by Lisa Lace
"Not always, Father. There was a time when we had choices," I said. I knew I was heading into dangerous waters, but I couldn't stop myself.
My father raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to return to our lifestyle before The End, do you?" he asked. "That way led to our civilization's destruction. Millions of people died. All of our cultures were nearly snuffed out in an instant. And it was due to freedom and..."
He wouldn't say the word technology but I knew that's what he meant. I wasn't afraid of a word.
"It was not the technology that pushed the button, Father," I pointed out. I stopped on the hearth so the side of my body that faced the fire was burning hot and the side that faced the room was cold. "It was just a person."
"But it did create a situation where one person could destroy everything with a button, Jesse."
"I know, Father. I don't want to go back in time. But I do wish we could abolish some of our oldest customs that no longer make sense. One of these is the requirement of marriage to inherit the land."
"Well, it's not you or me that will do away with them. That's for the king and the council to figure out. Perhaps it will be the queen who will decide, if King Murtaugh is as ill as they say. Marsaline will make a good queen if he ever gets out of the way. We are fortunate she is only a second cousin, and not closely related to him. We will have a very different reign if she ever takes the throne. You will, at least," he added, dropping his eyes.
"Do not speak that way, Father. I will find the best healers to tend to you. You will live to see your grandchildren."
He smiled sadly. "Would that I could, Jesse. It will be enough if I see you take over the farm before I die. Do you not desire a wife? Many lovely girls live in the village. There must be someone there who has caught your eye."
I had plenty of desire for the young women of the village; unfortunately, they had no desire for me. The odd one would lie with me. Perhaps she thought I was handsome, in spite of my past, or maybe a friend dared her to.
None would consider marrying me. A man with my reputation would not make a good husband.
"It is not a case of desire, Father, and you know it."
"Jesse, your transgression was long ago. It was the mistake of a boy."
"They haven't forgotten, and none of them would consider my proposal. I don't intend to humiliate myself by asking," I said, drawing myself up straight.
My father frowned. "Perhaps you are correct about changing the old customs," he said. "It's not right for them to continually punish a good man because of something that happened in the past. Have you considered marrying outside our village?"
We looked at each other. We both knew that if no one in my village would have me, the chances of a stranger taking the risk were slim to none. Even if such a woman existed, she was not the kind of woman I wanted as a wife. I sat down on a wooden bench and put my head in my hands.
"It is impossible, Father."
"Jesse, I cannot continue to run the farm," he said, his eyes hungry with desperation. He coughed hard while I stood by helpless to assist him. "I am too ill."
"I know, Father. I know."
"And if I die without you inheriting our land, someone else can acquire it."
"I'll think of something. I won't let strangers have our farm."
He sat back after the coughing fit. He looked different these days; he seemed old and tired.
"See that you do, Jesse. There is nothing more important to me than keeping the farm in the family."
"I will."
He nodded. His eyes started to close, and I left him. It was time for him to nap after dinner.
My father could not bear to think of our family's hard-earned hundinlark farm being turned over to the hands of strangers who would never love it the same way the Melnyks always had.
I would find a woman. It couldn't be that hard.
After the fourth fruitless week of traveling to all the villages in the nearby area, I was beginning to wonder if I had been overly optimistic. I knew I was going to need help — and not the legal kind.
I walked into the inn and looked around. The innkeeper was standing at the bar, polishing glasses. The place was still empty because it was early afternoon.
"Can I help you?"
"Perhaps," I said. "I'm looking for a man called Porter."
"Porter? What's his family name?"
"That's his name. He goes by Porter."
"Oh, that one. He usually comes in around dinnertime. If you want to speak to him, you'll need to return later." He eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you want to see him?"
"I'm an old friend visiting the area, and I wanted to have a pint with him."
The innkeeper didn't believe a word I said. "Whatever you say, stranger."
"I'll see you again."
The man nodded and watched me all the way out the door. I could feel his gaze boring into my back as I went outside.
Porter was my oldest friend. I had known him since we were ten. We had been through some tough times together. One day, he disappeared, and I never knew where he went.
The rumor was he was on the run from the Bureau, but I never got confirmation. I had never tried to find him.
That was before. Now I needed him, and I had tracked him here. I was sure he was the only person on Yordbrook who could help me with my problem.
A few hours later, I was at the inn again with a pint of ale in front of me. When Porter entered, he was laughing with a bunch of men who were listening to a story he told. Only Porter could simultaneously be hiding out and remain the center of attention. He glanced around the room and looked at everyone briefly. He didn't react, but I knew he had seen me.
I finished my drink and got up to leave. I knew he would follow when he had the opportunity. I waited in the clearing nearby where I heard he conducted his transactions, my cloak wrapped close around me and my hood drawn up to protect against the drizzling rain.
After a while, the area around me was becoming dark and the rain had stopped. I thought about going back to the inn and finding my bed. Perhaps he couldn't come tonight. As I was about to give up and leave, I heard footsteps approaching me, and a woman softly giggling.
