by K. A Knight
“It’s a good spot. Come on, Princess.” He grabs my hand, and I follow with my bag. He’s kicked in the front door, but Jago slides it shut behind us, and as we wait, he sets down a string with cans tied to it to alert us in case anyone tries to get in. Evan drops the huge bottle of water there as we head up the dusty, creaky stairs, not wanting to carry it up.
We find a few open doorways, but he leads me to the one on the left, which opens into an empty-ish room. There’s an old, dirty mattress pressed up against one wall, but the best bit is the huge windows looking out over the hospital. “Yep, we’ll stay here tonight. Archel, set up the sniper.” He kisses me and goes to do just that as I check the floor for anything that might harm Beast Jr.
“Okay, he can come down.”
“Thank fuck,” Jago mutters and places the puppy on the floor. He instantly starts running around, sniffing everything as I explore the other rooms. There is a bathroom with no sink or toilet, just an old, filthy bath and rusted taps. There’s another bedroom with an actual bedframe, all wood and half snapped and broken, but no mattress. That’s it. I try the taps, but they groan, and a moment later, brown liquid spits out, so I quickly turn them off and grab my water bottle instead and place it on the side.
Heading into the other room, I grab Beast Jr., kissing and fussing over him while placing him in the bath before kneeling at his side. “It’s okay, baby, let’s get you clean,” I coo and carefully start to clean him, tipping the water bottle and working it into his fur.
It takes me a good hour to get him clean, and then I dry him with Jago’s shirt and leave him to nap on my bag while I sit down with the others. Jago is at the window, looking through the scope, while Evan checks over our supplies and Archel naps, sitting against the wall with his eyes closed, but I know he’s listening to everything.
“Anything?” I ask Jago as I sit down and watch him.
“Nothing yet,” he murmurs, then glances back. “Front doors are closed, no sign of movement in any windows. Seems structurally safe.” He looks over at his wet shirt and narrows his eyes. “Brawler,” he growls.
“Yes, baby?” I reply sweetly, blinking at him.
He throws me a glare and then returns to observing as I grin at Evan, who just shakes his head at me. “One day, he’s going to kill you, Pip.”
“Nah, he likes my pussy too much,” I tease, and Jago snorts.
“And she keeps him from being a mardy serial killer,” Archel scoffs.
“She will be the reason I become a serial killer if she carries on,” Jago mutters.
“Asshole,” I retort as I lift my puppy into my lap and cuddle him. “Your daddy is an asshole.”
“Which one?” Evan grins, and I wink at him.
“Not you right now, you’re pretty,” I murmur as we relax.
We pass the hours by talking and swapping roles for keeping watch. I’m up next, and after a few hours, Clay relieves me and Jago passes around the food. We don’t make a fire, which would give away our position as the sun sets.
When I nip to the toilet, I come back to find Jago loving on the puppy, and I point in his face. “Ah-ha! I knew it!”
He glares at me and passes me the dog and huffs, leaving me grinning down at him.
“I knew he loved you already, just you wait.”
I get out my bedroll and tuck my puppy in at my side as I lie down and relax, but I can’t sleep. I’m too excited for tomorrow and what we might find, so after a while, I give up and sit upright. Clay is watching me, Jago is asleep, Archel too, and Evan is on the rifle.
I run my gaze over Clay. His mask is off, his kissable lips are on display, and his eyes are locked on me.
I keep my eyes on him as he slowly grins at me. “Need something, Pascha?”
“You,” I answer honestly.
His eyes widen, and I stand, checking on the others before I extend my hand to him. He follows it up to my face and then takes it, getting to his feet. I lead him silently from the room.
“Pascha,” he murmurs, and I grin over at him.
“Shh, big guy,” I hush, as I open the door to the other room, drag him in, and then kick it shut behind us.
Smiling at him in the dark, I yank off my shirt and throw it on the wooden bedframe.
