by Eve Langlais
“Nothing wrong with being chaste.”
“Except you don’t do it by choice.”
“Says who?” She glared at him. “I have no need to be touched by another.”
“In that you’re wrong. All humans need touch.”
“Touching is—”
“Forbidden. So you keep saying. Have you ever wondered why?”
She wondered at his strange interest in the rules she followed. This wasn’t the kind of questioning she expected at all. “The rules against fraternization are to protect us from obscene acts.”
He uttered a low whistle. “The brainwashing is strong in you.” He shook his head. “And to think they’d have you believe we’re the monsters. Makes you wonder what would happen if the truth got out.”
“What truth?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “That the only difference between me and you is the freedom I have.”
“I’m free.”
He arched a brow. “You were locked in the back of a truck.”
“For my safety.”
“After being knocked unconscious.” He gestured to her bruise.
“At least they didn’t have me tied.” She gave her arms a wrench. “Let me go.”
“You think a mere rope is what binds you?” His expression mocked.
“There is nothing wrong with living a righteous life.”
“A life dictated by others.” He sneered. “How does it feel to have no choice?”
The query stung, and she could think of no retort. Because she knew how it felt, but it wasn’t something she wanted to admit to him.
She changed the subject. “Are you the leader of the marauders?”
“No, I am not, no matter what they say,” he muttered.
“What are you then?”
“Must I have a title?”
“No. I just wondered if there were ranks.”
“You want me to have a rank? Then let’s make it Wasteland Duke.”
The preposterous title had her shaking her head. “You can’t call yourself a duke. You’re not Enclave.”
“So what? Here’s the thing in the Wastelands; we don’t care about the Enclave and their dynasties. Which means if I want to be a duke, a king, or even the elusive emperor, I can be.”
“Declaring it doesn’t make it valid or true.”
“According to who? A bunch of pompous elites in their sanitized cities, making up foolish rules to keep the masses separated. Worried if they find out there is life outside the dome, they’ll lose their hold.” Axel finished on a sneer.
She, on the other hand, didn’t quite follow. “The rules keep us safe.”
“The rules are what imprison you.” Said on a disgusted sigh.
“Better a dome dweller than a marauder!” she huffed, tired of his insults.
“I’m not a marauder. Just a man.” Said so softly she almost missed it.
“Are there many of you?” She got the impression from the hum of noise outside the room that there might be more than the couple she’d seen.
“Why do you ask? Spying for your masters?”
The very idea seemed too absurd. To her surprise, she laughed. “Do I seem like a spy?”
Although it was a good question. She’d never suspected Wendy was a plant to ensure the sawrs were behaving as they should. More than a few of them got punished for breaking Creche rules thanks to her reports.
“I think it’s very interesting that you were the only thing in that truck.”
“What did you expect?”
Rather than reply, he asked a different question. “Where were you going?”
No point in hiding it. Perhaps she could convince him to deliver her still. “The Incubaii Dome for reassignment.”
“Which one?”
“What do you mean which one?” Her brow wrinkled. “There is only the one.”
“Wrong. How many Creches do you think there are?”
“That’s a stupid question. There is only one of everything.”
“Not even close. The Emerald demesne boasts five Creches at last count and three Incubaii locations.”
She blinked. “That’s not possible.”
“Yet it’s the truth.”
And it made sense. She’d often wondered how so many children filled the Academy. “How do you know all this?”
“Because I choose to learn and seek out rather than just listen.”
Her lips flattened. “How was I to know I was being lied to?” She felt sick even saying it aloud. No one struck her down. Not yet.
“All the Enclave does is lie.” He shook his head. “You said you were being relocated. Why?”
Laura rolled her shoulders. “I wasn’t told why, simply that my circumstances had changed.”
“What happened?”
“What makes you think anything did?” she retorted, not about to tell him about Horatio and the strange shadow beast he created.
“Because you don’t suddenly get reassigned at your age.”
He knew more than she would have imagined.
“Did it occur to you that perhaps I’m being promoted?”
“Becoming a Madre is not an improvement. What position did you hold in the Creche?”
“Sawr.”
His lip curled. “The lowest of low. Which means you must have been excited to be given the white robes of a Madre.”
Again, she rolled her shoulders. “I liked my home. I asked if I could stay.”
“Given what they do to Madres, you should have begged harder.” The claim emerged harshly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He eyed her. “Nothing.”
She took offense. This wasn’t the first time he implied being a Madre was a bad thing. “It is an honor to work toward the creation of future generations to serve the city.”
For some reason this narrowed his gaze. He eyed her in a way that had her tucking her legs tighter. “The indoctrination is incredible. Do you know what they expect of you once you arrive at the Incubaii Dome?”
“No. But I’m sure they will teach me.”
“They’ll teach you all right,” he muttered. He turned away from her. “You really know nothing.”
“I don’t know what you expected. I was a sawr whose only task was to mind and clean up after children.”
“In the Wastelands, parents mind their own children.”
