The Road to Wolfe (The Sanctuary Series Book 4)

by Nikita Slater

  I turn to Dr. Starr, sympathy in my gaze. "I begin to understand why you no longer want to take part in this project."

  He looks relieved. "Now you understand. Our efforts are better directed toward the vaccine."

  I shake my head. "The vaccine already exists. There's no point in reinventing the wheel." When it looks as though he'll speak, I hold up a hand to stop him. "There's no point in you trying to convince me that you can come up with a better vaccination. It doesn't matter. That is not our priority. Our priority is the cure, or whatever treatment we can get that’s closest to a cure. If you can't get on board with this plan, then you'll be asked to leave the project."

  "B-but… it's so reckless to bring live Primitives into the city." He looks truly frightened and I have to hold in my laughter as he clutches his throat and exclaims, "We’ll all be killed!"

  I glance at Dr. Summers who’s watching me steadily. She doesn't know me well enough yet to understand that I am completely on her side. Even better, the more reckless the plan, the more on board I am. There's something about the idea of capturing live Primitives to bring into the city that gets my blood pumping. I can't wait to go hunting.

  "I agree, it's very reckless. That's why I'm excusing you from this project. The last thing this city needs is to lose both of its doctors. You're far too precious for that." I can tell by the smile on his face that he doesn't hear the sarcasm in my words. "Please, excuse yourself. I would like to talk to the doctor about this so-called plan."

  "Thank you so much, Miss Skye. Please give my warmest regards to the Warlord and let him know that I’m always available if he needs a personal physician."

  I nod and agree to take the message, but as he walks away from me, I say, "Please present yourself at the palace tomorrow. We will go over your new position."

  He turns slowly on the spot to look at me quizzically. "My new position?"

  I smirk at him. "Obviously, since Dr. Summers will be occupied in the lab, you need to take on some of her patients." He looks horrified by the idea of taking on more work. "You have a problem with that? Warlord Wolfe has made it very clear that everyone in the city will have to pull their weight. You're very lucky that you work in a profession that’s in high demand. You’ll always have plenty of work."

  He looks a little green as he nods and then leaves the room. I laugh out loud as the door slams shut behind him.

  "I think my respect for you just went up." The expression on Dr. Summers’s face softens to a wry a smile. She turns her gaze to me. "But what are we going to do about an assistant? I can't take on a project of this magnitude by myself; it's too much work. I needed his expertise."

  I nod my head. "You definitely need someone, but I'm convinced he would’ve held you back by constantly questioning both your ability and your method. You need an assistant who can help and is willing to take direction from a woman. You might have to teach them on the job, but I think we can find someone with an aptitude for this kind of science in a city of thousands of people."

  She brightens and nods her agreement. "Thank you, I hadn't thought about it that way. I'll start looking tomorrow. I'll put the word out and see if Hannah has any ideas. She's brilliant with people."

  "Yes, she is, and she knows a lot of the citizens personally," I agree. I switch subjects back to her desire to house live zombies in her laboratory. "I think my respect for you just went up as well. Live Primitives in a city full of people?"

  Now it's Dr. Summers’s turn to look a little green around the gills. "Yes, I tried to think of a way around it, but I need them. We can't do this unless I can get a better understanding of their physiology and behaviour."

  "I understand," I say, moving toward the door. "I'll speak with the Warlord tonight."

  "Do you think he'll agree?" she asks hesitantly.

  I think about it for a minute and I honestly can't come up with an answer. For the most part, Wolfe has given me everything I want when it comes to putting the city back together. But live zombies inside the walls? Even Wolfe, the psycho warrior zombie killer, might have a problem with this.

  "Leave it to me."

  Twenty-Four

  Since our ill-fated dinner when we fought and half the meal ended up on the floor, Wolfe has sent me an invitation to dine with him every evening since. One week. Seven meals.

