My neck was starting to ache. It had been several days since I had a donation. I really wasn’t liking the way I would get my fix, though. As much as people pissed me off, I didn’t want to kill anyone anymore, unless I had just cause. I had killed far too many people as it was, but my brain was already fucking chirping at me way too much for my liking.
I needed to find someone I could get donations from regularly. A little sex would have been amazing, as well. Vivienne was my last fuck and taking matters into my own hands was getting boring. It was more like a task, not an experience. I wanted some good old-fashioned, hard fucking. Check that—needed some good old-fashioned, hard fucking.
I had driven for quite a while before I turned down a road that looked absolutely decimated. Houses were burned down, some still smoldering. There were cars crashed into trees, and let’s not forget the undeads roaming aimlessly. Poor saps. I noticed a gas station up ahead that was still standing and thought it could be a good place to find supplies. I hoped it hadn’t been jacked yet.
A high-pitched scream broke through the silence. I rolled down my window, trying to find the source of the sound. Looking around, I slowly drove forward. There she was…a woman was fighting off two undeads at the side of the gas station. I blew into that lot like a savior.
“Get in the truck!” I screamed as I jumped out with my hunting knife ready for some undead slaying action. The undeads must have been a husband and wife. The woman that was being attacked ran to the passenger side of my truck. The door slammed as I ran to the savages and leapt at the first one. My knife sunk right through his skull and into his brain. I twisted it and that nasty crunch echoed in my ears. I yanked the knife out and he fell to the ground in a heap.
The presumed wife was coming right at me. The gray, decaying woman swatted at me with a nasty snarl. Her face had a gash in it, splitting her cheek wide open. Suddenly, she face-planted right on the lot. Being graceful was not something for which the undead were known.
“Good night,” I whispered as I plunged my knife into her skull, giving her the old twist and crunch. It was over—for the moment. I wiped the blade off on her clothes, stood up, and looked over my shoulder at my truck. The woman was covering her eyes, obviously scared out of her mind. Even from the distance, I could see her body trembling.
Cue Prince Charming. Or was I the Knight in Nasty Clothes, instead of shining armor? Wasn’t quite sure. Should I strut like a hero, or just walk to her with my normal Gunther swagger? I chose my normal swagger for one reason, and one reason only.
It was irresistible.
I pulled open the truck door and she turned into my chest. She sobbed for a few minutes, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. My experience level in consoling was near zero. The only person that I ever tried to console was Carly and I didn’t do a good job. I gave her a gentle pat on the back and held her. It was awkward, but whatever. She felt nice in my arms. Plus, she was warm and, surprisingly, she smelled nice.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as she pulled away from me. “I was so scared.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“You’re fine now. I took care of them.”
“Thank you.” She looked up at me and her bloodshot brown eyes spoke volumes. She looked like she lived full of fear and was life experienced. The t-shirt that clung to her curves was dirty, and her jeans were torn at one knee. There was a bit of road rash showing through the tear. A small spot of blood grew on the fabric of her jeans, causing me to salivate. I needed to shut down that thought and help her.
“Here. Let me help you so you don’t get an infection.”
I went to the back of my truck and sifted through my small bin of everyday medical supplies. I pulled out a can of antibiotic spray, a gauze pad, and a large bandage. After locating my only box of tissues, I grabbed a bottle of water. When I came back around to her door and she had her face in her hands again. “Here.” I held up the box of tissues. She glanced at my face, and looked away while she pulled one out.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she wiped her eyes and nose.
“Turn sideways and face me.” When she turned, I rolled up her pant leg past her knee. Despite of her road rash, she had beautiful, smooth legs. I had a deep-seated urge to trail my fingers all the way up her peach-colored flesh. Dampening the gauze with a little water, I wiped down her knee. She hissed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No, it’s okay. It just burns.”
“It’s pretty nasty.” I looked into her eyes for a brief moment and they led me right to her damaged soul. I swallowed, feeling a surge of regret. Generally, I never regretted anything, but it was coming closer to the surface with each passing day. “This is going to burn, as well, but it has a pain reliever in it.” She nodded. I sprayed her knee and her leg jumped. “I’m sorry,” I said again as I watched it foam up. “It needs to sit for a sec.”
“Thank you. Are you an EMT?”
“No, but I have a bit of first-aid training. Nothing major, just the basics. By the way, I’m Gunther Erikkson.”
“Quinn Landers.”
I liked her name. “Quinn…,” I repeated. I liked the way it sounded rolling off my tongue. “Are you alone here?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. She grabbed another tissue and wiped away the new tears that formed in her eyes. I looked around and glanced at the BMW sitting near where she had been trying to fight off the undeads.
“Is that your car?”
She nodded. “I was looking for food and I panicked when I saw them. Somehow, I locked myself out of it.”
As I bandaged her knee, I said, “I can open it for you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered as she rolled down her pant leg. “I’m pretty much out of gas. I coasted into the parking lot on fumes.”
“Right. Well, if you need to get into it, I can still open it for you.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” she said with a sigh.