“Parents?”
“Not a concept I’m willing to explain tonight.” He nudged off his boots and stripped his shirt, leaving him clad in a sleeveless undergarment that molded to his upper body. It proved enough to distract.
“Why are you so lumpy? Is it the deviant gene malforming you?”
He gaped at her then down at himself. “Lumpy? I am the fittest man in my crew.”
Her brow furrowed. “But your stomach. It has lines.” And his arms bulged unnaturally thick.
His lips twitched. “It’s called muscle. Surely you’ve seen someone fit before.”
“None of the sawrs in my Creche look like you.” The women tended to have soft bodies.
The remark caused him to stare at her. For a good long moment. “Just how secluded are you? Have you ever seen a naked man?” His hands went to his belt.
She shook her head. “There are no men in the Creche. The few that visit are kept to the Visitors Pavilion under close watch.” She’d seen the boys that were in her charge, of course, with the worms between their legs that were most notable for urinating when exposed to the air.
He pulled the belt free of the loops and tossed it onto the papers he had strewn on the boxes. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven, I think.” Hard to remember when there was no birthday to count. She only knew she turned eighteen when the Academy turned her over to the Creche, and she kept count of the seasons.
“You look younger.”
“How old are you?” she couldn’t help but ask
“Early thirties.”
“You look older,” she b
lurted out.
Only one side of his mouth quirked. “Gee, thanks.”
Her cheeks heated, and she almost spoke out of turn again. She managed to hold back the words that would have admitted he looked very nice.
Although nice seemed too tame of a word. Looking at him did something strange to her body. Heating and shivering. Fear most likely being the culprit.
He extinguished the light, and she suddenly could see nothing until her eyes adjusted. It wasn’t seeing him but feeling the bed shift that let her know where he’d gone.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“Going to bed.”
“I’m using this one.”
“I know. I’m hoping you’re not the type to kick in her sleep.”
The implication had her exclaiming, “I can’t sleep with you.”
“Then don’t. But I plan to get a few hours.”
She stared, the darkness not complete, the windows in this room showing some light glowing from outside. He formed a shape atop the blankets, resting on his back, hands lying atop his chest.
“You can’t stay here.” The Creche had strict rules about fraternizing. No sharing of beds being at the top of the list.
“I am, so you might as well lie down on your half of the bed and deal with it.”
“You’re taking more than half of the space.”
He opened a single eye, and she tried not to react, as it held a hint of a yellow glow. “I’m bigger than you. Seems kind of obvious. You can always snuggle if you find it too tight.”
Press herself against him? She huddled against the wall instead, jolting awake once or twice when she felt herself falling over. Only her tether kept her upright.
Sometime in the night, the rope disappeared, and she woke, face nestled onto something warm but hard, her hands, still bound together, lying atop something that lifted and fell. Her leg splayed over someone else’s.
Her eyes opened with a jolt, and she realized she stared at a chest covered with only a tight chemise. With lumps.
Muscles.
His muscles!
She threw herself backwards and cracked her head on the wall. Amidst the ringing pain, she heard him drawl, “Morning.”
Six
Who would have thought greeting the woman would send her into a fit of panic?
“What did you do to me?” Laura exclaimed, eyes wide.
“Nothing,” Axel grumbled, despite the temptation. Her reaction to his presence annoyed more than it should have. What did Axel care if she still acted as if he were the monster in the room?
She rubbed her head.
“Bet you that felt good,” he said, sitting up and swinging his feet over the side of the bed.
“You scared me. I reacted,” she retorted. Could he hear the lie? Her heart raced, her blood boiled, but it had nothing to do with terror.
“I scared you?” He cast a sneer over his shoulder. “You were lying on top of me, spread out like a blanket. If anyone should be complaining, it’s me.”
“Complain about what?” she snapped.
“For one, you squished me.”
His statement had her eyeing him, and some of that fear left her gaze as she said, quite dryly, “I highly doubt you suffered.”
“Are you implying I’m big and strong?” For some reason he winked. “You’d be right. Why, I could do anything I liked. And you couldn’t do a damned thing to stop me.”
Axel couldn’t have said why he purposefully tried to scare her. There was something about her, something that buzzed along his senses.
“Monster.”
Such breathy accusation. So ready to believe the worst. It annoyed him, which meant he could easily turn away to ignore her.
“You know the right answer is supposed to be, ‘Thanks Axel for untying me so I could sleep.’” Because he stupidly felt sorry for her.
“Are you seriously suggesting I thank you for untying me, when you’re probably the reason I’m tied up the first place?”
“Wasn’t me that put the rope on.” But he’d known Vera would do anything necessary to keep Hill Haven safe.
“Untie my wrists.”
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” As he stood, he pivoted and caught her expression.
She crouched on his bed, and it was then he noticed, despite her brave words, fear clung tight to her. A miasma that threatened to overwhelm her struggling courage.
She held out her hands. “You can hardly think I’m dangerous.”
