Love and Decay, Kane's Law

by Rachel Higginson

  Chapter Two

  “Son of a bitch,” she hissed her curse. I could only assume she realized just how unescapable her predicament was now with my gun resting on her smooth skin.

  Still, the coarse language sat ill with me. This girl, with her virginity and loveliness, shouldn’t be cursing. It was an archaic thought, completely outdated, especially in this ugly world that lacked anything moral or civilized. I couldn’t help it though, I expected more from her.

  “Instead of talking about my mother, why don’t you obey the command?” I spoke firmly but softly against her temple. I allowed myself the pleasure of touching my lips to her skin. I let myself have a moment to drink her in, taste her, breathe her. She tensed further beneath me, so with all of my strength I forced my mouth away from her and waited patiently for her to obey.

  When she didn’t immediately comply, my arm tightened around her waist, flexing and imprisoning her further so she could feel the strength of my body matched against the fragility of hers. Her friend turned around, pulling a gun from his back. He lunged forward with the intent to protect her, but he hadn’t yet learned the most important lesson of the day. She wasn’t his anymore.

  She was mine.

  Vaughan had his weapon ready to fire with impressive quickness; the unforgiving barrel faced me in less than three seconds. I wondered for a moment if I had underestimated this stranger’s proficiency. Not that it would do him any good now, but he could be an asset in our future.

  If he learned to take orders.

  If he learned to submit to my authority.

  On cue, Creed and Austen stepped from their hiding places and aimed their equally dangerous firearms at the back of Vaughan’s head. He felt the threat to his life before a word was spoken; his shoulders tightened with unease. My boys would not miss, and they would not hesitate. I felt confident Vaughan instinctively knew those important pieces of information.

  Reagan shook her head and I felt her resolve shift. She wouldn’t let her friend be hurt at her expense. Either she was extremely loyal or able to see the uselessness of fighting us- both were valuable assets to add to this girl’s plus column. She took a deep breath and I felt her lungs expand under the cage of my forearm. The small movement pressed our bodies closer together and so I breathed in with her, letting her pull me under some kind of spell, fill my chest, wrap around me until there was only us and nothing more.

  I should be terrified of my instant response to her, the way she seemed to take hold of my thoughts and control so immediately. But I was an opportunist, I had to be in the wake of the global destruction we survived in, and she was my opportunity- my windfall. To let something like this pass me by would be foolish.

  So I took this chance, knowing the payoff would be big. And if I didn’t claim her, someone else would.

  The safety of her gun clicked into place and she dropped the weapon. Her hands fell to her sides where they hung empty and unsure. Her shoulders sagged immediately. I could feel the defenselessness cover her body like a shroud.

  A punch of guilt in the gut surprised me. But I put myself in her shoes and knew without a second’s hesitation that I would loathe the powerlessness of not having a weapon. With a gun at my head and danger all around me, I would be just as dejected. I looked down at her confused. I rarely experienced remorse, if at all. And never empathy.

  Indecision washed over me. I shouldn’t be feeling anything but triumph. I’d not only gotten what I wanted, but there had been no casualties and everything had gone smoothly according to plan. Besides, this girl could easily harm me, or even kill me. And I wanted to appease her? Make her happy?

  I did. I could admit that to myself.

  I wanted to do anything to erase her disappointment and failure- even at the expense of my own safety. The foreign feelings churned in my stomach. I knew what I had to do, what I needed to do, but I couldn’t stop the aggressive feelings of sympathy and concern.

  I lifted my eyes just in time to catch her friend watching me carefully. His aim never wavered; if anything, his expression had grown even more determined. Had my thoughts been so transparent? He looked easily ready to kill me.

  I took his stance and rigid body as a threat. He could pull the trigger before Creed or Austen had the chance to put him down. Would he risk his own life to save her? How close were they? Were these feelings mutual between them?

  White, hot Anger unfurled inside of me and I had just decided to give the signal to Creed to end his life when Reagan spoke again. Her throaty voice drifted over my body like a sedative and I relaxed immediately. “I trust you,” she told him.

  Jealousy came next while Vaughan stood up and forced his body to stand down. He disarmed his gun and let it hang limply from his finger while I decided whether or not I was still going to kill him. She only trusted him because she knew him, I told myself. She would trust me, too.