When the couple entered the clearing, I recognized Porter immediately, but not the girl on his arm.
"Melnyk. How are you? It's been too long," he said, coming forward. We embraced and he clapped me roughly on the back.
"Why did you bring a woman?" I whispered before he stepped away.
"Last time you wanted a woman to lie with you and not look at you like you were a Renegade. I assumed you wanted it again. She's already had enough morelia. She doesn't care who you are as long as you have a cock to fuck her."
His response was unexpected. "I wanted a woman, not a whore," I said.
"She's not a whore," he said. He sounded offended. "She's the miller's daughter. She's had a few drinks, and you know how horny morelia makes the women. They get uncomfortable if someone doesn't fuck them. You better take her voluntarily before she makes you."
I looked at his companion. She was sexy, and it had been a long time. She smiled at me in a way that made me instantly hard.
I thought about lifting her skirt. I could bury myself inside her and have her hot wetness clench around me when she came. Morelia ensured loud, ecstatic orgasms. There wasn't much for the man to do. Just put it in and fuck. It didn't take long, either.
Porter was a good friend.
"Okay, but wait at the inn. I need to speak with you."
"Excellent," he said, pounding me on the back again. "It shouldn't take long. Look at her. She's already panting."
She was. Her hands were on her breasts, and she was playing with herself. I couldn't resist going to her as Porter left. She didn't say a word, only pulled me in for a kiss that was hot, wet, and included a lot of tongue.
I pulled on her dress, and her breasts spilled out. I had to taste them. I bent to take one in my mouth. She moaned. She was a live wire.
After on
ly a few minutes, she was begging me to fuck her and desperate to have me inside her. I pushed her up against a tree and raised her skirt. She stuck out her bare ass toward me, trembling with desire. I touched her. She was dripping wet and slippery. It had been a long time for me.
I slid into her slowly to allow her body to accommodate me. She was a small woman, and I was a fairly big man. She moaned and writhed under me as I penetrated her, but soon I was in as far as I could penetrate.
Then I did what any man in my position would do. I fucked her until she came. When we finished, I walked her back to the inn, put her to bed in one of the rooms to sleep, and left a bag of coins on the bedside table.
After I had cleaned up, I went to find Porter. I needed to thank him for the woman and ask him to help get me a wife.
"Well?" he said when I joined him at his table. He grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. "She's good, huh?"
"Amazing," I said. "Was the morelia her idea or yours?"
"Hers, of course. She was hoping to get me to fuck her, but the idea of a new guy interested her more."
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
"She likes her sex, and she's too young to get married. She appreciates it when I come to town for a roll in the hay...or the grass...or the bed. She doesn't care where, as long as she comes. She likes morelia because it guarantees an orgasm for her."
"She's not old enough to wed, Porter? That's playing with fire. And I don't particularly want to get burned."
"You mean you don't want to get burned again."
"Maybe," I said. "Next time bring me one who's of age."
"There's gratitude for you," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll do the best I can, but I'm not running a store here."
"It must be nice to have a girl in every village who's willing to spread her legs for you," I said, unable to keep the resentment out of my voice.
He shrugged. "There's always women who want to come to and in my bed," he said.
I shook my head. "Not so much for a Renegade."
"I'm not the one who found a piece of technology and hid it," he said, laughing at me. "You were fifteen. That's old enough to know better, Jesse." He shook his finger at me, like an elder.
"I suppose I was, and I've got to live with the consequences. I don't like it when my decisions hurt other people. My father's sick."
"Is he getting worse?" All the teasing had gone out of him, and I saw only worry on Porter's face for the man who was like a father to him. "But you haven't inherited yet. If he dies..."
"It goes up for sale, and we both know who'll buy it."
"Sanderman." The richest man in our valley was always buying farms from people in trouble.
I nodded.
"Strangers in our house, Porter. They'll let the field rot and the hundinlark go wild."
"Or make more money off of it than your family ever did," he said.
"Either way, it will be a disaster. I can't let that happen," I told him, leaning forward.
"So don't." He looked around the room. "You only have to find a wife."
"That's the problem," I said.
That got his attention. He turned his shrewd eyes on me. "Why is that a problem?"
"It's the same reason I came to you last time. If girls don't want to sleep with a Renegade, imagine trying to find one willing to marry a Renegade."
"Show me the tattoo."
I rolled my eyes but pulled up my sleeve. He had seen it many times before, but I knew he wouldn't stop asking until I showed him again. They had done it without anesthetic, of course. Renegades don't get a drink for the pain.
The tattoo was the letter R. Renegades were people who accepted and wanted technology to come back. There was an underground movement trying to bring science back to our planet. I shivered at the thought. Being caught as a member of the Underground would be worse than being tattooed and shunned.
The R made me an outsider in a society that had decreed technology evil. Anyone who didn't share their views was evil, too. Most people would rather die than touch a piece of technology.
