"You like me with morning breath, tangled hair and a bad attitude?"
If I think to disconcert him, I need to think again, as gaining the upper hand with Wolfe is like tackling a horde of zombies single-handedly without a weapon. Difficult, fruitless and likely to end in death.
Wolfe pauses our downward descent and looks at me. There are very few windows in the stairwell so I can only just make out his expression in the shadows. I can feel the heat beneath his skin, the tightening of his hands on my limbs where he holds me. The softening of his jaw as he drops his head to mine.
My heart explodes and starts racing in my chest as I realize he's about to kiss me. My eyes drift shut as I anticipate the feel of his lips on mine, but he stops, hovering just above my mouth as he says, "Yes."
"Yes?" I say faintly, having completely lost track of the conversation.
"Yes," he confirms. "I love the hair, the breath and especially the attitude."
I laugh and a burst of happiness goes off inside me like fireworks. My heart is beating so fast, my skin is so flushed that I feel like I'm about to faint. How can such a big, tough, uncompromising warrior say the sweetest things imaginable?
His lips close on mine and a shower of sparks erupts between us. His kiss is perfect, his mouth slanting just enough that he can gain access with the barest push of his tongue. I melt beneath him, opening my mouth to his and tightening my arms around his neck.
He's been leading me to this moment, to this intimacy, with the dinners in his chambers, the position he's given me in the city, and the brief interactions he has with me. He's allowed me to get to know him, to get used to him. As much as a person can get used to a man like Wolfe. I'm not afraid of his kiss or his touch, though if you'd asked me several months ago, I would have denied ever allowing such a thing. Now I find myself eagerly returning kiss for kiss as he devours my mouth.
Heat ratchets up between us as the constantly smoldering embers explode into an inferno. He turns on the spot and leans against the wall, slowly sliding us down to the stairs until my back touches the concrete. It should be uncomfortable, but I don't feel a thing since his arm is wrapped around me, protecting me from the rough concrete steps.
I breathe in his scent when he lets me up for air, taking it in, absorbing it and feeling the sizzle of sheer desire as it floods through my veins. This man gets to me in every way. The way he smells, his size, his roughness, even his broken face.
His body is so big that it covers mine completely. Wolfe can kill a man twice his size as easily as I can sneeze, yet he checks his strength with me. Even when he’s annoyed or angry.
I cling to him, surging against him as his hand roves over me. One arm is wrapped around my back, while his other hand tugs at the blanket, pulling it away from my skin. He pulls back just enough to watch as he brushes his knuckles against the dip in my throat and slowly draws them down over my skin until he reaches just below my breasts where the buttons start. Then, he deftly unbuttons the shirt. There is no fumbling despite his twisted and scarred fingers.
The breath catches in my throat as he pulls the shirt to the side and stares down at my naked breast. I try to see myself through his eyes, wantonly laid out across the steps on top of the blanket, his body covering mine, my skin a beacon in the shadowy hall.
His head descends and I watch with frozen expectation as his mouth slowly touches my naked breast. At first, he just sets his lips against the soft skin, but then he slowly moves to open his mouth and trace a scorching path of wet heat over my flesh. I arch my back and cling to his shoulders as he lovingly takes my nipple in his mouth. I moan so loudly the sound echoes through the stairway, igniting his passion.
He groans against me and clutches me so hard I feel as though my bones will crack, but I don't protest. I love his painful hold because it means that he's losing control. It means that I'm doing this to him, this man whose every word and every action is planned out. He didn’t plan this interlude and the moment feels like a prize I want to hold tight against my heart.
I open my knees and lift them to clutch at his hips and draw him against me. I don't wear panties when I sleep, so his leather clad cock fits nicely against my bare pussy. The feel of him against me is enough to send a shower of sparks right through my body. A couple more rubs and I'll be able to orgasm. When he doesn't move to stop me, I wrap my legs more tightly around his waist and lift myself against him, undulating my hips and rubbing my clit against the leather of his pants. He lets out a low-throated growl that reverberates right through me.
