WastelandRogue

by Brenda Williamson

  Rye held tight, pulling with all her strength while Sevrin clawed the ground with his free hand.

  He managed a leg up and climbed out of the crevice. That didn’t make them safe. He got to his feet first, showing he knew that at any moment the ground might give way where they lay. He dragged her up and hand in hand, they sprinted across the cracked riverbed.

  Once out of the danger zone, Sevrin stopped and let go of her grip. He panted hard, bending over slightly to rest with his hands against his legs.

  “I don’t know how or where, but when I go home, I don’t ever want to cross that riverbed again,” she told him.

  He looked at her in silence. Then as if it didn’t matter what came before, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. His lingering hold had a strange tightness, the constriction making it hard to breathe.

  Fighting him off never crossed her mind as she emotionally collided with her fears. How many times had she experienced that sensation of doom in her recent past? Too many, she decided, thinking how relief also came with an unusual side effect—arousal.

  Sevrin’s hands raking over her showed he experienced something similar. His barrage of kisses made her only faintly aware of her clothes coming off and then his. Desperate to hold him, to roll her hands over his hard contours of muscle and sinew and pretend he would always belong to her, she clung to him.

  The hot sun, the hotter ground, had nothing on the inferno built from their near death experience. Out in the open, surrounded by miles of dust and shielded from no one’s gaze, Sevrin took her to the ground.

  He slid his hands everywhere, not missing a single place that she needed them. Words of passion flowed freely along with his kisses to her shoulders and neck. When she tried to understand them, she quickly realized they were just sounds she had wished were words. Then he spoke clearly.

  “I thought I’d die when you dropped down into that hole,” he murmured against her lips.

  The sob that broke from her stopped Sevrin’s sprinkling of sweet kisses over her face. Propped on his forearms, holding himself suspended over her, he swept one hand over the top of her hair to the back and lifted her head.

  Then bowing his head, he placed his forehead against hers. “You’re safe, Rye.”

  She gave the slightest nod, not wanting him to leave, and he didn’t.

  “There hasn’t been anything that has ever scared me more,” he continued. “How about you don’t do that again, all right?”

  She hiccupped a small laugh, appreciating the way he used humor to calm her.

  “I’ll try,” she replied.

  Sliding her hands around his hips to his ass, she pulled him down. He pushed his cock deep into her cunt. Her insides went taut with the warm fullness of his thick shaft filling her. His coarse public hair brushed her sensitive skin. An inclination to rush swept her up against his downward movement.

  Again and again, she rose to the compelling friction burning the air around them. His breathing escalated. Low groans reverberated. Sudden spasms roiled through her as if the earlier storm were trapped within her body. Inundated with intensity, she dug her fingers into his arms and cried out from the sudden spasms.

  The fervent moment ended as quickly as it had come. Sevrin expelled a heavy breath and rose from her. On his knees between her spread legs, he looked almost remorseful.

  “We should get moving,” he said too casually, pulling her to sit.

  Then he cupped her face. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Sevrin leaned and kissed them away. His tenderness only brought on more as he nuzzled her face lovingly.

  “I’m sorry, Rye,” he said, without defining the basis of his statement.

  Did he mean for not being there to save her? Was this regret for his obvious indulgence with Iantha? She watched him rise to his feet and walk to his clothing. His skin glistened with sweat in the sunlight. From his shoulders, down his spine, to his buttocks and the backs of his thighs he was perfect. He moved with confidence, the kind that provoked darker thoughts about his apology.

  She’d seen the bite on his hand and the spots of blood on Iantha’s chest. The female had drunk from him. Had he felt the sexual bond and imagined Iantha while they had sex? Those sounds that almost formed words were different from other times. Was he projecting an excitement he had built up for that purebred lamian? Rye suppressed her anger at the trait. She got to her feet and dressed.