  She would learn to trust me soon.

  Before the day was out.

  And that became the most important thing to me. She could be instantly attracted to me, or not; she could feel safe around me, or not. But the most important thing was that she trusted me. Once I earned her faith and conviction, the rest would come naturally.

  “There’s a good girl,” I murmured into her ear, keeping her close for as long as I could justify.

  Creed and Austen took care of her friend and I nearly winced again as those pangs of guilt battered me for a second time. I knew I would have to put the cuffs on her too, but I hated the thought of forcing her into discomfort. Not to mention, physically restraining her would no doubt push my efforts to get her to trust me back… way back.

  Finally, I convinced my bewitched body to separate from hers. I snagged her small backpack as I stepped away, pulling it easily from her shoulders. I let my fingers trail down her spine, linger on her lower back and imagine what waited for me beneath her thin t-shirt. Smooth, hot skin… a body that would mold to mine, fill my hands and erase the pain and regret from the last two years… a body that would take me to a different plane of existence, rescue me from my grim reality and bring me salvation…

  “Touch me again and I will murder you,” she promised.

  And she was absolutely serious.

  Probably, best I listen. Trust, after all, was my end game.

  Still, I couldn’t stop the amused chuckle that rumbled in my chest. How long had it been since I laughed at something, since I found something actually funny?

  Too long.

  Her muscles tensed again, but it was different this time. She had been rigid in my arms while my fingers grazed her skin, but that had been fear that stiffened her body. This new tension was born from the urge to punch something. She didn’t cower in fear of me, she wanted to fight me.

  I tucked my gun into the waistband of my pants and tossed the heavy pack to Creed while Austen finished detaining Vaughan. I grinned at her back, keeping my amusement silent so I didn’t incite her wrath again. Little firecracker. I couldn’t exactly take her warning seriously though, so I reached for her dangling hands and drew them carefully behind her back. I bent them into the right angles while she worked with me compliantly. As soon as the cuffs were clicked into place she began pulling on them, as if she didn’t believe I would really confine her. She would rub her wrists raw if she kept that up.

  “Walk,” I told her simply.

  She didn’t move and either did her friend. I put my hands on her shoulders, enjoying the way my long fingers and wide palms concealed her delicate shoulders. I let the heat of me sink into her skin and remind her of my strength and control. I gave her the lightest push, encouraging her to walk and warned, “Walk or I’ll carry you.”

  She immediately started moving. Her friend was next to her in a moment. He kept wary eyes on me, watching as though I would throw her down on the forest floor and rape her at any given moment. The asshole saw way too much.

  Even though I would never rape a woman, never take from her
body if she were reluctant or refusing, I did own her in a physical way now. But I wouldn’t steal from her. I would wait for her to give me what I wanted; I would be patient until it was what we both wanted. I would protect her until then, take care of her, earn her grace and her desire. I didn’t like his judgment or his unnecessary concern. Rape, sexual assault, whatever a man stole from an unwilling woman was disgustingly cowardly. I was neither a coward nor completely immoral. I was the good guy here.

  Reagan and her friend walked close together in front of me. Their handcuffs made them bump and brush against each other with every step. Jealousy burned through me so strong and consuming I thought I would choke on it. I gave Creed a silent command which he followed immediately. He tripped Vaughan without any hesitation, sending the prisoner crashing to the rough ground. He tried to keep his face out of the muddy earth, but with hands tied behind his back, there was little he could do to protect himself from the fall.

  Reagan stopped instantly to wait for him. She hunched over and bent her knees at first, trying to figure out a way to help him, no doubt. Her concern for him grated against every nerve ending my body.

  Unable to stop myself, I pressed my hand on the center of her back and demanded, “Keep moving.”

  She listened. She started walking again while Vaughan struggled to his knees. We plodded our way through the forest, toward home. Slowly at first, with her ear turned towards Vaughan. Once she felt satisfied that her friend was safe and standing, she picked up her pace.

  Creed and Austen kept Vaughan detained long enough for us to get decently ahead of them, exactly as I wanted it.

  “That was on purpose,” she accused me. “To separate us.”

  There was no point in lying to her. “To separate you.”

