by Kali Argent
Gripping the handle of her knife hard enough to make her knuckles ache, Roux swallowed past the constriction in her throat. “Who are you?” she demanded, grateful her voice didn’t break and betray her fear. “Where are my friends?”
“Your friends are alive…for now.”
His answer definitely came from the right, two maybe three trees away. “Who are you?” Roux repeated.
“Does it matter?”
She could barely hear him over the rain that plopped against the treetops, but he sounded closer when he spoke, much too close for her comfort. No light—artificial or natural—penetrated the darkness beneath the canopy, and she still couldn’t find him in the shadows.
“You should run,” he whispered, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
Reacting on instinct, not giving fear time to paralyze her, Roux pivoted on the ball of her right foot and swung her arm out to the side with enough force to make her elbow crack. When the blade of her knife encountered only air, she dropped into a half-crouch and held her breath. The guy moved like a fucking ghost, there one minute, gone the next, and she couldn’t hear a damn thing.
“You’re not running,” her stalker taunted, his voice coming from directly behind her as his fingertips brushed over her bare shoulder.
Instead of turning, Roux jerked both elbows back, satisfied when she heard her attacker grunt in pain as she connected squarely with a wall of muscle. Following the momentum, she threw her head back, groaning when the impact with his sternum made her vision blurry. She didn’t stop fighting, though, swinging her knife down and back to where she estimated his thigh to be. Again, she found only emptiness.
Strong, callused fingers encircled her wrist, squeezing the bones until her hand went numb and her only weapon tumbled to the ground. Still, she wouldn’t admit defeat, not while she remained standing. Instead of trying to jerk away, she bent her knees and pushed up from the soaked ground, driving her shoulder into her captor. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to make such a bold move, because he lost his footing in the slippery mud and toppled over, dragging Roux to the ground with him.
Landing atop his massive chest—fuck, the guy was huge—Roux rolled to the left, wrenching her arm free of his loosened grasp. The instant her feet hit the ground, she was running, sprinting out of the row of peach trees, back toward the highway and the forest beyond.
Rain poured from the heavens, saturating her clothes and seeping into her worn hiking boots as she splashed through the rising puddles. Black, ominous clouds dimmed the light from the moon, but the inkiness of the night wouldn’t conceal her. Now that she’d been seen, Roux had nowhere to run, no place to hide where she wouldn’t be followed.
Even as the thought slithered through her consciousness, a hard, muscled body tackled her from behind, sending them both sprawling into the mud. The attack knocked the air from her lungs, and Roux’s ribs ached, protesting the weight against her back. Water splashed up from the ground, covering her face and filling her open mouth as she struggled to free herself from the monster’s unshakable hold.
Then the heaviness vanished from her back, and long fingers dug into her biceps, lifting her easily from the ground.
“I’m going to let you go,” her captor said, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re not going to run again, and you’re not going to scream. Got it?”
Panic choked her, but Roux fisted her hands at her sides and nodded. He could have killed her a dozen times by now, and the fact that he hadn’t frightened her more than even the promise of a slow, torturous death. More likely, he’d drag her into the city where she’d be imprisoned, allowed out of her cage only to serve as a vampire’s blood bag or a werewolf’s whore. They’d use her until nothing remained, until not only her body, but her mind and spirit had been ruined, shattered beyond recognition or repair.
“Good.” His grip relaxed, but he didn’t fully release her. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them. Nod if you understand.”
Roux nodded again, slower this time. She’d answer his questions, but she hadn’t agreed to answer them honestly. When he applied pressure to her shoulder, she didn’t resist, but turned to face him readily.
Her original assessment of his size hadn’t been far off the mark. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blotting out most of the light from the streetlamps. Sweet Jesus, he had to be at least a foot taller than her, and the wet cotton of his plain, black T-shirt clung to every hard ridge of muscle.
With his face shadowed, she couldn’t make out many features—not the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw. His short hair looked dark, maybe black, but between the rain and the lack of adequate light, Roux couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered. Knowing what he looked like wouldn’t save her.
“Good,” he praised her again. “Let me give you a little piece of advice before we begin.” He stepped closer, crowding her, then bent to press his lips against her ear. “Do. Not. Lie.” Though spoken barely louder than a breath, each word rang in her ears as if he’d shouted them. “I don’t like being lied to, female, and I promise, you won’t enjoy the consequences. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,” Roux bit out, clenching her teeth so tightly her jaw ached.
With a rumble—like a growl, but gentler somehow—the beast jerked away from her so quickly, she barely saw him move. He circled, prowling around her, his footsteps light and soundless. Then he stopped in front of her again, his head tilted at a curious angle as if assessing her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.” She wouldn’t lie, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, either.
“Careful,” he warned. “There’s a narrow line between bravery and stupidity.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Neither of them spoke for several, tense seconds, but Roux refused to break first. Her pride would get her killed, but then again, her defiance was the only weapon she had left. If she had to die, she’d do it on her feet, still fighting, not whimpering in the mud like a coward.