  With each sit-down interaction I have with him, my level of comfort around him grows. I’m becoming used him in a strange sort of way. He’s gradually becoming less larger-than-life and god-like and becoming more of a man in my eyes. There's still an invisible tension that constantly brews in the air between us, but I’ve become more used to the feeling. I don't yet know what it means, but I don't hate it anymore.

  As usual, I put extra care into my outfit while berating myself that it doesn't matter. Not only doesn't Wolfe care about what I wear to dinner, but I shouldn't care what he thinks. Still, every evening I go back to the palace and prepare myself. After saying a quick mental thank you to the crew who built our new wells and restored running water to most of the city, I take a long leisurely bath, running a blade over my legs and in my armpits to remove any excess stubble. While many women allow their hair to grow, I've developed an appreciation for bare skin. It comes from my time in the harem when all the women were ordered to maintain a certain appearance. Though I resent the idea of having to be perfect in order to please a Warlord, I do love the smooth silky texture of my legs as I run my hands over them, as I rub lotion into my skin. It makes me feel more refined in a world forced to embrace the wild. I like the ritual of grooming myself, emphasizing my femininity, while maintaining a deadly quality underneath.

  Tonight, I choose a pair of soft leather pants that cling to my thighs. A leather corset is cinched at my waist with a sleeveless white shirt underneath. I leave my shoulders and arms bare except for leather wrist cuffs which are a common symbol worn by warriors. Leather is difficult for zombie teeth to penetrate so warriors often wear leather strategically across their bodies to protect potential bite zones.

  I also wear my holster low on my hips, just above the edge of the corset. Strapped to my thigh is my knife. No matter what I'm doing, my weapons go with me.

  I make my way to the Warlord's chambers, nodding distractedly at my guards as they escort me and then take their sentry positions on either side of the door when I go in. As has become my usual, I make my way through the chambers to the solarium where I work on the plants that have begun to blossom under my care.

  It has become a ritual that Wolfe comes and finds me here when he’s ready to eat. Sometimes he shows up within a few minutes, other times it takes him an hour, depending on if he got held up in the city. Like me, Wolfe likes to shower and change before dinner.

  "Skye."

  His deep voice comes from behind me. I don't look, but I pull my hands from the dirt and briskly shake them off then reach for the wet towel that I've set aside for myself. Since the night that Wolfe washed my hands for me, I've taken to keeping a wet cloth close by so we don't have a repeat of that moment. It was far too disturbing for me to explore again.

  I turn to him with a smile on my lips. "I'm glad you didn't take long tonight, I'm hungry – " I gasp before I can finish the sentence as I get a good look at him. His face is a mess with a deep cut bisecting the scar over his eye and making its way across his nose. There are three stitches in the wound, holding the gash together. My heart speeds up in fear and I have to mentally stop myself from rushing at him. "What happened to you?"

  "Unrest over the wall." As usual his lack of words leaves an unsatisfying answer.

  "Not good enough," I chastise him with a shake of my head. "Give me details. Who attacked you? Why?"

  His eye darkens as he gives me his laser focus, an expression that makes any subject of his scrutiny feel deeply uncomfortable. I shift on the spot and glance away. Perhaps I shouldn’t be making demands of the Warlord, but we’ve been growing closer and he has made mention of me becoming his wife. Doesn't a fut
ure maybe-wife get a say in things like this?

  "Some of the city's residents believe that we aren't doing enough to reconstruct the wall. They fear an imminent attack and are protesting our work progress."

  "But you're making the wall stronger than ever!" I defend him, my voice rising in anger. "Did you explain that to them? There's no point in rebuilding the wall quickly if it's just going to come down again."

  His gaze softens a fraction as it travels my length. The edge of his lip quirks up in a semi-smile. "Your defense is appreciated, but not necessary. I did indeed explain it to them."

  My eyes narrow in suspicion. "How did you explain it to them?"

  His shoulders stiffen and I can tell by the slight shift in his eye that he's about to say something I won't like. "The main voice of dissent has been stopped; the others will fall in line."

