***
“Jax!” she hissed. Jax sat bolt upright, immediately assessing the danger around them.
“Stand up slowly,” he said, reaching slowly for his weapon and standing. She followed his lead, but the dogs were too fast. Her only chance was to run.
Chapter 10
It seemed like she ran forever, further than she had ever thought she could run. All the training her legs had gotten over the years left her agile and athletic, but still, strenuous walking took its toll and her legs were cramping fiercely. She'd lost sight of Jax ages ago, it was only her and the dogs now. Nothing else existed, and nobody else would matter if she was mauled to death, because that would be it; the end of her story.
She didn't know when she had started crying, but it was making her breathe laboriously. She tried to dodge into a tree but failed, and had to keep moving before they caught her. The only reason they hadn't yet was that Jax had distracted them long enough, given them enough distance so that she might have a chance to escape. She wondered if the dogs had killed him, but she couldn't think about that now, not with the adrenaline in her veins, the blood rushing in her ears. She would run now and ask questions later.
And then there was no hope. A wolf, no, it was a husky with wild eyes, but a wolf nonetheless, bared its fangs at her. She thought it drooled rudely onto the forest floor, but it was too dark to be sure. All she saw was the teeth in the moonlight, the pale white fur, the menacing glint in the eyes. And then she saw blood, pooling from its beautiful neck. It fell facedown and she turned, wild-eyed to see Jax bounding toward her, holding her tightly in the darkness, whispering that it was going to be okay now, and they were going to find a place to rest. He would carry her, they would be all right.
They stumbled around in the forest, it was completely uncharted territory for both of them, until they finally stumbled into an old cabin. It smelled awful, like all the other homes did before they were re-inhabited, but they would worry about that later. It was better to be safe from the dog packs out there, certain to be seeking revenge for having one of their own killed.
Jax sat Layne gently on a musty old couch as he searched the house impatiently for supplies. He found the linen closet, changed the sheets on an old bed, checking to make sure it wasn't too moldy, and beckoned her to lay with him. They sank into the bed together, exhausted, and fell asleep before their eyes were fully closed.
***
When they awoke, it was still dark, though it was more obviously morning. They weren't well-rested per se, but they were both used to sleeping in short bursts. Survival was easier that way. She'd heard the term wolf-napping used before by one of the pseudo scientists in her tube, and thought it applied well to their situation. The sudden thought of wolves caused her to sit bolt upright in her bed and pat her shoulder. Her bag was gone. She lost her seeds as the wolves were chasing her. All hope was lost. There was no way she could settle anywhere now.
She closed her eyes and began to grieve in earnest, her sobs stirring Jax from his slumber. He had thought about being a gentleman the night before and sleeping on the couch, but after the close call they'd had, he couldn't bring himself to leave her sight. He sat up, troubled by her disturbance, and touched her shoulder gently.
“It's all right,” he said softly, his voice tired and hoarse. He hadn't had any water for a while.
“No,” she sobbed. “My seeds. My bag is gone. Everything was in there. That was everything...”
He held her tightly but she pushed him away.
“We need to go back,” she demanded.
“We don't need to go back,” he said, still groggy but sitting up.
“What's wrong with you? Of course we need to go back!” She was sitting up, staring at him wildly.
“No, no. I mean of course we would if we needed to but we don't.”
She was about to smack him in earnest when he got up from the bed and trudged to the sofa in the cabin's living room. He came back and plopped her bag down in front of her, then went outside to urinate and stretch. He came in and sipped his water, surprised. Layne was crying again.
“I thought they were gone forever, my hopes...”
“Hey, it's fine. I'll take care of you.”
Jax lowered himself beside her and she threw her arms around him.
“You saved my life last night. You saved my seeds. You're just so...”
He raised his dark eyebrows and pursed his lips as if hoping she wouldn't continue. She laughed, and then her lips were against his, their warmth gripping him hard, taking him by surprise. It awoke something fierce within him, a pent up energy that he'd been ignoring for all these years, utilizing solely for the purpose of survival. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her with all his strength, settling her on his lap where she could feel the manifestation of his desire burning through their clothes. It excited and aroused her, and she pressed herself experimentally against it, flushing slightly when he responded with a kiss on the neck.
He let his hands roam her perfect body, finally allowing himself to take a moment to appreciate it all. It had been right there in front of him all this time, but he had never felt like it was okay to look; like if he did, it would be a blinding siren's call to certain death. Not that she was a siren, it was more like he didn't trust his own mental discipline. But now it was different. They were somewhere safe. It wasn't even light out yet, they had nowhere to be in particular. And everything felt right.
Layne shuddered, the alien feeling of another person's fingertips on her flesh making goosebumps stand out on her arms. The threadlike tendrils of pleasure he wove through her caught her in a web, and even if she tried she wouldn't be able to avoid succumbing to the guilty pleasure of his body. He was a strong man, both in spirit and body, and once upon a time she would have stared at him like he was a piece of meat, imagining what might be going on in his head and assuming there wasn't much else to him than that. But here he was, showering her with gentle kisses, his eyes sharp and senses calculating, doing just so to elicit just such a response, treating her with the curiosity and wonder of a virgin making love to his first girlfriend.
