by Keri Lake
Papa removed the silver band at his throat with a key he had tucked in his office somewhere. I wanted to ask him how he came about it, but I was certain he wouldn’t bother to answer. Even with all the keys he’s collected for me, he’s never produced one like that before—tubular in shape, as I expected.
Red ligatures mark the band’s painful grip, but it hasn’t proven to be the reason Six doesn’t talk. He still hasn’t said a word, but that’s okay, because we’ve worked out a system.
And Papa seems more tolerant since Six fixed the broken treadle pump and cleaned the sand from the solar panels—two things he himself never seems to have time for.
The close shave of his hair has begun to grow out a bit, shadowing the scars and tattoo on his head. The stubble spreading across his chin is a constant reminder that, in spite of his innocence, Six is a man. A strong man, with the incredible ability to toil all day in the hot desert sun, and uncanny reflexes that make me happy to have him around my clumsy self.
Avoiding the main roads, I lead Six across the long stretches of dry desert to the east side of the community, a book tucked beneath my arm. Every day, I’ve taken him out to a small manmade meadow that sits on the opposite side of the river. The threat of snakes and wolves keep most of the others in the community away, but I don’t worry about that so much with Six.
For us, it’s a place to escape for a while. And it’s here that I tell him what bits I’ve learned from Papa about the land.
Even if he can’t talk, he understands and picks up information quickly.
Spreading a blanket onto the ground beneath a cottonwood, I set out the book and offer him a notebook and pencil, in which he’s begun to copy some of the words. I lie beside him, picking up where we left off from the day before, sounding out the various words, and pause to let him try spelling them out.
“The word is Six.”
Lips drawn to a tight line, brows furrowed in concentration, his pencil hovers over the page, until he sets it to the paper.
I smile when he draws the number six on the page and lightly jab him in the arm. “That’s cheating!”
A smile graces his lips, perhaps his widest smile yet, and it catches me off guard.
I stare at him for a moment, absorbing the beauty of his face, how much he’s changed in just a matter of a week. The blood red in his eye has returned to white, and the stunning blue of his irises is almost blinding.
As if he senses me staring at him, he looks up, and the dimples in his cheeks fade to something more serious. His gaze falls to my mouth and stays locked there.
I catch the bob of his throat as he swallows, staring back at me as though he might try to kiss me. It’ll be the first time, if he does.
In a week, Six has kept himself trained not to indulge in these moments, but the way he’s looking at me, I wonder if today might be the exception.
I’d certainly welcome it. Spending every day with him has only served to bring us closer, and the closer we’ve gotten, the stronger my attraction to him has grown.
His gaze dips lower, and he leans in, his nose skimming the surface of my throat, inhaling my scent.
Eyes shuttered, my lips part, scarcely taking a breath as I wait for him to kiss me.
His hand skims down over my curves until he finds the hem of my shirt, and his skin is on mine. It startles me at first, kicking my head to the side, but I remain still, not wanting to discourage him. The light tickle of his fingertips draws lines down the center of my back, and his palms skate along the edges of my body, lifting my shirt higher and higher, prompting me roll onto my back. He tips his head, watching me, while the fabric glides up my stomach, his gentle caress leaving a trail of goose bumps across my flesh.
I raise my arms, until the shirt bunches at my neck. Arms stretched over my head, I lie with my breasts on display for him.
Part of me wants to crawl into myself, or hide beneath a pillow, but his eyes, the way he’s staring at me with such enchantment, somehow push away my embarrassment.
He crawls over me until straddling my stomach, and his rough and calloused palms glide along my body’s contours. A slight tremble tells me he’s nervous to touch me. Or perhaps excited.
I am, too.
My toes curl as his caresses tease a damp rush between my thighs. Arousal soaks my cotton panties, warmed by the heat he’s stoked there.
Palms holding either side of my body, he presses his lips against my belly. He leaves a trail of kisses up along the center of my ribcage, until his hand cups my breast. The moment his thumb brushes over my hardened nipple, the dam inside me breaks, and the dampness of my panties turns unbearably wet.
Lips parted, he watches my reaction, those blue eyes studying mine as he rubs his thumb back and forth, and when he mimics the movement at the other breast, I arch up off the blanket, squirming beneath him. Arms still caught at either side of my head, I turn away from his gaze, closing my eyes as I imagine the birds eye view of us. A quiet moan escapes my mouth, and when I open my eyes again, Six licks his lips, joy and fascination battling for dominance as he stares down at my breasts.
Warm mint scatters across my skin with his breaths, and the first nudge of his erection pushes through his jeans. The bulge is hard as stone, and the course fabric scratches along the top of my thighs.
Head bowed, he pauses, eyes clamped to a painful pinch of agony.
“Six,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I want you to.”
Lips forming a hard line, the grooves in his forehead deepen with his frown, and he shakes his head.
“It’s okay. You have my permission. You can touch me.” Taking his hand in mine, I set his palm against my breast once more.
Chest rising and falling, he opens his eyes, staring at my body. Trading his palm for his lips, he bends forward, and the heat of his exhale dances across my sensitive skin, before his tongue curls around the small bud of my breast.
