Wild Wastes Omnibus

by Randi Darren

  Again came a stream of words, none of which he knew. He swore he could pick out a few in there that he’d heard before.

  Unable to appropriately ask what she’d done to treat his wounds, he decided to try pointing. She’d clearly attempted the same method to him earlier.

  Pointing at his shoulder in front of her nose, he waited a second. Her eyes focused on his finger before looking back to him.

  Moving his hand again, he pointed at the wound on his stomach.

  Her eyes followed his finger towards the wound.

  “What did you do?” Vince asked, moving his pointing finger to his shoulder and then back to his stomach. “Infection is easy to get out here. Oh hell, she won’t know what I’m saying, what am I doing?”

  Dropping his hand to his side and laying his head back down on the grass, he stared up at the tree canopy above him.

  Check it in the morning.

  Beside him, the warrior shifted to an upright sitting position, withdrawing her hand and knee both. His skin felt cold as she drew back. Letting his eyes move to his apparent savior, he watched her.

  Her eyebrows were drawn together and her lips were pursed. She looked like she was contemplating something.

  “Fes?” Vince asked, hoping that nothing was wrong.

  Blinking rapidly at the question, the Orc looked to his face.

  “Fes,” she said with a nod of her head.

  Her right hand snaked down along his stomach. Her fingers brushed over the wound gently and then straight down to his privates.

  Her fingers immediately curled around his girth and gave him a light squeeze. Soft, callused fingers with a careful grip. She cradled him in her palm and brushed a thumb over his tip.

  The whisper of the touch made his skin prickle. Vince’s breath caught between his teeth as his heart lurched.

  Reaching out with his left hand to stop her, he encountered her free hand. She lightly swatted his hand back and then pointedly looked into his eyes.

  Her fingers gently squeezed him, the firm flesh of her hand sliding upwards before releasing him. For a warrior, her touch was surprisingly gentle.

  Her nails, a little longer than a man’s, grazed up and down along the underside of his length. The simple unexpectedness of the touch made it jerk in response.

  Again, his body betrayed him, immediately responding to the soft, sensuous touch of the warrior woman.

  Her hand closed around him once more and with another squeeze of her hand, he’d gone to full attention.

  Releasing him, she swung a leg over his hips. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she pressed her knees into his sides. She then set one hand down beside his head and caught his eyes with her own.

  Distracted by the intensity of her gaze, he missed it when she reached down between her legs with her left hand.

  Staring into her large black eyes, he felt himself at a loss. It wasn’t until he felt the heated touch of her fingers on him again that his brain shifted gears.

  Her fingers stopped moving and instead pulled at him with gentle tugs.

  Tender fingertips pulled him upwards and he felt the tip press to the soft opening between her legs. Unerringly, she guided him into her channel and then slid herself down onto it in a single fluid motion.

  Vince felt the tightness of her as she squeezed him. The give of her flesh as she impaled herself.

  He caught a momentary flash of pain crossing her features as she settled herself onto his lap at the end of her journey.

  Fes took in a shuddering breath, putting her other hand beside his head now.

  The incredible warmth of her skin was nothing in comparison to the crackling heat of her core.

  Vince stared into those inhuman eyes for several heartbeats as she stared back into him. Then the warrior woman began to move herself back and forth atop him, working him slowly in and out of herself.

  Physically unable to respond, Vince lay there as she did the work for the both of them. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as his body responded to her determined yet inexperienced ministrations.

  Her breath started as slow, easy exhalations, washing over his face and neck. Her lips parted to reveal her tongue and teeth. It didn’t take long before the intensity of rolling her hips brought her to deep, heaving breaths.

  With each and every undulation, he could feel her tightening as she got closer to release.

  Despite her inexperience, she brought herself to a dead pant in only minutes. Her hips worked furiously now as she found the rhythm she wanted.

  Vince noticed when her big black eyes went wide and started to glaze over as she stared down at him.

  Laying his hands on the sides of her thighs with a light touch, he gave her what guidance and encouragement his numbed mind offered up.

  Unexpectedly to him, she sat down heavily on his hips, burying himself up to the hilt. Her waist grinded back and forth as if trying to drive it deeper.

  Then her entire body came to a shuddering halt. She held her breath, before letting out a slow, raspy exhalation.

  Collapsing atop him, she closed her eyes and immediately fell off to sleep.

  Leaving him hard up, wide awake, and about as deep as he could be in her molten insides.

  Staring up at the sky above him again, Vince wasn’t quite sure how to take what had happened.

  For the time being, all he could do was go along with it.

  It’s not like it didn’t feel good. I’m only a man, after all. But… with an Orc? That’s… yeah.

  Shit, wish I finished.

  Chapter 3

  Vince spent the next two nights being cared for by Fes. It took that long before he could even stand without feeling like he’d pass out.

  After that, he started his long journey back west through the Wastes. To his surprise, and yet not really, Fes joined him.

  There was no point in heading east to see if his clients had made it. If they had, they could leave with a patrol. If they hadn’t, it was irrelevant.

