by Kit Rocha
“We would have noticed a plant,” Bren argued.
“Maybe, but not someone who's been here for a while. Someone they managed to get to.” At his friend's startled look, Jas shrugged. “None of the O'Kanes. No one with ink. But Dallas is going to play it close to the vest for a while anyway.”
Hawk considered that. “Smart, after what happened to Gideon.” The leader of Sector One had come damn close to dying at the hands of a man he'd known most of his life. If there was one thing Eden was good at, it was ruthlessness. Anyone with family in the city could end up facing an impossible choice—turn spy, or watch your loved ones die.
Bren rubbed his jaw. “There's another option, you know. We could leak something, and see if it gets back to the Council. If it does, we start our search.”
“Take it to Dallas and Jared,” Jas advised. “I don't have the stomach for that shit.”
“What about that councilman that Lili was so worried about?” Hawk asked. “Any word from him?”
“Nope. Hell, we don't know who's in charge anymore inside that wall. We're just…” Jasper trailed off.
Waiting. Waiting, even if it drove them all crazy, because every day that passed was a day not only where Eden got a little hungrier, but where Dallas grew a little stronger. They'd finished the hospital and were stockpiling weapons and medicine. The only rational, tactical thing to do was drag this stalemate out as long as they could.
Hawk blew out a rough breath. “Am I the only one ready to climb that fucking wall to get this over with?”
“No.” Jasper stopped walking and waited for Hawk to turn. His face was harsh in the artificial light, tense lines and anger. “We could. Count up all the men and women we have ready to go, and we might even outnumber the MPs. But there's one thing we'll never get from Eden, and that's a clean fight. Those Council bastards will hide behind a load of little kids if it means saving their own asses. So we wait.”
“We wait,” Hawk echoed, frustration and selfish relief tangling in his gut. Waiting might be hell, but it also meant time. Time for him to make new lists about Jeni. He'd cataloged her masks, her smiles. Now he wanted to learn every way she laughed, every way she sighed and moaned and begged.
Every way she got off.
Jeni was his bright spot in the darkness, the outlet for all his mounting tension. They could burn it off together, burn through everything until they were too exhausted and sated to worry about tomorrow.
And they could start tonight.
The warehouse was bustling with activity and conversation. Jeni sat around the assembly table, placing full flasks of alcohol into bags before passing them along.
It wasn't the usual packing that went on at O'Kane Liquor, and it wasn't the usual alcohol. This stuff was high-proof, clear and pungent and fresh out of the still. No need for Nessa to age it, because drinking it wasn't a priority. But it would make an excellent antiseptic—and, along with the other medical supplies they'd collected, it could save lives.
Jeni looked across the large square of tables to where Jyoti stood, double-checking the filled bags before setting them aside on a pallet. “How many medics do you and Doc have in training?”
“Fifteen senior medics, as of this week. All of them with some sort of rough training.” Jyoti smiled, the pleasure in her dark eyes offsetting her weariness. “And almost seventy nurses. I've had to open a second house for the school.”
Sometimes, all they could do was look for a sense of accomplishment wherever they could find it. “That's impressive.”
“It helps that Rose House trained its initiates in first aid. Some of them have gone straight to advanced training.” Jyoti's smile turned wry. “The former Orchids are better at taking men apart. We might need to give them a way to do that, Lex.”
“What do you think, Six?” Lex glanced over and arched an eyebrow in challenge. “You up for running some guerrilla warfare training in your new sector?”
“Hell, yeah.” Six's grin was downright feral. “Bren's been whipping our new guards into shape. A little competition from girls who can kick their balls halfway to their ears might keep them sharp.”
“You should check out the warehouse on Halstead,” Scarlet suggested. “My band used to practice there all the time. Good acoustics. Lots of room for ass-kicking, too.”
Six passed another bag to Lex. “I can work with this. Hell, we have the women who are always hanging out at fight night, waiting for Dallas to give them a shot. I could bring them over, too.”
