I try to ask Callum about that, but I’m not sure he understands my truncated questions and makeshift signing, until he points overhead and makes a soft sound imitating a bird’s chirp.
“Yes, birds. That’s all I’ve seen too. But where are the rodents?” Rabbit and squirrel were staples of our diet in zone four.
As near as I can gather from his unfamiliar words and signs, Callum thinks wildlife inside the enclosure, if there ever was any, was decimated, either by hunters as eager to kill rabbits as inmates, or by inmates trying to survive as they ran for their lives.
Either way, the point seems to be that we’re the only prey to speak of in this enclosure. If that’s truly the case, there’s nothing I can do about food or water unless we find one of the cabins or ration stations Steven Hansen mentioned, when we were watching his brother on the window screen. But not only do I have no clue where any of those are, I no longer even have the energy to try to explain to Callum that they exist.
It feels strange walking through the woods in my underwear, with no supplies. Without even so much as an empty backpack that could be rolled up and used as a pillow or held over my head if it rains. I feel aimless and on edge, and the longer I go without food and water, the less focused my understanding of our plan becomes. Which is why, when I spot something solid peeking between the trees ahead, I’m equal parts scared and excited.
It’s a wall, but not made of metal. Which means it’s not the enclosure perimeter, and we still have no idea how far away that might be. But if it’s not the enclosure…
I grab Callum’s hand and point to the right. He sees it instantly and lays one finger over his mouth.
I roll my eyes at him. I know to be quiet, but he doesn’t seem capable of not reminding me. Must be a guy thing.
Callum gives me an open-handed “stay here” signal. Then he heads to the south in a silent jog, without waiting to see whether or not I’ll listen.
I think about it—for all of two seconds. Then I take off after him, pleased, a few steps later, to realize he can’t hear me.
Callum gives the building a wide berth, evidently planning to scout all around it from a bit of a distance, and I catch up with him as he rounds the front corner at a crouch, hidden by thick brush. I tap his shoulder and have to stifle a laugh when he actually jerks, startled. I’ve gotten really good at sneaking.
But the look he turns on me is far from amused. He gesticulates angrily, telling me to back away. He clearly wants to make sure it’s safe before I get any closer, but I’m no safer alone and out of his sight than I am checking out the back of the building with him. So, instead of sulking off to do as I’m told, I raise my middle finger and wave it in his face.
I can tell from his puzzled expression that people don’t flip the bird on his planet, and I’m a little disappointed not to have further pissed him off with the gesture. But with any luck, I’ll have a chance soon to tell him how insulted—or, alternatively, aroused—he should be.
When he realizes he can’t force me to cooperate without making more noise than the victory would be worth, he cautions me again to be quiet, then motions for me to follow him.
The building is small enough—likely only one room—that I’m not sure whether this is a “cabin” or one of the ration stations. It’s simple wood construction on a poured concrete slab, which means it only sits about a hand’s width off the ground. The only window is on the front side, to the right of the only door.
When we round the front of the building again, I stand back while Callum peers through the window. All I can see is that it’s dark inside, and I don’t know whether that means no one’s home, or it’s not wired for electricity. This whole enclosure seems to be a strange mix of modern tech—robo-dogs—and vintage hunting nostalgia, with the wooden building and the tall deer stand.
After a minute or so, Callum gives an all clear signal, then turns to the door. Naturally, there’s no handle or lever. Despite the building’s rustic look, the door has a digital lock panel, completely void of buttons. It can only be opened by electronic signal, which, presumably, is transmitted by the hunter’s wrist com.
But if I learned anything from Tyson, it’s that unlocking is only one way to open a door. For him, the alternative usually involved kicking the door in, which wouldn’t be possible here, even if I had that kind of strength. Fortunately, I think I see another way.
The window in the front wall is actually four small panes set into a steel frame, and each section is much too small for me to fit through. But the window in the top third of the door looks about my size. I mime smashing it to Callum, and he nods. Then he strips off his shorts.
It’s not that I mind the free peep show. Truly I don’t. But I’m not sure how being naked is going to help….
Then he wraps his shorts around his fist, and I understand.
He punches the glass high in one corner, and I expect it to shatter. Instead, it falls into the cabin in one unbroken piece. Callum frowns at me, surprised, and I can only shrug.
He lifts me by my hips, his fingers close enough to my crotch to give me happy flashbacks, and I realize once the opening is staring me in the face that there’s no good way for me to get through it other than to dive headfirst. Which lands me in a heap on the floor.
I get up, rubbing my bruised shoulder, and glance around to make sure the building is truly unoccupied, then I study the door, suddenly afraid that it can’t be opened from either side without that wrist com. But the inside has a deadbolt that can be operated either electronically or manually.
I twist the lever, and the door swings open.
Callum comes inside, now wearing his shorts again, and while he bolts the door, I kneel to pick up the window pane he knocked out. In contrast to the rustic feel of the cabin, it’s actually not glass at all, but some kind of anti-shatter polymer fitted into place with simple silicone calking. Which explains why it came loose in one piece.
They probably didn’t expect any of the inmates to be small enough to fit through the hole, even with the window knocked out.
