by Eve Langlais
“What happened here?”
“Bandits. As their desperation mounts, so does their boldness.”
“How did you escape?”
“Pure luck. I knew they were in the area and had heard of a few other places that were torched. I was outside when I heard their bikes and hid.” She still remembered the growling noise of the engines, and thinking at first help had come. Then she recalled the smell of roasted meat from before. Surely they didn’t…
Instinct had her running for shelter rather than greet them. It was the only reason she was alive. When they didn’t find anything in the house, they torched it.
“I should have been here.” He clenched his fists, and she could hear the shame in his voice.
She shook her head. “To do what? There were too many to fight. The important thing is you’re home now.” And she wasn’t alone. She threw herself at him, and he caught her, hugged her tight.
“I thought of you every single day,” he murmured into her hair. “Worried I wouldn’t return in time.” His voice thickened.
“I knew you were alive. Knew you’d come back to me.” She cupped his cheeks and kissed her husband, the salt of their tears mixing with the heat of happiness and burgeoning passion.
They might have been outside, but she didn’t care. It had been so long. So long without his touch. Without hope in her life.
When his mouth opened against hers, their tongues met in a wet dance that only served to strengthen her desire.
She shoved at him until he lay on the ground and she could straddle him, still kissing him, her hands skimming under his shirt, feeling the unfamiliar planes of his body. Once soft, now that of a hardened male.
She leaned back and tugged at his shirt, revealing his new physique. She traced the muscles. “Goodness.”
“Who knew climbing mountains would make me so fit?” He offered a crooked smile.
She kissed it. Then kissed all those new ridges, making her way down his belly until he gasped and bucked.
“I won’t last if you go any further.”
Neither would she. She stripped off her pants and left only her shirt on, unbuckling his that she might truly straddle him. Only her wet panties in the way.
“Do you know how often I dreamed of this moment?” he murmured, his hands, the tips now calloused, sliding up her shirt. The rough pads of his fingers dragged over her skin, drawing shivers as he moved to cup her breasts.
“I touched myself thinking of you.” A soft admission that had his nostrils flaring and his eyes sparking with arousal.
“You are so beautiful, wife.” He drew her closer for a kiss before murmuring against her lips, “Give me your breasts.”
An order from her husband? That was new. He’d never ordered her to do anything during sex before.
It drove her mad with desire. She peeled off her shirt, knowing there was danger in what they did—what if those bandits returned! —but unable to stop herself.
If he wanted her breasts, then let him have them. He made a sound of pleasure as he cupped them and squeezed. His callused fingers found her nipple and rolled it, pinched it. Gave it a firm tug.
He half rose and half drew her down to capture the erect tip with his lips. She arched her back in pleasure, which had the result of her pressing down even harder on his throbbing erection. Her panties were barely a barrier. She could feel him. Pulsing. Hard. Ready.
He sucked at her nipple and bit it gently until she cried out. He did it again and again, switching between her breasts, causing her to gasp his name.
“Jool!” She urged him on. Dug her fingers into his hair and arched her chest. Pushed herself at him, demanding more.
She squirmed atop him, and he groaned around a nipple.
“Take off my bottoms,” she murmured. “Take me. Or let me take you.”
He tore them off. Literally. The only underpants she had left, and they were gone. But she didn’t care. She was wet and ready, needing him.
She lowered herself on him, the thickness of him stretching her. Filling her. She dug her fingers into his chest and brushed the cog, now part of it.
It sent a zing through her flesh, and the cog in her own body heated in reply.
All of her heated.
She started out moving slowly, savoring the feel of him sheathed inside her. But it had been too long. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding harder and faster. Her body undulated atop his, hips rolling and pushing until pleasure took her hard.
The climax was so overwhelming that, for a moment, she thought she heard his voice in her head.
I love you.
The way it resonated vibrated her very essence. He must have shouted it.
“I love you, too,” she murmured as she collapsed onto him, panting and sweaty. Happy. So very happy.
But they couldn’t stay out in the open. She brought him down to the cellar where she’d made a hideout for herself. They made love again after managing a wet cloth bath.
It was the next morning, as his hands stroked her, that they paused over her belly. Her flat belly, and yet, somehow, he knew.
“Onaria?” She heard the question in her name.
She placed her hand over his and smiled even if he couldn’t see it. “I’m pregnant.”
It was in that moment she realized her cure came with a price, as a voice inside her head said, Hail the first mecha mother. We’ll need many babies to carry the gears.
16
“You infected me!”
Jool winced as she yelled again. “It’s not a disease.”
“No, it’s worse. This thing, this parasite”—she slapped at her chest—“wants us to make babies so we can put machine parts in them!”
That was the current part of the argument. They’d already hashed through the whole, why-didn’t-you-tell-me-the-metal-came-with-a-voice section. Onaria remained unimpressed with the fact that it was the leftover sentience of a god.