  Silence blanketed them as they continued on their journey. The scorching sun seemed hotter than ever. Sevrin marched along far ahead of her in stoic strides while she carried her jacket over her head, now a shield against the sun. They traveled for two days without her speaking more than a dozen words to him. When they rested, keeping watch became her excuse to sleep separately from him. She wished for the coolness of rain again but knew there wasn’t any hope of seeing it for a while.

  Then the visions came.

  Sevrin ignored Rye’s entrance in Iantha’s cabin. Frozen in shock, Rye watched him pull Iantha’s torn shirt down her arms, stripping her naked, staring hungrily at her body. He slowly drew Iantha close until her breasts and his bare chest met. He kissed her in a light sensual fashion, circling her face from left to right, touching his lips to her cheeks, her chin and finally her lips. There he landed hard, taking her mouth aggressively, biting her lip and drawing blood.

  Speechless, Rye could not move. Her feet, her legs, her entire body burned with rage—no—the heat coursing through her wasn’t fury but intense desire. Sevrin licked at the blood rolling down Iantha’s chin. He followed its path to her neck, sucking up the red liquid with fervent greed.

  Rye hungered for him in a way she’d never wanted a man before.

  As if sensing her deep yearning, Sevrin stopped his fondling of Iantha’s breasts. He drew back from spotting Iantha’s neck purple with his sucking lips and he turned to Rye.

  Rye sucked in a breath as Sevrin’s gaze washed over her. The look magically undressed her, leaving her naked and trembling with lust. When he grabbed her, he held her face between his hands and kissed her as if it were the last she’d ever receive. His caresses roamed her body, the friction of his rough palms stimulated every nerve as he maneuvered her to the small table in the room. He bent her over it and held her down with his hand pressed to her spine. She shuddered at the touch of his fingers gliding over her buttocks, moving between her legs and sliding into her.

  Mesmerized by his strokes, Rye didn’t question Iantha snatching her arms where they hung over the sides of the table. Sevrin had her attention on the orgasm building within her. Rye said nothing as Iantha tied her torn shirt to Rye’s wrists and bound them to the table legs. Rye didn’t want any distraction from the oncoming rapture.

  Then a sharp pain radiated across her shoulders. It drew her concentration away from Sevrin, away from Iantha, even though they were laughing. Why were they laughing? A glint of something shiny flashed near her face and she looked up to see Hamner, Levor and…no, it couldn’t be…Sevrin was with them.

  “Finally, civilization,” Sevrin announced.

  Rye snapped out of her wildly irrational, disturbingly frightening trance. The heat was getting to her, pushing her dangerously close to developing sun-fever. She had already suffered several bouts of paranoia from dehydration, starting when Hamner had her tied up in that building. She didn’t need any more bizarre thoughts making her paranoid.

  She felt around for the flask hanging on her shoulder.

  “Damn.” She rattled the empty container. She needed to cool her core temperature before she suffered more mind games of her subconscious.

  Sevrin had said civilization. They’d find water there.

  The mud hadn’t fully washed from her clothes, leaving her pants stiff, so as she trudged up the slope, the seams scratched her inner thighs. The burning sting only lessened when she stood still and let the chafing heal. Her shirt had a rancid odor and she blamed it on the water Sevrin brought her at Iantha’s. Some creature had to have fouled it. But t
here was no way in hell she was going to take any clean clothing from that wasteland whore. Every time she thought of Iantha, she saw Sevrin moments from ravishing the female. Maybe he didn’t care about Iantha, but if Rye hadn’t showed up when she did, she was sure she would have found him dulling his emotional state with sex.

  Rye leaned against a decayed stump near Sevrin. Ahead lay a community of slapped-together structures from what appeared to be leftovers from a once-thriving mining camp. In the far distance hovered higher hills—mountains and trees—the reminder of home, the peaceful setting of her cabin in a forest of evergreens. She missed the tranquility of doing mundane chores. Even listening to Shay’s complaints about them was better than wandering the wastelands.

  The tension between her and Sevrin had fueled her determination to keep on the move and he never suggested otherwise. Now she was ready to pipe up and voice her fatigue. “I don’t care if I have to sleep sitting in a corner,” she said, thinking of how soon she’d be able close her eyes and rest.