She almost thought him timid, but no, he tore her shirt off after toying with the buttons; licked her clavicle and nibbled her ears as he pushed off his boxers, revealing his swollen member, engorged and more exciting all on its own than any one of her sexual memories. His touch was intoxicating, as if he had waited all his life just to unleash his prowess on one woman, and now that she was there, and they were together, she would receive nothing less than royal treatment.
He was lifting her again, she was floating weightless, helpless, struggling to submit but ultimately losing the battle and happier for it. He kissed her, their tongues dancing in one another's mouths, stoking the fires inside of them until suddenly it was done – he was in her and she was moaning with a pleasure deeper than anything she had ever known. She held tightly to his bronzed shoulders as they kissed and made love, and he uttered appreciative and reverent groans as he thrust slowly and deliberately inside of her, amplifying any pleasure she might feel to incite his own.
He stayed in control so long that she almost thought he was robotic, and then she sucked his neck, licked his earlobes, scratched gently down his back and saw his control waver. His inhibitions rippled away and he was hammering, thrusting harder, deeper, until she buckled against him, screamed in rapture, shuddered and climaxed again and again, until her contractions squeezed him inside of her, eliciting the rupture of his orgasm, filling her with an explosive flood of power. It seized her and would have brought her to her knees if she were standing up, and they collapsed, breathless, onto the bed, curled around each other like pleased kittens, nibbling each other's lips in bliss until they fell back asleep.
Chapter 11
It was late afternoon before they woke up again, bathroom breaks notwithstanding. The sun had finally risen, and they stretched comfortably in the cabin. They'd gotten used to the smell sometime during the night, and withou
t it, and with the touch of the sun, it was actually really cozy. Layne laid in bed, looking at the pictures on the walls, a framed leaf plated with gold on a cream mounting board; a motivational phrase embroidered onto a scroll, encouraging everyone to live in the moment and believe the best is possible. She recognized the quote from somewhere but couldn't quite place it anymore. It had been too long since she dared to wander into a library. Most of them had water damaged books, and the smell of mold was too much for her allergies. She might as well have rolled around on a rug made of cat fur.
Finally, she gazed at the perfect sleeping body of Jax. She let her eyes roam in full golden glory what she hadn't been able to see in the dark. It had been the best sex of her life, nothing could possibly compare. His hand was resting on his bare chest, and she touched it, unable to believe that somebody so mysteriously powerful had come into her life. But there he was.
He gripped her hand tightly as he opened his eyes. He looked well-rested for the first time since they met. She realized that he never seemed able to fully relax – he was always on the alert, looking out for danger, watching out at all times so she wouldn't have to. It was nice to see him have a break for a change. It was something that she would like to get used to. He deserved some peace of mind once in a while.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile.
“Morning,” she replied.
She was worried that her breath smelled bad. She had cardamom seeds in her bag. She hoped that once they were planted they could chew on them to improve their oral hygiene. She had a toothbrush but without toothpaste it wasn't exactly breath-refreshing. Most people didn't bother anymore, but she did her best. It was something she and Jax had in common. The people in the tribes were too miserable to care much about their hygiene.
Jax sat up, kissing her on the cheek, and cracked the window by the bed open. They were hit with a smell that Layne found intoxicating, and she had a sudden urge to run outside and play like she would have when she was just a young girl. The fresh air and the trees awakened her.
“Let's go explore!” she exclaimed. “I want to see what it's like here.”
“All right,” he said, laying lazily on the bed, everything tantalizingly exposed but his groin. Each knew what the other was thinking, and he tackled her back onto the bed.
When they were done, they pulled their clothes back on and headed outside with their backpacks.
“I really like it here,” Layne decided. It had a good feeling about it. Good energy, as if it had been inhabited by kind people. After a while of wandering, you got a sense like that about a place. She tried to avoid old homes because the bad feelings were the worst, especially when you were alone.
Jax nodded.
“Look, it gets better!”
They had suddenly come upon a gravel pathway. They glanced at each other excitedly. Each side of the path was littered with edible berry bushes.
“This is quaint,” Jax said, plucking a berry from its stem and popping it into his mouth. Layne laughed. Jax was the kind of person who would say “quaint and mean it.” She followed his lead, picking a handful of berries, and they began walking down the path, unsure of what they would find.
“Why do I feel like this is Hansel and Gretel?” Layne asked as they moved forward cautiously.
“Maybe we all feel like characters in a book when things are too good to be true, because we believe the catch will come at any minute.”
“What if I choose not to believe in a catch this time?” The day had been too perfect.
“We'll find out when we reach the end of the path,” Jax said with a shrug.
They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked, picking berries and eating until finally, they reached a clearing. They stared at the sight in disbelief, clinging to each other's hands tightly.
