WastelandRogue

by Brenda Williamson

  He arched at the first wave of heated energy coursing through him. Thrusting against her downward force, he raised her. He lowered, only to have a quick spurt of his discharging semen buck him back up from the ground.

  Rye rode him, fervently bouncing and keeping pace as he thrashed against the sensations erratically jolting him. The overflow of his semen trickled out of her. The wet warmth slid down his shaft and tickled his scrotum.

  He pulled her down and hugged her. “Now what are you thinking?” He put a hand against her cheek.

  “How wonderful this is. How wonderful you were.” She rubbed her face against his palm.

  “Ah, female thoughts,” he teased.

  “No decent female would have the kinds of thoughts I’m having,” she purred seductively.

  Sevrin wove his fingers into her hair and pulled her close. He kissed around her hairline, across her cheek and over her nose. He ended on her mouth and imagined spending countless days with her, memorizing the curve to her jaw, the softness of her lips and the feel of her pulse. When he thought of the passionate beat of her heart, he nuzzled kisses at the base of her ear. Then he sucked on the delicate stretch of her neck and placed fresh marks of his lust on her skin.

  When he was done, he felt her suddenly withdraw from the moment. Her thoughts were always on something else. Not wanting to be greedy with his desires, he rolled her to his side, put his arm around her and closed his eyes.

  The silence let him think of how crushed he’d be if at the end of their travels they parted ways. He didn’t know what she thought of their future but he couldn’t think of one without her in it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rye stared at the silhouetted remains of Old Louis Ruins. She had never traveled so far northeast. The rain was gone. Beams of sunlight shot out from between the uneven silhouettes of crumbling buildings covered in vines. Like the forest in the Taum Sauk Mountains, the green city on the horizon was a colossal scene promising an environment of tranquility.

  “It’s a beautiful sight at a distance, isn’t it?” The awe in Sevrin’s voice didn’t fit with a man who boasted of being a loner in the wastelands. Did he long to be part of a faction of people in a constrained environment or was his talk of a solitary life a fabrication for her benefit? She shivered in response to the tingle of uncertainty laying a course through her.

  “Wait ‘til we’re closer. Then you’ll get a different view.” His short laugh had a sinister edge.

  She shook from the tremor of insecurity. “Why is the Wickstrom Group paying humans to bring them lamians?” She blurted out the biggest question she had rattling her.

  “I don’t know that they are. It’s a rumor as far as I know.” He opened his flask and offered a drink to her first.

  She took one sip and handed it back.

  “You said your brother works with them.”

  His swift turn and dead serious look made her step back. “I haven’t seen him in over a year. That’s why I came. I’ve heard rumors of something bad going on, something my brother wouldn’t be a part of. I had to make sure he’s all right.”

  “I want to believe you but—”

  “You want to? What the hell does that mean? You think I’m lying?”

  She tried not to let his wounded look sway her.

  “I feel as if I know all I need to trust you. From the start, I did trust you.”

  “You’re not making any sense. What is with you? What’s all this talk about trust?”

  “I’m having trouble believing anyone can be everything you are. Who’s like that? You’ve been caring for me since I was half-dead in a ditch. Why? No one has that easy a life that they are perfect. I can’t help feel at times I’m being led to my demise. You do the right thing and say what I need to hear. How do I believe that it’s real?”

  “What kind of plan do you think I have?” he asked.

  “You’ve said all along that your brother works for the Wickstrom Group. Hamner took my sister and his intent was to sell her to some scientists in Old Louis Ruins. The Wickstrom Group is in Old Louis Ruins according to you as well as that desert rat, Levor.”

  “So you’ve come to the conclusion that instead of us traveling together, which if you remember was your idea, that I’m taking you to the Wickstrom Group to sell you to scientists that want lamians? And all the danger we’ve run into—that I’ve faced to keep you safe is just so I can make a profit?”