  “Get down.” Sevrin grabbed her by the arm and dragged her behind the stump and the scruffy wasteland bush alongside it.

  She fell to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

  “Marauders.”

  She wiped the sweat from her face and tried to see what Sevrin did. It had been years since she’d had any run-ins with the band of thieves. The vicious human thugs preyed on the weak and gave her reason not to find much redeemable in the human species. However, as a lamian, she had little to worry about from them. They targeted mostly their own kind, either stealing or abusing them.

  “We could go to the south,” she suggested. “Once we’re out of their line of sight we could then swing back up toward the northeast.”

  “It’s a small community. Maybe forty or fifty people,” Sevrin commented as if not hearing her. “They don’t stand a chance at defending themselves against marauders.”

  “You’re not thinking we should go help them, are you?” She didn’t want side quests slowing her down. Her sister was her priority.

  “Knowing how many of them there are will make coming up with a plan easier. I think if we wait until dark, we’ll find most of them drunk on fermented dandelions. Then I find the head guy and make him a deal he can’t refuse.”

  “And that would be?”

  “He and his gang leave and I don’t kill him.”

  “Great. You’re going to pick a fight.” She pushed away from him, not wanting to get involved. “They’re just humans.”

  Sevrin’s frown and furrowed brow reminded her if not for him she might be dead.

  “They’re people, just like us, Rye.”

  “And what reward can you possibly think they’ll pay you?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t as serious as he sounded about being a Samaritan.

  “A place to clean up and something to eat would be nice.” He pushed his fingers into his hair and combed the unruly dark-brown strands back.

  “I find it more likely they’ll be unappreciative of our help.”

  “A bit prejudiced, aren’t you.” His matter-of-fact comment hit a nerve.

  Not more than three days ago, she was telling her captor that his prejudice against lamians was obsolete and yet, as Sevrin pointed out, she wasn’t acting much better.

  “I’m just wary of them.” She had to think of finding her sister. Shay needed her.

  “Understandable after what you’ve endured.” Sevrin finally took note of her feelings. “However, I recall you showed some trust in me when you thought I was pure human.”

  “That was a side effect of being poisoned.” She stood up, took off Sevrin’s coat and handed it to him. “I was vulnerable and delirious.”

  “So you’re not going to help?” He continued to frown as he took the coat.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just stiff and tired and that makes me irritable.”

  “Just that?”

  She ground her teeth together to hold her temper at his sarcasm, then through gritted teeth she said, “If we’re going to do this, then let’s get going.” Not waiting, she headed for the community. She hadn’t wanted to involve herself but it was because of Shay she had changed her mind. What if her sister needed help and no one was there for her?

  “All right then. We fight them all. Just try not to get shot by any of these fellows.” Sevrin’s serious tone stopped her.

  “Why? I heal quickly.”

  “I hear they use special bullets they custom make for their guns—allium slugs, packed with a blend of ground allium and gunpowder. So don’t go telling them to go ahead and shoot you or you’ll find yourself at their mercy.”

  “Great.” Rye clasped her hands together to stop the sudden trembling. She used to live a fearless life before Hamner introduced her to the critical effects of allium.

  “It’s nothing to worry about.” Sevrin patted her back. “I think we have an advantage with surprise and strength.”

  She watched him walk ahead. Pride crept in and vanquished her tremors. He thought her competent and capable, like an equal—something that she didn’t get much from men of either species, and that outweighed her smallest fears.

  “You’ve had run-ins with marauders in the past?” She thought of the few scuffles she’d been in before. They avoided her for the most part. But there were some that had enough arrogance to act rashly. Those were the ones she avoided.

  “Just a few, here and there, no large gatherings like this.” Sevrin examined his weapons as they walked.

  “Me neither. This should be interesting.” She took a deep confident breath. “Where do we start?”

