The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  Since our near kiss in the house, and those lips caressing me at the stream, I hunger for a real taste of him. But after last night, a whisper of caution threads its way through my mind. He can hurt me—break me like I’m made of glass and leave the broken pieces scattered on the ground. Is that a risk I’m willing to take? One kiss, and I know it’s all it’ll take to seal my fate.

  “You’re not afraid of a friendly wager, are you?” His voice conveys a smile.

  “Nope.” Deciding to play it cool, I cut my glance to where my dog sits. “Kodiak loves kisses, so sure. If I win, you take care of all the camp setup chores. If you win, then you get to kiss the scruffy hound.”

  Kodiak, hearing me say his name, looks at me, ears straining forward and blue and brown eyes searching mine.

  Yep, buddy, I just tossed you under the bus.

  Chuckling, I rib this tall man standing next to me, who might hold my fate in his hands.

  With an elbow propped on the top rail of the fence, he cradles his head. His slow smile spreads wider and reaches his eyes. Sunlight sparkles in their dark depths.

  From the look on his face, he thinks he’s already won. “Oh Red, that’s not who I want a kiss from.”

  My face flushes. “You could make me take care of camp, carry your pack, wash dishes every night for a month, or any other number of dumb, stupid-ass chores. Why a kiss?”

  I’m unsure if I want to hear his answer or not.

  “Well, I’d like more than a kiss, but I’ll settle for what I can get. I’m trying to be good and make up for last night.”

  I roll my eyes and fight the heat rising to my cheeks.

  “Think of it as a test run. If you like it, seriously consider what happens after Florida.”

  A shoulder shrugs. “It’s just a kiss.” I toy with a string on my pants. “It’s not like we haven’t brushed lips before.”

  “True.” He holds out a hand to seal the deal. “But this time, I expect the real thing, tongue and all.”

  Impossible, conceited man. My ears, nose, and every other exposed piece of skin turn into a blazing fire.

  I should call the whole thing off. It’s ridiculous and childish, but there it is—that one but. I can’t deny his smile makes my heart lighter and his laugh lifts me from despair. He thinks a kiss could be the determining element in a relationship and it’s sort of sweet, especially coming from his obnoxious ass.

  Plus, would a kiss from those lips be so bad? No, it’s what I’ve been dreaming about since I first laid eyes on him. So why am I fighting it? Because you don’t want to get involved, jackass. Sissy, remember? Oh, yeah.

  He’ll never catch one of the horses, though, so there isn’t anything to worry about. “All right”—his hand engulfs mine—“you’re on.”

  Before the last word has left my mouth, he jumps the fence and lopes through the field.

  The long yellow wheat swishes back and forth next to his jean-clad legs. He breaks a trail to carry him toward his goal.

  I half jump—half climb to sit on the fence post. “Watch for snakes.” I prepare for the spectacle about to unfold.

  Sparky rests nearby, quiet and still. Makes me wonder what binary ones and zeros roam free in that head of his.

  “Well, Sparky, what kind of odds you give him?”

  The stalks of grass rub against one another, whispering through the pasture like an audience awaiting a stage show.

  “I do not have adequate information from the network to calculate the precise odds of—”

  The sound of my arm thwacking his shoulder bounces around the fence. “Oh my God, will you shut up with the damn network talk? It’s a rhetorical question.” My nose itches, and I scrunch it to relieve the tickle. “I don’t expect you to perform fancy calculations and strain your brain, or motherboard, or whatever that helmet is.”

  “Oh—I see.”

  I shift back to Jareth’s firm butt and admire the way the muscles ripple beneath the denim. On second thought, he could pass for a cowboy if he was wearing nothing but leather chaps. Swallowing, I drag my mind out of the gutter and to my best friend.

  Kodiak ducks and crawls through the bottom opening of the fence and sits inside the field, tongue lolling, keen eyes watching Jareth’s swaggering steps.

  My wanna-be horse wrangler approaches the herd with a light step, holding a prized carrot in his hand like it’s a weapon.