Pulling out my trusty little tool set, I headed to her car. I could have just smashed the window, but it was far too nice a car for me to do that. Not that it mattered, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. The fucker looked brand new, right off the lot, minus the dusty paint job. Two seconds later, her door was unlocked. She hobbled over and stood there, just staring at the open door.
“Can I help you with anything else?” She turned and looked at me. The dread on her face was unmistakable.
“I don’t know what to do,” she choked out.
“Well…” I looked back at my truck, then back at her. I decided to give it a go. “You are more than welcome to ride with me. I know you don’t know me and probably don’t trust me, but I promise you that I’m not a serial killer.”
Or was I? Could I be considered one? I suppose that could’ve been the case, but I had no intentions of hurting Quinn. Not in that way, at least.
She stood still and silent for what seemed like a lifetime. Then she asked, in a warning tone, “You will keep your hands to yourself?” She threw a quirked brow my way that would send every red-blooded male into the greatest depths of fear. Quinn was a little spunky and I liked that about her.
“Hey, I’ll give you a gun. If I don’t behave, you can shoot me in my…” I pointed down to my John Thomas. I shuddered at the thought, and putting J.T. up as a sacrificial lamb left the nerves throughout my entire body tingling.
“I suppose if you are willing to kiss what I assume you feel is your most valuable body part goodbye, then I should feel safe with you.”
Little did she know, I could unarm her in the snap of a finger. Plus, my eyes would do all the touching and once I got her to trust me, my hands would be feeling every curve of her lush body.
I pulled out one of my Sigs and handed it to her. “You ever shoot a gun before?” She shook her head. I showed her all the basics from how to hold it, aiming, and reloading. She seemed appreciative of my knowledge. “Is there anything you want to get out of your car before we take off?”
“Uhh…
yeah.” She walked around it and popped the trunk. She pulled out a couple bags and a stack of bedding.
“Here, let me help you.”
“You are very chivalrous and quite charming,” Quinn said, blushing.
“I try. But don’t get used to it.” I winked at her and she recoiled. I knew what was coming.
“Your eyes.” I looked down. “They’re so…”
“Green,” I finished. I knew they had to be graying by that point, but they still had that chemical glimmer that mystified anyone who locked eyes with me.
I lifted one of her bags over my shoulder and grabbed the stack of linens. She walked ahead of me and her backside swayed slightly as she opened the liftgate of my truck. Jesus Christ. I don’t think she was doing it consciously but, bloody hell, she had a remarkable arse. So round and plump. I had to silently tell J.T. to cut the twitchy shit.
I bumped into her by accident, pressing our bodies together as I stacked her stuff in my truck. Fuck me. I wanted to bend her over right then. It stunned me for a moment. “Sorry,” I mumbled when I pulled away.
“That’s fine.” She turned around. Having my body pressed against hers didn’t seem to faze her a bit. I, on the other hand, felt like a wanton slut. “I never made it into the store, by the way. Do you want to go in and look?” she asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I’m low on supplies myself.” I shut the liftgate. “Have your gun ready.”
We marched to the door of the gas station. The door was locked, which was a good sign. I pulled out my tool set and had the door open in a few seconds. “Are you some sort of criminal? You seem to know your way around locks…and guns.” I chuckled at her statement. I suppose I was a criminal in the grand scheme of things.
“Nope. Just an average man with some extraordinary skills.” She nodded tentatively. I would have loved to show her all of my skills.
I headed in first because I wasn’t about to let her lead me. Not hear anything but silence made me happy. I was really starting to get achy so I wasn’t in the mood to drop any more of those buggers. “Grab a bag or two and start loading up.”
“I really hate to do this,” she muttered.
“I understand that, but it’s every man for himself at this point.”
We practically wiped the shelves clean, grabbing all the water and sports drinks out of the coolers, as well.
After putting everything into the truck, we headed out. I drove about an hour or so before either one of us talked. I glanced at her several times to see her chewing on her fingernail. It looked like she wanted to talk, so I decided to give it a go. “So, are you from around here?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Obviously, you’re not.”
“Transplant.”
“Right.” She reached behind us and grabbed a couple packages of food from the bag that was on the back seat. She handed me a package of Chips Ahoy—gross, over-processed, full of God-knows-what. Not something I would have chosen for myself, but it was better than nothing, I suppose.
“Thanks.” She nodded while she nibbled.
I glanced at her a few more times. She was stunning. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Wavy brown hair tightly pulled back off of her perfectly proportioned face. I saw a few silver strands peeking out through her hair. And her lips were perfectly plump, as well. Her chest was large, but not too large for her average-sized frame. With a little working out, she would be tight as fuck.
Speaking of tight and fucking, I wouldn’t have minded dipping into her. And there was J.T. twitching around in my pants again. “Shit,” I muttered.
“Huh?” She turned and looked at me.
“Oh…nothing. Just thinking.”
“About?”
Think fast, arsehole. “Umm…well…” Jesus Christ, say something! I wanted to bash my head on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to figure out where we can camp out for an extended period of time. I think we would be better off in a rural area rather than suburbia.”
“I agree. If you make a right up there, you will find fewer stores and the houses are further apart as you go,” she said as she pointed out the front window.