“We are not putting any mecha parts in the babies,” he reiterated. “The latmevilium”—a word provided to him by his metal bits—“doesn’t like bonding with children. It prefers full-grown adults.”
Her mouth rounded. “It told you. And that’s supposed to make it better? Get it out of me. I don’t want this thing inside.” She clawed at her chest.
He grabbed her hands. “Don’t be so dramatic. You need that cog to live.”
“It’s a parasite. Feeding off of us. Using us.”
“That’s an ugly way of putting it.”
“It needs us to be its arms and legs. Wants to control us,” she hissed.
“It’s also our only chance.” He gripped her hands and held them. “Onaria, don’t you see? We don’t have a choice. Without the gears, we’ll die. Our child will die. You don’t want that.” A low trick, and yet he needed to calm her down. Fool her into living. She was angry for now, but she’d get over it.
Especially once he got her back to the temple. Once she saw how they were blessed it would change her view.
She shoved away from him and wrapped herself in a shawl before heading up the ladder into the yard. He dressed before following.
He found her standing, staring at nothing. The overcast sky hid any kind of dawn.
“We should ready ourselves to leave.”
She remained facing away from him. “We’re probably safer staying in the cellar than taking over a vacant house. In case the bandits return.”
“We’re not staying in the area. We’re going to the temple.”
At this statement, she whirled. “Over the mountains? I’m pregnant. I can’t be climbing and freezing and starving.”
“You won’t freeze. As for hardship, the first ridge is hard, but after that, I know of an easier path to get to the temple.”
“We won’t be able to bring all the food.”
“No. But that’s okay because there are berries past the second valley, and I can hunt.”
Her brows arched. “What happened to the scholar who used to only feed hi
mself from a jar?”
“Desperation can teach even someone like me to survive. I can teach you.”
“Only me? What happened to saving the world? If we leave, then you’re sentencing people to die.”
“I have to leave to save them. I didn’t bring enough gears. My primary concern was getting back to you. The hardiest will hold on until I can return.”
“Will they?” she questioned.
“You make a good point. I should at least get the process started.”
He headed for the cellar, and when he returned, she proved curious enough to ask, “What are you doing?”
He kept walking. “Saving the world. Starting with your neighbor.”
Who proved more cooperative than his wife, once he put down the large-barrelled gun.
Jool held up his hands as he approached the home of Onaria’s neighbor, Lorhj.
“That’s far enough,” drawled a deep voice. “We have nothing, so you might as well turn around and leave.” A command that lost some of its power when the speaker erupted into a coughing fit.
Only once it ceased did Jool ask, “Do you want to live? I can cure your cough.”
“Liar.”
It took Onaria appearing and taking his side before the red-eyed, grizzly-faced fellow agreed. “Listen to him, Lorhj. He speaks the truth.”
Lorhj’s first deep breath after taking one of the precious cogs lit his face with wonderment. “It doesn’t hurt.” As soon as he realized it, the man begged them to save his niece.
The gear Jool had left fitted into Notti’s throat and gave her a voice to make even the most stonehearted weep.
As Onaria napped, Jool laid out his plan to Lorhj and his niece, mostly because they couldn’t hear the voice that spoke to him from the gears. It seemed only Jool and Onaria could. He’d find out why later. For now…
“I want you to gather good folk. The kind not afraid to work hard, who love this world and want to see it succeed.”
“What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Take them into the mountains. I’ll mark a path for you.” Jool drew a map showing the many peaks and valleys that would lead him to the final ring. “I’ll find you here.” He stabbed it.
“With more gears?” The man touched his upper arm where his was implanted.
“Those judged worthy will receive one.”
“And what about that those that aren’t, like them dirty bandits?” Lorhj spat on the ground.
“The Mecha Gods frown upon those that prey upon others.” Not exactly something Jool was sure of, but it sounded right.
“The gears come from god?” Notti’s eyes lit with reverence. “Glory be to the Mecha Gods and to you for sharing them.”
Their appreciation did much to swell his chest and strengthen his resolve.
He escorted his wife back to the cellar, and while she drowsed in the bed, he packed. Packed until his bag bulged, and then he loaded hers with lighter items: clothes and blankets. Not that she would be carrying it. She already had the most precious of cargo already in her belly.
My child.
His legacy grew within her. Depended on him to protect her.
When she woke and stretched, she had a smile for him that turned into a frown. “We’re leaving already?”
“There is no point in staying.”
“I doubt we need to worry about the bandits coming back. There’s nothing left for them to burn.”
“No point in tempting them, and I want to get you through the mountains before the baby makes travel difficult for you.”
“Is that the real reason?” She placed her hands over her belly. “Or is it that you can’t wait to return to your obsession?”
“My obsession is saving lives. Lorhj is going to gather as many people as he can find and meet me in twenty-one days. I need to be ready.”
“If you’re going to save the world, then why can’t I stay here?”
He didn’t understand her stubbornness. His lip curled as he looked around. “You would prefer living in a hole to a true roof over your head? Eat canned food—which is dwindling—rather than fresh fruit, meat, and clean water? Think of our child.”
