Garrick: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Earth Resistance Book 1)

by Theresa Beachman

  Liquid energy coiled in his groin, her gentle but insistent movements bringing him close to the edge.

  He lifted her hips and slid his jutting cock between her velvet folds with exquisite slowness. She gasped as he filled her, her slick walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Her motion creating delicious friction as she clasped him with her body.

  She captivated him. Watching her graceful rhythm as she lost herself in him; her head thrown back, delicate throat exposed, was the biggest rush. He wanted the memory to sustain him, to know that he had this time here with her, this woman who believed he was enough for her. Watching her rock above him, full with his hardness, was exquisite. Her head suddenly dropped, the breath knocked from her lips as she ground against him, her muscles curling in an erotic spiral, gripping his cock as she found her release. The motion of her body slammed through him and as she grasped his hands his own release took over, rushing him over the dark edge of pleasure with her. Breathless, she collapsed on him, completely undone, her limbs hot and heavy on his chest.

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  The words surprised him. Joined with her, skin on skin, this woman touched him in places he hadn’t even known existed.

  He inhaled her scent, burying his face in her neck, eyes shut tight. Sleep beckoned at the corners of his mind, the exhaustion of the last few days threatening to send him over the edge. He never wanted this to end, but when he woke up it would, and he’d need to suit up. But he still had a few hours of her all to himself, hidden away from the world.

  His thoughts scattered with fatigue as he held Anna safe in his arms, until finally sleep pulled him down into its indigo depths.

  25

  When Anna woke, it was still early, the light in the room murky. Garrick was wrapped around her, his legs tucked under her knees, broad chest pressed to her back. His hands were gentle paws resting heavy at her waist, his exhalation tickling the nape of her neck. She lay motionless, soaking in the moment.

  This is what safety feels like.

  It cocooned her, blotting out everything else. A chink of grey light spread out across the floor in front of them. The world had still gone to hell, but this morning she was different. Garrick wanted her. All of her.

  With him, I can let go.

  Thoughts fluttered through her brain, flighty and unsure of themselves as they danced in the light.

  Garrick.

  His presence soaked into her shoulders and spine even as his name reverberated and echoed in her mind. She’d done things with him she’d never done before, surprising herself at what she wanted. For the first time, she had been with a man and hadn’t held back. Was it because the world was blown to hell, or was it him? She trailed her hand along the thigh that pressed into hers. Soft hairs curled under her palm.

  She’d always kept a piece of herself safe from other men. With Garrick, for some reason, it was different. Something within him resonated for her. He mumbled and stirred. She took one last deep breath of this perfect moment and then rolled over. His eyes were wide open.

  “Hey.”

  She met his gaze, unashamed after the rawness of the night before.

  He slid a finger under her chin, running his thumb along her lower lip. Stormy eyes locked with hers, seeing to the very bottom of her soul. She was powerless to resist anything they asked of her. He swept loose hair from her forehead.

  She reached for him, her lips crushing his, her tongue playing along the edge of his mouth, teasing him. Fiercely, he kissed her back.

  Finally, they separated, his kiss leaving her breathless.

  “All I want to do is lie here with you and drink you all in.” His finger traced down her neck, across her collarbone, and between the swell of her breasts. With a sigh, his eyes flicked up to hers. “But we need to get going. We can’t afford to waste daylight.”

  She withdrew from him with a nod, responding to his practical tone. “Yes.” With an effort, she pushed the jumble of thoughts and emotions rattling in her brain back into the dusky recesses where they couldn’t distract her. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being practical and dealing with the task at hand.

  After a dry breakfast of survival biscuits from her pack, she quickly repacked her few belongings, aware of the tenderness of her thighs as she bent and stretched. She massaged the sensitive muscles, happy for the reminder that last night had not been a dream.

  She insisted on dressing his wound before they left, even though the gouges were not deep, unabashedly enjoying a last few moments standing close to him and breathing in his scent of leather and oil.

