Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1)

by Ward, Tracey

  I grin. “Just say when.”

  Her body jolts slightly with a silent laugh, but she doesn’t feel it. It’s an act. There’s tension in her neck, a tightness to her eyes that tells me she’s worried. She doesn’t want me to touch her. So I don’t.

  I nod toward the door. “That’s your room. You’ll be visited by the doc tonight. He’ll give you a thorough inspection. Make sure you’re healthy.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “He’ll get you there.”

  “Out of the goodness of his heart?” she asks dryly.

  “Out the depths of Marlow’s pockets, so you’ll be expected to repay him.”

  “How?”

  I suppress a sigh, getting tired of this routine. “Don’t play dumb.”

  She takes a step toward me, challenging me. Her dark hair catches the light in the hallway, shining so luminously it almost looks blue. “I’m not playing dumb,” she tells me, her eyes intent on mine. “I want you to have to say it.”

  “You think I have a problem with any of this?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  I close the distance between us, my hands still in my pockets but my body towering over hers until our chests are nearly touching. She’s dwarfed by my size and I can see a flicker of fear in her eyes as I close in on her, but there’s something else there too. Something warm and glowing. It’s that fire, faint but alive.

  “The doctor will see to it that you’re healthy,” I tell her in a low murmur, my words vibrating the air between us. “It will be at Marlow’s expense because you are Marlow’s employee now. As his employee, you are expected to repay any debts incurred on your behalf. This includes medical costs, food, housing, and clothing, not to mention your other debts. Those will be paid first. You will pay all of these expenses by working in the Stables.”

  “And by working, you mean?”

  “Sex,” I answer clearly. “You will have sex with men for money and that money will go toward putting you in the black.”

  “I could run. I could bolt right now.”

  “And you’ll die if you do.”

  “You’ll kill me?”

  I step back, giving her room. “I won’t be the one to kill you.”

  “Why not?” she scoffs. “You have no problem pimping me against my will, but you draw the line at killing me? How insanely noble of you.”

  I chuckle. “I never said I was noble.”

  “You’re disgusting is what you are.”

  “I can see why you’d say that. Now go to your room. I have work to do.”

  Her eyes dart inside the room, then back to me. “You showed me where it is. I’m good. You can go.”

  “Get inside.”

  “Are you going to lock me in?”

  “Yes.”

  She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly watery and wild. “No.”

  I remove my hands from my pockets, letting my body unfurl until I stand broad as a barn in front of her. “Inside. Now.”

  “No,” she whispers. “You already said you wouldn’t kill me. Why should I be afraid of you?”

  “You shouldn’t be. You should be afraid of what waits on the other side of me.”

  She swallows visibly, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth until it bleaches from the pressure. Finally she blows past me into the room, not bothering to flick on the light.

  The door slams shut behind her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trent

  My palms are sweating as we approach them. They line the streets. They moan and writhe, their eyes intent on us. Hungry. Some reach out and their fingers skim the fabric of my clothes. It sends a chill down my spine. It’s a tremor of fear that I try to mask but one is followed by another and I clench my fingers as they threaten to twitch.

  “Hey, handsome,” a blond woman purrs at Kevin.

  She ignores me entirely, her eyes locked on the man next to me with the warm eyes and thick build. All of the women in the Market see him and whether they know who he is from his repeated wins in the Arena or not, they’re glad to see him shopping.

  A few eyes flicker to my face, to my eyes, before quickly turning away.

  “You okay, man?” Kevin asks under his breath.

  I nod my head. The movement is solid and decisive even though I feel anything but. I won’t admit that I’m having second, third, and fiftieth thoughts about this, though.

  Kevin smiles at the blond who spoke to him, checking the sign on her tent. No rates are posted but it has her name and the gang she’s affiliated with. This girl’s name is apparently Crimson and she’s with the Elevens.

  “Are you shopping today?” she asks Kevin.

  “I am. Are you selling?”

  “Always, baby. What are you looking for?”

  “Basic cherry pop.”

  She grins wickedly, her eyes roving over his body. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re a virgin.”

  “Not me.” Kevin hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward me. “My boy.”

  She looks at me for the first time since we stopped to talk to talk to her. Her eyes immediately narrow.

  “No way,” she says, dropping the coy act. “Not gonna happen.”

  Kevin gapes at her, shocked, and it shocks me that he’s shocked. This is pretty much how I saw this whole thing going.

  “Why not?” he demands.

  “He’s a freak. I can see it in his eyes. I’m not getting my ass kicked today. You want to get rough, you go talk to the girls at the other end of the road.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, now beat it.”

  “What’s the matter, Crimson?” another woman, an older brunette, calls from the entrance of a tent next door. Her face is simple. Not very pretty, but it’s nice. Open and easy to read. “Are they hassling you?”

  “No, we’re not,” Kevin tells her firmly. “We were looking to hire her but she’s not working today apparently.”