  Rye shrugged. When he put it in perspective, it did sound silly. She reached for the flask and took another drink.

  “If that isn’t enough, you’ve also forgotten I’m half lamian as well.” His disappointed tone and the frown wrinkling his brow made her feel so small.

  Damn paranoia. It had to be the dehydration that had her thoughts working overtime to convince her Sevrin wasn’t the man the sane and sensible side of her trusted.

  “No.” She gulped down another mouthful of water.

  “Look, my brother works for the Wickstrom Group, not me,” he continued. “If they’re up to no good, then he doesn’t know it. I’m actually hoping he doesn’t. That means he’ll be all right and I can get him to leave the group. If they’re taking lamians, they aren’t going to like half-breed lamians either.”

  He was right, of course. She stared at the ground kicking the dirt with the toe of her boot. Pebbles rolled along a set of grooves. “Look at this,” she told him when she saw the familiar tracks.

  “Don’t go changing the subject now. We need to get this problem you have with me cleared up.”

  “Just look.” She pointed to the ribbed rows denting the ground. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “A steam-trekker.” He confirmed what she thought.

  He followed the track marks and she trailed him.

  “My steam-trekker,” he announced. “Here, see that jagged gouge that repeats?”

  He ran ahead. She watched him pause about every twenty feet and crouch down. Then he stopped and she walked to him.

  “That’s from a broken link,” he said without looking up at her. He continued gliding his finger along the groove in the dirt.

  “So, Levor did come here,” she commented, happy for the distraction from her foolishness. “Maybe he found himself another lamian, a less risky one than me to deliver to them.”

  “Levor was interested in drugs, not lamian hunting. However, if there are drugs to be found, big-city ruins like this place will be the place to find them.”

  “Where would anyone begin to look?” She scanned the large area the ruins covered.

  “I’d say he just asks. Someone will point him in the right direction.” He lifted his flask and took a drink.

  Seeing the glint of Sevrin’s white teeth in the sunlight, she had to ask, “Does your brother have fangs?”

  He gave her a strange, perplexed look. Oddly, his long silence didn’t rattle her. Paranoia worked in a bizarre fashion. It made her distrust when she shouldn’t and trust when she should.

  “No,” he finally answered, an amused grin appearing along with a twinkle in his eyes. “He’s like me, right down to not mentioning he’s part lamian.”

  “It is part of our nature.”

  “Anything else you need to know?” he asked.

  It occurred to her he might think she was scoping out what she was up against.

  “It wasn’t something I needed to know. I was just curious.” She decided against asking if his brother was also as handsome as he was.

  “Levor had to know where he was going to drive my steam-trekker right into the city.” Sevrin rubbed his hand against the side of his face, scratching at his whiskers as he stood in thought. “Come on, sunshine. We’ll follow the tracks.”

  Rye watched him start walking away. The endearment caught her by surprise. She didn’t even think he realized what he said with his attention so focused on following the tracks.

  Her trust in him swelled. “Do you think they kill their captives?” she asked, walking quickly to catch up to h
im. “The Wickstrom Group,” she clarified.

  “I don’t know. Anything’s possible. We’re still not sure that the Wickstrom Group is corrupt.”

  “What other scientists would there be around here? It has to be the Wickstrom Group. But whether they are the ones or not, wouldn’t you think live specimens would be needed for testing whatever it is they’re trying to develop?”

  “I’m sure the dead would also be useful for dissection and examination.”

  Rye put a hand over her mouth to hold back her gasp. Even though she had slip-ups, for months she had worked hard at not thinking of what Shay might be going through.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest your sister was…is…Tell me about her. How did she get mixed up with Hamner or a man like him?”

  “Six months ago we were scrounging around an abandoned shelter. Tired from our walk, we decided to take a nap in one of the mineshafts under a shack. A sound woke me and there he was. Hamner had my sister. Semi-unconscious, she didn’t fight back. I knew he had sedated her with something, but I didn’t know with what until he held me captive. He used allium on us.”

