by Lilly Black
She pulled out the drawer under the television armoire and got him a set of sheets, then she went to pull the extra blanket off the end of the bed. As she picked up the hand-stitched quilt, she remembered opening it for Christmas last year. Reid had taken all of the small scraps of embroidery they found in her grandmother's house after she died and had it made into a quilt for her.
He was the most thoughtful husband in the world, and now because of her selfishness, he might never make it home. She didn't think about that when they were casting the spell. Dani said they couldn't die as a result. Olivia said their children couldn't, then Dani included that the men they loved couldn't. But nobody thought to say that the men they loved had to make it home.
That's how it's going to work, isn't it? she thought. I can be with Alek, and it won't affect my marriage because my husband's never coming home. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed and broke down, sobbing.
"Hey, it's going to be okay," Alek whispered as he sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against his chest.
"No, it isn't," she cried weakly.
"It is. I promise," he assured her. "Let's get some sleep, and when we wake up, we'll figure out what to do next. If the government isn't getting a handle on it, we'll reinforce the fence around this place. Hell, we can build a fucking twelve foot wall on all of the groundwork you've already laid. We're going to survive this, Olivia. Your daughter is going to survive this."
"But what about..." ...my husband? She couldn't bring herself to say it. Alek was here taking care of her, comforting her when inside he was probably just as afraid as she was, and the last thing she needed to do was draw his attention to the fact that she was another man's wife.
She looked up into his eyes. "Would you hold me tonight?" she asked. "I'm not coming onto you. I just need..."
"Shhh...I understand," he whispered, resting the side of his face against the top of her head as he fought the urge to kiss her there, and when they got under the covers, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her close until they both fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.
No one woke well-rested. Most everyone dropped quickly from exhaustion then suffered fitful dreams. It was almost noon when Olivia opened her eyes to find herself wound around Alek. She was instantly racked with guilt, but she didn't want to move. She didn't want to let go. Reid would just have to understand. In a few minutes, she had to go out there and be strong for everyone, but in here with Alek, she could just be a woman terrified that the whole world had gone to Hell.
"You up?" he asked suddenly, startling her, and she sighed, knowing she had to pull away now.
"Yeah," she said as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair.
"It's okay," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I know you're married."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes cast downward, unwilling to turn her head to look at him. "I should have told you the first time we met."
"I get it. You thought we'd never see each other again."
"Yeah," she said, finally meeting his gaze, but feeling embarrassed, she quickly got up and started to make the bed. Alek got up to help, determined to continue the conversation as they tucked the flat sheet and spread the comforter taut, and when he pulled the covers over his pillow, he felt something silky against his foot under the edge of the bed. Using his toe, he dragged it out, glancing down to see the sheer black nightie that had been dropped the last night Olivia and Reid had made love. Though tempted to pick it up, he left it peeking out from under the edge of the comforter so she could find it and deal with it when he wasn't in the room.
"Where is he now?" he asked her about her husband.
"Charleston," she said. "It's only about a two hour drive from here, but he's stuck there for now."
"Do you love him?" he asked. It may have seemed like a silly question, but it was a legitimate one. When Alek moved to the U.S. from his small hometown outside of Stockholm, Sweden, he had learned that marriage and love could often be mutually exclusive. He'd learned a lot of things in Hollywood that were vastly different from how he grew up, but even though he'd lost his Swedish accent, he'd never lost the person he was. Even after he became famous and women began to throw themselves at him, he never looked at them as objects, and he still dated with the goal of finding a perfect mate to start a life with rather than just looking to get laid. That didn't mean he didn't want to fuck Olivia. He had wanted her since he saw her across the bar at the Kemp Hotel on Saturday night, but today when she nodded yes to answer his question, he knew he was not going to allow himself to push the issue with her. She loved her husband, and he couldn't build any kind of healthy relationship with her on the foundation of a loving marriage he deliberately destroyed.
But he couldn't stay away from her either.
"I'd like to sleep here again tonight, Olivia," he began. "I promise I'll respect your marriage, and when your husband comes back, I'll find somewhere else to sleep. I just really need a human connection right now."
She thought about it for a moment, and though she knew it was the wrong decision, there was never really any chance of her giving him an answer other than yes. She needed the connection too, and she realized that she was going to be guilt-ridden whether Alek held her at night or not. Either she would indulge in the fantasy that she could actually be with him in a perfect world where Reid wouldn't be hurt by it, or she would lay in that bed alone night after night waiting for her husband to come home to her while tormenting herself for casting a spell that prevented it from happening. Though skeptical of the reality of it, she couldn't escape the prospect, however remote, that she was never going to see Reid again and Savannah was never going to see her father again because of a thoughtless choice made in a moment of uncharacteristic self indulgence.
And she was in the midst of yet another such moment when she nodded her head to Alek and said, "okay."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, "but I can't cheat on my husband, Alek. I hope you understand that."
"I won't even try," he said, and it suddenly occurred to him that if she found the nightgown beneath the bed at some point, she might think he was responsible and kick him out of her room. He bent down and picked it up.