“Collins,” he finally answered. “Captain Deke Collins.”
“Roux,” she returned grudgingly. “Roux Jennings.”
“Okay, Roux, besides you and the five we have in custody, are there any more of you?”
“Humans?” she scratched her fingernails over the wet denim covering her thighs, a nervous habit she’d picked up sometime in the past year. “I’m sure there are plenty of us.”
“I’m going to take that to mean there are no more in your party.”
“Where are they?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at the sinister figure. “What have you done with them?”
“Your friends are safe. They’ve been taken into the city.” He shifted, turning sideways, and the light from the grocer parking lot reflected in his eyes so that they glowed a strange, icy blue. “You’ll see them soon,” he added, his tone mocking.
Shifter. Or werewolf, maybe, but Roux guessed shifter. While Deke was certainly big enough to be a werewolf, he moved too gracefully, too quietly. From what she’d seen, the werewolves lacked all subtly and finesse, killing first and asking questions later.
“I’d rather you just kill me and get it over with.” Maybe not the smartest thing to ever leave her mouth, but she meant every word of it.
“So eager for death,” Deke mused. “Why?”
“Not eager. Just not interested in being a walking buffet for a bunch of bloodsuckers.”
“Funny you should say that.” His right eyebrow arched, and his lips curled at the corners. “Did your friends decide you’d make the best vampire bait?”
Roux placed her hand over the bandage on her injured arm and lifted her chin. “What does it matter to you?”
He didn’t answer, but asked a question of his own. “Where was your party coming from?”
“East.”
> “I’m going to need more than that.”
“Why?” Roux challenged. “You have us now. What does it matter where we came from?”
“And why are you so desperate to protect the place?” he countered, turning back and taking an aggressive step forward. “What are you hiding, female?”
“I told you my name, asshole. The least you can do is use it.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite. It doesn’t suit you.”
Roux scoffed. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
With another of those strange rumbles, Deke stepped forward, sweeping her off the ground and over his shoulder. Panic flooded Roux’s veins, breaking down her composure, and she flailed, kicking her feet and slamming her fists against his muscled back.
“No! Put me down. Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Don’t take me into the city.” Tears welled along her lower lids, threatening to spill over, but she fought them back ruthlessly. “Let me go!”
Her struggles barely fazed him, gaining only a single grunt, but even that sounded more frustrated than pained. Deke carried her through the peach trees to the rear of the grocer where he dumped her unceremoniously into the backseat of an SUV with a mesh cage separating her from the front of the cab.
Twisting around in the seat, Roux rolled over on her back and kicked at the window, driving the heel of her boot into the glass. She kicked again and again, even when her knee began to throb and her shin screamed in protest.
“That’s bulletproof glass,” Deke informed her as he slid behind the wheel, his tone calm, almost bored. “You’re going to hurt yourself before you break it.”
Soaking wet, starving, and exhausted, Roux slumped back on the bench seat, closed her eyes, and counted backwards from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
It couldn’t end like this. She’d fought too hard, lost too much.
Seven. Six. Five.
Even if she could escape, she’d lost her bag, all of her supplies, and she no longer had a weapon. It didn’t matter. She’d rather be unprepared in the woods than face the horrors of the city.
Four. Three. Two.
Roux opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the cab with her hands fisted at her sides. Weakness, hopelessness, and defeat had no place in her mind or heart, and if she had to die, she’d take as many of them with her as she could.
One.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m going to kill you.”
The female spoke calmly—a promise rather than a threat—and the hollowness in her tone dropped the temperature in the cab by twenty degrees. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Deke stared straight ahead, focusing on the double lines that ran down the middle of the highway. The wipers rocked back and forth across the windshield, their slow, steady rhythm a contrast to his racing pulse.
“You can try,” he answered, his tone flat, devoid of inflection or emotion. “I think we both know how that would end.”
The rain had slowed, blanketing the town and surrounding forest in a dreary mist that saturated everything it touched. On any other night, he might have found the fog soothing, peaceful even, but the female in his backseat had changed everything.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
Roux’s tone remained unwavering, but her racing pulse, along with the icy stench of fear that permeated the vehicle, belied her indifference. Deke admired her bravery, but her combative attitude would see her dead before sunrise.
“I’m taking you to the Bastille. You’ll get a shower, food, clothes, and then tomorrow, you’ll be given an aptitude test to determine employment.”
“You mean slavery,” Roux countered, disdain dripping from each word. “Call it what you like, but it’s not as if I have a choice.”
Deke sighed as he shifted in the driver’s seat. Every new batch of humans that came through were the same—all convinced of the evils of the Coalition.
“I’m trying to help you, Roux. It’s better than living in the woods and starving to death, isn’t it?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
They fell into silence again as the two-lane highway turned into a narrow, cobblestone road, lined on both sides by old-fashioned streetlamps. Though powered by solar energy, the lanterns flickered with the golden light of mock flames, casting shadows over the ornate wooden sign welcoming visitors to Trinity Grove.
