“Here, sit down.” He guided her onto a chair. “What about the blood on your mouth?” He rubbed a spot off her chin.
“In the shack to the right, two men had plans to rape a woman. I had to kill them.”
“I’m sure it’s no great loss.”
“What did you find out?” she asked.
He stepped back. “I heard Orland is in the shack at the far end of this run. Seems he has taken up with laying about here for the last six months, sending others out to do his bidding.”
“Like looting other camps and terrorizing families—Oh, Tari.” Rye leaped out of the chair and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Sevrin caught her by the arm.
“Tari’s still hiding in that floor.”
He pulled her aside and looked outside first. “All right, let’s go.” He surveyed the area as they crept along the building. They stayed in the shadows where possible. The clouds had gone and the bright moon lit everything it touched.
“I think most of them are asleep by now,” he told Rye.
He wanted to go in the shack unannounced.
Rye knocked lightly. “It’s me, the lamian that sent you here.” She opened the door.
Sevrin slipped in behind her and shut the door so no one saw them.
In the corner sat a woman holding a little girl. The woman’s bedraggled appearance—torn clothing and tangled rust-colored hair, along with some bruises, made her look old. Yet the closer he studied her, the more he noticed she wasn’t old at all.
“I knew her hiding place,” the woman informed them.
“Good,” Rye said, turning her back to the woman. “Just make sure she gets back in that hiding place if anyone comes. We have to leave and I don’t know that we’ll be back.”
“Did you find my daddy?” Tari piped up.
“No,” Rye answered, not looking at her. She lifted her head, staring at Sevrin.
He then realized she didn’t want the woman or the girl to see her blood-filled eyes. In the steam-trekker, when Rye’s eyes had turned red, it was briefly. Why had they not cleared yet?
“What’s your father’s name?” Sevrin asked over Rye’s shoulder. He had interacted with some of the people that lived there.
“Toddas Gray,” the woman answered for the girl. “I’m Ev, his sister.”
“Sevrin Renault and this is Rye Sanborn.” He moved around Rye and looked down at the girl clinging to Ev. “If I can, I’m going to send your father back to you.”
Rye reached back and squeezed his arm. “Don’t promise her anything you can’t deliver.”
He walked back around in front of Rye. “I’m not promising,” he whispered. “I saw her father. He’s apparently camp leader, so he’s being kept close to Orland and Orland is relying on him to keep everyone in the camp in line.”
“What can you do?” Ev asked, showing she heard everything he said to Rye. “Orland has at least two dozen men in camp.”
Sevrin cupped Rye’s cheek and studied the color of her eyes. The red had receded to leave her once-blue irises a striking violet. He led Rye to a chair to sit. “It’s almost gone,” he told her.
“How many of you are there?” Rye asked, still avoiding looking at anyone directly.
“About thirty, I think,” Ev answered. “They don’t let more than two or three of us get together at once. We had almost sixty. They killed all the lamians who didn’t escape. Then they killed others, like my mate Jont and Tari’s mother, Biddy, and three or four more that refused to cater to those cretins.”
“Lamians lived here, with humans?” Rye asked, surprise in her tone.
It proved to Sevrin that she had lived a somewhat sheltered life. It was sad that most experiences she had with humans wasn’t good.
“Yes, is there something wrong with that?” Ev asked in a defensive tone.
“It’s unusual, that’s all. Most humans I’ve encountered don’t have a favorable attitude toward lamians.” Rye explained her limited perspective.
“Because they’ll suck our blood and kill us?” Ev questioned harshly.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m a lot farther from home than usual. I guess on this side of the wastelands, there’s more tolerance between the species.”
“More than tolerance,” Ev said. “My mate Jont was a lamian.”
Sevrin paced the room, thinking about what they could do to help. When he noticed Tari looking at him, he smiled. She didn’t react. Her expression remained blank. She seemed resigned to staying emotionless. The marauders were sucking the life from this child and the others in their camp. He had to do something.
“You said all the lamians are gone?” He turned to Ev.
“Yes,” Ev answered.
“It would have made it simpler if there were some here but I think I’ve got an idea how we can get the marauders to leave. It’ll take everyone in camp to help.”
“I told you, we can’t get together in a group,” Ev said.
“But you can move from person to person and tell them what we need them to do?”
“Yes, except they’re too frightened to fight.”
“That’s what we’re going to use against the marauders—fear.” He turned to Rye. “You killed two of them before I killed Hamner. How did you do it?”
“I tore their throats out,” Rye said. “And as much as I’d like to, I can’t rip out the throats of all the marauders, especially in my present condition.”
“No, but what if the marauders find those men one at a time in different areas of the camp? They’ll think lamians are out to get them. And if we wait until the marauders are good and drunk on fermented dandelion, it might rattle them enough to take off.”
“What do you want me to do?” Ev asked.
“I want more than whisperings about lamians coming back to kill the marauders. I want everyone to act as if they’re terrified of lamians. I need your people to encourage the marauders to drink by replenishing their cups often.”
