Wasteland

by Lynn Rush

  WASTELAND

  Lynn Rush

  www.crescentmoonpress.com

  Wasteland

  Lynn Rush

  ISBN: 978-1-937254-01-8

  E-ISBN: 978-1-937254-00-1

  © Copyright Lynn Rush 2011. All rights reserved

  Cover Art: Jeannie Reusch

  Editor: Steph Murray

  Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

  Crescent Moon Press

  1385 Highway 35

  Box 269

  Middletown, NJ 07748

  Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: September 2011 www.crescentmoonpress.com

  To God ~ Thank you for the gifts you’ve bestowed upon me, especially your grace.

  To Charlie Boeyink ~ Thank you for loving me with your whole heart. You are more than I could have ever hoped for in a husband.

  To Lynn Boeyink ~ I’m proud to share your name and call you Mom II. You’re an inspiration.

  I love you all.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book wouldn’t exist without the combined efforts of so many people. So thank you to the following: Cari Foulk, for her tireless encouragement; Steph Murray, my fantastic, knowledgeable editor; Ciara Knight, my wonderful critique partner who took the time to critique the entire novel for me early on; Kendall Grey & Rachel Firasek, who spend countless hours online with me, writing and editing; the FF&P critique group who are a constant source of support and encouragement; SavvyAuthors.com who provided the opportunity for me to meet my wonderful publisher; my family for offering me their unconditional love and support. A very special thank you to my best friend, Michele Trent, who was the one who encouraged me to “take the next step” on this journey to publication.

  CHAPTER 1

  Another two hundred and fifty years in solitary confinement might be worth the sacrifice if it meant spending five minutes alone with the beauty moving on the dance floor to this strange music.

  “What are you staring at?” Gage’s gravel-coated voice cut above the thumping bass.

  I tore my gaze from the woman dancing and dropped it to the sweating glass of rum and Coke in my hand. “Nothing. Get away from me.”

  “Is that any way to treat your brother?”

  An elbow dug into my side, clipping one of my ribs.

  “I am not your brother.” Two quick steps to the right, careful not to touch any of the humans milling about the bar, and I stood out of Gage’s reach.

  I surveyed the sea of thrashing bodies, searching for the woman I had no business finding. Overhead lights pulsed over the crowd. Inebriated movements morphed into a collection of uncoordinated jerks and twitches. Drunken couples groped one another in darkened corners. The stench of human sweat, ale, sour vomit and sweet drinks assaulted my senses.

  So uncivilized.

  My first night out of sensory deprivation, I shouldn’t be in a place such as this. Too many temptations.

  Scanning the crowd, I caught my gaunt reflection in the mirrored walls beside the DJ and looked away. I didn’t need to be reminded of how two-hundred-and-forty-five years of isolation and endless darkness hollowed my full cheeks and morphed my silver eyes into a dull, lifeless gray.

  Lifeless like me.

  A gigantic hand landed on my shoulder. “Come on, David.”

  Even through the fabric of my cotton shirt the contact stung my skin, and I shrugged him off. “Don’t.”

  Gage held his hands up in surrender. “Touchy, touchy. I haven’t seen you in nearly two and a half centuries.”

  “You know I have been in confinement. Until about eight hours ago, I have not seen anything in almost two hundred and fifty years. Then Master pulls me out early and sends me here, my first night out.”

  Gage slid the loose strands of his strawberry blond hair behind his ear, his ebony eyes examining the crowd. “Yes, he does have an evil sense of humor.”

  “I am not laughing.”

  “I can tell it’s a struggle for you, brother.” He pointed toward my forehead. “I think a vein might burst soon.”

  I knocked his hand away. Despite being a six-hundred-year-old demon that didn’t need to eat, Gage’s six-foot-three frame didn’t hide his padded stomach. Must have been indulging over the years.

  At least a hundred bodies moved to the beat of the music on the crowded, half-circle dance floor. Most were scantily dressed women with long hair and shimmering skin. A waist-high mock-bar contained the flailing bodies to the designated area, and I propped my elbows on the wooden top, analyzing the crowd.

  Gage laughed. “You’re out five years early. Better than the full sentence, right?”

  There she was again. Eyes closed, arms raised toward the ceiling, as if paying homage to the music gods, she swayed to the slow tempo. The ruby red, silk dress clung to the contours of her firm body. Her narrow hips swished doing a slow, erotic belly dance just for me. A thin layer of perspiration glistened on her skin, reflecting the flashing white, red, and neon green lights.

  My breath hitched.

  Beauty of such magnitude belonged in the Garden, not a place such as this. Long, stick-straight blond hair rippled down her back, bare, save the four thin straps securing her miniscule garment.

  “So, David, where is the Mark?” Gage’s raspy voice snapped my concentration from memorizing the woman’s delicate curves.

  No use admiring something I could never have. Because if I did, I’d lose the little humanity the demon raging inside me hadn’t yet sliced apart.

