by Jasmine Walt
“No hitting,” I remind her.
With a smile, I flick my tongue across her nipple then move over to give the same attention to her other breast. Then I run my tongue down her taut stomach, and she grabs a handful of my hair. I plant a kiss on the inside of each thigh.
“Oh, Pike,” she moans. “Just fuck me.”
I grip her legs at the back of her knees and pull her toward me until her ass is almost hanging off the desk. She bites her lip.
“I can do that,” I say in a hoarse voice as I rub myself gently against her clit. She gasps again and, for a few seconds, I enjoy the sight of her trying to catch her breath.
“Come on. Please,” she whispers.
I clench my jaw because I wasn’t going to be able to tease her for that much longer. I slide inside her. Gently at first. My eyes want to roll back in my head, she feels so good. She feels more than good. She’s the best I’ve ever felt.
There are so many things wrong and right about that.
She slides closer to me and clamps her arms around my neck.
“Harder,” she grunts between clenched teeth.
I roll my hips faster, thrusting in and out of her so fast and hard the desk starts to slide across the room with our movement.
“Oh, God… Pike. Oh, yeah.” She lets out a moan that bounces off the walls, then her eyes widen slightly. She pushes up into my arms and buries her face into the crook of my shoulder, I guess to stop herself from calling out again.
I still do my best to wake everyone in this goddamned jail. I take her from every angle I can think off. I take her until she moans that she can’t take anymore. I take her until the first hint of morning sun trickles in through the box-shaped window above us. She’s mine until the morning yawns hello and we must continue our march toward death.
16
I wake up with Kiwi’s head lodged against my neck. My first thought is that I’m sore. My second thought is how the hell did we get back here? I peer through the darkness, and even though there is only a trickle of light illuminating the room, I can tell we’re in the holding cell I originally intended to sleep in. I lift my head a few inches and glance at the floor.
Our shit is piled up in a mound next to the bed. Weapons are scattered everywhere. And the last hint of light is dancing within the lamp Tripp brought me the night before. With a sigh, I glance down at Kiwi.
I’m about to shake her awake when I hear, “Everybody up! We move out in forty-five!” It’s Tripp.
“Shit.” I scramble for a blanket before I remember that I don’t have one. Then, the door squeals open and a bright light is shining on us.
“Hey, get up, ma—“
I glance, frozen under Tripp’s flashlight and narrowed eyes. We stare at each other for a few long moments. Finally, I manage a small smile. Then, I wave. “Hey man, gotcha. I’m up.”
He plants a hand on his hip and shakes his head. “Mm hm.” With that, he closes the door, and his steps trail away from us.
I let my head fall back onto the pillow and sigh.
“Great.” That’s just what I need.
After a few seconds, I shake Kiwi awake. She moans in protest.
“Come on, craz… I mean, Kiwi. We got to get up, girl.”
She moans again, before slightly lifting her head. She covers her eyes with one hand and pouts. It’s pretty damn cute, and my heart responds to it by beating faster. I shake off that feeling and smack her on the ass.
“Come on, girl. Get cho ass up.”
She removes her hand and hisses at me. I try not to smile. No. I do not like this woman. Not this crazy, child-screwing-over woman. I sit up and push her off of me.
She backs up on the cot, sits up on her knees, and scowls. “You know, you can be a real ass cannon.”
I pause in the process of swinging my legs over the side of the cot. I shoot her a glance, then plant my feet on the floor.
“Right,” I mutter, grabbing my suit so I can seal myself back inside of it. “I’m an ass… whatever.” I lean over and shove my legs into my suit and start working it up over my torso.
“So you’re still mad about the…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
Not that she needs to. We both know what she’s talking about. It’s a good question, and one I don’t have an answer to. I’m angry about so many things.
Finally I say, “I don’t think we should talk about it.”
“Fine.” She snatches up her suit, stalks to the corner, and starts getting dressed. I stare at her for a few seconds before I finish putting on the rest of my gear.
Once my suit is on, I reload myself down with weapons. I’m almost finished when the door opens and shuts. When I look up, Kiwi is gone. With a sigh, slide my last knife into my forearm holster, put my backpack on, and stand up.
When I make it to the main room, everyone is standing around the circular desk, chowing down oatmeal from dark plastic bags and canned peaches. I plant myself on one side of Juliet and as far away from Tripp as I can manage. He stands across from me, eating and glancing between Kiwi and myself. I try my best to ignore him and work on my own breakfast.
I finish after everyone else. Beside me, Juliet claps, and I glance over at her.
“Alright, people. We have to get going. Make sure you have all your things, find a place to relieve yourself, and get loaded into the vehicles. Remember, we have to make part of this next stretch on foot.”
Everyone rustles to life, moving this way and that. I start off to find somewhere to take my morning piss when Juliet places her hand on my arm.
“Wait, I need you.” She raises her voice. “And, Jameson, I need you here as well.”
As soon as everyone clears the room, I look down at Juliet.
“What do you want?” I ask.
She flips her hair, then glances from Jameson and back to myself.
With a sigh, she says, “You were right.” Her gaze travels from me and lands on Jameson. “I need you to kill him. Is that okay with you?”
