Savage Lands (Savage Lands #1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Believe me. I am.” He stepped even closer, his voice low, caressing my throat. “That was the most foolish, idiotic, dangerous—”

  “Enough.” I put my hand up to his lips, stopping his words, but the feeling of his lips against my flesh made heat rush through me. His gaze leveled with mine, the intensity in it pounding my heart. My body flamed to life at the touch. Dropping my hand, I stepped back, taking in a breath to speak.

  Nothing.

  Words wandered off, losing their way from my head to my tongue. I rolled my fists, marching into the bedroom, needing to put distance between us.

  If he wanted to yell at me, he could leave Rosie out of it.

  Following behind, Warwick grabbed the door, flinging it shut behind him. Right before the door closed, my eyes found Rosie’s. Her pressed lips curved into a smug smile; an eyebrow arched in a knowing expression.

  I glowered at her before the door slammed, her laughter trailing into the room.

  Warwick gave me no time to regroup, barreling for me. I stumbled back, my ass hitting the wall. My chin jutted up, my nose flared as he closed in on me, and his chest knocked into mine with heavy breaths.

  “Do you know how reckless it was?” He pressed his hand into the wall by my head, anger straining his shoulders.

  I rolled my jaw, not answering.

  “Were you trying to get caught?”

  I glared at him.

  “Because that has to be the only reason.” Derisive, he loomed in closer, his mouth almost grazing mine. But it was neither seductive nor sweet. He was taunting, batting at a toy. “You couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to try to get home…in the middle of the day? While you are being hunted? You think I’ve been going out every day to enjoy a nice walk? I’ve been out there spying on the scouts covering this city for us. I thought when I said the streets were swarming with fae soldiers, you would have taken it to heart.”

  “Seems they were looking just for me,” I countered, my voice low.

  He leaned on his forearms, bringing his threatening presence in closer, crowding me. “Anyone with a brain cell would know you’d try to go back to Leopold. They were watching out for you at every section along the wall, waiting to get you before you could make a move. You have a bounty on your head so high commoners on the street are frantically searching for you so they can get the reward. So…please tell me you weren’t actually heading there.” He cocked his head like he was waiting for my answer. Embarrassment sizzled up my spine. “HDF does train their soldiers to have an ounce of common sense, don’t they?”

  “Fuck you,” I snarled. His scorn burned my cheeks with chagrin. He was right. I had acted purely on emotion, tossing all my training away in a blink over the need to get home. I hadn’t thought about how extensively I was being sought, foolishly thinking I could easily dissolve in the city, getting to the gates without a problem. Home was within reach.

  With his free hand, he tugged off the jacket hood covering my head. It felt as if he were stripping me bare, his lashes lowering to my lips before popping back up. “Without even a goodbye, huh?”

  I could see my chest lower and rise with my breaths, the need to shove him back, slam him back into the wall and…

  My gaze dropped, running from the feral thoughts coming into my head.

  “I didn’t threaten Rosie to keep you here because I get off on toying with you.”

  “Don’t you?” I jerked my head up, my teeth grinding together as he boxed me in with his other hand, his gaze like razor teeth, gnawing into me. His mouth was so close to mine, and I could feel the heat of his breath. I dug my nails into my palms. “Seems exactly what you enjoy.”

  He watched me.

  “What do you want with me, Warwick?” I pushed my chin even higher. “You won’t tell me anything. Even how we got out. It was planned. By who? Why? Why did you save me?” He kept his lips secured together. “You’re not keeping me around because you care about me. Are you any better than the men outside hunting me?”

  We stared at each other, an emotion I couldn’t decipher clouded over his face for a moment.

  “Be ready after sundown.” He abruptly turned away, flipped up his hood, and sauntered to the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “What?” I lurched off the wall, coming after him. “Where are you going?”

  “We can’t stay here any longer.” He stared at me accusingly. “I need to handle a few things first. Ready at sundown,” he repeated before storming out the door, leaving me rattled and confused.