“Oh—” My voice chokes as the sensation strangles the air in my lungs.
His lips close around my nipple, tongue still circling the tip and when he sucks, my hands fly down to his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something.
“Six.” I say his name mindlessly, digging my nails into his muscles while he suckles my breast. With every tug, an invisible string pulls at my core, and I writhe against his mouth, with my heels plowing into the blanket.
A whimper rides on each forced breath, and when he switches, imparting the same attention to the other breast, my body bellows with the first long suck at my nipple.
I want more. I don’t even know what I want more of, just that I do. The feeling drives me insane, and at the same time, I never want it to stop. I roll my head against the blanket, caught in some kind of demonic possession. My stomach contracts with every pulse of this strange craving that’s building inside of me, and I can’t steady my breathing. Gripping tight to the back of his skull, I rake my nails across the short stubble of his hair and press him into my breast.
Six lets out an animalistic grunt, and I feel his fingers curl around each breast.
His grip tightens.
Tighter.
The soft suckling turns into the stinging pinch of his teeth.
I flinch at the spasm of pain, and my hand jerks with the sensation, tightening my grip of his skull.
Something in the air shifts around us.
The fluidity of his touch turns abrupt, fingers digging into my flesh. He growls against my chest and lifts his head just enough to drag my skin between his teeth.
“Ah!” I cry out, and still, I allow it, because even if it hurts a little, a part of me likes his aggression.
He chuffs another grunt, and his fingers dig harder, as his mouth clamps onto the base of my throat.
I open mine to a silent scream and snap my head toward him while a strange dizziness settles over me. “Six,” I whisper.
The energy around us charges like a snap of lightning. Tension steels his muscles. I can damn near feel the heat, the want rolling off
his body, like metal in the hot desert sun.
Six flips me over onto my stomach.
One harsh yank of my pants exposes my backside to him and something twists inside of me. Something changes.
“Six, wait.”
He doesn’t stop, though. Hands pinning my wrists to the blanket, his shaky breaths become frantic, and I buck beneath him. He growls in my ear, his fingers curling into mine, pressing me harder.
“Let me up.”
Still, he doesn’t.
“Six!”
Panic zips up my spine, and within seconds, I’ve become prey, all too aware of the man’s strength. He grinds his jean-clad hips into me, harder than before, as if he’s taking me from behind.
“Six, wait!” I writhe in his grip, twisting my arm to break free, and my head slams into the blanket.
He pushes my hair out of the way.
“Stop!” I scream, and as if time has come to a standstill, everything freezes around me.
Six doesn’t move.
I take a moment to catch my breath and can feel him trembling against me. A cold rush dances across my skin as he releases his grip. I know what comes next and flip to my back, pulling my shirt down, but he’s already backed himself off the blanket.
His pupils are dilated again. I’ve noticed the times he’s gotten aggressive and lost control, his pupils have been dilated. Black and crazed.
I reach out for him, but he pushes to a stand, pacing back and forth in front of me, shaking his head.
“Six, it’s okay. You stopped. I asked you to stop, and you did.” I’ve no idea if it was the single command that halted him in his tracks, or something else, but twice now it’s rendered him frozen.
He rubs his skull back and forth as he paces like a caged animal.
I stand up from the blanket, and when I lurch toward him, he backs away. “Come lie back on the blanket with me. Please.” Using the same method as the night in the pole barn, I urge him back to the blanket.
But instead of doing as I ask, he runs.
Away.
***
I burst through the door and find Papa inside, standing with his hands on his hips. My whole body is shaking, my throat coated in flames from lack of water. The tears have dried to my face, and my eyes burn with all of the crying.
“Wren, what happened?”
“Six is gone!” A parched rasp clings to my voice. “He’s gone! I’ve searched for him all day, and I can’t find him! I have to find him.”
I rifle through the drawer in the kitchen, searching for flashlights. The grip of my arm sends me into a rage, and I yank my wrist from Papa’s grasp. “I’m going after him! You can’t stop me!”
“Wren.” His tone is calm, much calmer than I expect for the hard expression on his face. “Have you looked out in the pole barn?”
Wiping the new tears from my cheek, I nod. “Earlier. But I’ll look again. I’m going back to the woods.”
“The Legion will be out tonight—”
“Which is why we have to find him! They’ll kill him!”
His gaze falls, and he shakes his head. “They won’t kill him. He’s too important to them.”
The information paralyzes my muscles, managing to distract me, in spite of the urge that calls to me to keep searching. I’ve yearned to know more about Six. So much so, I’ve spent the last week trying to teach him to write, just so he can communicate these things to me himself.
“Why? What do they want with him?”
From his pocket, Papa tugs a cigar and lights it up, the savory scent hitting the back of my throat. “He was trained to be a very powerful weapon.”
“By … by whom?”
“Survivors have gotten word about our community. We’ve already diverted a number of raids. Raids you’ve remained blissfully unaware about behind these walls. We need to build our army. To defend our home.”
“By torturing innocent human beings? I can’t just leave him out there.”
He huffs a sigh and shakes his head. “Believe me when I tell you, wherever Six has gone, he’ll be fine. He’s trained to survive in this climate. You’re exhausted. You need rest. We’ll look for him first thing in the morning.”