Clay groans, running his eyes across me hungrily. “Pascha, we don’t have to—”
“Shut up.” I grin and push him into the wall, reaching for his trousers. “I want you,” I murmur and lean up onto my tiptoes. I kiss his chin until his head tilts down. He gives in and kisses me back. A growl vibrates through him as his hands come down, grip my ass, and lift me. Giggling against his lips, I wrap my legs around his waist as he turns and presses me to the wall. His huge muscles make me gasp as his fingers drag up my side and grip my breast in a hard, sure action. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and tangles with mine, dominating my mouth until he pulls back on a pant.
“You’ll have to stay quiet, my queen. We are on a mission, after all,” he rumbles, leaning down. My eyes roll back into my head as he sucks one of my nipples between his lips. I groan, the sensation of his wet mouth through the fabric causing me to rub against him.
The idea that we can be caught any minute by enemies has me wet as hell and grinding against him like a cat in heat. I want to blurt out all the very inappropriate things that come to mind, but like he knows, he lifts his hand and covers my mouth.
He grins against my skin as he drags his lips across my chest to my other nipple, tweaking it and giving it the same treatment before he pulls my bra down. I lick his hand as he chuckles.
“Either fuck me, or I’m going to start singing really loudly,” I mumble, but his palm obscures my words. His head lifts, and he pulls his hand away.
“What was that, Pascha?” he asks, his hard body pressing against me. His other hand slides up my thigh and cups my pussy possessively.
“Fuck me,” I murmur. His smile turns dangerous, his eyes flashing at me, reminding me of the wild mountain man he is.
“As you command, my pascha,” he rumbles.
Without hesitation, he squeezes my pussy before pulling away and turning me around. My legs drop to the floor, and the side of my head rests against the wall. He presses his body against my back, letting me feel the strong thump of his heart and the solid, hard length of his cock as his big hands pull my legs apart, stroking and squeezing my thighs. His lips brush my ear. “Is this okay?”
I almost fucking cry with how sweet it is. This giant mountain man, my rough lover, is checking if it’s okay. They all know what happened to me, and even now, in the throes of passion, he’s checking in. It makes me relax that last inch, and I give myself over to him, knowing I’ll enjoy whatever he does. My smart retort disappears under his rough touches and the promise of his body against mine.
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing he needs verbal confirmation.
As soon as it leaves my lips, he bites my ear hard, tugging it as his hands glide up my ass to my waistband. He yanks my pants down over my ass and thighs, then he releases my lobe as I stifle my moan while he pulls them off one leg. He kicks open my legs, keeping me off balance, and my hands go to the wall.
“Hold on, baby girl,” he murmurs, and I swear my fucking pussy gushes at that endearment. Be still, my beating vagina. I don’t know who he heard it from, but he can call me that any-fucking-time. His fingers trace the edge of my panties, and knowing they are hard to come by, he pulls them off instead of ripping them.
A true fucking panty hero.
His fingers stroke my thigh, all the way up, until he cups my bare pussy. He applies pressure, making me grind into his touch. He has to feel how wet I am, I’m practically dripping, yet there are no cocky remarks, just pure lust for my feral mountain man.
His thick fingers drag down my folds, back and forth, teasing me before he parts my lips, and a moment later, I feel warm air blow across my sex. I can’t help but close my eyes and lean into the wall, my knees weak.
“Clay,” I whisper,
and hearing his name on my lips seems to spur him on.
He flicks my clit, making me groan, before his lips are suddenly there, wrapping around the nub and sucking. There is no finesse, no cocky, sure teasing. He wants to give me pleasure, so he does. What you see is what you get. His thick fingers trail down my sex, coated in my cream, then press against my entrance. As he pulls back, he nips my clit, then lashes it with his tongue, slowly thrusting his fingers inside of me. Clay stretches me to the point of delicious pain as I lift up with a groan and start to ride them, unashamedly chasing my release. His tongue never relents, I don’t even know how he’s breathing, but if he dies, at least he did it while doing something worthwhile.
Death by pussy.