  “Oh, I’m working,” Crimson assures him, looking at me with a sneer. “Just not for that guy.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” the other woman asks.

  “He’s a beater, I can see it.”

  Kevin snorts. “How the hell can you see that?”

  “Are you blind? It’s his eyes. He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me.”

  “That’s just how I look at things,” I assure her calmly. “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Well, I want nothing to do with you.”

  “Fair enough.” I turn on my heel, eager to get out of this place

  The brunette steps closer, blocking my exit. Her long legs carry her over the rough road with a surprising amount of grace that makes me pause to watch.

  She looks at me critically. “What are you shopping for?”

  “Sex.”

  She laughs, her face surprised. I don’t know what it is about me exactly that surprises her, but it’s probably the depth of my voice. It’s bigger than my body. Fuller than it should be.

  “I figured that,” she says lightly, “but what kind?”

  “The first time kind,” Kevin tells her because he knows I won’t. I actually wish he’d stop broadcasting it to everyone we meet.

  “Little late in the game for that, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been saving myself for the most incredibly awkward moment possible,” I tell her wryly. “This has been my dream since I was a little boy.”

  Her smile broadens, her eyes squinting in amusement. “What’s your name?”

  “Trent. What’s yours?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Amethyst is my favorite.”

  “Your favorite what?”

  “Crystal.”

  “What?” she asks, thinking I’ve said her name.

  Kevin chuckles behind me.

  “Amethyst is a crystal,” I clarify. “It’s a form of quartz. It has a purple hue. It’s my favorite crystal.”

  “Oh,” she laughs, taking another
step toward me. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is it your favorite?”

  “Because I like purple.”

  “I like purple too.”

  She stares are me as though she’s waiting for a reply, but I don’t have one so I don’t give one.

  “I’ll do it,” she says suddenly.

  “You’ll take him?” Kevin asks.

  “Yeah, I’ll do it. If he wants to hire me.”

  I glance back at Kevin. He looks at me questioningly, his eyebrows raised in query.

  “What’s your rate?” I ask her.

  “What were you going to pay Crimson?”

  “A nickel.”

  “Done.”

  Kevin hands her the coin and she gestures for me to follow her.

  Money is different now. Paper bills are rare and almost useless. They tear too easily, they get wet, they fade. Coins are the only real currency left unless you’re using something really valuable. Fifty and hundred dollar bills are still around, precious as gold used to be, but most of us will never see that much money up close. We deal in pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, all of them representing their cash counterpart. A nickel now is what a five used to be. A dime will buy you ten dollars of goods and services. A quarter will get you twenty five dollars. A penny will get you punched in the face by a pro. No one values themselves that little.

  As the woman walks back to her tent I glance at Kevin, wondering if I should tell him we’re calling this off. It’s getting real. This is happening and even though I want it, I’m nervous. I have no idea how to be good at this.

  Steeling my nerves, I follow her inside her tent. It’s small and cramped even though it’s just the two of us and a mattress on the ground. She’s hung scarves of bright colors from the ceiling to dress it up but I think it’s more for her than her clients. Men don’t come here for the décor. They come for her body. One that she’s baring to me at that very moment.

  I watch with rapt interest as she slowly lifts her shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, most women don’t seem to anymore, and her breasts are out in the open for me to see. I feel awkward looking at them. I feel like I’m supposed to look away but that’s not why I’m here so I don’t. Instead I watch them move as she does, lifting and falling, swaying with a hypnotic beauty as she leans forward and lowers her shorts to the ground. That’s when I see everything. Absolutely everything.

  I’ve looked at old magazines before. I know what a naked woman looks like. There is not, however, any comparison between seeing a women in a book and seeing a warm, living, breathing naked woman in person. Especially one that’s smiling at you.

  “Crimson was right,” she tells me quietly.

  “About what?”

  “Your eyes. They’re intense. Like an animal.”

  I look at the ground, relieving her of them. “They scare people.”

  “They scare me a little too. But you have a nice smile and your eyes aren’t half as eerie when you use it.”

  “How do you know?”

  She steps toward me until we’re nearly nose to nose. Until I can see, smell, and feel her body closing in on me. She smiles up at me, her face unafraid. “Because you were smiling when you looked at me just now. Didn’t you realize it?”

  “No.”

  “Do it again.”

  “Smile?”

  “Yeah. I liked it.”

  I try to smile for her but it feels forced. It must look it because she laughs.

  “I don’t do fake emotions,” I explain, feeling oddly self-conscious.

  “Okay. Let’s go for real then.”

  She takes my hand and lifts it. She presses my palm, calloused and rough, against her right breast. It feels strange. Her skin is warm and soft but what’s underneath is firm. It forms to my hand. It makes my breath hitch in my throat.

  “There it is,” she murmurs, her eyes half shut and closing in on me. “There’s that smile.”

