I backed away from Bryce instinctively, horrified, gathering the sheet around my body.

When he had tried to speak, but couldn't, he'd made this quivering jerk of the jaw that was just like what Morgan did when she'd tried to speak in the silo.

Bryce was infected.

I had no doubt. He'd been so charmingly talkative before we'd gotten trapped in the coffin. But ever since then, he'd hardly said anything. I'd thought that it was because of the trauma he'd gone through, but I'd been wrong. Bryce had been speaking in shorter and shorter sentences, until finally this morning he'd gone into this strange state of speaking in only very terse phrases. He wasn't just infected. . . He was moving into stage two.

Even as I grew more angry, and more heartbroken, I felt a sudden, intense urge to sleep with him again. What was I thinking?

I licked my lips. I'd been kissing Bryce only moments before, and my lips were still a little wet with some of his saliva. They tasted like honey.

"That night?" I asked him. "In the hay loft?" I was crying now. "You slept with Morgan that night?"

He stared straight into my eyes. "Couldn't help it."

Somehow everything he said when he spoke this way sounded so reasonable and forgivable, even when it obviously wasn't.

It had to be the effect the pheromones were having on me. . . And his beautiful blue eyes.

I actually felt a little tingling between my legs again. My pulse picked up.

What was happening? It was like a spell. I was dizzy. . .

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