  West it was, then.

  During the day, he rested and tried to conserve his strength as they traveled. He checked his wounds frequently and always found them healing quite well. More so than he would’ve had any right to expect them to if he were a simple human.

  At times, Fes would leave for a while and return with food, both wild game and anything she could forage.

  In the short time since their first encounter, she’d clearly come light years ahead in her survival skills.

  As they trekked west, they talked to each other in their own languages. Sometimes for the sake of simply speaking to another person, even if they didn’t understand one another, and other times to begin teaching the other.

  They started to pick up various words here and there, though Fes clearly had a better grasp of English than he did of Orcish. The simplest way, of course, was pointing at items and things and then naming them.

  Most surprising was when they settled in for the night.

  Each and every evening, Fes mounted him until she dropped, sleeping atop him. Vince wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, but felt no need to try and stop it.

  Why should he? It was pleasurable and his only real concern was… well, he hadn’t gotten off. Yet.

  Sexual pleasure without a release was its own torture.

  As to her motivations, from what he could tell, they were genuine. The brief flashes from his empathic gift, when he couldn’t control it, only returned emotions of honesty and concern to him from Fes. Or desire.

  Whole lot of desire, actually.

  Enough to make a brothel seem tame. For such a stern and thoughtful warrior woman, she seemed internally driven to distraction by her own sexual wants.

  He’d have never guessed.

  They made slow progress despite neither of them having much in the way of baggage.

  Vince had his sword, a knife, canteen, and an empty rucksack.

  Fes had her own gigantic sword, of course, some imple
ments for skinning and tanning, and the sackcloth he’d given her.

  It didn’t help their speed when Vince was paranoid of any encounter, no matter how small it might appear or remote. He’d drag Fes into whatever cover was nearby whenever he felt like there might be a danger nearby.

  Diving into the foliage, he’d pull her in close and wait for whatever perceived danger to pass. Or for his paranoia to pass.

  Either or.

  She seemed content enough when he did so, letting him dictate their direction and movements.

  The only time she became insistent was right before they’d try to get some sleep. For obvious reasons that he didn’t argue with, she always got her way.

  And just like that, they passed through the Rocky Mountain Range as winter released its grip without incident.

  Vince had a quiet thought in his mind about the fact that this single trip had cost him half a year already. The return trip was almost so quiet that he feared what he’d find upon returning home.

  He didn’t voice it, of course, since it would only jinx the whole damn thing.

  Once they were out of the mountains, things got easier. Wasters were in short numbers this far out.

  It became more of a matter of dodging humans out past the mountainous divide. Those humans would happily avoid you as you avoided them, which suited both he and Fes just fine.

  The world had never been truly kind, but now it wasn’t even cordial.

  Fes had the look of a warrior facing their doom, though, as they went.

  Every day they traveled further into the human lands and closer to the edge of the Wastes, the more she looked troubled.

  It also showed at night. Her lovemaking became more and more frantic at night.

  Their destination was Vince’s family home, so he shared none of her concern or fear. It was actually inside the edge of what was considered by most as being the Wastes.

  It was in what used to be a national forest in California, to be exact.

  His parents had made sure to keep the wild animal and Wasteland animal population alive and well populated. They encouraged those creatures to propagate freely.

  A forest full of Wastes creatures kept other humans out, after all.

  He’d grown up in this forest. Knew it inside and out. Leading Fes straight to the two-story home through the thick woods and over shallow streams was as simple as if there had been a giant, glowing arrow in the sky above it.

  Not bothering to show Fes around, or even strip his clothes off other than his leather armor, Vince had slumped into his bed and passed out without a word when they finally arrived.

  Waking up the next morning, he knew it was pre-dawn. One of the unfortunate side effects of his gifts was a predisposition to wake before the sun.

  Looking to his side, he found Fes sleeping in his bed with him. She hadn’t woken him up the previous night and had been content to simply join him.

  It’d been the first time there’d been no coupling the night before.

  Looking around his room, he felt a little strange. Once he’d turned eighteen, he’d built the additional room himself. With his father’s help, of course. “Odd” was the only way he could describe his feelings now.

  No one else had been in this home since his parents had left something like six years ago.

  Except now he had a woman here.

  In his home.

  In his bed.

  An Orc woman.

  An Orc warrior woman.

  One that seemed intent to ride him like a cheap date every night.

  Fes snorted and then let out a loud, ripping snore, one tusk peeking out from her lower lip.

  Vince watched the sleeping Orc for a second before he gently brushed loose strands of hair back from her eyes.

  In response to his touch, she tucked her head under his shoulder and snuffled before resuming her dedicated battle against the silence, snoring deeply and loudly.

  No delicate princess here.

  Getting out of the bed quietly with a small grin, he pulled the covers up over Fes. Then, using his best impression of a ninja, he slipped out of the bedroom.

  Entering what could be called the living room, he found Fes’s equipment in the corner. A quick glance provided him with confirmation that nothing else had changed.