My head drops back onto the stone step and he attacks my neck with his teeth, his hand enveloping my bare breast, still wet with his saliva, while I slowly, luxuriously reach for my climax.
His cock is so hard that I wonder how he's not bursting from the laces of his pants. Instead, he holds his hips still and allows me to work myself against him, his hands holding me tight, his mouth a heated suction against my skin. He bites down hard on the tender flesh between my neck and my shoulder and I let out a scream as an orgasm rips through me. It's sharp but so sweet that I ride it right through to the end, my breath rushing from my lips and moving the hair on top of his head.
He lifts his head to look down at me, his eye glowing with satisfaction. As I return to earth, I realize with a pang of shame what I've done. I used him to reach my own orgasm. It's not fair and I know it. I can still feel him straining against me, his rock-hard cock nestled between my thighs. I reach down to stroke him through his leather pants.
"Your turn?" I ask uncertainly.
He shakes his head. "Not yet."
I feel ashamed of myself. That I came so easily, using his body to satisfy mine while he had no intention of losing his control completely and fucking me right on the stairs. I squirm underneath him and try to close my legs, but I can't because his hips are still pressed snugly against mine.
"I'm… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" I stammer, both ashamed and angry at myself.
He takes my chin in his hand and forces my face up until I'm looking directly at him. He gives me a little shake and says, "Never be sorry for expressing yourself sexually. You’ve never been more beautiful to me then you are right now."
Tears rush to my eyes and I look sideways to blink them away. I don't know why I suddenly feel like crying. Maybe because his words mean so much? Or maybe because I suddenly feel so bloody awkward that I want the hell out of the situation.
I wiggle underneath him until he finally lets me up. I stand, brushing myself off and wrapping the blanket back around me for an added layer of protection. I keep my gaze on the floor. "We should go."
He nods but doesn't move.
He reaches out to tip my chin so he can look me in the eyes. "I will fuck you, Skye. It's a matter of when and where, not if." He glances around, his lip curling in distaste. "It was never going to happen in the palace stairway. I may not be a good man, but I'm better than that."
I let out an unexpected laugh and grin at him. I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but I think I like it. He’s leading me down a path toward an unknown goal and I’m helpless to stop it. Does he want me as a wife? Does he want me to fix his city? Does he want my soul? I don’t know… and I’m starting to not care if he takes everything he wants and more.
Twenty-Six
Wolfe
"Stop."
Skye stops and looks over her shoulder at me, a frown marring her perfect features. She was about to get into one of the vehicles heading out of the city on the Primitive hunt that we've organized.
"You ride with me," I tell her as I stride past her, catching her arm and tugging her along with me to the lead vehicle.
I open the door and push her down onto the passenger seat. She opens her mouth to yell at me, probably for manhandling her, but it could be for any number of things. Maybe the orgasm I helped her achieve in the stairwell. I slam the door in her face before she can speak, but I hear her muffled shout of annoyance as I round the car.
I mu
st admit, I enjoy pissing Skye off. I'd rather have her fight me every step of the way, her anger piquing her interest as I prod her. Her annoyance is far better than her clever mind picking out ways to escape the city and leave me. I won't allow that to happen, but I'd rather she not hurt herself in an attempt. Skye can be determined, but also reckless.
I point at Kingston and silently tell him to ride in one of the other vehicles. I want some alone time with my woman before the hunt. Besides, she’s still wearing my nightshirt, gaping open over her perfect breasts. A sight for my eyes only.
I open the driver's door and drop into my seat. "Buckle up," I say to her without looking.
"Fuck off." Pause. I hear the click as she buckles her seatbelt.
I bare my teeth in some semblance of a grin as I turn the ignition and the car rumbles to life. I love cars. Everything about them. They represent the past, the endurance of human ingenuity. They represent strength, since only the strong have access to vehicles. And they represent the future. A way for us to remain connected. They are a surviving technology that will push us in the right direction rather than backsliding even further into the Apocalypse.