  “I think first we need to sneak in and find out who we might rely on to help and who’s going to be against us. We’ll head for that shack on the far left. It’s away from any activity I’ve seen.”

  She followed him through the shadows of rock and brush. He motioned for her to go to the door alone. She put her ear to the weathered wood and listened. The eerie quiet made her tense. She tried the latch and eased the door ajar. No sounds of movement greeted her and she relayed that mutely to Sevrin.

  He waved her to go in and stay. She didn’t question his plans, knowing he’d let her in on what he wanted from her when he was ready.

  The shack had a coziness that reminded her of home. Whoever lived there kept it neat. Even the odd sorts of dishes and drinking cups sat neatly on a shelf. Blankets and pillows lay stacked on a metal trunk similar to the government ones Sevrin had. The wooden furniture had seen better days, yet every piece had a useful purpose, chairs for sitting, tables for eating or working and a bed.

  “Who are you?” A small young voice startled her.

  Rye spun around to find a little girl half her height peering out from a curtained doorway.

  “I’m Rye, who are you?”

  “Tari.” The girl came out of hiding holding a rag doll tight to her chest. “You’re the first female marauder I’ve seen.”

  “Can you keep a secret?” Rye surveyed the room for possible hiding places of others.

  Tari nodded.

  “I’m not one of them.”

  “Are you going to help my daddy get rid of those bad people?” Tari asked.

  “I don’t know. We can try,” Rye answered quickly, hoping to reassure the girl she was no threat. But she forgot to conceal her fangs.

  “Oh, you’re lamian,” Tari gasped. “Of course you wouldn’t be with them.”

  Rye squatted down, meeting the girl at eye level. “Have you met any lamians before?”

  “Lots of them. They’re very nice.”

  Rye smiled. “I’m nice too,” she said, finding it odd to have a human girl look at her without a sliver of disgust in her gaze.

  “Those men who came here aren’t nice,” the girl stated sadly. “They make Daddy do what they say.”

  “Unfortunately, there are bad people and good people in all species.” Rye smiled.

  Tari reached out and touched Rye’s hair. “I’ve never seen a lamian with ligh
t hair. It’s pretty.”

  “Thank you.” Rye finger-combed back the dark strands hanging in Tari’s face. “Mine needs washed and yours could do with some cleaning as well. After everything is all back to normal around here, you get your mother to give your hair a good scrubbing.”

  “My mother’s dead. The marauders killed her the first day they came.” Tari hugged her doll again. “Maybe you could wash my hair?”

  Rye touched the girl’s cheek. The gritty roughness of dirt clinging to dried sweat hid the smoothness of the child’s skin. “We’ll see,” Rye said, delaying the disheartening truth. How did she explain she had something else to do, somewhere else to be?

  The door opened and Sevrin entered quickly. Tari immediately took a step back, worry evident in her eyes.

  “It’s all right. He’s not a marauder either,” Rye told the girl.

  “I think they’re pretty soused,” Sevrin announced, immediately going to a wall and looking through the gap between boards. Then he turned to her and Tari. “And who do we have here?”

  “Her name is Tari. She says the marauders killed her mother and have her father doing their bidding. She wants our help.”

  “Oh?” He grinned. “And you, who wanted to circle the camp and be on her merry way.”

  “Shush, no jokes in front of the girl.” Rye pushed Sevrin away and returned her attention to Tari. “Will you do something for me?” she asked the little girl but didn’t wait for any more than a nod. “I want you and your doll to hide for a little while. Do you have someplace in here that no one can see you?”

  “Daddy made a space for me under the floor.” Tari pointed to the corner of the room. “I don’t like it in there.”

  “Rye?” Sevrin called her.

  She took Tari’s hands between hers. “A small dark place is my favorite spot to rest. It’s as safe as if I were in my mother’s arms. You get in that hiding place and you think about how much your mother loved you. I’ll come get you out just as soon as it’s safe.”

  “You won’t forget?”

  “Never, I promise.” Rye rose, keeping hold of Tari’s hand.