"Of course, it would be a lot easier if you didn't leave these laying around," he said as he offered her the silky, black garment. Smiling bashfully, she snatched it from his hand and took it to her lingerie drawer, and when she held it up to fold it, an image of her wearing it popped into his head. His reaction was involuntary, but he knew he needed to get away before she saw it.
"Alek," she called out as he walked toward the master bath, and he looked back over his shoulder, unwilling to turn his body to face her. "I don't think anyone else needs to know where you're sleeping, okay?"
"It will be our secret," he promised.
Liana's Journal
First Night in the Arms of Aiden La Croix
I didn't believe in magic, not totally. My abuela, who lived with us when I was a kid, was always telling me and my brothers stories about growing up Catholic in a small village in Argentina where they believed in witchcraft and spells, but to us it mostly seemed like the superstitions of an old woman. I guess over time, it did become a part of me, though, because when Dani wanted to take us into that palm reading shop, I felt uneasy. I got past it, but it came back later when the civilized world ended. As a Catholic, I was obligated to be a little scared of going to Hell for summoning demons.
Then Aiden LaCroix walked up to the limo on the roadside of the WV Turnpike, and I forgot all about demons and Hell and everything else.
I can't explain it, but ever since I laid eyes on him the first time, I've felt drawn to him in a way I've never felt in my life. I'm not the kind of person to get all gaga over a hockey player or rock star or whatever. It's not like that. It's something deeper. Of course, I could never have done anything about it in real life. I would have been too insecure to even try to talk to
him, but when fate - or Madam Levinia - put us together, he seemed just as into me as I was him. I'd blame that on Levinia too if I hadn't specifically insisted that she not cast a love spell. If he falls in love with me, I want to know it's real.
And I think it will be. Aiden and I really clicked last night, or I guess it was actually super early this morning. We talked all the way to Olivia's doomsday compound, and I couldn't wait to get there so we could be alone. She gave us our key, and we hurried upstairs pretending to be in a rush to get to sleep. Then as soon as the door was closed behind us, he kissed me. It was the most perfect kiss of my life. His dark brown eyes met mine, and they slowly closed as he leaned in and parted my lips, slipping his smooth tongue between them. Goosebumps broke out all over my body, and between my legs was an absolute flood. I had wanted him for so long, but we were covered in blood and guts and filth from the fight to get here.
Aiden took the first shower. He started undressing on his way in, and when he took off his shirt, I thought I'd die of a heart attack, finally being alone with him after years of fantasizing about him. His body is incredible, his pecks, his abs, his every muscle beautifully defined, and I just sat in a chair watching him like it was a private strip show, hoping he'd drop the pants as well. I didn't get so lucky, but the whole time he was in the shower, all I could think about was what might happen once we were both freshly bathed.
Then he came out, and I went in. That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. The spell that brought us together didn't change the reason I haven't been with a man in years. It didn't take away my secret shame. I lifted my leg and looked down at my inner thigh and burst into tears. It wasn't fair.
It isn't fair.
It's not that I'm vain. I know I wouldn't be perfect without these flaws, but there would be balance. I have thighs that are a little thick, an ass that is a little wider than I would prefer, and according to my exes, beautiful lady parts. I don't have one of those armoire vaginas like Olivia has where you know there's a kick ass entertainment center in there if you can just pry the doors open, but it's a nice shade of pink with everything petite and symmetrical. I get wet so easy, and my taste, I'm told, is subtle and sexy. My college boyfriend used to call it the "Taj Mahal of pussies". Unfortunately, my Taj Mahal was built in the middle of a rundown trailer park.
I've had a problem with acne on my inner thighs since puberty. I know that doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's not just a few little zits and a blackhead here or there. I get cysts and boils, and depending on the time of the month, my inner thighs can look like a three-dimensional topographical map of a volcano belt. They hurt, they're gross, and they scar.
They only show up during one week of my cycle, and when I was a teenager, my skin would bounce right back except for some discoloration, so as long as I avoided taking my pants off during that week, I could enjoy a relatively normal sex life without ever having my boyfriend know how hideous I really was down there. But as I got older and the same skin suffered eruption after eruption, it didn't heal so quickly and perfectly anymore. It started to scar, and then the boils would form on the thick scar tissue and make it even worse. I'm thirty five now, and even when I'm not having a breakout, it looks like I am. The skin is all twisted and uneven, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I've been to doctors since it started, and while some had the misguided notion that they could help me, they couldn't. They gave me antibiotics, but the predisposition of that skin to form cysts wasn't about bacteria or cleanliness. I've always been obsessed with keeping myself clean because of it. It made me feel dirty, so I would bathe constantly, but when all was said and done, it didn't matter if I showered five times a day or didn't shower for five days at a time, the cysts were going to be there every month like clockwork. Hormones didn't help. Acne treatments didn't help. The only real option I ever had was a surgery where that area of skin would be completely removed and replaced kind of like a tummy tuck on the inner thigh, but my insurance wouldn't cover it, so it was really never an option at all.