  “I haven’t seen the Mark yet.” I looked away from the woman and forced myself to face Gage. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Checking up on you. Making sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  Released from captivity mere hours and already Master had assigned me a shadow. He knew I hated being his runner, but to send a six hundred-year-old demon to keep the leash around my neck cinched. That was new.

  “Why not the neophyte he usually sends to babysit?”

  A growl emanated from Gage, and his jaw muscles twitched.

  With the sting of my recent imprisonment still fresh, I would procure my Mark, young Jessica Hanks, and bring her to Master as contracted.

  But I would take my time. So much had changed since my incarceration. Many things to learn.

  I pushed away from the railing and wove past a group of three women, reminding myself to keep my eyes forward. No distractions. I’d been deprived of stimulation so long, a simple touch, especially a woman’s, threatened to set off my demon. He’d already started clawing my chest to get out and devour the flesh these women so readily exposed.

  I ground my molars, willing my demon to settle.

  Clanking glass from behind me snared my attention. People congregated near the massive, wooden bar, whistling at the two men spinning bottles and tossing them in the air while they mixed drinks.

  I turned back to the sea of people.

  “A lot has changed during the time you’ve been in darkness, David.” Gage waved his hand at the twitching herd. “Look at these women. They’re half dressed, flaunting their bodies like whores.”

  He stated the obvio
us. Like I couldn’t see all that lay before me. My body throbbed with temptation. I sucked an iced cube from my drink to quench the fire building in my mouth.

  The dark, claustrophobic room closed in on me. Probing lights seared my brain. Heat steamed the room, sweaty bodies prancing around the dance floor fanning the flame. I spied a vacant spot at the railing, and set my drink down on the shiny, wooden surface.

  Gage slapped my back and stood beside me. “You could be tempted. I’m here to help.”

  “I’m sure that’s all you’re here for.”

  True, I’d never been to the state called Arizona. The state hadn’t been unionized before my imprisonment. Gage might help me fit into this new world. I couldn’t even figure out the cellular phone device I’d been given. Unbelievable how something so small did so much.

  A dull throb made its way up the base of my skull. The bright lights sent a wave of nausea rolling over me.

  “What do you know about your Mark?”

  “Not a lot. Master sent me here, claiming she would be at this tavern. No picture. Nothing other than a name and an age. That isn’t much to go on, Gage.” I clasped a hand behind my neck and worked at the bulging knots.

  My stomach roiled with hunger, but the loud music muffled its cries. Several more feasts, coupled with my demonic healing, and my human muscles would soon return to normal. Maybe then the aches and kinked muscles would work themselves out.

  Gage gulped his drink and grimaced.

  “What is so special about Jessica Hanks?”

  He slammed his empty glass next to my elbow and drops of icy water splashed my bare arm. “That doesn’t concern you. Does it?”

  Hmmm. I struck a nerve.

  I turned and scanned the crowd once more. The building trapped the stench of sweat and sugar between its cement walls. Bright lights and a subtle fog wove around the two-story interior. A loft overlooked the room, and people lounged on chairs and couches up there.

  “Gage, we have no idea what she looks like. It shall take some time.”

  “The Seers saw the mark on her back. It will identify her easily enough the way these women dress these days.”

  “True.” But having to look at all these beautiful women would test my resolve to keep my demon at bay.

  “Not that I’m complaining, I rather enjoy the view.” Gage glanced at me. “You could too if you would just relax and give in.”

  Surprising warmth grazed my right arm. Like lightning zapping my skin, I flinched. A short brunette stood mere inches away, her dark, sultry eyes fixed on me.

  “I’m sorry.” Her full, shiny lips curved into a crooked smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I dipped my head, acknowledging her apology and turned my back to her. The image of her ivory flesh bulging over the cloth of her plunging neckline burned into my brain, and I shut my eyes. The gesture did nothing to purge the image from my conscious.

  My heart slammed against my ribs. My demon thundered, wanting out. Take her.

  “Need a refill?” The woman’s husky voice ignited a fire at the base of my spine.

  Gage stood beside me, arms crossed over his chest, a grin filling his face. He would love for me to fold under the temptation of these women. To give in meant turning full demon.

  I must stay strong.

  A balmy hand rested on my forearm. I pivoted from her grip, sending a glare I hoped would discourage her, despite how much I fancied the feel of her soft skin.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Hey, I was just checking to see if you needed a refill.” She palmed a round tray, on which sat a small pad of paper. She held a writing utensil in her other hand.

  “Oh. You are the barmaid.”

  “Barmaid?” Another eye roll. “So, do you need a refill or what?” She pointed to the drink in my hand with her pen.

  Gage snickered. Her spicy perfume assaulted my nostrils and tickled the back of my throat. I bit back a cough. Between the flashing lights, ear-piercing music, and scantily dressed females dancing, I was close to becoming unhinged. Probably what Master wanted to happen.

  “No. I am fine, thank you, ma’am.” Two long strides carried me six feet from her. I squeezed the icy glass of liquor in my hand, hoping it would cool my skin.