  At all.

  Haven’t made it home, have ya?

  Vince dismissed thoughts of his parents and went to the basement trapdoor. He opened it and looked inside.

  “Breakfast won’t make itself,” Vince muttered. Clambering down the wooden steps into the cellar, he sighed.

  He walked past the jars upon jars of pickled and preserved food and headed straight to the back.

  Opening another door, he stepped into a room that seemed more like something from a horror story.

  Racks upon racks of cured meat, still on the bone, hung from hooks.

  His parents had discovered early on that Vince had a number of things that set him apart from normal humans.

  The most unusual trait was his ability to take anything he ate and make it a part of himself.

  In fact, that was how he’d developed his ability to see in the dark so well. His parents were nothing if not proficient hunters. They’d brought back any number of animals for supper, many of which had incredible night vision, or simply better vision in general.

  His mother, ever the scientist, had noticed that her little boy wasn’t developing in normal ways. Through trial and error, hypothesis and testing, she’d eventually narrowed it down to his diet.

  In the end, his mother had begun feeding him various things to bring about changes. Changes she could track, such as vision, regeneration from damage, resistance to toxins—anything that she could attribute to a specific animal, catch, and then feed him.

  Not faulting her for curiosity, but instead praising her for helping him to develop his gift, Vince now had a room full of cured meat.

  As well as a very healthy and stronger-than-normal body.

  He trained that body with the sword, his mind with the knowledge his parents had passed down to him, and his… whatever it was, with the genetic sampling of other creatures.

  Settling down to his “breakfast” routine, he began carving out chunks of each and every type of meat in his cellar, and ate it right there.

  Eating more than his fill, Vince managed to pull himself out of the cellar before he made himself sick.

  He pulled out enough from the larder for a breakfast for Fes when she got up, and set it out on the table. There was no way she could miss the sight of it, let alone not smell it.

  Her sense of smell is almost better than my own.

  He left his home quietly after collecting his “bathroom kit.” No reason to look like a wild bushman if you didn’t have to. Today would be a good day to get rid of the facial hair that had sprung up during the trip.

  The kit also contained soap, which he hadn’t taken with him, a hand towel to scrub the grit and dirt out, and a large bath towel to dry himself with.

  He walked in the silence of the dawn to the nearby creek. He hadn’t been able to wash himself in weeks, and was starting to feel more like an animal than a man.

  Fresh and safe water wasn’t bountiful in the Wastes.

  Not to mention he’d need to check the condition of the creek and make sure the water was flowing cleanly. Stagnant water was the quickest way to setting himself up for a future failure.

  He heard the water long before he saw it. The sound of it assured him that nothing had changed.

  One less thing to fix before we have to head into town and register the partial success.

  The guild of Rangers would be expecting to hear from him. Their ability to negotiate contracts was built on dependability and transparency.

  He’d catch a five-gold standard fine for not completing his mission, but it would be refunded if the East Coast arm of the guild reported the arrival of the clients.

  Vince felt the anger building in his chest for his mission
choice. He berated himself for taking an escort mission.

  They never worked out for him and he knew it.

  Pulling his shirt up over his head, he immediately worked to clear his head.

  He dropped his pants, ripped his socks off, and wriggled himself out of his boots. Dropping his shaver atop his pants, he clutched the soap and hand towel. He was ready. And to clear his head instantly, he dove into the frigid water.

  It wasn’t ice water, really, but it wasn’t far from it.

  Spluttering as he surfaced, he began to lather himself up. He was a Ranger, not a polar bear.

  Dirty polar bear. With an Orc… girlfriend? Slave? Sex buddy?

  Thankfully, the cold water did its job—both to keep his mind clear of anger and other distractions. Like the Orc he’d started thinking about.

  What do I do with her? I have to go into town and check in with the guild. Does she wait here? Do I take her with me? If I do, she’ll have to wear a collar. Would she wear one?

  Law for both the West and East Coasts was that all non-humans needed to be wearing a slave collar. The magic inherent to them prevented the wearer from doing anything outside of the rules placed on them by the owner of the collar.

  He’d found a number of broken collars in the woods. Unfortunately, many an owner would send a slave to simply… die in the woods. He’d encountered a few as they died, even.

  Trying to render them any aid at all would force them to turn violent.

  They were under orders to die, after all.

  Most of the collars had had the appearance of being whole and intact. Functioning.

  Except they weren’t. Since the order was carried out successfully, the collar would show a positive result, but no longer have any power or spelled rules.

  Frowning at the thoughts and coming to no answer, Vince set it aside for now. Taking a deep, bracing breath, he dunked himself under the icy water, washing off the soap and lingering trail dirt.

  Popping back up above the water after several seconds, Vince let out an explosive breath.

  “Good. No stink. Clean,” Fes said from the bank. She was squatting down next to his clothes, her fingers moving through them disinterestedly.

  Vince was awful at Orcish, apparently. Fes had told him so many times. Truth of the matter was he had no ear or tongue for it.