They were standing in front of a giant solar panel, surrounded by a garden – boxes of raised beds with old, shriveled, plants wilting in them.
“This is unreal,” Jax said, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. If he had glasses he would put them on right now.
“Pinch me,” Layne whispered. Jax pinched her butt and she laughed, pushing him away. “Ass.”
He grinned, turning to her, giddy with pleasure.
“This means running water. They would need a well out here. Layne, you can have this. We can keep it. You can have a home again!”
The threat of the wild dogs seemed like a distant memory. Here was the remains of somebody's dreamland. A place that was already growing its own compost. The animals got into all of the food of course, they would have to be careful, but it was a start. They embraced tightly, and Layne wept tears of joy. Jax held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. She would be safe her, and they would stick together, creating a home, somewhere stable where he could bring his brother to safety.
THE END
The story continues in Book 2, available now from Amazon
Welcome to Zombie Island
Natalie Nixon
Copyright ©2015 by Cynthia Wilde. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work! Please
Chapter 1
Club SINZ was celebrating its grand opening, and had pulled out all the stops to make their first night in business a memorable one. The place was packed with everyone from porn stars to rich losers to travel writers, all desperate to be part of the Caribbean's newest adult getaway. Club SINZ's advertising promised to make the Hedonism resorts look like a church picnic. Among the guests was a contingent of Estonian tourists, who not coincidentally, just happened to be beautiful, open-minded, and available women. The owners had clearly "stocked the pond" with professionals to ensure their initial guests left with fond memories - and maybe a few painful urinary tract infections as well.
Cass Bauer, the main bartender was more interested in the clock than the crowd. She had important plans tonight that didn't involve Club SINZ. The last month of opening preparations had been chaotic, forcing her to work endless hours. Being an army veteran she had leadership skills, which had inspired management to entrust her with more responsibilities than the usual mixologist. She'd practically built the main bar as well as helped with everything from overall renovations to the hiring of local staff. SINZ was the first American business to open on Isla de Tortura, so the Caribbean locals eagerly lined up for the relatively high paying jobs. Two dollars and twenty-seven cents an hour represented big money on Tortura.
Designed like a wagon wheel, Club SINZ had a central pool, surrounded by small cabanas. Tucked behind those were the VIP cabanas, which of course came with private Jacuzzis. The largest building held the dining hall, indoor bar and the industrial sized kitchen facilities. There was a band pavilion and even a miniature golf course. The abundance of outdoor bars guaranteed liquor would always be within staggering distance.
Cass worked the main patio bar. She also taught windsurfing and kickboxing on the beach, but since the clientele lived on a diet of alcohol, frozen shrimp and pharmaceuticals, the turnout for physical fitness had been… underwhelming. But her time at the beach hadn't been a waste, because that was where she had met Talin, who was, of all things, the island's Voodoo Priest. At first she had been understandably wary of him. Talin had to be the most eccentric person she'd ever met, and that was saying something. You might wonder what an ex-military bartender had in common with an islands-raised witch doctor, and you would be surprised. Chemistry can go a long way. Over the course of a few weeks she'd happily become his lover as well as his pupil, of all things. If her current infatuation held, she planned to stay on the island with Talin for the rest of her life. It was a big change of plans, but she was impulsive like that. She’d been getting by like that for years and it always seemed to work out, so she
wasn’t worried about it. She was actually pretty excited about the future.
Initially Cass planned to kill a few months on Isla de Tortura, and then drift on to the next spot that held her interest. Keep moving and don't tie yourself down had become her mantra since leaving the military. Her first months in the civilian world had been dicey though. Without the boundaries of military life her behavior had gotten reckless and out of control. The endless parade of anonymous sexual encounters and all night drinking binges had gotten more and more extreme as time went on. None of it so much as put a dent in the pain that enveloped her though. She had actually been trying in vain to envelop herself in a nice cushion of emotional numbness, but to no avail. Eventually she had had to acknowledge that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was really “a thing”, that she had it, and that it wasn't going away on its own. Once she had acknowledged and begun to face it, she'd come a long way in just a few months. Her drinking was almost nonexistent; she'd stopped banging nameless losers and, most amazingly, hadn't beaten the shit out of anyone in a month or more. But the customer leaning on the bar at that moment was really challenging her on that last note at the moment.
He was an oily looking guy, who clearly bought his way into the grand opening. They probably had charged him double. He was definitely a beta male who bought his clothes in the alpha male store. From the moment he had approached the bar, he'd been finding excuse after excuse to make casual contact with Cass' hands. He also kept offering to buy her drinks. Maybe he hadn’t noticed that she was the bartender and already had access to any drink she wanted. Fucking idiot.
"So what time do you finish up here?" he asked, for the sixth time.
Amazing, she thought… in what he should have identified as a perfect storm of women with high blood alcohol and low self-esteem, this jackass fixates on the one woman he can't have. Cass counted backwards in her head, engaging an old trick she often used to diffuse the inner rage this guy seemed intent on releasing.
HUNTER (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 11) Page 13