My eyes dart to Jameson, whose face is crimson, and raise an eyebrow. “Um, I guess I’d need more information.”
“You were right,” Juliet says without looking back at me. “There is a witch back at Compound 6. And this… traitor has been working with her.” She glances back and flashes a polite smile. “I was going to put a bullet in his brain, but I figure you could use the fuel.”
“Hey!” Jameson shouts, sweat streaming down his face. “I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about!”
Juliet turns back to him, clearly unfazed. “Don’t, Jameson. The witch, Lester Sinclair outed you.”
“He’s lying!” Jameson backs away from us, shaking his head.
“Really, darling? Then how else did he come to know the specifics of our mission? How did he come to know where we were and when?”
Jameson’s mouth gapes open, and I kind of feel for the dude. Only for a second. I don’t have room for all that anymore. I have to be the monster. I have to be Sadie’s monsters, and I have to get back to her.
Juliet turns back to me with wide, expectant eyes. “Well, are you going to do it? Or am I? We need to get going.”
I shrug. “I’ll do it. Wait outside.”
Juliet nods at me and heads for the front door.
“What the…” Jameson swivels back and forth between us, face angry but pleading. “Now hang on just a damn minute!”
Jameson pulls a gun. I barely have time to blink before Juliet closes the distance between them, snaps the gun out of his hand and aims it at his head.
“Get down.” Juliet hovers over him.
He lowers himself to the floor, arms raised above his head.
“Give up all your weapons.” She cocks the handgun. “Right now, please.”
“Juliet… Ms. Burke. Please, don’t do this.”
She just stares at him. All three of us know how this is going to go. After a few minutes, a shaking Jameson starts to remove all his weapons. He slides them away from him
self. Juliet bends over to retrieve them.
Before she heads back to the door, I call out, “Hey, wait a second.”
She slightly angles toward me, half her body still facing the door.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I cross my arms over my chest. “To the witch.”
She turns her head more so that her eyes gaze directly at me. There is a slight tension in her jaw that tells me everything I need to know. That witch, whoever he was, is dead. I swallow and drop my gaze to the floor. Juliet leaves, letting the door swing shut behind her.
“Damnit.” I punch the circular desk and close my eyes.
I stay like that for a few moments, when the sound of feet slipping on the floor meets my ears. My head snaps up. Jameson is making a run for it. I smile and whistle.
Not that kind of whistle. He isn’t mine. Yet. But, for some reason he does stop and turn before he reaches the door.
I stroll closer to him. “Where ya going, there?”
Jameson backs into the glass double doors. His face is almost purple. “Come on, man. You don’t need to do this.”
He isn’t wrong. Not that it’s going to help him.
“Why don’t you step away from the door?” I hold my hand out to him. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
His face contorts into what can only be disgust. “Fuck you if you think it’s going to be that easy.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t see the upside of being a dick.
“Okay, man, just relax.”
“Nah, fuck you, asshole.” His murky gray eyes narrow at me. “You don’t tell me shit. Fucker.” He spits at my feet. “And what you gon’ go and kill me for? To fight for the wrong side, that’s why.”
That gets a pause from me. I don’t know what passes across my face, but whatever it is must amuse Jameson because he laughs.
“Or are you too stupid to know that you’re on the wrong side?”
I wince and grab for him. My hand closes into a fist around his neck, and his eyes bulge. He beats at my arms. I barely feel it as I drag him closer.
“Of course I know it,” I hiss into his face before letting him go.
He stumbles forward, gagging and gasping for breath. I watch him for a few moments. For some reason, the longer I watch, the angrier I get. The longer I watch, the longer his words have to bounce around in my head. Finally, I grit my teeth and grab him by the collar again.
“Come on, man,” he says as I drag him away from the door. “Please, please don’t do this.”
“Shut it.” I slam him into the wall on our right, farthest from the door.
His expression falls, and his lips begin to tremble. “P… Please. I have a d…a daughter.”
I place my hands on either side of his head. “I said shut the fuck up!” Saliva sprays him in the face. I clamp my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say another frickin’ word.” I’m breathing hard. I have no idea why I’m letting this guy get to me. But he’s getting to me. I have to get this done.
I have to get it done quick.
I can’t think about his innocent daughter bawling because a monster killed her daddy. I can’t think about the fact that what he said to me is true.
I can’t.
And yet, I am.
“Fuck!” I clamp my hand harder over his mouth.
He lets out a tiny whimper, which only works to piss me off.
“Do it,” I mutter to myself as Jameson’s eyes bulge.
Just fucking do it.
You need the juice.
He’ll die anyway.
Nothing you can do.
“Fuck!” My scream bounces off the walls. I press my hand into his face hard enough to leave a handprint, then push away from him. “Fuck!” I punch the wall next to him, then cover my face with an arm.
He starts panting. Then, his feet pound against the floor as he runs. I look up.
Dumbass.
Why is he running that way?
I take off after him. His hand is on the knob. He’s about to push it outward.
No.
Before he can make another move, I pucker up and whistle. His body thuds to the ground at the same moment a bullet pierces the glass. Shards fall like jagged hail all around us.