“Knock yourself out, honey.”
“What about you, Jeni?” Jyoti glanced up from the bag she was checking. “Did you find much of what we need in Six?”
“I did. We'll start planting tomorrow.” It was the first time anyone had mentioned her trip, and no one had breathed a word about the leather fastened around her throat—which could only mean that Lex had warned them off.
A quick glance at the woman in question yielded a sheepish wink, and Jeni sighed. At least this explained why Nessa in particular had been so quiet today.
Jeni tucked a flask into another bag and squared her shoulders. “All right. Who wants to ask me about it?”
Nessa let out an explosive sigh. “Oh thank God, I was actually, literally going to die.”
“Literally?” Jyoti teased. “Nessa, it's been an hour, if that.”
“I know!” Nessa planted one elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, her eyes alight with excitement. “Come on, Jeni. Details. Please.”
With Nessa, it could have meant anything from tell me how romantic it all was to describe the dick, if you will, using no fewer than four adjectives. “There's not much to tell,” she demurred, her cheeks heating. “Last fight night, Hawk asked me if I'd consider a collar, and—”
“Wait, wait.” Nessa raised both eyebrows. “Last fight night, like when you went to climb him for the first time?”
Lex's stare wasn't sheepish now. It was sharp, assessing, and even though she wished she didn't, Jeni knew what she was thinking. She was wondering if Hawk had finally given Jeni what she wanted—but with the collar as a condition.
“I didn't,” she said, as much in response to Lex's unspoken question as Nessa's voiced one. “We didn't, I mean. He asked me to go to Six with him, and some things happened. Some things...changed.”
“Are you happy?” Jyoti asked softly.
It was all so new that she'd barely had time to consider it. But now the shock of the situation, the surprise, had begun to fade, taken over by a sense of something very much like wonder. None of them knew how much time they had, but what she had, she could spend with Hawk—getting to know him, all the things beneath what he would share, what he even realized was there. And her answer came readily to her lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I'm happy.”
“Oh man, look at her face.” Nessa sighed again. “His dick must be solid fucking gold.”
Scarlet elbowed her in the side.
“What! I'm jealous.” But she leaned over the table to squeeze Jeni's hand. “I'm glad you got him. We need happy right now. All the happy we can get.”
“Yes, we do.” Lex stopped working and looked around the table. “Ford and Mia's reports out of Seven aren't good. Things are breaking down, and people are fleeing—mostly to Eight. Gideon sent some of his Riders in to try and restore order, but I think the losses will be considerable.”
A hush fell over the room. There were so many ways people could die in the sectors—lack of access to food, clean water, security, basic medical care—and the issues were compounded considerably when you were talking about refugees. Eden's military police force didn't even have to set foot outside the walls for its Council to cause enough chaos to kill people.
Six's jaw tightened. “People coming in off the farms in Seven won't know shit about survival close to the city. They'll be easy prey.”
Just like Hawk's family. The thought of Bethany and Luna trying to navigate the dangerous sector streets made Jeni's stomach clench. “There
must be something we can do.”
“There is,” Lex replied evenly. “We can win this fucking war.”
Six tapped her nails against the table, her gaze fixed on empty air. “Maybe we can do more. Jyoti, you still need help clearing the roads in Two, right?”
“We need help clearing everything.”
“We're the same over in Three. And hell, it doesn't take much skill to haul rocks. I don't know how much we can pay them…”
“I can feed them,” Jyoti replied. “And you can find them someplace to live.”
“Probably.” Six glanced at Lex. “It's a start, right?”
Lex smiled slowly, her eyes bright. “I think it's perfect.”
Jyoti nodded. “It is. We just have to figure out how to get them over here.”
“Ha.” Nessa waved a hand. “Leave that to Mia. You tell her what you want, she makes it happen. Sector Eight doesn't know what hit it.”
Rachel opened another box of wrapped bandages and started stacking them in front of her. “Nessa and I were talking about the herb garden, and I think we have a decent idea of where and how to convert part of the distillery for processing.”
