he could find exposed, moving from brushing his lips over her flesh to touching her and offering affectionate nips that made her breath catch in her chest.
He couldn't remember ever being this close to another person, infected or otherwise, without tearing them apart. His claws twitched as he ran his hands down her arms, a soft growl escaping his throat, but he was careful not to give in to the darker side of himself.
Being this close to her, touching her, smelling her, tasting her… it reminded him of a life he couldn't remember, a life that had come before the infection. It was buried in the back of his mind somewhere, and he wondered if perhaps he had someone like her when he was still whole and human.
Of course, he was proving that just because he was infected didn't mean he couldn't have one of his own now, too…
The tightness and heat of his body was distracting, pushing him to go further, take more, but he silenced it, fought it back and continued his careful exploring. Resting his weight gently against her, he slid clawed fingers under her shirt, moving them across the pale skin of her stomach, skin he knew altogether too well was very thin, very sensitive. Her muscles twitched beneath his touch, her ragged breathing becoming shallow and laboured…
Then she brought her hands up to his face, sliding them over his cheeks and chin, rough from using guns every day but still soft against the stubble that decorated his jawbone. She didn't try to push his hood down, staring into his dark eyes with wide blue ones, her lips parting in words he didn't quite understand.
She used the same reassuring tone she had before she began torturing him…
But this time she didn't have her friends to help. This time, he had her right where he wanted her, all to himself.
Imagine his surprise when it was her who drew his face closer, her who brushed her lips against his, and her that pushed a little further, capturing him in a gentle kiss.