We head out of the city and hit the nearest highway east where we skirt the mountains. It’ll be easier to pick off our victims on the open plains. Our plan is to follow the river as closely as possible until we’re able to find a horde. Then we’ll divide and conquer, hopefully keeping enough of them alive to deliver back to Dr. Summers for her experiments.
Though zombies avoid water, they seem to have figured out that humans require water to survive and have a tendency to either settle down near or visit water sources often. Our nearest water source is the Rio Grande River, so we follow the highway parallel to the river, occasionally taking back roads into the river valley to search for hordes.
After a few hours of driving, Skye sighs her annoyance. "It's just like these assholes to play hide-and-seek with us. They're everywhere all the time unless you actually need one, and then good luck finding them."
I don't reply, instead scanning the area for a good place to stop. As I pull the vehicle into a copse of trees next to the river Skye asks, "Are we stopping?"
I put the car in park and turn the ignition off. Dust floats up around us as the rest of our hunting party arrives, parking their vehicles on either side of ours.
"We’ll set up camp here, see if we can lure them to us,” I answer.
I open the door and step out of the vehicle, searching the area with a narrowed gaze. Something moves in the bushes then leaps out into the clearing. I pull my gun from the holster at my hip and shoot the antelope mid-leap. It hits the ground, tries to get up and then collapses, a pool of blood spreading from its chest. A slight pang hits me as the beautiful animal with its long, curved horns hits the dirt and dies. I have more empathy for these creatures than I do most people. They are innocents in a world made dirty by humans.
"Nice shooting," Skye says sarcastically, slamming her door shut and rounding the vehicle to stand next to me, her arms crossed over her chest. "Too bad it's not what we're looking for."
"It'll feed a family for a few months," I say without looking at her. I turn to Kingston who comes to stand next to me. "Make sure it's prepared and packed up to go back to the city. Leave some meat for our evening meal."
"Yes, Warlord." He goes back to a vehicle for the supplies he’ll need to butcher the animal.
Skye starts to wander away from me toward the river and I reach out to grab her arm pulling her back.
"Take your bag into the bushes and get dressed."
She swings around and glares up at me, her stormy grey eyes narrowed in annoyance. I've rarely seen another expression on her face, but there’ll come a day when I will lay down everything, including my life, to see even the hint of a smile on those beautiful lips. For now, I will continue down the path that we've started together, the path that will lead to her emancipation. She doesn't know it, but she's too important to let wallow in her own grief.
Without answering, she reaches into the car, jerks her bag out, yanks a gun out of the bag and stomps toward the tree line. I follow her bare legs with my gaze as she walks away. They’re long and strong. When she wrapped them around me earlier and rode me to orgasm, her legs had held on like a vice. It was incredible.
I shove the thought away as my pants grow tight once more. Business first, pleasure later.
She stomps back out from behind the bushes, walks to the car, throws her bag inside and moves to walk away again. I catch her arm to stop her and check her over, starting at her neck to make sure that she's wearing the proper equipment. I run my finger along the thick leather neck guard she has on, touching the smooth material as I run my hand down to her shoulder where it ends. Beneath it she's wearing a heavy shirt with a jacket. Her legs are encased in leather pants and her forearms are wrapped in leather shielding. She should be safe from zombie bite. Even if her blood protects her from the Turn, it won’t protect her from having her throat ripped out.
I release her. "Don't go far."
She glares up at me. "You do know I ran my own team successfully for several months, right? I know what I'm doing, Wolfe. I know how to avoid zombie bites, how to fight them and how to kill them. I don't need you watching out for me."
"Have you ever captured one alive?" I ask her.
Tension vibrates through her body, excitement at the thought of capture instead of kill. She shakes her head. "Have you?"
"No," I answer honestly. "None of us have. We don't know what to expect, so we need to be extra vigilant."
She shrugs negligently and take several more steps away from me. "You sound like a worried old lady. Capturing them isn’t that different from killing them; we just have to stop before the blade touches them. Or maybe not. We could play for a bit and still keep them alive."