“Yeah, it'll be great.” Nessa raised her eyebrows at Jeni. “Are you going to take over organizing that part? Dallas says you can keep it all straight in your head.”
She'd assumed she'd be gathering the information, then passing on the actual project to someone else. “I don't know. I guess that's up to Dallas.”
Nessa snorted. “Do you want to?”
The possibility seized her and, for a second, Jeni couldn't breathe. The idea of something that was hers, built from the ground up and nurtured rather than handed off, would fulfill every dream she'd barely dared to have. “Yeah, I do.”
“So…” Nessa tilted her head toward Lex.
The moment hovered in the scant space between confusion and awkwardness, and Jeni couldn't blame Nessa. For as long as Jeni had known her, Lex had handled O'Kane business as much as Dallas. But this was different. Jeni was different.
Things always were when relationships like theirs ended. Some people could turn it on and off, the dominance they brought to the bedroom. Hell, some never took it out of the bedroom in the first place, so it was easy to let it go. Others, like Dallas, figured they owned everyone on some level, so it didn't matter.
Lex might not ever be able to issue another command to Jeni, no matter how far removed from sex the situation was. It wasn't about lingering feelings, but the associations. For some people, control was inextricably entwined with how they expressed it, so simple words that used to come easily to Lex might be lost forever.
Hawk would be the same way.
Jeni touched the medallion at the hollow of her throat. No matter how or why their relationship ended, on terrible or even the very best of terms, there would be no going back. A part of Hawk would always see her with this collar. As his.
Before the awkwardness could twist and grow, Lex grinned. “Don't underestimate Dallas, Nessa. You of all people should know that he's probably got the whole thing set up for Jeni already. He just hasn't gotten around to letting her know yet.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Nessa rolled her eyes and went back to filling the small bottles. “But that's good. It'll be nice to have you there with us. We have fun, don't we, Rae?”
“Sure.” Rachel chuckled. “It's extra fun when Ace and Cruz show up to remind me not to lift anything heavy.”
Scarlet shook her head. “Poor boys are losing their minds.”
Six threw up her hands. “Hey, I keep telling them pregnancy is normal and natural and to leave you the hell alone, but Cruz won't take advice from anyone who doesn't want to wrap you up in blankets and lock you somewhere safe.”
“He listened to Hawk when he said ginger might help my morning sickness.” Rachel peeked over at Jeni. “Maybe more than his dick is pure gold.”
This time, the laughter didn't make her cheeks flame. Jeni pasted on her most innocent look, shrugged, and said, “His mouth is pretty magical, too.”
And she wouldn't elaborate for the rest of the afternoon—no matter how much Nessa begged.
Chapter Seven
Hawk had tired muscles, an empty stomach, and dripping-wet hair when someone knocked gently on his door.
The hair was easy to fix. He rubbed a towel roughly over his head as he walked to the door, unable to stop the anticipation stealing through him. By the time he reached for the doorknob he didn't give a shit about his aching back or nagging hunger.
Jeni was on the other side of that door. Weeks of planning ended here, in this moment, where months' worth of guilty fantasies had started.
Jeni, in his room. Jeni, in his bed.
Jeni, his.
He hauled the door open, and anticipation melted into slow, lazy satisfaction as she looked him up and down and swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the basket in her hands.
After a suspended moment long enough to stretch into delicious tension, she held up the basket. “You missed dinner.”
“I did.” He took a step back and waved her in. “Dallas had us crawling through the tunnels all day. I needed a shower.”
“Mmm.” She brushed past him. “And you still look good wet. It's not fair.”
Few things in life had ever sounded as good as the soft click of the door closing. It was just the two of them now—no teasing friends, no nosy family. He turned and watched her size up his room, suddenly conscious of how stark it must look. Plain, utilitarian furniture crowded one side, while a gun rack and punching bag took up the other.
Not exactly the cozy, luxurious love nest she was probably used to.
