Sedition

by Raven Dark

  The laughter and talk at the fire halted, but I only half noticed before he turned savage, and I lost myself in his possession. The intense pressure quickly gave way to wave after wave of pleasure. I tossed my head and wailed.

  We came almost as one, Steel bucking and cursing, me clawing at the tent and coming apart in a frenzy.

  A last groan left him, and he buried his face in my neck, his chest rising and falling against my back, heavy and hard.

  “You took that well, Petal. See? Was that so bad?”

  I shook my head. It was all I was capable of now, as my brain tried to process what had just happened. How did I feel grateful to him? How did I feel as if he’d given me what I needed?

  Steel laid across the sleeping bag on his side and pulled me into his arms, laying me so that my back was pressed to his chest. He hooked one leg over mine, his arms enveloping me. I felt owned and trapped and cared for. Protected. My head spun with that notion.

  “You’re stuck with us forever, Setora.” He kissed my ear. “We may not be good guys, but we will protect you, and I will always give you what a man should give his woman.”

  “I know, Master.” I didn’t know if I liked that fact or not. He made me feel utterly held captive, but that captured feeling made me feel as safe and warm as much as vulnerable and unbalanced. Life would never, ever be easy with my men, would it?

  I wiggled over and rolled onto my back, looking up at him. Wishing I knew what to say. His fingers traced my chin, my forehead, my lips. His eyes trapped mine, raw possession and something else that scared me a little in its fierceness.

  “I’m gonna marry you one day, Setora.”

  Gulp. My eyes went wide. “Master, don’t joke about that.”

  “I’m not.”

  Maker help me. This was the second time one of my masters had told me they wanted me as more than a slave. I didn’t think Sheriff wanted anything close to what Steel was suggesting, but…

  My heart swelled until my chest hurt. Then my brows scrunched. “Wait. You mean you want me to be yours…just yours?”

  “No. I don’t know what the others want, but you’ll wear my ring. If they want you to wear theirs too, that’s cool. You’re theirs regardless. But one way or another, one day I will bind myself to you.”

  My chest shook and my eyes stung. I didn’t have the heart to remind him marrying me was illegal, even though being the unlawful pirates that they were, the legality wouldn’t matter to them.

  Marriage. The thought was beautiful, and I wanted to just live in this moment, this moment when it almost seemed possible. When more might one day be mine.

  The small hope settled in me then, the hope that the others and me would find the forever that worked for us. Whatever that forever might be.

  Steel. It was hard to believe the man who held me captive, teasing me, owning me in the back of Damien’s stolen carriage was now my heart. I cradled his face in my hands and let my mouth mate with his, taking what I wanted for the second time since these men had found me, the way I had with Pretty Boy.

  “We’d better sleep, Master. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  “We will sleep when I say.” He swiped his thumb across my mouth. “I’m going to—”

  A strange whistling sound sliced the air outside the tent, and then there was a thump, like a body hitting the ground. Someone made a horrible gurgling sound. I froze. Steel sat up just as I heard another whistling sound cut the air followed by another thump.

  Then T-Man’s voice rang through the night, carrying from the edge of the camp. “Fuck! Sheriff, come quick… He’s dead!”

  Chapter 10

  Fire and Smoke

  Dead.

  The moment I heard the word, my imagination ran rampant.

  T-Man’s shout sounded like it had come from the west end of the camp. Was Hawk stationed at that side?

  Hawk. Dead. A dark fist clutched my heart and squeezed. Steel was on his feet and pulling on his pants, almost jumping into them. I sprang to my feet, pulling on my skirt and top so fast I don’t know how they didn’t tear.

  “Stay here,” Steel ordered, his hand on my chest holding me back from the tent entrance before I’d even taken a step.

  He dashed out, and I followed him. Worry for Hawk made it impossible to obey Steel; I’d worry about the consequences later. Outside the tent, he rounded on me, growled in anger—for my following him, I assumed—then grabbed my hand and continued through the camp. I stumbled after him in the darkness, a cacophony of sound bombarding my ears.

  The men raced out of tents, some headed for the west end of the camp, some headed for the other, all of them shouting to each other, one or two grabbing bows or swords.

