City In Embers

by Stacey Marie Brown

  The picture of Daniel and me stuck out of the book, wrinkled and waterlogged, dulling the color—like we were fading away. Some of the supplies we stole and my phone were now absent. Lying at the bottom of the canal.

  When he was finished, he began to take off his own clothes. My pulse spiked in my veins, sending the first round of life back into my form. He laid the axe and leather halter on the floor with care before he tore off his shirt. His bare chest demanded I look at it. The tattoo went along his neck and traveled the length of his torso in entwining lines of black. He had another one, which covered most of his back. It looked like ancient Asian symbols and etchings. I didn’t know what they meant, but it was gorgeous and mysterious. He dragged his wet jeans over his hips, and they landed in a dense clump, leaving him in only fitted boxer-briefs. His tattoo continued all the way around his side to his thigh, curving over his butt.

  He looked up, and I darted my eyes back to the fire. He put his clothes next to mine on the hearth. “Your wound is healing.” He nodded toward my stomach.

  My head trembled in choppy movements. “Y-Y-Yeaaahhh.”

  He sat next to me. “You can go to sleep if you need to.” His voice sounded tight and uncomfortable. I’m sure being half naked next to a human created unpleasant feelings in him as it did me.

  I nodded and rested on the dirty, scratchy rug. Everything in me hurt. I shook uncontrollably. It had lightened, but not enough. I curled in a ball, fighting the chill in my bones. I heard Ryker sigh deeply, the wood floor creaked as he moved in behind me.

  He didn’t say a word as he pulled my body into his. He curled around me, his large build engulfing me in heat. He rested his head on his bicep, snuggling mine into the curve of his arm. It was like being wrapped in an electric blanket. My muscles instantly responded, melting into him. His skin scorched mine, but this was the good kind of pain. After a while, the warmth allowed me to sleep.

  I awoke to darkness. Only the smoldering embers in the fire gave a little light to the room. I stretched, spasms of pain working along my clenched tendons. The violent shivering finally eased, and my skin turned from purple-gray to a healthier white-gray. At least it was now in the neighborhood of my natural color. Heat from Ryker coated my limbs in a blissful sphere, relaxing the tension his closeness brought.

  Zoey.

  He said it. It was the first time he actually used my name. It was so jarring to have his lips curve over the letters of my name. The way my heart pounded when his deep voice called for me. Granted, I was free-falling into the sea, but strangely I almost forgot about the fact I couldn’t swim. When I heard my name, there was nothing else. I rubbed at my temple, trying to push all thoughts of him saying my name or the fact I was lying practically naked next to him.

  I glanced at him. He lay on his back, one hand on his axe, the other curved around me. His chest moved in steady measure, fast asleep. It was a rare time I could study him without him knowing. My eyes mapped his appearance, taking in every detail. Deep scars lined his face, shoulders, and torso. The skin grew over the wounds in a slightly lighter shade than the rest. I followed the lines of his tattoos in more detail, especially the one curving across his hip onto his ass. I would be lying to say I didn’t enjoy watching him undress.

  His strong chiseled face, tight braids, and Mohawk gave him a ruthless appearance. He was a guy other girls, against all better judgment, would find themselves extremely attracted to: dangerous, tough, distant, and confident. He demanded you be sexually drawn to him, without him doing a thing. He was hot; there was no denying it. Not pretty like some fae I’d seen, but masculine and intense. Like sex with him would be anything but sweet and timid. Primal and all-consuming were the descriptions which came to mind.

  Daniel was the only man I ever looked at, so I never thought about being attracted to a fae. It never seemed probable. I knew too much and saw them differently than other humans did. Being this close to Ryker, I understood the lure. His physique alone would make most people get on their knees and thank his mama.

  A soft moan came from Ryker, causing me to jump. I froze, waiting for him to open his eyes and catch me in the act. He mumbled, turning onto his side, facing me, still sound asleep. I released a slow breath. It would have been embarrassing and really hard to explain. I hate you, but I watch you sleep. Creepy.