Since birth, the fact that high technology had almost destroyed us was drilled into our brains. Our ancestors had decided to ban it rather than risk annihilating our entire civilization again. I wasn't sure that technology had been the problem, but I knew better than to voice such views in public.
Now all I wanted to do was please my father, inherit the farm, and marry a girl. I wanted to be normal and live quietly, with no memory of my mistake following me through life.
Was that too much to ask?
As I saw the disapproving glances of the people around me who had seen my tattoo, I realized it might be, and I quaffed the ale Porter ordered for me.
He grinned. "It's a work of art."
"You only think that way because you don't have one," I said bitterly. We had discovered the device together. He was smart enough to leave it where it was. Although he had touched it, he had gloves on and didn't move it.
I had been unable to resist the shiny object. I needed to pick it up and take it home with me. I thought I had concealed it safely under the brick floor.
What a fool.
"We each make our choices."
"How about you choose to help me now, Porter? You owe me."
"I'm not sure if I owe you, Melnyk, but I'll help you for old time's sake."
I didn't care why he helped me as long as he did.
"What do you need?" he asked, leaning forward.
"I need a wife. As soon as possible."
"How do you expect me to help you get one of those?"
"Porter. I know you have ways. And access to things I don't."
He pulled at the collar of his shirt and shifted in his seat.
"What are you asking?"
"No one on the planet will marry me willingly," I said. "Not with this."
I patted my shoulder. I had hidden the tattoo under my shirt again.
"Let me get this straight. You're hoping an ignorant off-worlder will marry you?"
I didn't say anything. We both knew he could assist me if he wanted.
"It will cost something. You know access to such things is expensive," he said.
"How much?"
"A quarter of your herd."
"Never," I said. "Father would never agree to that."
"Not even to keep the family farm?" Porter asked innocently.
He was right. My father might agree if I told him what it was for, as long as he didn't know what Porter was going to do.
"You know I'm not gouging you, Jesse," he said. "Access is very expensive, especially these days with the Bureau of Purity on our backs."
I pressed my lips together. I knew I was making a deal with the devil, but there was no one else I could ask.
"Okay," I said, and Porter could barely contain his excitement. His hands balled into fists, and he had a big smile on his face. A quarter of a herd of fully-trained hundinlark was quite the prize.
"She must be willing," I said, starting to tick off each requirement on my fingers. "She must be of age, not have an aversion to technology..."
Whoops. I stopped myself and looked around to see if anyone had heard my mistake. Porter gave me an incredulous look.
"Willing," I repeated. "Of age. And other things." I thought for a moment. "It would be nice if she were pretty."
"Jesse, beggars can't be choosers."
"Fine. I don't care about her appearance, but the other items are non-negotiable. Don't forget."
"I won't," he said. His demeanor was serious now that we were talking business.
"A willing wife, who is of age and likes...things."
"That's right," I said.
Porter stood up.
"Have the hundinlark shipped to me when I send word that I've found her. If I can find someone, I will bring her within the month." He offered me his hand, and we shook. He started moving towards the door, but then stopped and turned back. I glanced up at him, wondering if he had forgotten so
mething.
"For the record, Jesse," he said, his face solemn. "I'm sorry about the R."
I looked down at the floor. "It's not your fault."
"Of course it's not," he said. "But I'm still sorry."
I looked up, but he had left already. All I had to do now was to sit on my hands and wait. And convince my father to give away a quarter of our herd.
I wondered if she would be pretty, and whether I could live with an ugly wife if she weren't.
I tried to remember that the only thing that mattered was saving the farm. All women look the same in a dark bedroom, right? Isn't that what Porter always said?
I sighed. It was going to be a long month.
Chapter Three
ANNALEE
"What do you mean I can't take my phone?" I asked, feeling panicked. My phone had all my music, my movies, my books, my contacts, my messages, and my photos. It was how I paid for things. It was how I entertained myself. It had my memories. My whole life was on that device. I wasn't handing it over to a grim-faced woman who had never had a day of fun in her life.
More than anything else, there was a picture of Kyle on my phone. I wasn't leaving that image behind. I had promised him I would always keep it with me while I was gone.
Kyle wasn't my boyfriend. He was a four-year-old in my preschool class. I smiled as I remembered the way he looked. Kyle was a little boy whose overworked single mother hardly had time for him. She did the best she could with the time she had and always asked how he was doing. She wanted him to excel in school so he could make a better life for himself. He was a brilliant child and was already learning how to read.
When I told my classes that I wouldn't be coming back for a long time, he was heartbroken and sobbed uncontrollably until his mother came to pick him up. Then he didn't want to say good-bye to me.
We took a selfie together. I promised him I would keep the picture with me everywhere I went in the galaxy so he would be with me. The promise comforted him. And my heart, which felt like it was breaking at the thought of leaving all the students in my preschool classes, felt a little better.