“But he …” Tears fill my eyes at the thought of him alone in the dark, shivering with his nightmares. “I’m scared for him.”
“Don’t be. Whoever comes upon him has far more to fear. I promise you, he’ll be okay.”
I wipe the tears from my cheek and nod. “Okay, Papa.”
He’s right. Not having eaten, or drank, anything most of the day has taken its toll on my body, and I can hardly keep my swollen eyes open.
“Go rest. I’ll get up early before I head out and hike the perimeter for him.”
With a nod, I drag myself up the staircase, every muscle groaning with the climb. In the bathroom, I twist the knob of the sink to wash my face and brush my teeth, disheartened to find the water has shut down for the night. Closing the door, I peel out of my damp clothes, and climb naked beneath the light cotton sheet that cools the thin layer of sweat coating my skin.
As another round of tears threatens to pull me deeper into my misery, I close my eyes.
***
The tickle at my arm yanks me from the void, and my eyes flip open until I’m staring at Six’s sleeping face. Lifting my head from the pillow, I frown, focusing on him, wondering if I’m still dreaming. I scan the room to the open window, where the long white curtains flutter in the wind.
When I lie my head back down, Six’s eyes open, and I’m staring into a sea of blue.
“You came back.” His form blurs behind the tears that once again well in my eyes, and I can only guess it’s the relief of seeing him that crashes over me.
He thumbs a tear that slides down my temple and pulls my hand into his chest.
“I thought something happened to you. I thought you’d left me for good.” The emotions take over, and I sob, silently chiding myself to pull it together. Everything seems to be colliding inside of me, though, a cacophony of noise in my head that won’t settle even at the sight of him.
As if my mind hasn’t accepted that he’s here now.
Then his lips press into mine.
Those soft, full lips seize me, and everything, all the noise, fades away to the sounds of his kiss. Mouth open, his tongue samples my lips, pushing past my teeth. Pressure hits the back of my head where his fingers tangle in my hair, and he grips my skull, smashing me into him. The taste of sweet berries and figs lingers on his lips, and I suck it from his flesh. The growl in his throat rumbles against my mouth, and his fingers curl to a tight fist in my hair.
I feel dizzy with excitement, savoring the feel of his tongue on mine, and his lips closing off the air, and it’s then I realize I don’t want to breathe again.
A harsh exhale blasts from his nose, and his hands cup my face, fingers splayed across my jaw. I think of the day I watched him eat the fruit, how focused and intense he looked, holding it in his palms, and that’s how he’s kissing me now. As if he’s been starving for it.
A moan vibrates against my skin while he kisses along my jaw, and when it doesn’t seem to be enough for him, he returns to my lips.
We kiss like that until we fall asleep.
Chapter 14
Dani
I stand at the fence, watching for my brother. The entire period, I’ve stood here with my fingers curled into the chain links, waiting for him to toddle through the doors. My mind races with a million thoughts as to where he might be, what they might be doing to him, and I close my eyes, willing myself not to break.
Not here.
There’s only so much surviving a person can do before they give and crumble, but I made a promise.
And I won’t break.
The thick layer of moisture coats my eyes, but dries just as quickly as the unforgiving heat laps it up like a cruel sadist, mocking me.
He’s no longer your concern.
The words of Doctor Falkenrath pier
ce my thoughts, but don’t bring me any relief. Because he’s wrong. Abel’s been my concern since the day he was born and my mother first let me hold him while she breastfed Sarai.
My sister rarely wanted to be held by anyone aside from my mother, refusing to give up the comfort of her suckling, but Abel would sleep in my arms for hours, awaiting his turn. I’d stare at his face, studying every dimple, and his small baby fingers that he wrapped around my pinky. It was in those quiet moments that I vowed to protect him.
That I’d never leave him.
I close my eyes to flashes of his sleeping body lying curled in my arms. Of my fingertips brushing over his baby-soft skin. The sweet smell of lavender soap that my mother used to bathe him. Nights when he was scared and crawled into bed beside me, I told him about the stars and constellations, and he’d tell me how he wanted to fly to the moon.
The horn sounds the end of supper, and as a tear slips down my cheek, I quickly swipe it away before anyone sees and head back into the cellblock.
When I return to the lab, Doctor Falkenrath sits at one of the tables with samples and test tubes scattered around a large object that I’ve come to know as a microscope. He twists the knob, not bothering to look up as I approach.
“Abel didn’t come out again today.” Saying the words sends a new sting shooting up my sinuses, and my eyes fill with tears once more. I clear my throat and sit in an adjacent chair. “You said you could help him.”
“I believe your brother was on the adoption truck.”
Still, he doesn’t bother to look up from the scope, but the news sends a blossom of hope that he’s still alive, and I straighten in my chair.
“Adopted where?”
“The young ones who are negative for reactivation are sent to the other side of the wall, where they’re adopted into families.”
The sensations that collide inside of me are indescribable, and my body turns cold with shock. “Families?”
“Yes. He’ll be well fed, safe, educated, and in time, he probably won’t even remember this place.”