  She glanced over at me then. The first time she would see me and so I schooled my features to look casual and careless. I kept my eyes forward as if wary of threats or intent on our destination and let her look her fill. I knew I was good-looking; I didn’t need another person to pander to nonexistent insecurities with bullshit. I knew exactly how I looked and precisely how women perceived me.

  Even if Reagan didn’t trust me yet, I knew how she would see me.

  And that it would work to my advantage- that it was Step One in my ultimate plan.

  My body vibrated with something powerful while I kept my eyes forward. Her eyes slid to me several times as she split her attention between me and the forest floor. She had to pay attention with her arms bound like that, but I could sense her curiosity and her peeked interest. She didn’t try to hide her surprise when her eyes fell on my face or her open admiration as they traveled over my body.

  She seemed to stumble through several different thought patterns. Her expressions flickered quickly as they moved with her thoughts until they finally landed on cold indifference. Her eyes narrowed, her lush mouth pursed, her arms stiffened again, pulling every muscle into coiled readiness.

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked evenly.

  “To town,” I answered. This was a test. I wanted to know if she knew there was a town out here, or if she was as unsuspecting as her friends had been. Sure they’d realized they were caught easily enough, but they’d seemed utterly surprised to get caught in the first place.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. She’d heard of us. Whether they’d been coming here directly, or run into Miller during his pathetic escape attempt, she’d heard of us.

  Interesting.

  “You look… well-fed,” she all but accused me.

  I hid my shock at her willingness to talk. Maybe this would be easier than I thought. She seemed… difficult. Not just because she let off this independent-woman vibe, but because so far, she’d challenged me at every opportunity. Conversation was good though and I gave her answers easily. These were building blocks to my end game.

  Besides there was no reason to lie to her. I held her in captivity- I had the power, I had the authority.

  “I am,” I confirmed.

  “How?” she demanded. “How are you well-fed?”

  We exited the forest and onto the edge of the school grounds. The town was surrounded by thick woodland and we’d always been isolated from larger civilization. One highway split the town down the middle and then smaller streets connected Main Street to the quaint neighborhoods that branched out from the central hub. This was small town living at its finest.

  Reagan drank in every single sight that stretched out in front of her. She took it all in with highly intelligent eyes, intent on memorizing every finer detail. No doubt, she was mapping out an escape plan, something I couldn’t let her get away with.

  Hoping to jostle her attention, I said, “We eat our prisoners.”

  It worked. She jumped at my words and then her brows snapped down over her dark eyes. She let my words bounce around in her head, trying to decide if I was serious or not. I hid another grin while she struggled to feel fear or confusion.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’,” Creed called out from behind us. He sounded like an ignorant hillbilly with his thick drawl and I wanted to turn around and shoot him in the gut- let him bleed out all over the football field he once set all his useless high school hopes and dreams on. How would that be for irony? “I never heard not one of Kane’s prisoners complain!”

  I wanted to groan at his ignorance and how he’d so easily set me back miles with Reagan. He’d back-fired my plan and made her more uncomfortable than ever.

  Although, it was true. Just because I hadn’t felt the desire to bring a girl home to share my house with, didn’t mean there hadn’t been plenty to fill space and warm my bed in the meantime. I’d just always tired of them before- handed them over to other, greedier men.

  “Oh, god,” Reagan groaned and her face paled at the insinuation that her precious virtue was in danger.

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably but didn’t try to explain. An apology would only weaken my image of authority and to open that particular discussion would tarnish any hope I had that she could trust me.

  At least she could be sure we didn’t actually eat our prisoners.

  We fell into uneasy silence as we marched across the still wet grass. The early morning sun was warming, but not fast enough to dry the dew scattered across the fresh spring grass. I breathed in the clean air and felt more alive than I had in two long years.

  I’d always loved this town and this field more than anything else. Growing up, I’d had my time in the spotlight as a football star; I’d paid my dues as the responsible, mostly good son of one of the town’s most respected families and dated enough of the girls to earn an only-slightly tarnished reputation.

  When civilization fell, my father had been the most prepared and most qualified man to step up and take charge. In a way, I’d always been prepared to step up with him. He’d raised us right, teaching us the important necessities that went into surviving in a time without anything, instilling in us the values and basic instincts that would keep us alive during a future when you could trust no one. He made sure we were competitive enough to want to always be the best and have the best.