Callum sets it back into place, to keep anyone from noticing at a glance that something’s wrong. Which is probably a pointless effort. If the hunter gets this close to the cabin, he’s definitely going to want to come inside, whether or not he knows we’re here. And if that happens, we’ll be trapped, because there’s only one exit.
Which means we probably shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.
I start to turn on the lights, but Callum’s hand lands over mine on the panel, stopping me. I don’t need an explanation to know that he’s right. We want the cabin to look unoccupied. Fortunately, in what’s left of the mottled daylight shining through the windows, I can see a narrow bed with an actual mattress, which is easily the most exciting thing I’ve seen in nearly two days. Except for Callum’s cock. And his abs. And his biceps. And…
Food. There’s actual food stacked in one corner, in the crate Callum has just ripped open. Food, and several bottles of water.
This is a cabin and a ration station.
We descend upon the crate like starving people, which we practically are, and Callum is gentleman enough to drop several protein cakes in my lap before he rips into one for himself. After days spent on the prison transport, I’d hoped never to see another protein cake, but at this point I would gladly eat a bird raw, if I could make one fall from the sky, and dry rations look great by comparison.
I’ve eaten three of them and downed two bottles of water before I slow down enough to taste anything. Or to realize there’s no bathroom. But there is a rustic sink, of the workshop variety, in one corner. I’m not sure we should drink from it without any purification tablets, but there are several rags and a couple of small towels folded on a shelf on the wall, and that’s good enough for a sponge bath.
I strip down, wishing I had clean clothes to change into, and Callum seems more interested in helping me bathe than in turning around to give me some privacy. Until he notices t
he bite mark on my left breast, which, I now realize, he has yet to see uncovered by my bra.
Storm clouds roll over his eyes and I shrink away from him for a second, before I realize his anger isn’t directed at me. He says something through clenched teeth, clearly asking about the bite, but I don’t have the words to explain what happened to me in his language.
So, I hand him a wet rag and indicate with gestures that he should clean himself too. Changing the subject, because even if I had the words, I don’t think I’d want to talk about this.
He drops the rag in the sink and gently lifts my breast, then leans down to lay a warm kiss right over the bite mark. Then he turns me by my shoulders and starts running my warm rag over my back.
I start to object…but it feels so good. And now that we’ve eaten, we have nothing better to do and nowhere better to go. So, I stand still while Callum rinses and rewarms the rag, then tilts my head up and slowly wipes grime from my neck, following each caress of the cloth with a trail of soft kisses on my damp skin. He rinses again and lets the rag get pretty hot this time, then he lowers himself onto his knees and starts wiping my left breast with long, steamy caresses that all end at the peak of my nipple.
By the time he moves on to my right breast, I’m breathing heavily, and when I moan in disappointment about the abandoned left side, he pulls me closer and takes my still-damp nipple into his mouth. He sucks gently, then a little firmer as he flicks his tongue over the tip in a rhythm my hips want to mimic by rocking against him.
“Mmm…” His hand slides over my lower back to cradle my backside, and he releases my left breast to clean the right one, ignoring my complaints this time with a devilish smile.
My intention with the rag was to clean myself, but this is starting to feel very, very dirty.
Callum runs the rag over each of my arms, then my stomach, and by the time he gets to my butt, his erection is straining the front of his shorts, demanding attention. And his eyes feel like bright blue coals, burning right through me.
I take the rag from him and insist that he turn while I clean my own lower parts, and I know he’s doing the same when I hear the water running. I drop my rag in the sink, and before it even hits the bottom, he’s swung me up into his arms. I squeal, startled, but I’m laughing by the time he lays me on the bed.
“Maci…” he murmurs as he kisses his way down my neck and over my collarbone. Then he says that word he keeps calling me that isn’t my name, but sounds a bit like a sexy growl rumbling around a couple of consonants. If I ever learn his language, I’m going to ask what that—
I gasp as his mouth closes over my nipple again, and my thoughts splinter like shattered glass. But this time there’s no lingering. He nibbles both peaks, then licks a lavish trail down my stomach, dipping briefly into my navel, then down, down…
“Wait!” I try to clamp my knees closed, and his face gets caught between my thighs. “You don’t have to…”
He growls and tugs my legs apart again, then makes a shushing gesture as his face disappears between the V of my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me sit up on my elbows, gasping. It’s strange new sensation. Blisteringly intimate, and …
He licks me again, and again, and now there’s a rhythm and I can’t remember why I was objecting. His hand slides up my stomach to my sternum, where he applies gentle pressure, telling me to lie back. Relax.
My head sinks onto the pillow and I close my eyes as a familiar hot pressure begins to build, spiraling tighter with every swirling lick against my clit. He slides two fingers into me, testing gently, and I tense, sore at first. He teases my clit more firmly and begins a careful rhythm with his fingers, and as I grow wetter, the soreness eases.
My hips arch up on their own, seeking more from him, and he groans, then thrusts faster, pressing up inside me with each stroke.