  She kisses me softly. Her lips brush over mine, wet and firm, and I close that last step between us. I wrap my arms around her body. I pull her in tightly against me as I stiffen and ache eagerly. I let my brain shut down and my body take over, and it turns out that what my mind doesn’t know, my body understands. It wants to feel her, taste her. It wants to devour her and feel that heat she radiates everywhere, and the beautiful, perfect poetry of nature is that that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do. So I do it. I have sex with a woman for the first time in my life.

  It. Is. Awesome.

  Three minutes later and I’m on my back staring up at those scarves and seeing stars in their midst. I’m smiling a real smile, the one she likes, and I wonder why I waited so long to do this. It’s amazing. Everyone should do this all the time.

  I roll my head to look at her, to thank her and ask if I can come back again. And again. And more than likely again.

  The expression on her face stops me. She’s completely nonplussed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She smiles quickly, covering the confused expression. “Yeah, of course. I’m fine. That was fun.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “You didn’t like it.”

  She laughs as she sits up and reaches for her clothes. “Oh sweetie, yes I did. You were great.”

  I stand quickly, not bothering to cover myself. “Don’t do that. Be honest with me. What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  I wait. I watch her pull her shirt over her head then glance at me over her shoulder. When she sees my resolute expression she sighs.

  “Fine,” she relents. “If I’m being totally honest, I would say it was a little… fast.”

  “I did it too quickly?”

  “If that’s how you like it, then no. It wasn’t too quick. It was just, I don’t know… efficient? I think that’s a good word for it. I’m surprised you had time to enjoy it.”

  “What should I have done longer?”

  She winces at me. “All of it.”

  “I didn’t want to waste your time,” I say defensively.

  “You paid for my time!”

  “How much of it?”

  “I don’t know. Ten minutes at least.”

  “So I have seven minutes left?”

  “To do what?” she laughs. “Play poker?”

  I kneel down on the bed next to her. “To get it right.”

  Her eyebrows raise. “You want to do it again?”

  I grin. “I want to do it every second of every day for the rest of my life, but only if I’m doing it right. So if we have seven minutes—“

  “More like six now.”

  “Then we better hurry.”

  “That’s what went wrong the first time.”

  I lean in slowly and press my lips to hers. I kiss her gently, taking my time. Tasting her and waiting for her to lead me. Finally she does. She licks a line across my lips and I open my mouth, letting her dip her tongue inside. Then her arms are around me and I fall back onto the bed with her straddling me. I give up control and I let her drive, let her show me the way and set the pace.

  She goes slowly. She uses every second of every minute. She takes her time and she teaches me a few of the things that I missed, promising to show me more if I come back. I promise I will. I gasp and groan, gripping her body hard as it quivers against my skin, swearing over and over that I’ll come back.

  I like the rush and release of my method. It’s exactly what she said it is – efficient. The shortest distance between two points and all of that, but by the end of my time – after six solid minutes of skin and sweat and painful pleasure – I can definitely see the merits of taking the long way home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vin

  “Kill him.”

  The stranger’s eyebrows shoot up into his sweat soaked hairline. “No, please! I didn’t mean anything by it!”

  “You meant to steal from me.”

&nbs
p; “No! I didn’t! I was only talking to him.”

  “You were headhunting.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “That is precisely what it is. Your people have been stealing from every gang in the wild and now you come to my house looking to steal my gear man?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Yenko shift on his feet. His hands are clasped in front of his body, the thickly corded muscles of his arms eternally bare in his cut off t-shirt, and I catch a flex. A brief tightening of his hands that rolls up into his arms like a ripple in water. Like a stone just disturbed a calm surface.

  “I wasn’t stealing him,” the stranger tries to explain. “I told you. I was only talking to him.”

  “Do you know what would happen to my operation if you took Yenko onto your island?”

  The guy looks to Yenko and back again at Marlow. Sweat is pouring down into his eyes, making him blink rapidly. “If he’s your only gearhead—“

  “And he is.”

  “Your Jennies, your generators, they’d wear out. They’d die.”

  “And we would lose power and heat and do you know what would happen to this Arena and the Stables if there were no light or power to them?’

  “People would stop coming here.”

  “Do we look like farmers to you?”

  “No.”

  “No, because we’re not. Fighting, drugs, and women – that’s our trade. If you take our trade away from us we’ll starve. We’ll die. All because you wooed away one man.” Marlow levels his gaze on the guy, his voice falling quiet. “Now do you see what you tried to steal from me? You tried to steal everything.”

  The stranger is trembling. I’m pretty sure he’s a shiver away from pissing himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “Imagine if I did that to you. If I strolled onto your island and took away every valuable asset you had, every tool you needed to survive. Imagine you were about to lose everything all over again. How angry would you be?”

  “Very angry.”

  “Angry enough to kill.”

  The guy swallows hard, his lower lip shaking.

  “How many do you have on the island now?” Marlow asks, his tone lightening. Becoming conversational.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how many we have. Over… over three hundred.”