  Another stroke of warmth set me afire. I found myself near the entrance to the dancers, surrounded by soft, fair-skinned females, swaying their arms in my direction.

  The glass slid from my hand and crashed to the hardwood floor but I never heard it land over the music. My breath came in short gasps as five women encircled me. My heart couldn’t have pounded harder had I faced seven legions of demons in battle. Lights flashed in my eyes, and my vision tilted. Hyperventilation cinched my lungs.

  “Hey, baby.” A woman gyrated against my leg, her silky dress riding up her thighs.

  Hands kneaded my backside. “Wanna dance?” another voice breathed.

  Slender fingers grazed my chest. Despite the layer of protection my black, cotton t-shirt provided, the touch singed my skin like a branding iron. I snatched the frail wrist and pushed it away. My body stiffened. I leaned sideways to locate Gage. He stood next to the railing, his body convulsing with laughter. If I survived this sea of wicked temptation, I would kill him.

  “Excuse me, please, madam,” I said. “Pardon me.”

  My voice cracked like those kids in the prepubescent TV shows Master’s minions made me watch on the plane ride from New York to learn the culture. I was four hundred years old. I didn’t need this.

  “Please. Let me through, ladies.” I could have ground my molars to dust my jaw clenched so tight. My demon’s nails sliced my chest from inside. Weak from my punishment, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold him at bay.

  The circle of women tightened. A curvy body flattened against my back, another to my side. Desire rippled through me, and my body quaked. Something rubbed against the front of my denim jeans. A hand with red-painted fingernails. I moved away, but the wall of blazing, supple bodies blocked my escape.

  Curse Master for throwing me into this pit of temptation.

  I held my hands up, scared to shove them too hard for fear I’d hurt them, but the demon inside me roared, pulverizing my insides in demand for his pleasures. I bit my cheek hard, the metallic taste of blood oozing into my mouth. I curled my fingers into my palms, preventing the black claws—his weapons—from bursting through my fingertips.

  “All right, ladies, that’s enough,” a high-pitched voice said. I couldn’t locate the source.

  A female grabbed my hand and jerked me through the sea of soft temptation. The fingers clutching my forearm singed my skin as we broke through the human wall.

  My gaze followed the hand grasping mine, and I found an arm of smooth, light skin that led to a shoulder over which a thin strap of cranberry-red indented the flesh. My eyes followed the crimson fabric to the ample curves of her breasts. I snapped my focus to her face and shook from her grasp.

  The woman I’d watched dancing smiled at me.

  Blond hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. Strands clung to her glistening chest where the dress met her cleavage.

  I checked my forearm to make sure I hadn’t been charred.

  “You okay? I saw the Jezebels grab you.” The soft voice flowing from her full lips rivaled a harp. Harmonic. Soothing.

  I knew then I’d been in solitary much too long. “Ah, yes. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” She raised a pale brow and inched closer. The scent of lilacs washed over me. “Are you for real?”

  I shut my eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Pardon me.” I glanced back at the pack of women. They’d found another man to accost, but his smile indicated he appreciated the body bumping. Not that I didn’t, but the feel of their soft bodies crushed against mine was too—

  “They do that all the time. They’re regulars.”

  I willed myself to stay focused on the woman’s face. She stood five-foot-ten, shoulders back, so we nearly stood at ey
e level. Such bright, vibrant green emeralds returned my stare. “Regulars?”

  “They are.”

  “They do that often?” I could not understand what would possess a group of females to act in such an unbecoming manner.

  She tilted her head and inhaled. The gesture alone lured my gaze down. Her soft curves, confined by the scarlet fabric taunted me. The demon’s searing hunger for her pierced my chest.

  I had to get out of this place. To hell with finding Jessica Hanks. If I gave in to this sudden immersion, I’d never see light again. But if I gave in, I could ravage this woman standing inches from me.

  No. I will not.

  I’d fought the temptation to turn for four centuries. I wouldn’t break now.

  The music’s tempo slowed and transformed into a different, flowing song. Of course the melody was foreign to me, but the crowd fell into a hypnotic sway. Reminded me of standing on a ship at sea. The woman had led me to the dance floor before I realized we’d moved.

  Like a dream, a cloud of smoke enveloped us. The lady in red brushed against me, her body igniting a fire not stoked in a quarter millennia. Her hand rested on my chest, and she gazed at me with her sea-green gems.

  Muscles along her jaw twitched. Her nostrils flared. “Who—?” She broke eye contact and cleared her throat.

  Did she sense the demon scratching at my insides to get to her?

  “We’re almost dancing,” she said.

  My arms hung like weighted oars at my side, and I inspected the other couples to see what to do with them. Many men had their arms draped around the women’s waists, some had hands on their backsides, slowly stroking.

  Too much. “Excuse me. I must take my leave.”

  “You do look a little sick.”

  “I detest crowds.”

  She removed her hand from my chest. “Then you came to the wrong place, didn’t you?” She winked, flicked her long hair over her shoulder and strode to the bar, weaving through the mass of people like a ballerina.