  Falling in line with his goals and expectations had been easy for me. Partly, because I’d always been that son to him, and also because I could see it was the only way. He was going to keep us alive- keep a lot of people alive. If I listened and helped him carry this thing out we could save a huge portion of the remaining humanity.

  What I didn’t realize would accompany my obedience and loyalty though, was loneliness. While I held such a strong position of authority and command, I couldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone else. Other soldiers would seek to exploit a friendship with me or manipulate me in order to fulfill their greed and selfish desires. My siblings had turned out to be more than disappointments and any real relationship with them had been severed back at the beginning. And women, while enjoyable for a time, tended to drive me crazy after a while.

  However, I’d never fel
t like this about any of the girls that came before today. There had always been physical or personality flaws that kept me from growing too attached. For a night, my bed would be full and my mind too busy to dwell on the suffocating loneliness, but in the morning I would send them away and return to the solitary lifestyle that both haunted me and comforted me.

  While I hated the stillness and complete silence of my house whenever I spent too much time there, I also knew it was the safest way to live. There wasn’t a woman cooking or bathing, but if an intruder even entered my property I would know. I didn’t have friends to talk about the pressures of our job or discuss another fatality, but I also didn’t have someone who would spill my secrets or use me to get further in ranks. I separated myself for a reason and while it was a double-edged sword, the solitude suited me.

  Until now.

  Until I found the perfect companion to complement me and my life.

  Once we reached the entrance to the former high school, I took out my keys and prepared to let the prisoners in. This was always the hardest part for outsiders. My father and his trophies. It unnerved everybody and terrified most. There wasn’t an easy way to explain his fixation with mounting his prizes or why we let them live to being with. This was one of the few things we disagreed on; but he wouldn’t listen to my opinion, so I had given up trying to convince him he was capable of having a bad idea.

  I was anxious to see how Reagan would react to the inside. My gut told me she would recoil from them- from me. She would find them absolutely revolting and her opinion of my father’s wall-art would affect her opinion of me.

  But it was unavoidable. There was nothing I could do about what waited for us inside the school building except prove to her I was at least different in that way. There wouldn’t be Zombies pinned to the walls once we got home.

  Home- our home.

  It sounded right. It sounded good.

  Warmth spread through my limbs, a fire igniting in my lower belly. I turned to Reagan to warn her, to prepare her for what could be traumatizing but someone called my name from across the front lawn. I whipped around to decimate one of the other patrols with words or fists, I wasn’t sure yet.

  Three men walked over to me with grins plastered on their stupid faces. No doubt, they’d seen the new female and thought they had a chance to earn ownership. They were newer men, not as young as Creed and Austen but originally outsiders. Right now I could burn the entire lot of them. Between Creed’s stupid comments and the hungry looks in their eyes, I could happily set them all on fire and watch them turn to ash.

  “So there were more of them?” Dennis shot a pointed look at Reagan and waited for me to confirm. He was a sniveling little shit that always took the morning patrols because he was afraid of the dark and the Feeders that waited for him then. He’d earned his spot on the patrol and my father trusted him to lead every once in a while, but I didn’t. He wasn’t known for his thoughtful consideration when it came to women either, another reason to get rid of him.

  “There were more,” I confirmed. “I’m taking them in now to deal with them.”

  “Just the two, then?” Dennis asked with another leering glance over my shoulder.

  I allowed myself to follow his gaze then, just to make sure she was still there and hadn’t been magically absorbed into Dennis’s strong, mystical realm of sick perverts. She was whispering to Vaughan, their heads bent in intense discussion.

  This made me more furious than anything.

  Goddamnit.

  “She’s spoken for, so get your goddamn eyes off her.” I took a step forward and with as much calm as I could keep, pointed a finger at his chest. His eyes widened in surprise as I was sure everyone’s did.

  “Hey, Kane,” Dennis started immediately. His eyes remained huge and he held up his hands as if to calm me down. “I didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to know where you found ‘em. She’s yours, I get that. Nobody’s trying to take her.”

  I backed off a step. His assurances didn’t calm me down and I felt the bite of fury still thrumming through my body; but I would let him believe I could control this possessive need to keep that girl. I brushed my hands over my pockets in an attempt to appear relaxed and shot him a cocky smile.