  Pretty Boy joined Steel along with Sheriff, both holding burning torches. We raced for the edge of the camp, the General quickly taking the lead. At Doc’s tent, he and Crash guarded Diamond and Emmy in a circle, the two women pulling on clothes.

  “Why isn’t she in your tent?” Sheriff barked at Steel and Pretty Boy.

  “Good question,” Steel said darkly.

  Pretty Boy took up position on my other side, handing his torch to Doc, and it struck me how worried he looked. His usually relaxed expression was a rare scowl, those laughing blue eyes like ice. The Dark Legion was in him again, making him look harder, colder. Deadly. His fair face looked bloodless. I’d have said he looked scared, but he appeared too scary to look afraid.

  “If Hawk’s dead, I’ll kill him,” he muttered.

  If the situation hadn’t been so alarming, I’d have smiled at the worry buried in his threat.

  At the edge of the camp, someone held up a torch, its fire piercing the night. We reached the outer perimeter, where bikes made a ring around the tents.

  Two bodies lay on the ground, shadowed mounds in the darkness. Hawk crouched over them.

  Hawk. He was all right. Relief flooded me, so strong it was dizzying, and I barely resisted the urge to run to him.

  But if he was okay, then who…

  Throwing the torch on the ground and extinguishing the flame with his boot, Sheriff hurried over and knelt between the bodies. Beside him, I covered my mouth, my heart in my throat.

  Latch lay on his back, motionless, his expression frozen in a look of shock. A single bolt stuck out of his neck. Pup lay beside him on his side, another bolt jutting from his chest. Blood spilled out of his mouth, turning the ground around his head black in the night.

  “They’re both dead, General,” Hawk drawled in his always stoic voice. He straightened, gripping his bow so tightly it threatened to snap in half. There was a bolt already notched, but he held another in his hand until he tossed it to the ground as if it was cursed. It had a different fletching, bright blue, where the Legion’s bolts were white or black.

  Confusion raced through my thoughts. Hawk had been on this side, Latch and Pup on the other, I was sure of it.

  “Damn it,” Sheriff snapped, picking up the bolt Hawk had cast aside. He studied it and then stood up, scanning the area. “Where did the shots come from?” His voice dripped acid.

  Hawk opened his mouth to reply, but the sudden roar of bikes drowned out whatever he’d said.

  Then came the laughter. Loud, maniacal laughter, like something out of a nightmare.

  Out of nowhere, motorbikes circled in on the camp, black shadows that growled like demons. They seemed to have come out of the night itself, yodels and rude shouts from their riders filling the night.

  With so much commotion, it was impossible to tell how many attackers there were. Voices seemed to come from everywhere at once, all around the camp.

  Dust kicked up, obscuring the intruders when they spun their bikes and circled, but some of them carried torches, and I caught sight of skeletal, metallic masks and the glint of metal from weapons in the firelight. The light played across the steel, making them look evil.

  “Where the fuck did they come from?” Pretty Boy shouted over the din of a camp already ringing with the sou
nds of battle. “How did you not see them before they got this close?” he snarled at Hawk. He yanked one of the two swords out of the scabbards on Hawk’s back. The blade whirled in his grip.

  Hawk said nothing, already firing bolts at the intruders, taken from the quiver at his hip. He got two shots off, and loud crashes rent the air, engines cutting short.

  As the enemy drew closer, I felt the men drawing back, Steel pulling me backward, further into the camp. Sheriff pressed something on his arm. A wide band of metal on his forearm suddenly morphed into the long, scaled glove he’d worn earlier, armor that covered his fist with a clanking sound. He whipped the chain I’d seen him take from the fueling station off his waist, turning it from a belt to a whip in an instant. He swung the spiked weapon in a deadly arc.

  “Steel, find Doc and Crash and take Onyx to them.” The whip in Sheriff’s fist struck one of the rival bikers, wrapping around his neck. Sheriff yanked him from his bike across the ground before Pretty Boy squatted, ramming his blade into the man’s chest. “Have them take the women somewhere safe.”

  “Come with me.” Steel grabbed my hand in his hot fist and half ran with me toward the center of the campsite.

  We found Doc and Crash still with Diamond and Emmy.

  “Take her!” Steel shouted at Doc.