Nestled on the edge of the Allegheny National Forest, the little Pennsylvania town had been his home, his solace, for nearly a decade before the Purge. While the Diavolos family had long governed the Gemini who inhabited the area, their reign had been just as quiet and unassuming as the town itself before the rise of the Coalition. Now, their rule stretched across four states, their laws absolute. Yet, they weren’t without mercy.
Stronger, faster, and some might say more evolved than humans, only the danger of being outnumbered had kept the paranormal world lurking in the shadows. With the fall of humanity, however, the ruling families had collectively agreed they’d hidden their existence long enough.
Some of the families had voted to eradicate the humans altogether. Others had speculated that left to their own devices, the humans would annihilate themselves, citing the Purge as evidence to their argument. In the end, it had been decided that with their depleted numbers, the humans posed only a negligent threat to the new world. They would be spared, but closely monitored.
Without an overseeing body of government, the treatment of mortals would be left to the leaders of each territory. The survivors living within vampire territories offered a valuable commodity—food, or more precisely, blood—and were therefore afforded a modicum of respect and kindness. Hapless souls who wandered into the werewolf-controlled parts of the world, however, found themselves subjected to cruel and vicious treatment. Vengeance, some called it, retaliation for the part humans played in the suffering of the wolves.
“Where were you headed?” he asked, looking at Roux through the rearview mirror.
Thoughts of the female being abducted by werewolves, or worse, Ravagers, simultaneously filled him with rage and anxiety. Deke gripped the steering wheel even tighter to stop the shaking in his hands, but he couldn’t banish the jitters completely.
When Roux didn’t answer him, he looked up again, watching her through the mirror. He didn’t need to see her to know she was grinding her teeth into powder, not when he could hear the scrape of her molars and the clicking in her jaw. However, since he’d found her lurking in the peach trees, he’d barely been able to take his eyes off her.
Dirty, malnourished bordering on emaciation, and reeking of blood, vodka, and sweat, nothing about her should have appealed to him. It wasn’t her appearance that had his heart pounding and his chest constricting, though. Thin, dry, and stretched too tightly over her small frame, Roux’s skin glowed beneath the layer of fresh mud. Not a glow like the streetlamps, not the metaphorical glow people used to describe happiness, but something almost ethereal.
So subtle he’d passed it off as a trick of the dim moonlight at first, the bluish-white luminescence shined much like he imagined an aura would, but alight from within instead of surrounding her. Deke had never encountered anything like it before, but he knew exactly what it meant. Now, he had to decide what to do about it.
“Please,” Roux implored, leaning closer to the mesh guard that separated them. “Let me go.” She dragged her fingertips over the wires, her breath fanning over the back of his neck. “No one else saw me. No one knows I’m here. Just let me go.”
Her quiet plea rang in his ears, and Deke lifted his foot from the accelerator without conscious decision. She was playing him, pretending to be the scared, weak little girl. He knew it. He’d witnessed her strength, her determination, and still, he’d nearly fallen for her manipulation. All because of who she was…what she meant to him.
Jerking the wheel to the right, Deke slammed down on the brake, skidding into a one-eighty spin. The engine revved
as he sped out of town and back to the edge of the preserve. Pulling into the gravel parking lot of the small grocer where his unusual night had started, he killed the headlights and grabbed Roux’s belongings from the passenger seat. Without a word, he threw his door open and slid out into the night.
“Go,” he ordered, jerking open the back door and tossing Roux’s pack into her lap. “You have about eight minutes before the patrols circle this way again. Get back to the woods and head southwest.” His gut clenched, and the words tasted sour on his tongue, but Deke kept going. “There’s a place just outside of Pittsburgh. Someone will find you, and you’ll be safe there.” If you make it.
He couldn’t think that way, though. Within the hierarchy of the new world, he had his place, a job to do, and he couldn’t afford distractions. No matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t do what needed to be done while worrying about Roux. While all excellent reasons to want her gone, in reality, it came down to whether or not he could keep her safe, and as it stood, he had little confidence in his ability.
The world had changed, become more brutal, less forgiving, and the newfound mate of a Coalition captain would be a coveted prize indeed. If anyone discovered what she meant to him—and someone would—she’d never be safe again. The sad truth was that she’d be better off in the Deadlands than she would be with him.
Of course, he didn’t want her in the Deadlands, either. While some cities and towns still thrived under the rule of the Coalition, many parts of the world had fallen into ruin. Places where no life existed, not even animals, stretches of land where raiders and worse terrorized everyone they encountered.
She’d be safe in Pittsburgh, though, and if she actually made it that far, he might even see her again one day.
Roux didn’t ask what had changed his mind. She didn’t feign confusion or gratitude, and she certainly didn’t hesitate. With a brisk nod, she jumped down from the SUV and slung the tattered bag over her right shoulder. After only half a dozen steps toward the highway, however, she stopped.