"You've turned into a bloodthirsty little warrior," I say to her.
It's not meant as a compliment, but the image of her covered in blood and leather is too erotic for me to ignore. There is nothing more I love in this world than a woman who can fight. This woman specifically.
"Thanks to you!" she says cheekily.
She takes a mock bow, turns on her heel and heads to the river. I nod toward Kingston, silently sending him after her. Of all the palace guards, Kingston is the one that she seems to be developing a friendship with. A part of me feels jealousy. Not because I fear she'll fall for him, I won't allow that, but I dislike the easy banter between them. Meaningless conversation is not something I've ever been capable of. Words and sentences don’t come easy to me. I lost my parents when I was very young and was raised on the road. No one cared enough to teach me the art of conversation. I had to learn on my own, most of my education coming from Silas's palace. One thing I can thank our old Warlord for.
We set up camp, including a fire pit, and one of my men starts a fire. We brought dried soup along that we'd intended to reconstitute with the water, but our meal plans have now changed to include fresh antelope meat. The men quickly organize themselves into security details, taking turns patrolling the area and reporting back.
I allow Skye to take a rotation and agree to do a few myself. If I didn't think her capable, she would be forced to stay at my side, but I've seen her in action. Skye can take care of herself. Better than most of my men.
We settle into camp, making as much noise as possible in the hopes of drawing a horde to us. Hordes usually consist of between 5 and 20 Primitives, though I have seen far more. When we were attacked at the Tucson power plant there were at least 100. I've also seen single Primitives, though they're usually weak and dying, easy to pick off. Primitives don't do well without hordes. Which leaves an observer to conclude that they have some kind of social hierarchy in which they're able to care for each other to some extent.
I have studied Primitives for most of my life, usually taking mental notes of their behaviour directly before disposing of them. Though on the surface they appear to be unthinking kill
ing machines, not capable of any kind of organized thought, in reality they do have some basic ability to reason. They group together for survival. They hunt in packs, exhibiting pack behaviour. They are fascinating creatures, and in a way, I can relate to them.
I’m a loner. I prefer to work alone, sleep alone, eat alone. But I can also understand the merit in being around other people. Groups are stronger than individuals. Primitives seem to have figured out this basic survival technique.
I have created a strong security presence in the Santa Fe Sanctuary, but I lack the ability and desire to organize people on any other level. Which is why I’ve forced Skye into helping. Maybe not fair, but it's for the betterment of our Sanctuary.
Skye isn’t a loner and she's not an Outsider. Though she can physically survive the elements, the Primitives, and anything man or beast can throw her way, her heart is too soft to survive outside of Sanctuary. Skye needs people, she needs society. And I go where Skye is, so our only option is to put our Sanctuary in order and rule it together.
It’s currently Skye’s security rotation and she's been gone for about 20 minutes. Nothing to be alarmed about, but when she's out of my sight, whether inside of Sanctuary or out, I feel restless. I've always felt this way about her. As though I need to keep my gaze on her at all times lest she disappear.
In fact, this past year has been utter torture. Letting her go find her own path, deal with her grief over losing Silas and Sanctuary, then find her way back to me, was the most difficult thing I've done in my life. And that includes losing the sight in one eye. I would lose that eye all over again if it meant keeping Skye with me at all times. She doesn't know it, but she's my anchor, the single thing that keeps me tied to this world. If she didn't exist, I would be a different man. If anything happens to her, I will follow her into the grave and rest alongside her until death claims me too.
I walk to the river, sliding part way into the valley, rocks and dirt falling around me. Instinctually I know which way she'll go. Skye loves nature. She loves trees, she loves water, she loves sky. She would find the prettiest spot near the river and then attempt to attract Primitives to her position. Not exactly what she’s supposed to be doing, but I know my woman. She's a hunter.
The Road to Wolfe (The Sanctuary Series Book 4) Page 15