  Flopping down on the bed, I let out a frustrated exhale. Asshole.

  “Oh, luv…” Rosie clicked her tongue from the open doorway, looking between where Warwick went and back to me. “If you two don’t fuck soon, you’re going to combust.”

  “Rosie.” I rubbed my head. “It’s not like that. We hate each other.”

  Laugher howled through the room, her hand going to her throat. “If this is what hate looks like, then sign me up.”

  “We are nothing but a forced partnership for the time being. That’s it.”

  “Luv, my marriage was a forced partnership. What you two have…you guys could ignite the Eastern Bloc with your sexual energy. You two have a connection; I feel it in my bones. Anyone alive could.”

  “No.” I shook my head, rejecting her theory. “I have someone at home I love. He’s everything to me.”

  “I don’t doubt you might genuinely think that.” She leaned against the door, still dressed in her negligee. “But take advice from someone who’s seen a lot. There are very few people who find someone who challenges them, makes them feel alive, fights and loves with the same passion.”

  “How do you know I don’t have that with Caden?” I folded my arms.

  “Because I’ve seen you with Warwick.”

  Chapter 32

  “Stay close,” Warwick sniped, his foul mood infusing the weight of the shadows as he headed out the back of the alley. The night-kissed air colored the path in dusk, the sun’s exit painting the alley in various dark blues and purples. His surly temper had not ebbed since finding me on the street. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

  After another goodbye to Rosie, the madam of the house watched us, expressionless, from her doorway as we departed the protected walls of Kitty’s. She neither looked relieved nor sad by our departure, making me even more curious about what Warwick’s connection was to her. I didn’t sense any sexual vibes between them, but at the same time, there was something between them, something that had made her willing to hide the two most wanted criminals in Budapest. Especially since money was awarded for our capture.

  “Where are we going?” I demanded again, gathering in close to his tall form and using him to shield me from the people stuffing the lane, melting us into the sea of activity.

  Smells, music, and sexy costumes with feathers and colors brushed around me, women whispering enchanting words in my ear. Glamour tickled my skin, taunting me to try their goods. Half-naked women and men with wings, animal ears, and glowing eyes dangled from the swings and hoops attached to the overhangs. A man blew fire from his mouth into the air as a stunning woman twisted the fire into forms that seemed to come to life. Her features were split down the middle, dark hair on one side, blonde on the other, her eyes two different colors, which was even a rarity in the fae world. The circus environment was set to tempt and seduce people to open their wallets in their establishment.

  Wearing similar clothes to many others, dark and hooded, we slipped through the spectacle. I constantly gazed behind us, while Warwick kept his eyes ahead. His sudden need to leave, not even waiting for the middle of the night, had me asking over and over where we were going.

  “They’ll expect us to move at night, have more eyes out looking,” he had said when we were moving into the street. “Twilight tricks the eyes, the world between day and night, shadows and light.”

  With nothing but the clothes on our backs, which weren’t even ours, he took us through the backs of bu
ildings, coming out on a side street and going directly to a motorcycle tucked into a side alley.

  “Hop on.” He motioned to our newly acquired bike, suggesting what he might have been up to after he disappeared earlier. I peered up at him, his gaze not meeting mine, aggravation twitching his limbs.

  A flutter of doubt wrinkled my forehead, but I shoved it back. I didn’t have much choice. Warwick and I were in this together for the time being. Both of us were wanted and on the run.

  My list of friends was almost nonexistent in my life: Caden and maybe Hanna.

  My willingness to trust people and let them in was something I always struggled with.

  Warwick saved my life. Got me out of Halalhaz. Protected me. And yet, I still didn’t trust him. But going with him now was my only choice.

  My hesitation drew his attention to me, his eyes finding mine.

  I’m trusting you. My lids narrowed on him. His head dipped like he understood me perfectly.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, his jaw grinding together. Then he spun around, settling on the bike, and kick-started the engine to life.

  Rolling my shoulders back, I swung my leg over the back, wrapping my arms around him as it lurched forward down the lane.