  Whinnies and snuffles issue from the herd, and they shift their feet at his approach. Their wild, brown eyes follow his movements.

  When he reaches to within five feet of the group without them bolting, my hand moves to chew a nail.

  Why aren’t you running, you damned horses?

  Holding my breath, I mentally try to spook the beasts.

  Though his voice is soft, the words are low and musical. “Oh, you’re beautiful. You guys want a fresh carrot?”

  That low, smooth voice caresses my skin, and I’m a little jealous I’m not one of those horses he’s trying to tame.

  A snort sneaks out of my nose. “Fresh carrot?” It becomes a full-blown chuckle. “That’s false advertisement, Horse Boy.” My voice comes out a little louder than usual.

  Keeping his back to me, he throws out his other hand and holds up an index finger, as if in warning or telling me to shut it.

  When he approaches a large, blond horse with a mane so pale it’s almost white, the horse rears. His brown hooves paw at the air, feet from Jareth’s face.

  “Careful there.” I bite my nail into the quick.

  “Now you tell me?” Stumbling back, the horse whisperer wipes his forehead.

  I let out a pent-up breath, glad he didn’t catch a hoof to the head but also delirious because the horse won’t take the bait. It’s a win-win.

  The other animals back away, but Blondie stands his ground—defiant but hesitant—eyeing Jareth’s offering.

  No, horse. “Don’t take that carrot. No respectable horse worth his salt would eat that dirty old thing.”

  Jareth coaxes Blondie closer by waving the carrot back and forth, inching his way forward to meet the animal.

  There’s got to be something I can do—he can’t win. I refuse to allow it.

  My eyes rove the wheat for something—anything—to make sure he loses the bet, but nothing immediate comes into view.

  Kodiak watches Jareth and whimpers, eager to jump into the fray.

  This gives me an idea, and I crack my knuckles.

  “Don’t worry, boy. I got this.”

  A thrill of anticipation runs down my spine because this bet is won, with me as the winner-winner chicken dinner.

  I keep my voice low, so Jareth can’t hear. “Hey Kodiak, why don’t you go over there and help him?” I point to where he stands. “Right there, run. Go fast and bark like crazy, buddy. He needs help wrangling those guys.”

  Kodiak sits, butt waggling back and forth. His head tilts to the side, and his ears twitch.

  “That’s right. Hurry, go help him.”

  He doesn’t need any more encouragement and sprints through the wild straw to join the horse taming party. Leaping through the field like a pack of hyenas are on his tail, he barks and howls into the air.

  My body shakes from pent-up laughter.

  Blondie lets out a long neigh and canters away. Frightened, the other horses follow.

  Quite happy with my cunning plan, I realize too late, I’ve also blown our chances of getting to Florida faster.

  Well, shit. I’d forgotten about that. So desperate to avoid a kiss, I’d put my goal second? What an idiot.

  Jareth slaps the hideous carrot onto his leg.

  Ha. Just a little payback, trickster. Remember the cold, wet dunk in the stream?

  He watches the receding horses until they’re out of sight. When he pivots in my direction, thunder clouds his face.

  Sitting on the fence post, I wave a little more jovially than I should. No more camp cleaning for at least a week.

  The tall grass parts bef
ore his long legs as soon as his feet touch the ground. Each footfall rings with finality. Skin peeks through the frayed holes every time his thighs lift. Those dark eyes flash with irritation, and his mouth scowls in a sulk.

  My cheeks begin to ache from chuckling, and I can’t help but prod his ego. I look around the field, feigning innocence. “Where has your majestic steed gone, Mr. Horse Whisperer? Surely, he didn’t refuse your”—my finger points at his hand—“tasty, sort-of fresh carrot?” My palms slap my cheeks in a mock gasp.

  “That was cheating, Red. I almost had him.”

  “Almost only counts in horseshoes—wait, you don’t have any of those, either.” I pat myself on the back.

  Kodiak, realizing he’ll never catch the horses, bounces through the tall grass and plops next to my feet.

  Jareth releases a long sigh and holds his hands out. “I thought you wanted to get to Florida faster. You just scared off a great source of transportation—all because you’re afraid of a kiss.”