“I don’t know anything about you. Only your name.” He stretched, joints popping, unused to sleeping flat on his back, tense and unmoving because of the woman who’d kept drawing his attention all night.
She stared maybe a tad too long because it took her a moment to reply though her pressed lips. “There’s nothing to know.”
“I’d forgotten. The Enclave doesn’t like its peons to have real lives.”
“My life is fine.”
“If you say so. How’d you sleep?” he asked. He’d woken more than once to check on her, concerned despite Oliander’s words. Because she was worth more to him alive than dead. Or so he kept telling himself. He’d rather not examine his fascination with her.
She didn’t reply.
“Well?” he prompted.
“If I say I slept poorly, you’ll call me a liar, and if I say I slept well, you’ll be smug.”
“At least one of us enjoyed it. I’m not crazy about having to share my bed.” He usually avoided bringing anyone back to his room. And since Mona, he no longer slept with anyone in Haven. It avoided ugly situations. “It’s annoying to not be able to sprawl, and then add a smothering body on top—”
“I was not smothering you.”
She had. And he’d enjoyed it until she freaked.
“Tonight, you can sleep on the floor.”
She eyed it. “I’ve slept on worse.”
“You?” He eyed the dress, but as his eyes roamed, he noticed her hands. Not the soft, pale hands he’d expect of someone pampered. It prompted him to ask, “Who decided to make you a Madre?”
Recognizable by their dress, only the Madres wore the white. Nikki didn’t talk much about her time as a Madre, but when she’d first arrived, he still remembered the terror in her eyes when any males went near her.
Laura’s chin lifted. “That’s none of your business.”
“I see you’re just as disagreeable in the morning.” The woman tested every one of his nerves. His patience, too.
“You’re not exactly warm and welcoming yourself.”
The statement reminded him of Vera’s accusation he wore a perpetual scowl. “Marauders don’t smile unless we’re killing our enemies.” He said it on purpose to make her gasp. When he turned, he couldn’t hide his smile
“You are not amusing,” she snapped.
“To you maybe. I, on the other hand, am very entertained.”
She changed the subject. “Given you’re awake, I’ll assume it’s morning?”
“Yup.”
“How can you tell?”
By the hum of people stirring for the day. The nose-tingling aroma of food cooking, the scent wafting through the cracks in his room. Hill Haven was showing its age. How much longer before it all fell apart? And how many times would he notice it and do nothing?
“Always with the questions. Do I have to gag you with something?” He could think of a few things to do with her mouth.
Her expression turned stony.
It brought a mocking smirk. “Ah the sweet silence. Much better. We should get moving, or there won’t be much breakfast left.”
He pulled out fresh clothes and tucked them under an arm.
“We’re going somewhere else?” she asked.
“How else would we find our breakfast?”
Her feet thumped to the floor as she stood, looking disheveled in her gown. Her blonde braid hung over her shoulders, tufts of it springing free.
So beautiful. So ignorant. If they found th
e right buyer, she’d fetch a great price.
He thought of Nikki. The way she hyperventilated when he’d found her injured in the Wasteland, down by the Pit, a never-ending hole that went into the ground.
She’d almost jumped in rather than let him near her to help with her injuries. Being a Madre had done that to her.
Laura stood, uncertain but trying so hard to be brave. She was afraid of him but feisty, too. Did she know what to expect? Should he let her talk to Nikki?
What if she did and wanted to stay? He already had enough mouths to feed.
He turned away. “Let’s go.”
“I’m missing a shoe.”
“Easy enough to fix.” Whirling around, he reached for her and grabbed her foot. Since she stood close to the bed still, her ass hit it with a bounce. She yelled and yanked at the foot Axel held, almost kneeing herself in the face as he abruptly released her.
She scrambled back to her feet and glared. “How dare you!” She finally showed some spirit.
At the wrong time.
He held up the shoe. “Problem solved. Shall we?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Apparently you’ve already forgotten my warning. I am in charge. And you obey.” He lunged for her and ignored the fear oozing from her as he grabbed her. Axel tossed her over his shoulder, more roughly than warranted, given she didn’t fight.
Not one bit. She remained still and terrified because she expected him to do worse.
It filled him with an irrational anger. And shame. Shame that he’d frightened her.
It didn’t last long. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Behave or I will give you a reason to complain,” he growled. He stalked from the room, his prize dangling, muttering the tamest of invectives.
“You brute. This is unacceptable. Put me down. Jerk.”
Judging by the snickers that followed as he carried her down, he should have muffled her.
“If you want me to take you seriously, you should try adding a fuck or two to your words. Maybe an asshole,” he suggested.
Her ranting ceased. “You’re crass.”
“And you’re naïve. I told you to listen.”
“Or else you’ll hit me? I knew you were a brute.”
He sighed. “Why me?”
Only when he reached the ground level did he flip her to her feet. Her hair, loosened from its braid, framed her face and accentuated her anger. “I hate you.”