  I clung to his back, the warmth and firmness claiming me and making my heart jump like it was on a trampoline.

  Speeding away from the area, the indigo of evening gobbled up all the light, curtaining us in this private world where I actually felt safe and free as the wind blew my hair back, skating over my face. He kept to side streets, the buildings growing even more dilapidated and covered in graffiti the farther we went. We passed several huge factories, smoke chugging out of chimneys at the top. Both the fae and humans had factories in the neutral zone, the products needed to export and keep this city afloat were all made here. Maja’s kids worked in one of these.

  Bang!

  My thoughts vanished at the sound of gunfire, jerking my head as four men riding horses came galloping out of an alley, as if they had been hiding there in wait, their guns pointed at us.

  “Shit!” Warwick hissed, racing faster and weaving the bike in a curved line.

  A bullet whizzed by my head. The shot meant to kill. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the figures race toward us, the horses keeping up with the bike better than I thought. The men’s hoots and hollers echoed over the roar of the motorcycle.

  “Who are they?”

  “The Hounds,” Warwick yelled back. “A gang of thieves who would kill their own mothers for money.”

  They were dressed in black clothes and black cowboy hats with guns and knives hooked on their belts or aimed at us.

  “Are they fae?”

  “Doesn’t matter here. There are no sides. When you are struggling for food, what species you are doesn’t matter. Especially because so many here are mixed. A bunch of people who have nothing to lose and no morals left,” he responded, his hands clutching the handles. “Hold on.”

  The warning was all I had before he turned sharply, tearing down a road, his shoulders tense, the alley snug with people and carts.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunshots tore down the lane, clipping the back of the bike.

  Screams broke out from pedestrians, causing them to scatter like confused squirrels.

  “Get out of the way!” I screamed, but no one listened. Warwick skillfully wove through the chaos, but the people in our path forced him to swerve down another smaller alley, the walls almost grating the handlebars.

  His shoulders tightened, but he punched the bike faster.

  Shouts hurled down the corridor after us. Peering behind, I saw the lead horseman galloping toward us, the alley making us a perfect target—like a bowling lane with no gutter. His arm was raised, the gun glinting off lights from the building above us.

  “Warwick.” The warning ground from between my teeth as the sound of a gun popped off behind us.

  Warwick’s arm darted back, yanking my body around his torso, and ducking me down right as a bullet struck his shoulder blade. Right where I had been.

  Holy shit. That would have been my head.

  His fingers dug harder into my skin, a tiny grunt huffing his chest, but it was his only response to the shot burrowing into his flesh. He tore the motorcycle out of the alley, skidding back onto a main street, the large road giving the bike freedom to hit top speed.

  Glancing back, the gang struggled to catch up, disappearing gradually into the darkness.

  I exhaled with relief, the tension in my stomach ebbing. Twisting back, I noticed blood dripping down Warwick’s arm onto my knee, the new wound not far from the one he’d gotten the night of our escape.

  Rolling and wadding up his shirt, I tried to slow the bleeding, my hands saying the thank you my mouth couldn’t seem to find.

  He had taken a bullet for me. Once again protected me.

  The infamous and feared Warwick Farkas, the man who killed without thought or conscience, appeared to have one after all. At least for me. The guy who could so easily snap a man’s neck in prison, but gently cleaned and attended my wounds. Who shared a bed with me, but did not take what I did not offer. Shared food and drink. Spilled memories and secrets.

  If it was the adrenaline or gratitude for him saving my life, I didn’t care. I felt the feeble wall I had kept up against him bend. My opinions on him sharpened with chaotic emotion.

  As if he felt every confused emotion, sensed every messy thought, his chest expanded, his spine stiffening. It didn’t stop me. I flattened my palm against his taut back, my hands caressing his glorious body, even as his muscles tensed under my fingertips.

  With one hand, I kept pressure on the laceration, while the other explored, drinking in the heat and firmness, curving around his sides.