  I readjusted myself on my side and faced away from him. My head scarcely settled on the rug when a hand glided along my butt, slinking to my waist. Like an animal stuck in headlights, I went immobile. Everything went on lockdown. Rough palms traced my hip, moving softly but urgently up and down my thigh, curving toward the front of my underwear. My skin flamed where his hand slid, tingling with pleasure. Ryker’s breath was suddenly in my ear as he snuggled closer behind me.

  Zoey! Move! I was about to clamber away, shouting at him, when his arm pulled me closer, drawing himself tighter into the back of me. Thin underwear and his boxer-briefs were the only things keeping him from finding his way in. My mouth fell open, but nothing came out. He was blistering with heat, extremely hard and huge. My heart thumped in my chest, my body responding to his touch.

  “Mara,” he whispered. His lips skimmed the sensitive area behind my ear.

  Her name was like jumping back into the lake.

  “Ryker!” I struggled from his grip. “Ryker, wake up!”

  He lurched, and his head popped up. His grip on me loosened in an instant. I scrambled away. I turned to face him, clutching my knees.

  His expression was clouded and confused. His looked around wildly, then bolted into a sitting position. Like a gradual tide coming in, recognition slowly washed over him, and he seemed to realize where he was and who he was with. He rubbed at his face, his lungs coming back to a normal pace. We sat in silence; neither of us seemed sure what to do or say.

  His shorts still bulged.

  A growling noise gurgled in his throat before he climbed to his feet. Anger pulsed off him. His fists clenched at his sides. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to go patrol the area.” His voice was low and severe. He swiped his axe off the floor and pulled on his half-dry shirt and pants. Without another word, he stomped from the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

  I curled my arms tighter around my legs and pulled them to my chest, trembling. I wasn’t sure if it was from anger, the cold, or disgust. Maybe all three. I pressed my lashes together, trying to dispel what happened from my thoughts. There were so many things wrong with the scenario. But what made my skin itch the most was I could still feel him pressed into me. An impression of his hard-on burned into my skin, initiating dampness below.

  My reaction, natural or not, appalled me.

  The need to cover myself pushed me to my feet. My clothes were still damp, but I tugged them on anyway. I was restless, requiring my legs to move. Sleep was not going to welcome me back now. Instead, I headed outside for some air. There was a tree next to the cabin with a lookout plank. He could guard from below, and I would watch from above. As long as we didn’t run into each other, I didn’t care.

  My feet and arms protested the climb, but my mind was set. I reached the top and collapsed on the wood. The moon forced its way through the dense clouds, casting an eerie glow on the sound, not too far away. The water lapped delicately. It was soothing. I reclined into the trunk of the tree and listened to the sea play and the trees talk to each other.

  SEVENTEEN

  Ryker found me asleep, curled in a ball the next morning. My eyebrows furrowed when his head popped above the plank. I was about to tell him to leave me alone, when he spoke. “You’ll want to see this.” His voice sounded direct and unemotional. He disappeared down the ladder.

  I sat for a few moments debating if I should follow. My curiosity finally got the better of me, but I moved slowly. I throbbed as if I had put myself through a spin cycle, but I kept the soreness to myself. When I reached the porch, he stood, silently offering me my bag. I snatched it from his hands, slipping the strap over my head. Peering inside, I sa
w he placed the contents that had survived the fall back inside. Seeing Daniel’s book calmed my irate mood. It was waterlogged, but it was still with me.

  “All our supplies are gone.” He rolled his jaw. Tension crept over us.

  “Great,” I exhaled. “What did you want me to see?”

  He flicked his head high, his glower still hard on me.

  I glanced up. Hanging from the rain gutter was a bird feeder. The object inside caught my attention. Sprig was sprawled on his back sound asleep. His legs stuck up the side of the clear casing because his frame was too big to fit in the narrow feeder. Birdseed stuck to his lips and fur.

  “Sprig!” I tapped at the case.

  He lifted his head, looking around dazed. “Is not home right now. Please leave a message.” He mumbled and fell back to sleep.

  “Get him. We need to go,” Ryker said.

  “And I need food,” I mumbled. “Guess we all want things we can’t have, huh?” The moment the words came from my mouth, I realized they could be taken another way. I flinched and glanced away from him. I could sense his anger coiling, winding inside, ready to spring.