“Oh.” I clutch at the sheets, and he stops licking me long enough to whisper something encouraging and drop a tantalizing kiss on my thigh. Then his tongue finds my clit again in a devastating, demanding rhythm that leaves me panting as wave after wave of sensation crashes over me, leaving me throbbing in the best way.
Somehow, Callum can express himself perfectly without speaking a single word…
9
CALLUM
Maci comes on my tongue, riding my fingers, and my cock is so hard it almost hurts. I have to have her. She’s so beautiful, and delicate, and adorably fierce, and the knowledge that someone hurt her is enough to make me want to pound my fist into the bastard’s mouth until he doesn’t have any teeth left to bite with.
But that’s an indulgence for later. For now…
She blinks up at me, breathing heavily, lips slightly parted as if they’re waiting for my mouth…
Somehow, just as I’ve reached the end of my life, fate has given me a reason to live. A reason not just to kill my executioner in one final statement, then wait for a hail of laser fire from the responding guards, but to…escape. If not from the planet, then from the enclosure. Into one of the open populations, where guards don’t patrol on foot. Where thousands of other inmates will provide the cover we need to live out the rest of our days on our terms.
I’ve just met her, yet I already know I can’t give her up. And I can’t let her die. Not in here. Not like this. Not while there is still breath in my lungs.
I crawl up her body, reveling in the flush of her heated skin, and I can’t resist a nibble of her nipple on the way. “Hellkitten, your bliss is a thing of beauty,” I whisper against her neck as I position myself between her scorching thighs. “Let me see it one more time.”
She moans as I slide into her, her flesh still swollen and obviously sensitive from her orgasm. She’s just as tight as before, but more accommodating, and it’s a good damn thing, because I’ve never been this hard. This thick. I’ve never needed anything like I need her in this moment.
She’s ready again almost instantly, rising to meet each thrust, her cheeks pink, her brown eyes half-closed with unabashed lust. My hellkitten has come a long way in a day. She’s ravenous, and I want to spend the rest of our lives on this miserable planet feeding my cock to her any way she wants it.
I want the rest of our lives to be much longer than the handful of days we can reasonably expect to survive in this fucking enclosure. I need more time with her. I need…
I need to come inside her right now.
“Maci, I can’t wait,” I whisper, nuzzling her ear, fighting the urge to thrust hard and fast. “Come again for me, hellkitten. Let me watch.”
She can’t possibly understand me, but her body responds, tightening brutally around me as she falls over the edge again. She clutches at me, making hungry little noises with her eyes closed, and I lose control as her legs clench around my hips. Taking me deeper.
My rhythm lost, I thrust desperately, releasing into her over and over until we’re a tangle of sweaty limbs and pulsing aftershocks.
And still, I think I could take her again.
I pull out of her slowly, regretfully, because my weight must be crushing her, though she’s not complaining. She pushes herself up on her elbows to kiss me, then runs her hand through my hair and says a word I know I’ve already learned, but I’m too tired to process. Until she pats the pillow.
Sleep. She wants me to sleep. As if we’re on some off-world vacation, roughing it in the simulated danger of a holographic scenario. But this hell is real, and at the end of the day we’re not going to flip a switch and turn off the heat, and the woods, and the mechanical hounds. When this game is over, we’ll be dead, and the hunter will turn off his infrared goggles and go back to whatever interplanetary corporate empire he runs, until the next time he needs to blow off steam by hunting and killing a member of his own species.
Unless we flip the script. Unless we hunt the hunter.
The sun’s setting. I should keep watch. Yet I can’t keep going without rest, and we’re in a locked room. Maybe…
But th
is locked room can be opened by the man trying to kill us. This place is only a facade of safety, no more practical than the hunting stand, now that we’ve eaten and been hydrated.
Yet there’s no place better. No place safer.
Maci points to her eyes with two fingers, then aims the gesture toward the window, signaling that she’ll keep watch.
“Okay,” I relent. “But wake me up if you see or hear anything.”
She nods, and surely even if she didn’t understand my actual words, the meaning was clear. While I try to get comfortable on the thin mattress, she heads over to the sink to wash up in the last of the daylight. Clean again, she makes a face as she pulls her sweaty clothes back on.
When I close my eyes, she’s sitting in the only chair in the rapidly darkening room, next to the window, with a dried fruit bar and a bottle of water. I watch her until I can no longer hold my eyes open.
I only intended to nap for a couple of hours, but I can tell from the position of the moon shining through the window that it’s been much longer than that when I wake up. Yet Maci still sits in her chair, staring out the window with her elbow on the sill, her chin propped in her hand.
For a moment, I watch her in silence, wondering how fate could have had such mercy on me, to throw such a strong, beautiful woman at me during the worst—and possibly last—hours of my life. I deserve this enclosure. I deserve the worst the hunter has to offer, but she can’t possibly.
Standing, I shake off grogginess as she turns, alerted by the squeal of the bedsprings. Her smile is beautiful, and the light in her eyes when she sees me makes me catch my breath.
I should take her again. Who knows if we’ll ever even see another bed. But we won’t get out of the enclosure by hiding in this tiny cabin all night.
Hunter Page 9