His other hand grips my thigh, digging into my flesh to the point of pain. Those thick fingers twist inside me, stroking my walls, demanding my pleasure, pulling cries from my throat. He never stops, never gives up. He adds another finger and fucks me with them hard and fast as he alternates between lashing my clit with his tongue and nipping at it, until finally, I come with a yell. He surges to his feet, pulling his fingers free of my fluttering channel, and covers my mouth. Shuddering against him, I almost fall as my legs give out, but he holds me up, and wave after wave of pleasure storms through me.
When I stop shaking, he starts to pull his fingers away from me, but I grab hold of them and suck them clean, and he groans in my ear, grinding into my ass. “Inside of me, now,” I mumble as I pull them from my mouth. He wastes no time, gripping my hips and yanking my ass out. My eyes close as I shiver with desire, my stomach clenching and pussy pulsing in aftershocks as I hear a zip, and then the huge head of his cock presses against my entrance.
He rests his head against mine, and from one breath to the next, he thrusts inside me. He isn’t slow or soft, no, he slams his huge cock into me, forcing me to take it. A groan leaves my lips and my hips jerk from the force, but he keeps me there, pulling me back and impaling me on it before sliding out and slamming in. The wet slap of our bodies is loud in the quiet room. The others must be able to hear us, but I don’t care, not with his breath on my back, his hands on my skin, and his fucking monster dick destroying my pussy like Worth in a sword fight.
I try to keep the noises inside, I really do, as he plunges in and out of me, pulling me farther out. He effortlessly holds me with his strength, hitting that spot inside me. He releases my hips and then tugs my hair sharply, making me cry out.
“Oh fuck.”
He slides his hands down my arms and grips mine, holding them as he powers into me. It’s too much, he’s too big, too fucking good. A loud moan slips free. Without missing a beat, he releases my hand and covers my mouth again, giving me something to bite into.
I can feel my release building again, my greedy pussy clenching around his cock as I try to breathe through his hand. He moves closer, pinning me to the wall as he pistons in and out of me, his low groans spurring me on. I bite down on his palm, and he snarls and slams into me, grinding his cock, and it throws me off the edge once again.
I scream, the sound muffled as I explode around him. My pussy clamps and drags Clay’s own orgasm from him. A low groan fills my ear as his hips stutter, and I feel his release fill me.
Panting, he leans against me as we both try to catch our breaths. The feel of his trembling body has me smiling widely against his hand. To know this big, bad warrior is weak because of me is a heady feeling. When we have recovered a little, he pulls out of my body, making me whimper. He turns me and grips my chin, forcing me to open my eyes, and then he leans down and kisses me.
“Forever, my pascha,” is all he rumbles, but my heart does a somersault, and I go weak in the knees…again.
If they could bottle Clay, we would be fucking rich as hell.
After cleaning up and getting dressed, Clay follows me back to the other room, both of us grinning from ear to ear. Satisfaction and pleasure wind through me.
“Wait, where’s Evvie?” I ask with a frown, looking around.
“He went to get some water,” Jago replies, tugging on a string with Beast Jr. He lifts his head and frowns. “He should be back by now.”
“I’ll go look, Princess,” Archel offers and kisses my cheek, trooping down the stairs. A moment later, he rushes back up, his eyes narrowed and his lips tilted down. “Don’t freak out, Piper.”
“What? Is he okay?” I almost yell, stepping closer, my hand going to my weapon.
He swallows. “He’s gone. There’s a blood trail outside and other footprints. Our can string was cut, we didn’t even hear them. Someone took Evan.”
My heart sinks, and then we all burst into action.
Evan is gone.
It’s pitch-black outside, but Jago easily tracks the footprints. Archel forces me to stay inside with him to watch the scope and Jago’s back as Clay accompanies him. Within a few minutes, they are back, wearing grim expressions. I can’t stop pacing, wondering what’s happening to Evan.
He’s not a fighter.
Who took him and why? Don’t they know The Nations’ laws by now? Surely it has to be outlaws or bandits, which means we’ve stumbled into their camp or they have been tracking us. My mind refuses to stop until Jago grips my chin and forces me to look into his eyes.
“He’s strong. Stop giving up on him already, Brawler.” With that, he pulls me into his arms and carries on talking. “The tracks stop at the entrance to the hospital. Looks like we were wrong—people are clearly living in there, and they must have spotted us. We are going to have to go in and get him.”