  “How is it he kept you from stopping him?”

  A pang of guilt churned in her stomach. Sevrin’s innocent question didn’t hint at the blame she felt. Since then, not a day had gone by without Rye thinking it had been all her fault.

  “He was already up the ladder. By the time I got to the trapdoor leading to the shack above, he had it bolted. It took me forever to break the hinges. I tried to find his trail, except there was nothing in the dust to indicate which way he had taken Shay. For weeks, I looked in nearby shelters and still came up with no clues. Then I decided I’d go back to the shelter and wait. I figured he’d hunt the same grounds. I was about ready to give up when he showed. I had no other choice but to let him abduct me.”

  “Did he tell you anything about your sister, any clues at all?”

  “I never got a chance to ask. I was unconscious most of the time. And when I wasn’t, I was too busy fighting the pain. That’s why it was so important to keep him alive at Toddas’ camp.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Rye.”

  “It’s not your fault. Besides, he didn’t tell me the truth about the allium field, so there’s no reason for me to think he would have been truthful with any information. For all I know, he’s kidnapped so many lamians, he didn’t even know which one was my sister.”

  “So he may not have brought her here either. She could be…”

  “Dead,” she finished. “I’ve thought of that.”

  “I was going to say she might have been taken somewhere else. The marauders aren’t particular about who they make slaves.”

  “Hamner had to keep me drugged to prevent me from biting him. I don’t see why anyone, even a member of the marauders gang, would chance having a lamian around.”

  What if a gang of offensive ruffians didn’t have a wise brain in their head, would that put Shay in a better position than with mad scientists?

  “I suppose you’re right. That wouldn’t be the smartest move.” Sevrin agreed.

  Rye considered what Sevrin said, what he hinted at about Shay. He didn’t come out and say she was dead, but his tone suggested it.

  Tried and thirsty, she trailed behind Sevrin as they entered the decayed city. Her thoughts continued to tumble around different scenarios for what happened to Shay. Each one came from something Sevrin had said. His mention of making lamians slaves kicked in her distrust of him again. Sure he was part lamian, that didn’t make him unscrupulous.

  She hated having Sevrin the center of bad thoughts. Was he still playing his game of subterfuge and leading her into a trap? They were so close to the end of their journey. Soon they’d meet up with his brother at a Wickstrom facility. That fact alone scared her. After all she had heard, she had concluded scientists were evil. How did she just willingly walk into their clutches?

  Wary, she let the gap grow bigger between her and Sevrin. When he stopped, she stopped. What harm was there in playing it safe?

  She hadn’t seen anyone, but she had sensed someone watched. Was Sevrin also instinctively aware or did he know exactly who lurked in the out-of-the-way spots? How many hid behind trash heaps or peered out from the shadows of doorways? She spun to a sound of echoes from inside one of the falling-down structures.

  “Keep walking,” Sevrin said. “A show of confidence will keep some of them in hiding.”

  “Who are they?” As she talked, she pretended to wipe her face to conceal her fangs. Lamians didn’t have a habit of hiding from one or two people they could overpower. Humans on the other hand were a sneaky bunch.

  “The destitute, derelicts, maybe marauders, I don’t know. I’ve only been here once before. I had to fight a man who wanted my boots.” He stopped when they reached the taller buildings.

  The pockmarked stone, bleached by centuries of sunlight, and the pale brick walls had seen rough times. Wars, weather and time had beaten them into dismal relics of a long ago and very different kind of civilization. She often wondered what it was like hundreds, thousands of years ago. There had to be a time when people lived in harmony to create such massive dwellings.

  “Where now?” She stayed back, giving him room to study the area, giving her space to defend herself should anyone try to take her.

  “We’re looking for a gray building with a black door marked up with a lot of writing and symbols.”

  Rye looked around. “All the buildings are gray.” Although she’d better describe them as washed sand.