I keep whistling, taking all of him into me. I breathe him in and bury the pain.
There wasn’t a damn thing I could do.
I take him into me and forget the fear and guilt.
He was dead, anyway.
When I’m done with him, I glance up and meet Juliet’s icy eyes. Both of her hands are over her ears. A gun is folded up in her right fist.
I stop the song and straighten. Glass crunches under my feet as I move out to meet her, Kiwi, and Tripp and Lee.
There never seems to be a damn thing I can do.
We’re on the road for a little over an hour before Tripp announces he has to take a piss. They are the first words anyone has uttered since we set out this morning, or at least the first words I’ve noticed. Kiwi speaks in to her wrist comm and relays the information to the other two vehicles.
A few minutes later, we pull over to the side of the road. I get out and the harsh sun wraps around me and squeezes. Despite the fact that it’s still early morning, the sun is high, punching the landscape with its heat. I start to sweat almost as soon as I’m outside. Using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, I stumble away from the car and head for the back of the last vehicle in our convoy.
When I get there, I see Lee has the same idea. He gives me a tight smile, which I return, then trudge a few feet away from him. Once I’m far enough away, I whip it out and relieve myself right there on the pavement.
A throat clears. My heart punches against my ribcage, and I look up, startled. I freeze when I see what’s in front of me.
It’s a woman. An older woman. She is draped in a long, light blue gown that hits the ground. She has a matching, silk bonnet wrapped around her head and her skin is onyx. Her eyes are the strangest I’ve ever seen. They look like two milky pools. The contrast against her skin is unsettling.
I gulp, still holding Pike junior in my hands.
“Pike Richards, you seem to be finished. Put that away so we can have a little chat.” Her voice is smooth and soothing, despite the freakish fashion in which she just showed up out of nowhere.
I’m frozen. Unable to move. I dart my eyes back behind her to see if my group is okay. I’m shocked to find that they are frozen as well.
Literally.
I blink and slowly tuck my dick away. I peer at Tripp, who is the tallest. He is frozen in the midst of zipping up his suit. Slowly, I train my gaze back to the woman. I open my mouth, intending to ask if she’s responsible for the involuntary game of freeze tag, but for some reason, nothing comes out.
“I am Salya,” the woman says.
Hearing her speak is disconcerting. First, there’s a rush of power in that voice that makes me want to run like a small girl. And then there’s the fact it’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard in a hot minute. She makes me realize how much I miss the beauty in things.
I take a few steps back and nod. All I can do is stare at her like a full on mantard. After a few moments of me not saying anything passes, she laughs.
“I’ve startled you.” She walks toward me.
I try and back away but find myself rooted in place. I glance down at my feet and try jerking them up. No luck. When I look back up, the woman is almost on top of me. She reaches out a knobby, bone-thin hand and strokes my cheeks.
“My. Look at those beautiful, swirling blue eyes. Reminds me of the seas. So powerful.” She pulls her hand back. “You recently feed.”
My eyes narrow. “Who…” I scratch my eyebrow with my pinky nail. “What are you?”
Instead of answering, she just smiles again. “It’s hotter than the sea of souls in the Underworld.”
She waves her hands, and her sleeves billow. As soon as she does, my stomach lurches toward my toes and I get the sensation that I
’m falling.
Then, I land on something soft. I grip the arm of a couch and dart my head around in quiet panic.
I am not where I was.
I have no idea where I am.
“Tea?” The woman—Salya—appears in front of me holding a steaming cup.
My mouth drops open and I wave her away.
“No. What the…” I glance around.
I seem to be in a room. On a couch. There are maroon walls and earth-toned furniture.
The woman sits across from me in an oversized chair and crosses her legs. “I thought this would be more comfortable.”
I rest my gaze on her and try to breathe normally. As calm as I can, I say, “Take me back. Now.”
She laughs again. It freaks me out. Reminds me of beauty, yet makes me feel like pissing my pants.
“I will take you back, Pike. As soon as I have a talk to you about your fate.”
17
As soon as I hear the word fate, I jump up and point an accusing finger at her.
“Oh, hell no. Take me back. Now.” I snarl the command down into her face.
She just folds her hands and smiles up at me like I’ve just offered her the most wonderful compliment in the world.
“Pike, please. Calm down. Have a seat.” She gestures at the couch behind me.
“Sit down my ass.” I scoff. “You’re one of them. You’re a frickin’ fate.”
“Astute.” She smiles again. “I can see why my sisters like you.”
I start to pace. “Your sisters, huh?”
“Yes,” she says in that lyrical voice. “They’re all rooting for you.”
“Great.” I gesture in front of me with my arms. “Send me back.”
“You seem nervous, Pike.”
I stop pacing and laugh as I face her. “I don’t want to know my fate.”
She nods as if she is used to hearing this, and she probably is. Nobody likes it when a fate turns up. Whatever they tell you is pretty much set in stone. And it’s rarely good news. No one knows if this is because they are all-knowing, or because they have some kind of messed up power to alter circumstance so that their premonitions come true.
I’m a fan of the latter theory, but I’ve always been a cynic.