  "Did you kill someone?" I demand.

  "Not yet." His voice is flat, as though telling me not to argue or interfere. "He has been imprisoned and there will be a trial."

  "But that's so harsh!" I protest.

  "It is the Warlord’s job to stomp out any potential threats in a brutal and decisive manner. This man will not be allowed to convince others to go against the laws of the city. We will end up in all out civil war at a time when we can’t afford it."

  I wrap my arms around myself and shake my head. "I don't agree. You're following the example of the Tucson Warlord, and he ran into huge problems by dealing too harshly with his citizens. He striated the communities, caused them to fight against each other. You’ll end up causing a civil war if you start executing citizens."

  "The striation came when he began dealing less harshly with the voices of dissent. When your sister got into his head."

  A protective fury wells up inside me. "My sister was correct. Murdering your people, the people you’re supposed to be protecting, makes you the monster in their eyes. You have to do better."

  He takes a step towards me. "How would you do it?"

  "What?"

  "How would you deal with this man who I have arrested?"

  I'm taken aback by the question since I know Wolfe will do what he plans to do anyway. But I give it some real thought, since he also seems to pay attention to what I think and want as well. "Well… you're right that you can't have that voice of dissent stirring up anger in the city. But instead of killing him, I would talk to him. Find out where the dissent comes from. It probably comes from a place of fear. He and others want that wall up as fast as it'll go because they see it as their best chance at survival if we’re attacked again. I would talk to him, explain calmly why he's wrong."

  "You would go the diplomatic route," Wolfe says thoughtfully. "Noble, but how would you deal with his infraction? He took a knife to me, attempted to kill me so that I could be replaced by someone who might deal differently with the city’s security. Attempted murder can’t simply be shrugged off as a man afraid for his life."

  "I completely agree with you," I assure him. In fact, I'm very angry that someone would take a knife to Wolfe. If I could end this man's life myself, I probably would. But calmer heads must prevail. We must think of the entire city – not one man. "He needs some kind of punishment that makes your position clear, along with the statement that it is never okay to harm other citizens of the city, Warlord or otherwise."

  "How would you punish him?"

  I think about it. "I would put him on wall duty; make him help with the rebuild since he wants it done faster. Give him what he wants but punish him at same time. It has the added benefit of giving you an extra labourer."

  Wolfe remains silent for a minute and I can see the gears turning in his brain as he considers my solution to his problem. Finally, he nods sharply. "Agreed."

  I'm so surprised that I can't keep the look of shock from my face. "Just like that you'll pardon the man?"

  "No, he won't be pardoned. He'll be put on the wall until I'm satisfied that he's not a threat to me or anyone else."

  I'm surprised he's bowing to my plan, but I suppose I should have seen it coming. Wolfe doesn't speak unless he intends to say something important. By asking me what I would do with the man, he genuinely wanted my advice. A warm glow spreads throughout my body as I realize the extent of his regard for me. He trusts me enough to listen to what I have to say. To implement the changes I suggest if he thinks they’re sound.

  Before I can say anything else, he holds his arm out to me and says, "Let's eat."

  I smile and reach for him, wrapping my hand around the thick muscle of his forearm, allowing my fingers to slide over the veins in his wrist and hand, marveling at the strength in just that one limb.

  As we walk toward the dining chamber, I say to him, "Since you're in such an accommodating mood, I have a question."

  He nods for me to continue.

  "Can we go on a hunting party to capture some live zombies and then bring them into the city to play with?" I purposely word my request as irreverently as possible, eager for the shocked look on his face. Wolfe does not disappoint. He stops walking, stands rooted to the spot, a frown of consternation marring his brows.

  He looks down at me, the eyebrow over his eyepatch rising in question. "You want me to let you have live zombies in the city?"

  "Yes, that’s what I want."

  He thinks about it for a minute and then surprises me back by saying, "Sounds like fun."