The indecision wobbled on her lips, paled her skin. “I’m afraid.” A soft admission.
Immediately he knelt in front of her and grabbed hands, icy cold with trepidation. “Don’t be. I’m with you now, and I’ll never leave you alone again. Everything I do, I do for you. And if I seem harsh, it’s only because I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Spoken through a throat thick with tears. “I’m just being silly. Pregnancy hormones, I guess. There is nothing here.”
And so they left, leaving the door to the cellar open with its remaining food for those who might follow. It was slow going over that first mountainous peak. He helped his wife over every tough spot. Stood behind her to catch her in tricky areas where she might fall.
When they hit the valley after a few days, he could see her face as she surveyed the barren terrain. The doubt as she wondered how they’d survive.
But the Mecha Gods were watching and helped him catch a dread rat before it could attack.
As she munched on the roasted chunks of meat, he could see her relaxing. Smiling.
She was gasping and crying out later that night when he made love to her. Their bodies joined and reached a pinnacle the moment before climax, when everything inside them moved in unison. A perfect machine.
Their trip proved to be just the thing they needed to reconnect. He showed her everything he’d learned about survival. Onaria caught on quickly, managing to catch a bird when they hit the second valley. Her pride in her accomplishment led to him gasping when she pounced him and nibbled at him in places that tortured and pleased.
By the third pass, the shortcuts he knew of making their trek easier, she was striding with confidence. The nausea she’d complained of, gone. Her breathing full and even. The babe within her strong.
It was in the final ring before the jungle that trouble struck.
Not in the form of a wild animal or pitfall.
But a knife against Onaria’s throat.
17
Onaria did her best not to flinch. The voice tried to warn her. Told her to slow down. But when she heard the rushing of water, she’d hiked ahead, eager to have a bath.
She never expected the man who attacked her. He sprang from nowhere and, before she could scream, had his arm around her body, a knife at her throat.
He held her to his chest and shouted, “I have your wife.”
Jool—not the same man she’d met ages ago in a city, but a fellow wearing his face with a harder physique and attitude—stepped into view, empty hands held away from his sides. “What do you want, Niimmo?”
Having heard the story of how this man tried to kill her husband, she trembled.
“I’m going to need the gears you put in your body. Hers, too.” The nonchalance belied the severity of his request.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that. You know we’ll die without them.”
“The mecha parts weren’t meant to be used by the likes of us.” The reply rumbled at her back. The pressure of the knife didn’t ease.
“Says who?” Jool snorted. “Do you even know why you’re guarding them?”
“To keep them from tainting anyone. The mecha parts are evil.”
“And who says they’re tainted?” Jool’s argued.
“The builders of the tomb. Before they departed our world, they founded a group and left us instructions. For generations now, we’ve been the guardians.”
“You never questioned why? What if they were wrong?”
“I have a duty.”
“And so do I,” Jool declared. “My child has a right to live.”
“She’s pregnant?” The shock had Niimmo shoving her away from him. She turned and saw a man with swarthy skin staring at her.
Her hand drifted to her belly. “I am.” And this person threatened her child.
You mu
st do something. The voice insisted, and yet she hesitated.
Jool kept talking. “Did it ever occur to you that the time to guard the temple has passed? That perhaps you were meant to keep it safe until we had need?”
“Do you believe you’re the first to think you had a right to them?”
They kept arguing, Niimmo barely paying her any mind as he stood by the edge of a rapidly flowing river.
A danger to her. A threat to her baby.
Before she could think twice, she darted forward. It took only one step for her hands to shove and send him tumbling.
18
The fall probably didn’t kill Niimmo, but the shockingly cold water and harsh rapids surely would.
When he reached his wife, Jool drew her shaking body against his and hugged her as she dealt with the shock at what she’d done.
Reassure her.
He hugged her close. “My dear brave wife.”
“Brave?” Said with a note of hysteria. “I killed a man.”
“No, you acted to save yourself. To save our child.” The magic words that let him lead her from the scene of her crime.
She followed, her hand icy cold. Her expression haunted. When he reached the cliff wall, he found the faded symbol of a gear. He gave it blood, and a stone door rolled aside, revealing the passage through the mountain.
The tunnel had many twists and turns, but the voice guided him, and soon they’d exited the mountain and trekked a short while in the jungle—which Onaria had regarded with awe—before they entered the secret passage into the temple. He would have liked to have taken her via the front doors, but he didn’t know if Niimmo’s passing would affect the behavior of the gear monsters. Best test that when he didn’t have a pregnant wife to worry about.
Holding her hand, he ignored all the side passages and doors, places he’d yet to explore, and took her to the place of his rebirth.
Elation filled him when he entered the room with the gears. “Welcome to the Mecha God temple.”
Awe shone on Onaria’s face, but also fear. Her gaze darted around. “It’s haunted,” she exclaimed. Her hands pressed to her ears. “So many voices.”