“Sevrin, lamians lived here in peace. Why would the marauders think these people fear them?” Rye asked.
“Because Ev and the others are going to let it slip that the lamians used them as a food source,” Sevrin explained. “Marauders have a strong hatred against lamians and they’d be happy to believe the worst.”
“So if the humans here were slaves to the marauders, it would be a lesser evil than being drained of blood by lamians.” Rye gave him a doubtful look but agreed. “It might work.”
“It has to work. Ev will go pass the word and in a short while we’ll do our part.”
“I suggest you wait until closer to morning,” Ev said. “The marauders have nocturnal habits.”
“Like lamians?” Rye questioned the oddity.
“Probably because they hunt them,” Sevrin offered, and Ev nodded in agreement.
“I guess that makes sense,” Rye conceded.
“Rye and I’ll stay in here most the night, Ev,” Sevrin told the human woman. “That should give you plenty of time to tell the others. No one is to start talking about being afraid until the first body is discovered.”
Ev nodded her understanding. She took Tari’s hand and headed for the door.
“Tari can’t go.” Rye pushed herself up from the chair. “As simple as this plan is, it’s still dangerous.”
“It will look less suspicious if she’s with me,” Ev said. “I can pretend we’re looking for her father.”
“She’s right, Rye.” Sevrin opened the door and glanced out. “They might notice her going around to every shack, so she needs a reason.”
Rye gave a reluctant nod.
“Ev, after you’ve told everyone, take Tari to your place and stay there for the rest of the night.” He opened the door wider and let her and the girl out. After they’d left, he shut the door and leaned his back against it.
“I don’t like putting that child in harm’s way.” Rye sat back down.
“The marauders have been here for over three cycles
of the moon. They’ve not done anything to her up until this point. She’ll be all right.”
The bed in the corner caught his eye. Rye needed to recover, maybe not her strength as much as her awareness. She had suffered an emotional blow when Hamner died without giving her the information she wanted. The plan to oust the marauders from the camp could only work with her focused attention.
“What now?” she asked.
“We get some rest.” He included himself as encouragement to Rye even though he didn’t need any.
She had a mind of her own, an independence that set her off from the ordinary. He only knew females like Ev, docile and domestic, the kind who waited for a man to give them direction. His mother had a gift for getting him and his brother to do things by making them think it was their idea.
“Yes, rest does sound inviting,” she agreed too readily.
She rose from the chair and walked toward him. The twinkle in her eyes bespoke seductiveness and danger. He’d seen that glimmer of hunger before—when she drank his blood and when they’d had sex. Which was it she desired now?
Chapter Thirteen
Rye moved her hand behind Sevrin’s head and pulled him forward, wanting him to forget Iantha or any female before her. She planted a kiss squarely on his mouth. It didn’t take much encouragement to get her way, although his eagerness wasn’t as reassuring as she would have liked.
Did he move as swiftly with Iantha? If Rye hadn’t arrived so soon, would he have been to the rutting stage or the finishing climax with that pureblood lamian?
Aroused by the human blood coursing through her veins, she pushed away the past. Sevrin was there to quell her lust.
“Come this way.” He guided her to the water basin.
She let him undress her. He took his time stripping the clothes down her limbs, touching her with delicate care. Then he wet a rag. Carefully, he washed the dried blood from her skin. His mindful pauses near her wounds showed more patience then she needed, and yet, she appreciated his unrushed movements.
Once he tossed the rag away, he stood behind her and continued to touch her. Her nerve endings quivered under the caress of his fingers up her spine. His palms glided lightly, as though a faint breeze drifted over her shoulders. He brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. Delight filled her as he lingered at her nape.
A moan slipped out of her when he leaned close and slid his hands over her breasts. He kneaded them gently as he brushed kisses across the top of her shoulder. The heated scent of him teased her already heightened senses. She tilted her head to the side as he continued to nuzzle her ear.
Moving slowly along her neck and back down to her shoulder, his touch magnified her desires. Her insides trembled hard enough that she put a hand to her belly to stop them. It didn’t work.
“You’re not going to get any rest,” he whispered in her ear.
He stroked and kissed her body as if he worshiped every curve. It aroused her in the most sizzling way.
“This is more restful than you know,” she responded.
Sevrin’s arms went around her middle. He nibbled at her ear, kissing beneath, running his tongue along the rim. She felt the movements of him removing his clothes as the same time.
Immersed in the sensual care, she hugged his arms tight, holding him against her back. Heat intensified from his squeezing embrace. The hardness of him pressed for her attention. The muscles of his chest moved with each breath he took. His cock throbbed where the length of it lay nestled in the crevice of her buttocks.
She tipped her head to the side, enthralled by his constant focus. The pressure of his mouth on her neck made the blood in her veins pulse quicker. If only he had fangs. She let out a sigh of regret. Then his teeth clamped tight, pressed firmly against her skin as he sucked. His actions escalated beyond her expectations. Lightheaded and weak-kneed, she surrendered her thoughts. When he released her neck and his hold on her slackened, she turned around within his embrace.
“We don’t have much time,” she reminded him, not that she wanted to rush.