  Doc seized my hand and marched us through the dust and darkness, taking the lead, with Crash penning us in from behind. Crash still carried his bow, bolt notched, and Doc gripped a short staff in one hand. Another was strapped to his back.

  Two of the bikers—were these Dregs?—barreled at us, one with a mace swinging, the other with a bow aimed at Crash. Crash lunged forward and fired his shot first, and the bowman crashed to the ground. Doc released my hand and pulled the second staff out of the holder on his back. The staffs whirled in his hands as he danced a battle of death with the other Dreg.

  “Come on then,” Doc snarled at the Dreg with the mace.

  A mask covered the Dreg’s face, its shape mirroring the metallic skull of a wolf or a dog. He swung the heavy, spiked mace at Doc’s head. Doc stepped aside and weaved out of the weapon’s path as the rider roared past him, then spun and slammed both of his staffs into the man, one cracking his skull, the other across his back.

  Blood and brain matter sprayed. I turned my face away, my stomach roiling. Emmy screamed, and I pulled her into me, covering her face.

  “I’m okay,” she said, shaking herself.

  But I didn’t release her while the five of us made our way toward Pup and Latch’s bikes. Doc took Diamond on one bike, and Crash took Emmy on the other just as T-Man joined us, pulling up on a third bike. T-Man helped me onto the seat behind him. Engines roared, and the three men rode us out from the noise and fighting in the camp, side by side, cutting a swath through the rival bikers who came at us.

  “We can’t leave the others behind!” I shouted into T-Man’s back.

  “We have to. They can’t have you three—” T-Man cut off when Crash suddenly lost control of the bike. It skidded and disappeared behind us. Oh Maker, what had happened?

  T-Man spun his bike around, and I saw Crash and Emmy scrambling up from the ground a hundred feet back. Crash’s ride lay on its side, as if he’d rolled off of it and taken Emmy with him when the bike spun out of control.

  “Shit.” T-Man spun the bike back the way we’d been headed and fired his own bolt into the darkness. There was a yell of pain before the large shadow of a man on a bike loomed toward us with a bolt sticking out of his arm. T-Man shot another bolt, and it hit him in the forehead. He went down.

  T-Man turned back once again, headed toward Crash and Emmy, who were both on their feet, Crash checking her over. She was scratched and bruised but looked otherwise unharmed.

  “The bike’s busted, go!” Crash waved at T-Man to take off. “Just go, we’ll catch up!”

  “Not a chance,” Doc said, pulling up beside us. “The Dark Legion leaves no man behind.”

  He and T-Man dismounted, both men helping me and Diamond off. Doc and T-Man formed a wall with their bikes, rushing me, Diamond, and Emmy behind them. Crash pulled the wrecked motorbike over. The men surrounded us, spinning to attack anyone who came close. Crash had slung his bow on his back; I saw him swing it off and fire a bolt almost in one movement, hitting one Dreg in the forehead.

  “Impressive, kid.” Doc gave him a nod, keeping a Dreg at bay with those whirring staves.

  Crash shot another one down without a word.

  “Get down,” T-Man snarled at us. The men pushed us to the ground behind the bikes.

  Something metallic clanged, and I turned just as Diamond screamed. A long chain swung out from the darkness, narrowly missing Diamond’s ankle. I looked up.

  One of the Dregs had managed to breach the protective wall of man and bike. My eyes widened at the bright blue mohawk that crested his head. It was the man I’d seen riding with the others outside the pub in Salvage. He swung his chain in an arc, and I shoved Diamond aside just before it wrapped around her wrist. The hook on the end of the chain grazed my arm and pain blazed.

  The three men fought toe-to-toe with the Dregs, but there always seemed to be more.

  “Look at this,” the man with the mohawk shouted. “A gang of pussies with three too many women. Allow us to liberate you of such a heavy burden.”

  While T-Man shot off more bolts, Doc stepped in front of me and swung one of his staves at the mohawked man. But the Dreg grabbed the staff, seized Doc’s throat, and lifted him off his feet.

  From my vantage point, I saw Crash shoot the Dreg in the knee, and the Dreg released Doc with a snarl, falling to his knees. Four of the Dregs appeared out of the darkness and the one with the mohawk shouted at them.

  “Get them!”

