Chapter 3
Beth awoke suddenly to a clattering sound, it was still dark and the emergency candles were burning low. Her bleary eyes adjusted to the gloom. There was a warm comforting pressure on her stomach, Daryl's big calloused hand was resting palm down against her. Lips twitching into a half smile she leaned up on her elbows, allowing his arm to fall gently from around her. His expression in sleep was peaceful, more than the nights of heavy silence then deafening fear out in the woods. While he was vulnerable like that she could admit it to herself. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Not that it counted for much, she wasn't exactly experienced.
The clattering sounds started up again. "Daryl." She whispered, nudging him. He shifted and groaned. "Whut?" he rumbled. "I can hear somethin' downstairs!" Beth said urgently. "The fuck…" he muttered as he jumped from the bed and put his layers and boots back on. "Stay." He said louder, gesturing for her not to follow him. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, stuffing something into his jeans pocket before shutting the door silently behind him. His footsteps were inaudible.
Beth slipped from beneath the duvet with caution, searching for her socks and jeans. At last she found them, pulled them on and was back into her ol' boots. She grabbed her knife, having failed to find her gun belt. Not being able to stand the idea of him going to investigate alone she opened the door, wincing as the floor boards creaked. She had no stealth. Her heart raced. The darkness was almost total, but for the moonlight sifting in. 'Where is he?' she wondered, listening for the slightest sounds. She reached out for the stairs banister. It was cold and smooth. "Daryl?" she called. "I thought I told you to stay." His deep voice echoed from wall to wall. He stepped out of the shadows by the boarded front door, looking up at her. He saw her wide eyed expression and softened. "Just a walker bumpin' into the porch. Dumb ass fucked off back to the forest." He said, slightly entertained. "I thought you might want some help." She said quietly. "Nope." Came his reply.
He didn't want her in the way of any danger. The world was probably fucked, and it wasn't taking her with it. Not while he had life in his body. Beth ran down the stairs after him as he made strides into the still glowing kitchen. The candles were flickering but visibility was still good. "Have you seen my…" she began. Daryl held up her belt before she'd even finished her sentence. "Borrowed it. Ain't much ammo." He glared at her. Grabbing it she leaned back against the counter and passed it around her waist. Before she could argue he was in front of her, his hands replacing Beth's. She daren't look up. The room seemed to spin. Feeling his hands brushing against her lower abdomen, tugging her forwards slightly as he secured the belt hole, forcing her hips to tilt upwards. Electricity was coursing through her body and hitting hard between her legs. She was starting to ache deep inside…
All too swiftly he pulled away, abruptly dropping his arms to his sides and snagging a chair at the other end of the table. Beth's head snapped upwards, catching a glimpse of his slightly red cheeks. 'Is he blushing?' she wondered incredulously.
Daryl wanted to kick his own ass for that shit he'd just pulled. He'd heard her breathing get faster, he saw how her hips moved when he touched her, but he couldn't, just couldn't accept that she might want him. He felt bad for making her act that way, and he felt even worse at his own arousal. 'I'm goin' straight to hell." He sighed to himself. She was worth more than a brief fuck in some abandoned funeral home, and she was worth more than him.