“I know,” he said sadly, cupping her cheek.
He leaned forward. She met him halfway. His breath dusted her face before his lips brushed hers lightly. His fingers became part of the kiss, squeezing her cheeks to pucker her mouth. His lips caressed and his tongue licked. Finally, his sigh expelled a breath that merged with hers.
She sagged against him, enamored by his passion. Sliding her hands up his back, she hugged him tight. His long fingers slid behind her head and pulled her face close. His mouth swam over hers and they spent a long time entangled in each other’s arms, kissing as if it was all they ever needed.
“I can never get enough of you.” He backed her toward the bed.
“Enough of me or enough of sex? Iantha seemed to be very willing.” She blurted out her tormented thought.
Sevrin pulled back and looked at her a long time, a bit perplexed and then somewhat amused. “I was not interested in her.” It seemed part lie, part truth and yet enough to satisfy her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him as he lowered her to the mattress. He always knew the right thing to say. Was it a gift or a trick? For now, she didn’t care. She needed to believe in the trust she had in him, at least until he proved she couldn’t.
Rye combed her fingers into the hair at Sevrin’s nape and played with the soft brown locks while staring into his intense gaze. The weight of him spread as he positioned over her. She parted her legs, eager to have him closer. He rolled his hips and pushed his cock into her. His lengthy, masculine body, incredibly solid and tantalizingly warm, bonded to hers. His low groan resonated contentment.
“You feel so good.” He drew back and thrust again.
She gasped at the force of his full penetration. His strokes stimulated every nerve in the wake of his withdrawals. She closed her eyes and hung on to him, riding out the sizzling sensations curling her toes. They rocked in unison and flexed against the strains of their orgasms. His kisses were rapid bursts of air against her neck until he let out a low moan that heated her ear. Then his body hunched and froze. Liquid warmth filled her.
“You don’t know how much I wish we didn’t have to get up.” He buried his face into her neck and kissed below her ear. “My desire to pleasure you is endless, but alas, we should rest.”
“I know.” She rubbed a hand over his tense shoulders and smiled, feeling adored for all the right reasons. It scared her to think how much she had let her guard down around him. Sex always erased the reservations she had about his honesty, until her thoughts cleared and began churning with annoying doubts again.
Chapter Fourteen
The eerie quiet kept Sevrin awake and alert. In his underground lairs, scattered around the wasteland’s vast region, he sought silence and slept as soundly as the dead. Above ground, he needed a rhythmic resonance to give him a sense of a peaceful surrounding.
Rye’s light, steady breathing wasn’t enough. Instead, her tranquil slumber put him on edge. She’d suffered a lot in the past few days and he aimed to protect her from more harm. He hadn’t been as successful as he liked, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying.
He looked at her asleep in his arms. Her slender frame nestled to his side stirred the inherent maleness inside him. Her soft contours fit against him so perfectly. The urge to fuck her hardened his cock with hardly a thought. They had dressed after having sex in case someone came into the shack unexpectedly. Now he wished he had taken the chance of waiting.
He ran his hand up her arm and to the back of her head. “Another time,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and ignoring the throbbing tightness of his erection within his restrictive clothing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, obviously not as far into a deep sleep as he thought.
“Nothing.”
“Is it time to go?”
He glanced at the window for the hundredth time. The moon sat perched high, casting a glow in the room. Enough time had passed
for Ev to instruct as many people as she could. The marauders would also be very drunk on the fermented dandelion. As much as he enjoyed his position on the small bed with Rye, they had to get up.
“Yeah,” he answered.
Rye wasted no time rising first.
He swung his legs over the side and sat on the edge of the straw-filled mattress a little while longer, watching her stretch.
“How are you going to start your plan?” She turned around. “You can’t just drag a dead man out into the open. One of the marauders might catch you.”
“It’ll be tricky.” He rose to his feet. “I have to take one of those first two you killed out of the shack and put him in an area where he’ll be found quickly.”
“Just be careful.” She tucked her shirt into her waistband and then put on her short leather jacket, lacing it to cover the bloodstains.
“Worried about me?” He smiled over his shoulder at her.
“Terrified I’ll have to rescue you. I can hold my own against a few men. Not a whole band of them.” Rye picked up her coat and slid her arms into the frayed sleeves.
Blood, dirt and burned edges from where she had fallen in that hole to hell had really worn it down to not much more than a rag. He’d have to keep a lookout for a replacement for her.
“Ready,” he asked, putting on his coat too.
She nodded, walking to the door. “Where do you think the best place will be to leave a body?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.” He opened the door and looked out. “Come on.”
The night air hung heavy with staleness. While the rain should have left it fresh, it held the sour dankness rising from the stale ground. It reinforced his reason for wandering the wastelands. Congested areas compounded the stench of human bodily waste.
In front of the first shack they came to, Rye grabbed his arm to stop him from passing it by. “Don’t you want to get Hamner?”
“He was killed by a knife. We need to get one of the ones you bit. The marauders need to believe lamians are picking them off one by one,” he explained.
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