She set the basket on the table and waved a hand to indicate the room. “It's bigger than mine.”
That was the sole benefit to the new third-floor rooms. The downsides were ugly cement walls, bare lightbulbs, and cramped bathrooms tacked on when they'd hastily started expanding. For the first time, Hawk wished he'd held out for one of the nicer rooms instead of passing it off to newer arrivals. “Yeah. I've been meaning to fix it up a little, but…”
“You've been busy.” Her brow furrowed. “Hawk, I don't care what your room looks like. I'm a little shallow, but not that bad.”
“I don't think you're shallow.” He crossed the room and brushed one knuckle over the medallion at her throat. “I just want you to feel comfortable here.”
She slipped her hand into his. “Then stop looking at me like you think I might leave.”
Her fingers were delicate and soft, cool against his skin. He tugged them up and kissed them. “If you left, I'd find a way to lure you back.”
Her pulse thumped a little faster. “Dinner.”
The tiny hitch in her breath had him ready to say fuck dinner and hoist her onto the table, but the basket was big enough to hold food for both of them, which probably meant she hadn't eaten, either. So he pressed a final kiss to her palm and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”
Jeni did so, then smothered a laugh when the first thing he retrieved from the basket was a cluster of candles tied up with a red ribbon. “Someone in the kitchen is either very practical or very impractical. And a hopeless romantic.”
The single sad light hanging from his ceiling already left most of the room in shadow. And since the power required to keep the Broken Circle and the stills running tended to monopolize the generators more nights than not, candles were plenty practical. But after he passed Jeni his lighter and she lit the first few, he adjusted his assessment.
Solar-powered lanterns were practical. Candlelight was magic.
“Maybe we should turn the light off anyway,” he murmured, watching her skin take on a golden sheen from the flickering light. “Since the breaker usually pops after dinner.”
“Good thinking.” She rose, reached for the switch along the far wall—which was usually damn inconvenient but perfect right about now—and flipped it off. “Be straight with me. Tell me what's really churning b
ehind those eyes of yours.”
That was the only way it could be now. He'd learned enough from watching the O'Kanes to know that as unassailable fact—any fantasy could come true, but only if you were willing to say it out loud.
He edged his chair back from the table and held out a hand. “Come here.”
Jeni slid onto his lap, her face mere inches from his, shadowed by candlelight. “Talk to me,” she whispered.
Hawk settled his hands on the gentle curves of her hips and let out a soft breath. “It's still hard sometimes. These are urges I've fought against my whole damn life. Things I thought were fucked up and wrong, proof that I'm just as twisted as my old man was. I didn't even have words for this stuff before I came here, because you don't talk about this shit on the farms. Hell, I don't know if anyone talks about this shit.”
“I do,” she offered quietly.
“O'Kanes do,” he replied just as softly. And, because it was the truth, he closed his eyes. “That first night, up on the bluff… You said no. And all I could think about was turning you over my knee and…”
His voice roughened as he remembered the only time he'd seen Lex spank Jeni at a party—right before Jasper warned him to stop watching so closely. He could still remember her moans, her squirms, the way her skin had turned so delightfully, hypnotically red.
Her fingers brushed his cheekbone. “And?”
He slid his hands lower, until he could cup her ass. They were just words, words she wanted to hear, but they had to fight their way past a lifetime of inhibitions and came out as a growl. “I wanted to spank you until you were so turned on you begged me to get you off.”
“Then we need a safe word.” Her fingertips trailed down the side of his neck. “A way for me to say no or stop so you'll understand I mean it, and it's not just part of the fun.”
The idea of fun including the word no evoked its own uncomfortable tangle of guilt and fascination—especially when he imagined the pleasure he could take in watching her pant and writhe, in listening to her pleas for mercy. Mercy he could grant...or withhold.
Twisted, but maybe not wrong. Not if they did it like this, where he could be sure he was giving her exactly what she wanted. “What's the word?”