Michael Joke, her ex!

  Remembering the break-up scene?

  Total cringe-fest!

  Billy Jean was about to yank her hand back when—bam!

  She got kicked five yards away.

  “Asking for it!”

  Michael Joke growled, all icy.

  He stood tall, oozing badass vibes.

  Out came a crisp handkerchief, and he wiped the hand that zombie cooties had just touched.

  His coal-black eyes, colder than a polar bear’s toenails, zeroed in on the female zombie.

  If he hadn’t been fighting off a mob and running on fumes, this little ghoul would’ve never gotten close.

  Even powerless, squashing her would be a piece of cake.

  A killer look flashed across Michael Joke’s face as he stalked toward the zombie.

  Billy Jean couldn’t feel pain, but she knew that kick had busted a few ribs and caved in her chest.

  “Son of a gun! So brutal. Is this the same guy who used to whine ’Baby, gimme’in bed?”

  Michael Joke froze.

  He heard a familiar voice, spun around—nobody in sight.

  Was he losing it again?

  Billy Jean dragged herself up.

  Being a gal with pride, this was mega-awkward.

  She wanted to bolt, but her body had a mind of its own and lunged at Michael Joke.

  That fresh meat of his was like a siren song, triggering her inner zombie beast.

  First time since zombification that she’d craved human flesh this bad.

  “Roar…”

  She let out a spine-tingling howl.

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  Seeing the zombie pounce, Michael Joke smirked, all icy.

  He whipped out a dagger, aimed for the head.

  Just as the blade was about to strike, the wind blew the zombie’s hair aside, revealing a grayish, decaying face.

  Michael Joke’s eyes bugged out.

  Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, courtesy of the zombie.

  Michael Joke snapped back to reality.

  He clamped Billy Jean’s jaw to stop her from chomping and flipped her over.

  Billy Jean bared her fangs, growling like a rabid dog.

  She thrashed around, trying to break free, but his grip was like a vise.

  Some rotten flesh even sloughed off.

  She quit struggling, mortified, but the growls kept coming.

  Michael Joke’s face was dead serious, eyes torn.

  Then he reached out, hand shaking like a leaf.

  He brushed back her hair.

  When he saw her face, his hand clenched.

  His eyes?

  Pure chaos—hate, resentment, sadness, regret, love…

  Remembering her betrayal, his gaze hardened.

  He staggered upright.

  Well, this worked.

  Saved him the trouble.

  Let her rot in this apocalypse.

  "Eh! Why’s he leaving? Couldn’t he spare me a sip of blood or a bite of flesh? Didn’t know he was such a cheapskate!"

  Michael Joke stopped in his tracks, glanced back.

  Billy Jean was a festering mess, cloudy eyes, roaring up a storm.

  “?”

  "Why’s he staring? I know I’m a hottie, but no need to ogle. I might blush..."

  Michael Joke was dead sure he’d heard Billy Jean’s voice, not a hallucination.

  But seeing her only roar, he frowned, puzzled.

  "Damn it! Why can’t I stop lunging at him? What voodoo has he worked on me?"

  Michael Joke saw Billy Jean about to pounce again.

  Putting two and two together, he was certain that voice was her inner monologue.

  Wanted to confirm, he said,

  “Stand still, and I might give you a bowl of blood.”

  The snarling, clawing zombie hit pause.

  "Freaking really? Is he yanking my chain?"

  Michael Joke had his answer.

  Billy Jean was a zombie with a human mind.

  Looking at the once-gorgeous girl now a hideous zombie, he scoffed,

  “Billy Jean, this the glamorous life you picked after ditching me?”

  Back then, he treated her like royalty.

  Wanted to give her the moon.

  But what did she do?

  Betrayed him!

  On their second anniversary, he’d reserved the fanciest joint, set up a candlelit dinner.

  Sat there till closing, food ice-cold, and she was a no-show.

  Phone?

  Dead as a doornail.

  He told himself she must be tied up.

  Got home, and boom—she was there with some other dude.

  He saw red, beat the guy to a pulp.

  Wrecked the place and walked out, never looking back.

  Now, he glared at her, teeth gritted,

  “After stabbing me in the back, any regrets?”

  Billy Jean stared into Michael Joke’s eyes, deep as the ocean, full of stuff that freaked her out.

  "What’s his deal? Is he hinting at a do-over?"

  Michael Joke eyed Billy Jean up and down, snorted.

  “Billy Jean, you’ve got guts thinking that now.”

  He turned on his heel and left.

  Billy Jean watched him go, dumbfounded.

  "Didn’t he promise blood? Damn! Knew I couldn’t trust him. Same old, said “last time”in bed and lied through his teeth. Forget it."

  One second she thought that, the next she was hobbling after him, leg busted.

  She was numb.

  What a mess!

  Her body was on autopilot.

  Michael Joke marched ahead, Billy Jean chased, snarling and clawing.

  Watching his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and killer legs, she drooled.

  Especially that juicy butt.

  Touched it before, never tasted.

  Wouldn’t be too crazy to take a bite now.

  After all, they were once an item.