“Did you see him?” I ask hopefully.
I pull back as Clay and Jago share a look over my head. Jago sighs and nods as Clay steps forward. “Pascha, there were signs they might be cannibals.”
My heart stops in my chest, and my body turns cold as I stare at him. “What do you mean?”
“There were skulls outside, rib cages and skeletons hung in warning, and blood everywhere. We even found discarded skin,” he tells me soulfully.
I pull at my hair before spinning and smashing my fist into the wall. “Fuck! Get your guns, we have to go—”
“We will,” Jago interjects, “but we’ll go in smart. Evan can survive until we do, he’s clever. Trust in that. But if we rush in guns blazing, we won’t save him, and we’ll end up dying ourselves. Get your weapons. Archel, lock the puppy in here with some water, he will be okay. We are going to go in silently and move through the bowels of the hospital until we find Evan. Understood?”
Right now, I’m glad for my beast because I’m too worried to think straight. He leans in and kisses my cheek like he knows my thoughts as I twist my shaking hands. I close my eyes for a moment to try and push back the fear surging through me, making my stomach roll. I have to focus and be smart, or Jago is right—my own fear will make us lose Evan.
Hang on, Evvie. I’m coming.
Breathing slowly to calm my racing heart, I methodically grab my weapons and start to strap them on. I add as many as I can carry, knowing if there are cannibals in there, then they aren’t going down without a fight. Clay covers himself in bombs and slips his mask on. Archel and Jago are covered head to toe, and we make sure our clothing is dark. We even put on my pascha makeup to conceal my pale skin, and I wind my hair back so it won’t get caught or be used against me. Once I’m ready, I close my eyes for a second and then turn.
“Let’s go get Evvie,” I order, my voice sharp, but it does nothing to hide the fear in my tone. It doesn’t fool my men, but they say nothing, loyally following me. I lock up Beast Jr. after putting some food and water down, hoping we return, otherwise he will die up here. I pat him goodbye, and his whine follows me as I shut the door and troop downstairs.
We don’t take the bikes, since we need to stay silent. “There has to be another way into the hospital other than the front door,” I murmur as we move noiselessly across the sand, my boots slipping slightly on the dunes. Lights flicker on inside, shining through the broken, taped
up windows, letting us know there are definitely people in there. They were either just hiding or not giving away their position.
Now, they don’t care, and I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or a good thing.
“I overheard a lot of Evvie’s studies. There should be a mortuary entrance behind it, or at least a loading bay door,” I mutter.
“Then let’s go around,” Jago suggests, and before we reach the open, flat land leading up to the hospital, we circle to the left, avoiding the spotlights that were turned on. We can see a fire burning on the roof, and as we draw closer, we hear laughter and yelling coming from inside. We all share a look, knowing that means there are more than three people there, maybe even more than ten.
Shit, how many cannibals are there?
There is a fence to the side, and we have to keep going, trying to find a hole. Just when we are about to give up, we spot an opening in the fence. I pull my crossbow, and we all crouch and duck through the hole before following the downward slope. It leads into a small parking bay, where there is an abandoned ambulance. Its back doors are open, and it has a blood trail leading into the rear and gore covering it.
Lovely.
To the right is what looks like sliding glass doors. The glass is gone, of course, but the frame remains, leading to two dark blue wooden doors that have two very distinct bloody handprints on them. There’s a light above that flickers on and off, buzzing with electricity. Jago goes first, pressing his back to the left door. Archel grabs the handle, and with a nod at Jago, he rips it open and we rush in, all taking different parts of the hallway. There are no doors or anywhere to hide, just a long corridor with what looks like a bank of elevators at the bottom and an entryway. There’s a long, fresh, bloody drag mark leading down, criss-crossing over older, nearly black blood.
Shit, is that Evan’s?
My stomach rolls, and I carefully step over it, not wanting to touch it as we move quickly to the end. Once there, we ignore the elevators, looking at our options. To the left is an open door with stairs, and to the right is a room that says ‘Morgue.’