  The smile slides from my face. “I’m not afraid.” Liar.

  “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.” He brushes a few drops of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

  He’s right, though. I’m an idiot. My stomach’s sick with the new reality looming before me. Am I so afraid of him, I just self-sabotaged a way to make the journey quicker?

  Or you didn’t want to get there faster and enjoy his company more than you like to let on.

  The anger on his face slips. The sun bounces off his head, and his face blushes from the exertion. “Well, I guess you won this round. But you better remember this, because I like to play dirty, too.”

  The fire in his gaze and the low, husky timbre of his voice makes my heart slam inside its cage, and I worry it’s about to go into cardiac arrest. My parched throat moves, but I’m unable to speak. I grab the top of the fence railing to steady myself before I melt into a puddle of goo under his heat.

  Tilting his head to the sky, he stills—a statue in a golden field of wheat. His face darkens. “Do you hear that?”

  I listen. The wheat grains rubbing together in their whispers and the distant snorts of horses reach my ears, but nothing else. “Hear what?” I don’t like the sound of my voice, like a frightened child.

  He sprints the foot or so to the fence, grabs my arm, and drags me to the large eyesore of a barn.

  “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

  “Sparky, you and Kodiak come here.”

  There’s an urgency to his words I don’t like. Not at all.

  Sparky, picking up on Jareth’s panic, runs to the barn, body moving faster than I’ve ever seen before. My jaw drops open, even in my fear, because he’s a blur of ink streaking across the land.

  I’ve never seen him move like that.

  Kodiak races beside me, a growl and snarl competing with the sound of our legs cutting through the grass and beating the ground.

  The memory of the starship from last night makes my feet go faster.

  “Jareth? What is it? You said it wouldn’t come back.” I’m trying to keep it together, not let the fear control me, but it’s feels like a rattlesnake, waiting for a chance to strike. My scalp prickles, and my bladder tightens.

  Instead of saying anything, he grunts and pulls me into the barn, where Sparky’s already swung the heavy doors open.

  Kodiak bounds inside after me, neck fur stiff with agitation.

  Jareth stands inside the entrance and begins pushing an edge of the doors. Sparky and I help heave the massive wooden doors closed. He and the robot settle a long bar of wood into built-in brackets.

  Small windows open in the walls above, near the hayloft, letting in daylight and fresh air.

  Unable to help myself, I scoot so close to Jareth I’m inches from his lap, and his scent floats around my body. “Is it back?” I pull the shotgun from my back, needing it for reassurance, and aim it toward the double doors. My voice sounds weak and scared.

  He holds his index finger to his lips, the universal gesture of shut the hell up.

  I close my eyes and try to calm the frantic thoughts swirling in my head. My pulse hammers in my ears and sweat coats my palms. “Survive and find Sissy.” The words are a bare whisper under my breath, but my spine straightens with the mantra.

  A whirring noise zings outside.

  Ice settles into my bones.

  With a wave of a hand, he motions to the back of the barn. I pass the stalls, but he points to an area under the hayloft.

  When I reach the wall, I squat to Kodiak’s level.

  I hold his face in my hands. “Shhh, no barking, ‘kay?”

  His eyes investigate mine, and he licks my cheek.

  Relief that there are only spheres outside instead of the large spaceship loosens my chest. What if both are out there? Holy hell. Please, God, just let me make it to Florida in one piece, is that too much to ask?

  The old tune takes flight in my head, and I can’t shake it.

  Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo,

  Every human has to go.

  Flush them out and make them pay,

  All will find their death today.

  I’m so sick of this shit, of living in fear and hiding like a wild animal. What do they want? Whatever it is, they’re putting a lot of effort forth. But a girl and her dog, I don’t get it.

  A thought slams into my stomach. What if they’re looking for Sparky?

  The robot stands next to me.

  Will he be able to communicate with the other bots outside and send them away like last night? Will they re-establish his connection somehow and have him turn on the group?

  I contemplate his blank, smooth face that reflects no light.

