AND THEN I FOUND YOU » Daryl Dixon

27. VIVID IMAGES

One lone thought toyed with Jasmin's mind as the two of them made their way towards the house in the distance. And it had nothing to do with worrying about who might be living inside or about the chances of having to take down a few walkers. Nothing remotely of the sort.

It was something much more self-indulgent.

What refused to leave her head was the fact that she and Daryl were soon going to be sharing a house. Alone.

Only once before had lewd thoughts of him crossed her mind, and that was at the prison — the shower block more specifically. Concrete walls and chain-link fences kept them protected from the outside world, allowing time for selfish desires to manifest.

Being on the run offered them little protection and no wall to put their backs up against, which left her wondering what might happen if they were alone in a house together. Sharing a house with someone was quite domestic in itself but with freshly revealed feelings thrown into the mix, 'domestic' no longer seemed like the right word to describe it.

'Tempting' seemed to be a better fit.

A lot could happen when they weren't constantly under threat — when there were no distractions.

Whether she was nervous or excited about the possibility of something heated happening between them was unclear. Maybe it was a mixture of both. What she was certain of was the surprising absence of fear. At most, the only thing she assumed would happen between them was another kiss. The chances of anything more than that occurring were low; they had only just confessed their feelings half a day ago.

They hadn't even held hands yet. At least, not properly.

Though what if something did happen?

Heat was washing over her body like river rapids and it definitely wasn't because of the scorching Georgia heat. Trying to rid the intrusive images of them together was done without resolution, no matter how hard she tried.

And anxiety was an evil thing, tantalising her with the idea that Daryl could hear every dirty thought that passed through her head. Every small glance from him, however innocent, sparked a slight jolt of panic in her stomach, giving her more incentive to banish the provocative images from her mind. You know, just in case he actually could read her mind.

He was a hunter; his senses were impeccable. Who would be surprised if he had developed the ability to read minds as well? It would certainly be helpful to hear the thoughts of his nearby prey.

But what would that make her?

She shook the thoughts from her head, drawing her attention to the scattered graves they were passing as the house grew closer. Centuries of unpredictable country weather had caused the tombstones to erode. Most of the memorials were engraved with descriptions of babies who had succumbed to sickness and soldiers who perished in a nineteenth-century battle.

It was probably a good thing most of the burials were from centuries ago. Had someone been buried and reanimated within their casket in the current age, they would have clawed their way back up through the dirt. Just the thought of a hand emerging from the mud on a dark, stormy night sent shivers down her spine, and not the good kind.

Though, she was still able to find some humour in the theatricality of it all, which probably wasn't a good thing.

Maybe being alone with Daryl for so long was taking a toll on her.

As the graves became less scattered and more arranged, they finally closed the distance between themselves and the stairs leading up to the front door. The house looked like it had belonged to a wealthy nineteenth-century family who renovated it to keep up with the modern times. There were two stories, and the outside was made of painted-white concrete with a small porch on both the first and second levels.