  “Yeah, and the ones with doors have quite a few symbols and lettering on them as well.”

  “You said you were here before. Don’t you remember anything else about the building?

  “Not really. Zandt met me outside. He said his associates got nervous about unauthorized people being inside.” Sevrin walked back to her.

  She stood still, prepared for him to turn on her. When he didn’t come closer, she gazed around the skyline, wondering why anyone needed to be so high in the clouds.

  “Tall, aren’t they? Imagine those ten, twenty times that.” He stepped over a chunk of stone. “Most of what’s left of these ancient buildings is beneath our feet.”

  She stared at the ground.

  “Time has blown a lot of sand over the remains,” he explained and reached for her.

  She stepped back but a steel beam protruding from the ground snagged the heel of her boot. Sevrin caught her from falling.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when he slid his hands inside his coat she was wearing.

  “Making sure we have this.” He pulled out a funny-shaped piece of metal.

  Was that the small palm-sized object she’d seen him retrieve from his government storage box? She’d had it all along without knowing it lay tucked in a hidden pocket in his coat.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  He handed it to her. “That’s called a key. Zandt gave it to me. He said if I ever really needed him beyond something we prearranged, this would open the door we’re looking for.”

  “I thought government buildings had fingerprint and eye scanners?” It was what her father told her. She had never seen any.

  “Zandt said lamians can alter their fingerprints and eye details to whatever a scanner last read.”

  Rye lifted her hand and looked at her fingers. “I can do that?”

  “I don’t know. If I were to guess, I’d say that was an ability of purebreds.” He plucked the key from her hand. “This is a human’s protection against lamians. I didn’t think anything about this key until I heard the rumors about Wickstrom.”

  “Good thing I didn’t keep your coat on when I fell into that sinkhole back near Iantha’s place.”

  “You’re more important than this.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “A key is the easy way in. I would have figured out another way without it.”

  She smiled, loving him for the way he always eased her concerns. “Easier has
benefits.”

  “Very true.”

  The sound of footsteps coming their way instinctively moved her closer to Sevrin. “We’re not alone anymore.” she whispered.

  “I see them.” He ran his hand down her arm and grabbed her wrist. He pressed the key into her palm. “Hold on to this for me.”

  She pushed her hand into her pants pocket, tucking the key in the bottom as she turned around.

  Three men walked at a cautiously slow pace. When the way between the mounds of debris widened, they spread out, showing instantly they were a threat. The shorter one in the center motioned to the other two, proving he was the leader.

  “Don’t recognize you as being from around here,” the man said. “What’s your business?”

  “Just a visit to my brother,” Sevrin answered.

  “Who might he be?” the man asked.

  “No one you’d know. He works for the Wickstrom Group. Don’t know where, just that I know they have a facility in Old Louis Ruins. I was only here once, a long time ago, so I don’t recall which door. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

  The man jerked his head to the right. “About a hundred paces. But no one goes in there without an invite. You have permission?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Rye kept a watchful eye on the movements of the other two. They reminded her of Milt and Wirdle, one skinny, one fat, but scruffy-haired and dirty-looking and lacking intelligence in their gaze.

  They shuffled from one foot to the other, acting as if they were bored or antsy about having to wait for the conversation to end. She noticed their movements edged them forward as if to surround her and Sevrin.

  The man closer to her had an intense stare. His size wasn’t as intimidating as the bullet launcher he held cradled in his arms. She hadn’t seen one like it before. Would it carry the allium-infused bullets? Sevrin had a small, short-barreled gun in a holster at the waistband of his pants, but could he draw it out quickly?

  “Do we have your permission to proceed?” Sevrin asked.

  A wide grin showed a mouth full of decayed teeth on the man in charge. “My permission?” He laughed. “I like that. No one ever thinks to ask. All I ever get is people telling me what they’re gonna do and then trying to do it.”