  As they headed for the entrance, they passed the shower rooms, and Anna lagged behind, giving them one last wistful look. She had no idea when she’d next have the opportunity to have a hot shower. Or be naked with Garrick in one.

  When they reached the main door, Garrick went to scout outside for Chittrix activity while Anna rechecked their weapons. The pulse rifle was still almost fully charged thanks to Julia’s tweaking with the power source. Anna ran her hands across the weapon, murmuring a small prayer for Julia and Blake to be safe. A noise behind the door interrupted her and Garrick appeared, his face calm.

  “We’re good to go,” he said, extending an arm to help her over the rubble the Chittrix had created as it battered its way through the doorway. He guided her down the other side, his palm in the small of her back.

  Outside, the day was bright. Clouds scudded across the sky overhead, but the blue open expanse was free of Chittrix. Anna inhaled, her eyes shut, savouring the freshness without the presence of any alien invaders to sour the moment. Her lungs filled with clean, damp air still heavy with the scent of rain. When she opened her eyes again, Garrick was removing folded paper from his back pocket.

  It was a map.

  He pressed it flat on his thigh, tracing the route they needed to take with his finger. She watched him in silence, working out their route.

  “Oh, so you do have a map?”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  Anna raised one right back at him.

  She pointed at the crumpled paper. “What are the red and yellow shaded areas?”

  “Areas with high Chittrix and Scutter activity. Those are the bits we need to avoid.”

  She peered over his shoulder. “That’s a lot of red and yellow.”

  Garrick grunted an affirmative.

  “We should get out of London today. We’ll roughly follow the A30, heading for the M3. We need to go in the direction of Basingstoke.” His voice was confident. His grey eyes intense in the morning sun. “It’s still a lot of walking.”

  Anna stared back, her eyes challenging him. Without a word, she hoisted her backpack and started to walk. Checking over her shoulder, he was stuffing the map into his trouser pocket.

  “Let’s go,” she shouted, waving him on.

  Garrick shook his head and jogged up to her, cuffing her gently across the back of the head as he settled in beside her, matching her pace.

  According to her watch they had only been on the move for two hours, but it felt never ending to Anna. The sun had disappeared, and the unrelenting grey-white of the sky began to blend into the desolate, destroyed buildings. Drifts of litter swirled against her feet as she stumbled and trudged her way through the debris of the abandoned capital. They cut down one-track roads between dirty, sullen reservoirs as they continued to head west. Overgrown grass banks rose up, encompassing them as they navigated between the flat expanses of water.

  She observed the strange plant life beginning to establish itself in the pavements and cracks in the road. Congested, crumpled vines laden with purple blooms silently strangled lamp posts and shattered brick work. In the shadows, squat, fern-like things trembled when they passed, sensing live prey.

  Garrick walked in front of her. Long, easy loping strides that covered the ground effortlessly and at a pace that had her trotting at times to keep up. He kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure she was still there. His eyes
blazed right to the core of her whenever he did, making her stomach flip with anticipation.

  When he finally stopped, she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind had begun to wander as she matched his pace, her eyes straying from the path of rubble and weeds. Mindlessly, she had allowed herself to become distracted, watching the effortless motion of Garrick’s back as he walked, and she crashed right into him. His feet might as well have been cemented to the ground. She bounced off him, stilling instantly as he turned to face her, tight lines of anxiety running from his eyes to his mouth.

  “What?” The words froze in her throat.

  He glanced from side to side, scanning the street. Anna followed, moving so her back was against his.

  “There’s nothing—”

  As if summoned by her words, a shot rang out.

  “That’s close.” The words fell from her mouth in surprise. Too close.

  Shit. She’d been absorbed in her own world, daydreaming about Garrick and the night before, not paying attention.

  Garrick grabbed her free hand without warning and broke into a run. He cut right, dropping down a side alley. The ground under their feet began to slope. Given the proximity of the reservoirs, they were most likely heading towards the Thames.