  Light of the Maker, we were outnumbered.

  Pretty Boy rode up, putting his bike between us and the Dregs, dismounting and cutting two of them down with Hawk’s blade. Behind us, the camp still rang with the sounds of battle. Swords clanged, bolts whizzed through the air, men fell. Smoke from fire bombs the Dregs had thrown rose up from the carnage.

  “They cornered us,” T-Man reported when Pretty Boy looked back at us. “We lost a ride.”

  “Everyone mount up.” Pretty Boy’s sword spun in his grip, keeping the man with the mohawk at a distance and ducking his chain. The Dreg had gotten to his feet, limping on his wounded leg, his swings erratic. “Head back to camp.”

  Crash ran over to one of the fallen bikes a Dreg had been riding. He jumped on and pulled Emmy with him. Doc took Diamond behind him. T-Man got on his bike alone as Pretty Boy hauled me up behind him.

  We rode through the darkness at breakneck speed, back to camp, through smoke that choked my lungs. The laughter of Dregs followed us like the howl of hounds.

  As soon as we reached the tents, I saw the extent of the damage. The rival bikers had torn apart the tents, and dead Dregs lay everywhere. Smoke rose from the tents, flames licking here and there until the tents resembled the huts of a raided village. Hawk and Sheriff danced between them, Sheriff with one blade, Hawk with two. Hawk’s blades didn’t match; it looked like he’d taken one of the swords from a Dreg. Steel clubbed a man in the face with his giant fist and he went down like a felled tree.

  Everyone dismounted and Pretty Boy raced me deeper into the camp, cutting down the enemy from every direction, Crash, T-Man, and Doc protecting Diamond and Emmy behind me.

  Pretty Boy turned and grabbed my arm, about to push me toward the only standing tent, I thought, but his eyes widened.

  “Setora!” He grabbed me, shoved me to the ground. He rolled with me, covering me with his body while a boom sounded where we’d been standing. I looked where we’d been; a huge ball of flame went up from the sand, black smoke obscuring the world.

  I couldn’t even see the others.

  “Are you all right, Princess?” Pretty Boy turned me onto my back, looking me over. I nodded, and he hauled me up, racing across the camp while what sound
ed like at least two Dregs chased us.

  “Where are Emmy and Diamond?” I shouted.

  “They’re—”

  A woman’s scream—Emmy’s voice—ripped through the air, over bike engines and explosions.

  Pretty Boy spun with me. Ten feet off, a few feet from where Doc and Crash guarded Diamond, Emmy struggled with the mohawked Dreg. Crash lay on the ground, cradling his leg. A bolt stuck out of his calf on a sideways angle. The Dreg must have shot him, preventing Crash from getting up and allowing the Dreg to get ahold of Emmy.

  “Emmy!” I screamed.

  Before anyone could do more, the Dreg threw something at us. A fist-sized canister rolled across the ground and exploded with an ear-splitting crack, forcing us all back. A thick plume of dark smoke rose up, blacking out everything like a dense fog.

  Whatever the smoke was made of filled my nose and throat, making me instantly dizzy. I coughed and tried to turn away. It reeked, something like sulfur, but stronger, and it burned like acid in the eyes. Near me, Pretty Boy coughed, and I heard others doing the same. Someone threw up, and I saw Steel and T-Man trying to get to two of the nearest fallen bikes, probably to go after Emmy. Both of them hacked and coughed and swayed, barely able to stand. Dizziness had me stumbling over my own feet. Over the hacking, shouts, and Diamond screaming, Emmy cried out in terror.

  That maniacal laughter came, and a bike engine faded slowly into the distance, joined by other engines, and the victorious whoops of men. More explosions went off until the world seemed consumed in the same black, acrid smoke.

  Emmy. Maker, Emmy.

  A hand grabbed my arm, and I screamed.

  “It’s me, Princess. Come on.” Pretty Boy sounded muffled, like he was covering his mouth. Unable to see more than shadows and light, I felt him stumble into me, then he pulled me to him. His hand covered my mouth with a cloth. “Shallow breaths and keep low.”

  We stumbled, painfully slow, out of the haze.

  “Em…Emmy, Master,” I said between coughs, pulling him back in the direction Emmy had gone. “He took her.”