  Can he can sense where my thoughts are heading? He holds an index finger to his helmet, where a mouth should be. Taking it away, he shifts it to my lips in a shushing motion.

  Taken by this gesture of loyalty, I give him a thumbs up, then wonder if he understands what it means.

  Jareth’s attention is on the scant light flooding through cracks where the two wooden doors are sealed.

  Flying, round shadows project onto the barn floor, zooming back and forth so fast, they look like shadowy lines.

  This brings another lovely vision: are the windows wide enough to let the spheres through? What if the robots leave their pods and try to force their way inside?

  I huddle closer to the wall and attempt to make myself as small as possible.

  Soft bumps hit from above, and I throw a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

  Since I’m under the loft, I can’t see overhead. From the lip of the railing above, though, disturbed dust floats to the hay-strewn wood floor.

  I wish I could see the small windows above, to gauge their size compared to the orbs. My answer is a straight laser sight line on the opposite wall in front of me, high above the doors. Why bother trying to force themselves through the windows when they can fry everyone with a quick tap of a weapon?

  Air is a prisoner in my chest as I wait for the bright light to slice through me at any moment.

  The small, deadly line moves, covering the length of the doors for a few seconds and then disappears. More whirring joins the thrum when another pod flies close to the outer right wall.

  Several minutes crawl by like an entire week. The noise from the constant rattle of the orbs reminds me of a box of marbles tipping back and forth.

  After several moments, the spheres quit shaking the building and their laser beams disappear. The whirs and zings fade.

  Five more minutes of a quiet pass, and I relax enough to talk in a low tone. “What were they doing? Patrolling, or sending probes from the spaceship?”

  He shrugs a shoulder, a dark, angry look on his face. “I’ve no idea. That was too close, but at least it wasn’t another ship.”

  I lay my shotgun next to my leg, keeping the end pointed away from everyone, and inch closer, either for reassurance or courage—I’m not sure. “You said they were gone.
” There’s accusation in my tone that I can’t hide.

  An arm inches over to me, and strong fingers lace with mine. His grip is warm and steady, as if he’s lending me strength. He rubs his thumb up and down the back of my hand.

  I don’t let go.

  “The ship’s gone, but it must’ve dispatched sentinels. They picked up the deviation program.” He worries his bottom lip.

  Confusion knits my brows. “Sentinels? Do you mean more robots?”

  He nods but doesn’t elaborate. Another secret he doesn’t want to share with me.

  A breath blows between his lips, and his face relaxes. “We have to be careful from here on out.” He pauses for a second, fingernail tapping his front teeth. “We shouldn’t travel during the day any longer. Our group’s too conspicuous to any watchers.”

  When he says watchers, my skin crawls. Who’s doing the watching? My stomach does a flip, and I feel like throwing up.

  I want to prod and pull the information out of his head, to ask how he handled this kind of stuff in the past. I’m not sure I want to know, though, not after seeing his anger and pain last night, not after feeling his wrath.

  The group stays inside the barn for another twenty minutes, silent and watchful. It’s early afternoon, but if the coast is clear, then the plan is to camp in the barn until nightfall. When it’s dark, we’ll leave and keep to the trees as much as possible.

  Jareth opens one of the doors and pokes his head out. He cranes his neck as if to view the entire field. Satisfied with what he sees—or doesn’t see—he ducks back inside and re-latches the exit.

  “I think it’s clear out there.” He pivots in my direction. “But I don’t want to press our luck until it’s night.”

  With nothing to do but wait, I dig around in my pack and pull out a treat and water for Kodiak.

  Jareth pours some crunchy food into the dog’s bowl.

  Kodiak breathes in the aroma, nose twitching, then digs in. For him, all aliens, pods, and starships disappear at the first whiff of lunch.

  I break a protein bar in half with Jareth, but neither he or I has much of an appetite.

  The sweet smell of hay lingers in the air, along with a faint whiff of animals. At one time, I imagine the barn’s stalls teaming with horses and other livestock. The image of a groomer brushing manes and stroking noses comes to mind.