And now that the civilized world is coming to an end? I guess I'll just do what I've always done. Restrict myself and work around it. Sometimes it isn't so bad. I've really become pretty clever about it.
By my late twenties, I had discovered BDSM. I wasn't honestly all that into being a Dominant, but having control over my partners gave me a freedom I hadn't experienced since the scarring began. As a Domme, I could blindfold my boyfriends and tie their hands behind their backs so I could guide their dicks or their tongues just where I wanted them...and only where I wanted them. It was the closest I'd ever come to having a normal sex life, but the problem with that was I had to find true submissives, which aren't the kind of men I'm into. The kind of men I'm into get bored with my BDSM games pretty fast because they want to be in control. It was a no win situation for me, and though I used to get depressed about it, it got easier on my heart once I just gave up men altogether.
That's when I started my five year relationship with Bob. Though there's nothing in this world that feels as amazing to a clitoris as a tongue that wants to please it, at least Bob got the job done. But now he was in a suitcase in a hotel in Pittsburgh while I was in West Virginia with the man of my dreams waiting to fuck me on the other side of the bathroom door. God! How I wish I could just walk out there, fall into his arms, and learn what it was like to have sex that wasn't planned out in detail to hide my shame. I wanted to know what it was like to let a man take control and make love to me...fuck me...use me like a toy...but I was a thirty-five-year-old woman who had never even had sex with the lights on, so what did I do?
I rejected him. I asked him to hold me instead. We were wearing nothing but the robes we found in the bathroom because we didn't have any clean clothes, and he politely turned his back so I could get under the blankets first. I shed my robe, and when I was covered, I watched from behind as his robe slid over his shoulders then came completely off. His ass was so tight and muscular, I wanted to just take a bite of out it, but what I wanted even more was to see the front. That didn't happen. When he turned back around, he was holding an extra sheet blocking my view. He switched off the light and crawled into the bed, covering up with the new sheet, leaving me the other, which separated us beneath the comforter, and he made the joke that it was to protect my virtue. Of course, then he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly, the thin fabric of the sheets no barrier at all as I felt every peek and valley of his firm, naked muscles. Intrepidly, I slipped my leg over his to get closer, feeling him begin to grow hard as my thigh passed over his groin, and ay, dios mio! The thought of being that close to Aiden LaCroix's erection made me so wet, I could feel it on my thighs. But all I could do was give him a squeeze and whisper goodnight.
I fucking hate my life.
This isn't fair.
Day 4
Over the course of several days, life in the Anders compound settled into a pattern. The news continued to broadcast as the government tried to come up with a means of battling the disease that caused the dead to rise and feast on the flesh of the living, which included bombing several major cities like Pittsburgh, and when it was clear that the military effort would yield no useful results, the group on the mountaintop worked to fortify their position.
The roads in Summers County were relatively clear, and it was easy for them to "borrow" the things they needed to begin building a wall around the inner ring. They brought in a bobcat to dig trenches along the perimeter, and inside the chain link fence, they started the wall using stone stolen from a construction project not far from the compound. The sound drew the occasional corpse, but in such a sparsely populated area, it was only a minor inconvenience to have to stop and put a bullet through its head.
There were a few in the group who thought they were overreacting by shoring up their defenses so quickly, but they were overruled. Olivia, for one, knew what to expect because the compound itself existed for the sake of surviving a societal catastrophe, and even though she w
as basing her expectations on research of governmental breakdowns in other countries, she was able to appeal to the others by referencing end-of-the-world-type disaster films, which nearly everyone had seen. She reminded them that if the government was unable to protect the citizens, it wasn't going to be the peacemakers who rose up and took charge. If history and cinema had shown them anything, it was that the sort of warlords who rose to power from disaster were never overflowing with compassion for humanity.
They were going to need more than just walls to protect them. They needed weapons and ammunition. Though Olivia and her husband had been preparing for a long time with plenty of guns and bullets already stockpiled, she knew it wasn't enough. The compound had been built with two things in mind - profitability until the polar ice caps melted and protection and sustainability thereafter. They had chosen a place with fairly easy interstate access to large metro areas like Charlotte and DC for the revenue it would bring, but this catastrophe was not the one they had prepared for. They were going to need a lot more ammunition if all of those people from the large metro areas began heading into the hills looking for refuge because wherever their food source went, the dead were sure to follow.
"I noticed a gun shop on the side of the road when we went on the last run," Aiden said as he sat down at the dining room table in Olivia's residence to discuss plans with the others. There were seven of them - Olivia, Dani, Liana, Alek, Jax, Aiden, and Damon, the Greyhawks ' goalie who had already proven invaluable on their scavenging missions. They had excluded June because Olivia didn't want Jobe to be a part of the community oversight. She didn't trust him before he tried to take the limo and abandon them, and she damn sure didn't trust him now. No one did but June, so no one expected anything from him. His only job had become keeping June and her kids safe, though every day Olivia spent time honing the boys' shooting skills because they were likely going to have to be their own protectors. Of course practice meant they needed more bullets, so in his cool, aloof manner, Aiden suggested they loot the gun shop. Piece of cake.