  He whipped away from me and took off down the porch steps. “We’ll head to the shelter. We need supplies anyway,” he declared, like he was doing me the biggest favor in the world. His pace didn’t ease as he strode into the forest, not waiting for any sort of agreement or acknowledgment from me.

  “Come on, Sprig.” I lifted the top of the bird feeder and pulled him out, tucking the sleepy monkey into my bag.

  “Why is it damp in here? And Pam smells like seaweed,” Sprig hollered.

  “You don’t wanna know,” I muttered and followed Ryker.

  Ryker and I said nothing as we traveled out of the woods and through the city to the shelter. I hoped we wouldn’t have to go back to town so soon. We were trying to limit our visits to only when absolutely necessary, especially after the DMG’s attack yesterday.

  “This is such bullshit,” Ryker grumbled. His mood was stormier than the dark clouds building above our heads. “If I had my powers, I could fuckin’ steal what we need without anyone even knowing I was there. In and out. Done.”

  The mess and resident tents full of people were much too dangerous for us to stay in—rows and rows of cots and sleeping bags with no protection. But our self-imposed rule did allow us to get a quick breakfast and sometimes basic supplies and medicine—if Marcello and his men hadn’t gotten to them first.

  “Yeah, yeah. Life would be rainbows and unicorns if it weren’t for me.” My mood wasn’t much better. We were doing everything in our power to avoid the topic of last night. To me, the faster we both forgot the better. He sent a glower my way. “Sorry. Maybe for you, instead of unicorns and rainbows, I should say pillaging villages and getting drunk off mead.”

  “Mead?” He shook his head. “You actually think I’m a Viking, don’t you?”

  “You look and act like one.”

  “And you’re an asshole,” a voice came from my bag. “Isn’t it the main criterion for a Viking?” I swatted at my messenger bag, shushing Sprig. Anyone close by would find it rather odd my tote talked.

  Ryker ignored the voice in my bag. “I lived for a very short time in the Netherlands but long after the Vikings inhabited the area.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Close enough.”

  He could deny it all he wanted, but his genes had to be directly linked to the Norwegians. He was the archetype of what the History Channel portrayed as a Viking. He looked like an actor ready to step onto a movie set.

  “Get some food, human. Then let’s get out of here.”

  We were back to “human” again. Fine, two could play that game.

  “Yes, master fae.” I bowed my head subserviently, my expression tight and full of mockery. His scowl deepened, curving between his eyebrows. He snarled but didn’t say anything. For some reason, his irritation only pleased me.

  I let him walk in front of me, a gratified smile curling my mouth. It quickly fell as I watched him stride to the tent. His ass was so taut and full it would drag anyone’s focus to it. It looked like every time he flexed his foot to step, it was standing up waving “Hi! I’m Ryker’s ass.” His muscular broad shoulders and narrow waist seemed to demand attention also, but it was large hands dangling at his sides that captured my full focus, the hands that had brushed across my skin, leaving quivers in their wake. Fingers that dug into my skin, pulling me into him. Hot and ready.

  A flush burned along my neck to my cheeks. Revolting, Zoey. I shook my head, clearing the memory. I folded my arms over my chest, looking away. My sour mood turned bitter and acrid in my gut.

  “Now you stay quiet.” I poked at the side of the carrier. “We don’t need any mass hysteria because you can’t keep your trap shut.”

  “Wow. Someone’s cranky today. You part Viking too?”

  We stepped into the tent. Hundreds of people milled around in line and at tables. The odors of eggs and oatmeal wafted to my nose, and my stomach rumbled in response. The last things I ate were some green beans and baked beans.

  The wait in line was agony. Ryker remained on high alert, constantly examining everybody entering or exiting the tent. My empty stomach and the wish to be away from him turned the delay into a test of my will. So many times in my mind I had myself running for the door, escaping from my prison warden. Sprig was being so good at being silent, I was positive he had fallen asleep, which would be fine till he started snoring.