  Twenty-Five

  Two days later we finish preparations for the hunting party, set to leave the city the next morning. We’re taking three cars with nine warriors, including Wolfe and me. The plan is for each car to transport a live Primitive to the city.

  I finish my bedtime ritual, smoothing the homemade lotion that Hannah gave me over my skin after my bath. Since we need to leave early in the morning, Wolfe and I agreed that we should skip our usual dinner and I should have a tray brought to the harem. He also wants to take some extra time to instruct his soldiers on city security during his absence.

  I pull on a nightshirt that I’ve been given to wear by the Warlord. He gave it to me one evening after our meal and suggested I might find it useful. It seemed strange, but I suspect he wants me to wear something that belongs to him.

  I've worn it every night since. It falls midway between my thighs and my knees and is big enough to contain two of me. I leave the buttons undone to just below my breasts so I have lots of room to move in my sleep. I crawl into bed and assume my usual position, on my side with the blanket tucked between my legs. I curl an arm around my head and allow sleep to claim me.

  It feels like I only get a few hours before I'm being gently shaken awake. I roll onto my back with a moan and glare up at the Warlord standing above me. He’s the only person in this Sanctuary who would dare to wake me. Mostly because if I launch an attack, he’s one of the few that might be able to fend me off.

  How does he look so goddamn put together at this time of morning? He’s wearing his beat-up leather pants, a long-sleeved shirt with a leather vest and a pair of heavy boots. He’s a large man, but up close he looks impossibly huge, like a god. His dark hair falls to his shoulders in wet strands, dampening the fabric of his shirt. He must have bathed before coming to get me.

  I squint toward the window and see the first rays of morning sunshine starting to light up the sky. It's maybe 5 AM?

  "Too early," I groan and roll back over, covering my face with my arm.

  At first he says nothing and he's so silent that I think he might have left the room but then I feel the heaviness of him dropping onto the bed beside me. I open my eyes, startled, and roll away from him.

  I sit up and drag the blanket up my chest, covering myself where his shirt has gaped open. "There's no reason for us to leave so early," I grumble with annoyance. "I’m pretty sure the Primitives won’t care what time of day we capture them."

  Instead of getting angry back, he merely raises an eyebrow. "We have a lot of ground to cover. You knew we would be leaving early to get a head start."
>
  I narrow my eyes at him. "Early is subjective."

  We had agreed there would likely be hordes of zombies to the northeast of us, along the Rio Grande River. Our plan was to follow as close as we could on the nearest road that was still drivable. We would periodically check closer to the river valley for rogue Primitives. They hate water, but they have an understanding that humans require water sources to survive, so they aren't usually far away.

  "Just give me a few more hours and we’ll get going as soon as I'm awake," I assure him, snuggling back under the covers and closing my eyes.

  He stands and I think this time he might actually leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he slides his arms underneath me and lifts me high up in the air, pulling me against his chest. He carries me, blanket and all, striding through the harem. I let out a squeal of surprise and grip his shoulders so I don't fall, but it's not likely that he'll let me go. I can feel the tensile strength rippling through his arms as he carries me like a child.

  At the door of the harem he says to Kingston, "Her bag is in her room. Bring it down to the car."

  We agreed to take one of my bodyguards with us, and since Kingston is somewhat more respectful toward me, I requested him. Now that I see him obeying the Warlord and heading into the harem to pick up my bag, I change my mind. I don't like him one bit.

  "Please put me down. I'll get ready and we can go."

  He shakes his head. "Too late; if we want to get out of the city on time will have to go now."

  "What the hell, Wolfe! It’ll take me two seconds to get dressed." I smash my fist into his shoulder for emphasis.

  He looks down at me, his amber eye blazing with mischief, an expression I’ve never seen before. It takes my breath away, it’s so sexy.

  "I like you this way," he assures me, hefting me tighter in his arms.

  He shoves the door to the stairwell open with his shoulder and starts descending through the shadowy stairwell to the underground parking lot.