  A strange ache started throbbing in my shoulder blade, as if I had been shot too, but I shoved the sensation away, concentrating on him.

  He sucked in, his eyes darting to my hand, then back to the road. Not encouraging, but not discouraging either. My touch moved under his layer of clothing, electricity snapping at my chest as my fingers touched his skin. He went rigid, his breath hitching.

  “Kovacs.” I heard my name. A threat. A warning. A question.

  My hands moved farther over his ripped abs. Fuck, he felt good. Like I was drunk and clearheaded at the same time, dreamy and sharp. I stopped thinking…only feeling, everything around me disappearing.

  “Brexley…” He curved his head to me, breathing shallowly. Hearing my name on his lips, the way he drew my name through gravel, husky and deep, shredded every fiber of my will.

  My gaze met his. I had no idea what he saw in my eyes, but his head snapped around. Every moment the tension between us thickened to painful levels. The desire I’d shoved away now broke free, spilling everywhere, and I couldn’t seem to wrap it back up.

  “Fuck,” I heard him snarl, the bike coming to a skidding stop. He stayed facing forward, boots on the ground, his grip tight on the handlebars. I watched his shoulders rise and lower with his heavy breaths, more blood soaking into his cotton jacket.

  “You saved my life again,” I whispered, my hands once again moving up his spine, pushing up the fabric.

  He made a gurgling sound in his throat. “What would be the point in saving you if I let you die now?”

  My thumb traced his vertebrae. His knuckles gripped the handlebars until they were white. Right then, I noticed how I affected him. My touch controlled him. It was heady and powerful. Addicting. And my pull to him was a force I couldn’t fight.

  “What do you want me for?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Every muscle was tense. Every syllable rough. Thick. “Not anymore.”

  The adrenaline pumping in my veins had me feeling out of my body. I couldn’t deny I was extremely attracted to him. Of course, I hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t. But this was consuming. Burning me up. “Why is that?” Impulsively, I leaned forward, my breath grazing his skin.

  “Jesus,” he growled, but di
dn’t pull away, a vibration rattling his lungs. “Kovacs…stop.”

  I wanted to tip this man over, the ghost, the Wolf, the legend, making him as needy as I felt. My mouth brushed up his spine. “Thank you. For saving me. Helping me. For all of it.”

  A guttural noise came from his chest, his hand clamping down on my thigh, his thumb rubbing over the crotch of my pants. Desire flooded me; I was throbbing and aching for more.

  “Warwick,” I breathed. What the hell was happening?

  I could feel his hands on my body, his breath gliding between my breasts, the heaviness of his erection pressing into me without him moving a muscle. Even more, I could feel his desire filling me. It wasn’t an idea or the way he gripped me, but a presence…entering me like a ghost, hitting every erogenous nerve, bursting pain and pleasure so blissfully through me, my breath stuttered.

  “Fuck.” His thumb pressed through the material, rubbing along my folds. My mouth parted in a moan. I knew only one hand touched me, but he was everywhere.

  My heart thumped against my ribs, an alarm ringing in my head, knowing this was not right. This couldn’t actually happen. But desire swallowed up my thoughts, a deep need overtaking me. Nothing about this was normal, but for some reason it felt right.

  He curved around, his nose flaring, his eyes flicking over my shoulder before locking on mine like he was clawing at my skin to let him in.

  In the distance, I heard a noise, but I was so hyper-focused on the man in front of me, all I could see was him.

  “Kovacs—” I could hear a pinched note in his murmured voice. “I’m sorry.”

  It was like someone cut a cord, the connection between us snapped, the sensation of him vanishing, leaving me cold and off kilter.

  “I had no choice.” He turned away, climbing off the bike.

  “What?”

  A door slammed, jerking my head to the side.

  In one second, the earth ripped out from under my feet. Confusion and terror flung me out into the atmosphere with no rope.

  A man ascended elegantly out the back of a shiny, black Mercedes SUV, stepping forward. With a gasp, I scrambled off the motorcycle, my gaze taking in what my brain didn’t want to accept.