  “Hey.” Ryker pushed a tray into my hands, gathering my attention to him. He sighed deeply when he tried a second time for me to take the item. His patience with me was nil today. The way we were going, we needn’t fear outsiders. We would take each other out.

  Wanting to control portions and keep order, men and women with hairnets served us. Slops of runny eggs, soup-like oatmeal, and slices of stale toast were divided among the masses, running amuck on our trays.

  My lids blinked innocently, my expression turning extra pitiable. “Ma’am, I’m with child...” It was somewhat true. Sprig acted like a baby. “I was hoping to get extra toast. You know, to calm my stomach.” I gently rubbed my belly. Again, I wasn’t lying. I did feel sick to my stomach. But this was entirely due to the night before.

  The tall, big-boned lady peered at Ryker, then back to me and nodded. Now I truly felt ill. Her expression softened as she looked at him and leaned closer to me, dropping two more slices of toast on my plate. “Of course, dear. I remember going through the same thing with my first. I was sicker than a dog.” She squeezed my hand and winked. It was coming, I saw it. The unsolicited advice others seemed almost possessed to give new mothers. “What helped me were saltine crackers, honey, and watermelon. Also acupuncture.”

  The smile on my lips was forced higher. “Thank you.” Yeah, I’d get right on it, especially the acupuncture. I almost snorted at the thought of going to a spa right now, as if Seattle wasn’t in a major catastrophe. Sure, a spa sounded nice.

  Ryker grabbed the platter from my hands as I went to get our coffee. He liked his strong and black, but I missed Starbucks. There were no caramel flavoring or whipped cream options in purgatory. I grabbed several packs of powdered milk and sugar. Nothing was going to make this crappy coffee better, but it was caffeine, and I craved it.

  I held the styrofoam cups and followed Ryker to a table. He picked one alongside the wall facing the entries with no one behind us. My training didn’t like leaving myself vulnerable either, so we sat side by side, both ready to act if need be. It was also easier to keep the bag between us, hiding me feeding Sprig.

  Ryker set the food on the table, letting me crawl in first. I kept my bag strapped across my chest in case we needed to run, but I settled the sack on the bench, freeing me of the extra weight. The table dipped when Ryker sat, bumping my side higher. He was as far from fat as you could get, but his muscle mass was solid and heavy.

  He stared at his breakfast, tugging at his plastic cutlery, and his sh
oulders sagged an inch. A frown puckered his forehead. My gaze followed, and I knew instantly what was troubling him. His food was touching. Actually, his portions went beyond touching; they were in a full make-out session. The oatmeal swam precariously around his eggs.

  Examining my plate of food, it was clear my oatmeal and eggs were a little less venturous. The extra toast the woman gave me kept the portions divided. There was some interaction, but not like his.

  I breathed deeply and slid my tray to him while grabbing his. The deep indention across his forehead eased at the switching of trays. He grabbed his fork and began eating. He munched quietly on his segregated breakfast. Movements bumped my leg as Sprig stirred next to me. I snatched a piece of toast and stuffed it into the opening.

  “What? No butter? What kind of establishment is this? This tastes like cardboard.” The piece of bread shot from my bag and landed in my lap.

  “I swear, Sprig, if you get us caught,” I mumbled harshly at my bag.

  “All I am asking for is a little butter and honey,” he squealed back. “It’s not like I am asking for nectar pancakes with boar sausage... oh, and sweet buttermilk.” A dreamlike sigh came from him.

  “Shut up.” Ryker hit the bag, resulting in a high-pitched yelp. A few heads spun in our direction. My face burned with chagrin.

  “Sorry.” I patted my chest. “Indigestion.” When everyone finally turned away from us, I glared at my handbag. “You better behave, or we will not get you any more honey bars.” It was an empty threat, and we all knew it. Still, it was a threat, which might make him be good.

  I grabbed a caddy with butter and spread it thickly over the toast. “Here.”

  “No honey?”

  “I’ve seen you eat. Butter I can clean; honey I can’t.”

  “Eat it and be grateful,” Ryker commanded.

  Jeez. It was like we jumped into some alternative universe. Was this what Ryker and I would be like as parents? I immediately squashed the thought and focused on my breakfast.