  There were voices now, shouts and cursing behind her. One rang out louder than the others, his nasal voice rising over the general melee. “Here. This way!” Spencer.

  She didn’t dare look back. Garrick’s hand clutched hers as he pulled her fast down the narrow gap. They exploded out onto hardcore which cut sharply off the street they were on and descended to the dirty river.

  More yelling behind them, louder now. Glass breaking. Garrick glanced past her, his eyes sharp, assessing everything. As much as the roar of voices behind were freaking her out, his eyes remained confident, fully in charge of the situation.

  They skidded to a halt on the dockside. To their left, a pedestrian bridge spanned the river, a broken mass of tension wires and twisted metal. The far side of the water was at least thirty feet away. Between them and the opposite bank, the Thames churned, black and dirty, slick with grey scum.

  “Down,” he commanded.

  He pulled her over to the grass verge that fell twenty feet to the oily water below. The voices were getting closer. Anna risked a glance back over her shoulder as Garrick tumbled down onto the grass. As he pulled her with him, men burst out from one of the adjoining alleyways.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Spencer led the group and his gaze collided with hers, a sneer splitting his face. Then he disappeared from view as she dropped lower down the grass verge.

  “Same scavengers,” she gasped as she concentrated on not falling head over tail down the steep slope. She leant heavily on Garrick’s forearm as she descended; his arm solid as a rock under her.

  As she grasped at the leafless branches of a small, stunted bush for balance, the ground next to her exploded. Mud and leaves rained on her head and slipped down the back of her shirt.

  Shit. They’re shooting at us.

  Garrick’s hand tightened on hers, and he yanked her faster, so fast she began to lose her footing. Earth and plants detonated around her. Anna screamed, but her cry was lost in the shriek and thud of bullets dismembering the soil. Rocks and stones appeared out of nowhere under her feet, wrenching her ankles and throwing her off balance.

  Her feet twisted out from under her and she fell hard, her shoulder connecting with the wet grass in an excruciating, stabbing sensation as she rolled. Garrick’s hand was wrenched from her grasp, her fingers clutching at the thin air where he had been only moments before.

  Anna barrelled downwards, her momentum unstoppable. Her arms flailed as she tried to stop herself, but she clutched only at wet mud, pulling free irregular clods of earth and stones and doing nothing to stop her crashing descent to the grey water below. Her teeth snapped together, triggering a sharp bloom of pain followed by the coppery taste of her own blood.

  Garrick shouted. “Anna!”

  He was nowhere to be seen. The world was a dizzying blur of brown and green as she hurtled out of control. Her legs skated against the grass, searching for purchase. Dirt rammed under her fingernails and up the cuffs of her sleeves.

  She finally landed, every bone in her body jarring, on a small, flat ledge of rough concrete, suspended above a sheer drop of ten feet. Her fingers scraped for purchase, and she skidded to a halt just on the precipice, the graze on her cheek torn open again. She pulled herself up into a crouch as Garrick skidded and fell towards her.

  He didn’t hesitate, his arms reaching out wide. He slammed into her, grabbing her tight, hurling them both clean off the edge and into thin air.

  Anna hung suspended for a shimmering moment while the water swirled below, and the vibration from the bullets thrummed through her mind. Then they dropped, Garrick’s body crushing her to him.

  They hit the water. It closed over Anna’s head like a black, icy wall, intense cold driving the air from her lungs in a shocked stream of silver bubbles. Garrick’s arms locked around her waist. Even before she had stopped descending, he was tugging her, his body thrusting upwards to the light and the air, dragging her with him, never letting go.

  Anna broke the surface coughing and spluttering. She heaved in huge gasps of dirty, wet air, spitting water. The river churned in her ears, the strong current speeding her along like human flotsam.

  But Garrick was with her. His legs kicked and steered them with the flow, even as she struggled to make her own limbs work. He hooked her safe to his body with unyielding arms.