I smiled at her. “Sounds perfect.”
I turned right when we came to the intersection. We traveled another five miles before we came to a stretch of empty fields. She had me turn down another more rural road, and we saw an old farmhouse not too far down from the main road. Not a choice spot, but we were limited. “Maybe that one is abandoned?” Quinn asked as I approached it.
“Well, I guess we will have to check it out.”
I pulled into the driveway and instructed her to stay in the truck, but keep her Sig handy. After walking around the house and peering into what windows were uncovered, I knocked on the door for good measure.
Silence. The occupants were either lurking in the shadows between life and the depths of hell, or not home. I was hoping for the latter. It was getting late and I really wanted to sleep stretched out somewhere rather than in my truck.
I picked the lock, opened the door, and cleared the house. When I went through the cabinets, they were close to empty. There were four tiny bedrooms, all with beds that were stripped down to the bare mattresses. Most of the dresser drawers were pulled out and empty.
“Thank you!” I kissed two fingers and pointed up. Not that I believed. I marched my happy achy arse back out to Quinn, who was still waiting nervously in my truck. I opened the passenger door. “It’s empty,” I said and I could see the relief course through her body. “Now we just have to hope that whoever owned it doesn’t come back. We’ll need to unload the truck.”
We worked diligently for about a half-hour and stacked the items in the room that I would be staying in, just in case someone did come back. I was a little more able-bodied than Quinn was for protecting my supplies. Or was it our supplies?
I grabbed us a few packages of gut-rotting food and we sat down at the table in the kitchen. I turned the chair sideways and stretched my long legs out, putting them on the chair next to me and crossing my ankles. Being so tall sucked bollocks when you were stuck behind the wheel of a vehicle.
Taking a bite from the protein bar, I was looking around the house. It was an old farmhouse. Or maybe they were just poor. The interior of the house was painted medium blue, had a chipped wood table, pale yellow cabinets, and grungy wide slat wood floors. The plaid curtains were sun-faded. Plus, all the fabric furniture and throw rugs were threadbare, and it smelled like a cat’s arse in the house. Normally, I would care, but to be able to sit down and stretch out was motherfucking amazing.
“So, where are you from?” she murmured.
Her voice pulled me away from staring at our sad surroundings. “The UK.” She smirked and shook her head. Her eyes were so bright and beautiful when she smiled. So much better than earlier when they were full of fear and sadness. “England. I was born in Germany, but right after birth, I was moved to the east end of London.”
“Why?” she asked, curiosity in her voice.
I pursed my lips. Said too much, arsehole. “I’d rather not talk about it.” I looked away. I didn’t want to soil her thoughts with my horrible truth.
“I can respect that. I would imagine you trust me as much as I trust you.” I nodded and looked back at her.
Her eyes were roaming around the room. I popped the last piece of protein bar in my mouth and chewed slowly, staring at Quinn. She felt me eyeing her and shot me a look.
“So…” I leaned back in the chair, my hands behind my head. “Where is your significant other?”
“Huh? How did you know?” She seemed surprised that I would be so knowledgeable. I nodded down to her hand. “Oh, right,” she whispered. She circled the thin gold band around her finger. “I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Gotcha.” I leaned forward and put my palms on the table. “Well, I’m going to lock everything up and go get some rest. I’m beat. Haven’t slept but an hour or so here and there. Make sure you lock your bedroom door and keep t
hat Sig right next to you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come and get me. Knock on the wall. Yell. Whatever. I’ll keep you safe.” She nodded.
We both stood up. She watched me make sure every window and door was locked. Not that the house couldn’t be easily broken into. I had already proven that.
We headed toward our rooms, but before I shut my door, she called out, “Gunther?” I peeked my head back out. “Thank you…for saving me. I hope you sleep well.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you. You, as well,” I murmured. She closed her door and I heard the lock engage. I did the same.
I laid a couple blankets out on the bed. It was rather lumpy and dodgy-looking, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I stripped down to my boxers and neatly folded my clothes as I was trained to do.
After I crawled into bed, I realized I was far too tall for it. From mid-calf down, I was hanging off the edge. I chuckled a little. My bed in my flat was a California King, and I still had to curl up slightly. Whatever. I wasn’t going to complain because I was stretched out instead of crammed in the truck.
I laid on my back, my hands behind my head. I thought about Quinn in the next room. Was she sleeping in the nude? In her undergarments? In just a t-shirt?
I closed my eyes and envisioned her hovering over me, her breasts free from restraint and perked up, waiting for me to indulge. My tongue was tracing all of her curves, nipping at her skin down to her hips, then tasting her honey pie.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. John Thomas was wide awake, begging for some attention. I reached down and slid my boxers down just past my hips. I began stroking myself while thinking about mounting that fine bird right next door. I groaned quietly.
It was her body that was stroking J.T. I was pounding her like there was no tomorrow. She came hard, screaming my name, digging her nails into my shoulders and dragging them down to my hard arse.
My breath grew more ragged by the second. “Shiiiit,” I whispered, my jaw set firm. I was about to come and I had nothing but my boxers to collect it in. I reached down and yanked them off.
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