  She kept her head tilted upwards to breathe more easily. The effort made her neck ache, and was compounded by the bone-crushing coldness of the gritty water. Branches caught and scratched at her legs from below the surface, but whenever they slowed or threatened to stop her, Garrick’s strength worked to move them free.

  Out the corner of her eye, Anna saw the scavengers shrinking, receding as they stood screaming on the edge of the concrete precipice. Even though the speed of the river had taken her well out of reach, some were still firing, their bullets peppering the water.

  Then the swell and rush of the river rounded some industrial buildings, and the scavengers disappeared from sight.

  26

  Garrick kicked with all his strength for the bank, where overhanging branches provided a hidden point to climb out of the torrent. He grabbed a tree root, pulling them up to the sandy bank and bringing their river trip to an abrupt end.

  Anna spun and collided against him, her teeth chattering from the cold. He took her hand and pressed it to a tree branch so she’d have purchase to pull herself out. His feet found the silty floor, and he was able to stand up in the water despite it slapping against his chest. He took a breath and wiped the water from his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. Her hair was plastered to her skull, freckles standing out in sharp relief against her pale skin. Her cheek was bleeding from the fall. He wanted to wrap her in a woollen blanket and rub the blood back into her skin.

  They were several miles downstream. South, Garrick guessed. Bleak industrial buildings rose up on both sides, but he wouldn’t know until they were properly out the water how far they’d been dragged off-route.

  He swore under his breath. Now they were soaking wet, bruised, and sore. He’d had better mornings. He hauled himself out the river, cascades of filthy water pouring from his clothes. Chilled air found its way to his skin in moments as he extended an arm to support Anna as she clambered out.

  She shuddered. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the shock of escaping by the skin of their teeth. He ran protective hands over her arms, checking from the top down that she was in one piece and unhurt. If anyone hurt her, they were going to pay.

  She was his. The words ricocheted in his mind as possessive instinct took over, but realistically, what did he have to offer? The world was full of new razor sharp edges, where did a relationship fit into tha
t?

  He pushed the thoughts away. Self-indulgence was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He straightened his legs, satisfied she was unhurt, but they were both freezing and needed to dry off. Worse, his backpack was making a grinding noise whenever he moved. He swore again when he opened it. The radio had shattered into broken pieces, pulverised by their fall.

  He tipped the broken pieces out onto the muddy bank and kicked the shattered remains of the radio into the river. Then he took a deep calming breath before turning to Anna. “We must keep moving and put more distance between them and us.”

  Upriver, in the direction they had come, the Thames swirled black and lazy, empty for now. Garrick scanned the banks. Sober grey buildings were crammed around them, making it difficult to see if anyone was heading their way. His scalp pricked uncomfortably, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Are they likely to come after us?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “I would.”

  Anna flinched, glancing over her shoulder, then shook her head. “You would think that the Chittrix would be enough to deal with. But no, humans still need to keep kicking fifty shades out of each other, even when there’s a bigger threat trying to annihilate all of us.” Her shoulders sagged, overwhelmed. “Why are we such a messed-up species? No wonder the Chittrix came here. We do half their work for them.”

  He slipped his hand under her chin, lifting her face to his. As he bent down and kissed her, what was meant to be a comforting kiss of reassurance flared into something far more, her tongue insistent on the edges of his lips. Despite the intense cold, heat uncurled and loosened low in his belly. He groaned and broke away from her, breathless.

  Her eyes were dark through her lashes, binding him to her. He smoothed his thumb against her brow, wiping away a smear of mud.

  He hadn’t known normal for such a long time. But holding Anna in his arms, there was comfort. She was a reason to go forward, to believe something good was possible. A small glow of hope had been lit within him. He was damned if he was going to let it go out. Even if he was just a fucked-up soldier with too much baggage, he’d show her he was worth the rough edges.