  “Damn right, she’s mine. You think I’d pass up a body like that?”

  Dennis cleared his throat and the rest of the guys shifted uneasily. “You’d have to be cra- uh, er, blind to let that go.”

  It pissed me off more that he felt the need to censor the word “crazy” than it would have if he would have just said it, but trying to avoid the stereotype all together, I let it slide.

  “Get back to patrols,” I commanded. “I’ve got to wrap this up.”

  “Yes, sir,” the men answered in unison.

  I turned around without acknowledging them again and opened the doors to the school. Reagan and Vaughan walked through immediately, without being prompted.

  “Careful of the walls,” I warned. I tensed, waiting for her to notice the Zombie-lined hallways. I passed the door off to Austen who let it slam shut once we’d all entered the building.

  Reagan took her time adjusting to the dim light, but I felt her awareness ratchet higher and higher. I watched her face flinch and cringe as she took in the horrifying scene in stages. Disbelief, refusal to believe, disgust, horror, surprise sympathy, hatred, and then finally revulsion in every way, shape and form.

  In an effort to ignore the disappointment I felt with her feelings, I ordered Vaughan sent in with the other prisoners. “Take him in with the others. I’m taking her to my father.” I needed to officially claim her before someone else put in a request. I wanted to cut this off before it ever began. I couldn’t imagine having to make a trial out of this and lose her for however long. I wanted her with me, in my house, in my bed as soon as I could- which meant today.

  I grabbed Reagan’s arm and tried to pull her down the hall after me. I could have explained to her where we were going or why she had to be separated from her friends, but plain and simple I didn’t want to. I just wanted her to obey.

  She struggled against me so I tightened my grip. She continued to fight me, and I hated that she was making this difficult for no reason. If she would just submit, then there wouldn’t have to be a struggle between us. Knowing that she was mostly concerned for her friends, I stopped trying to make her go against her will and leaned down so I could whisper in her ear, “He will be a hell of a lot safer if you come easily.”

  And that was true. She would be safer and he would be safer. I whispered for the same reason. If Creed or Austen picked up even a hint of what I was saying, they would gladly treat those prisoners with less respect than they deserved. The soldiers in my father’s army were mostly good men, if not a little bit sadistic from the circumstances surrounding us; but mostly loyal and determined to keep the Colony safe. But for whatever reason, they also seemed inclined to be a little… extreme. They tended to be ticking time bombs of rage, letting any small thing set them off. They also tended to be a little bit twisted. They never minded killing and I wondered sometimes if it mattered what they were killing, or if they could find pleasure no matter the species or circumstances. I tried not to linger over the idea that there could be a correlation between the kind of guys that flocked to protect my father and his town and the special type of psychotic sociopaths that worshiped him. It would only lead me down a bad path.

  “Reagan,” her friend called after her. “I love you!”

  “I love you, too,” she shouted back.

  Liars. Both of them. I could tell from the first moment I saw them together they didn’t love each other. I held back a snort of irritation. What was she trying to prove?

  More than likely her declaration of love was an attempt to keep her from being bedded by one of us or protect one of the other guys in her group, one that she might truly have feelings for.

  That thought reawakened the dragon of furious jealousy
in side of me and I decided I would pay closer attention to her and those prisoners when we walked back through.

  I felt her still communicating with the prisoners, but steeled my emotions and let her. I wouldn’t gain any trust by carting her around like I was a caveman. She had to willingly enter into a relationship with me- she had to walk into this with eyes wide-open. I didn’t want her to have Stockholm Syndrome. I wanted her feelings to be real.

  And if I let her have enough time, they would be.

  Eventually, she turned around and followed me down the hallway. She stayed in the middle of the hall and kept glancing back and forth from one side to the other, as if the Feeders could jump out at any moment and make her lunch.

  I had resigned myself to silence when she blurted, “They don’t smell.”

  I looked down at her and realized I was still grasping her arm in my hand. It was almost painful to let her go, but I didn’t like the aggressive tones of possession pumping through my blood. It was one thing to want this girl in my life, to assume a future with her, but my concept of her belonging to me had become almost primitive. I’d only known her for a few minutes and already assumed she would be mine before the day was out.

  I blamed my take-what-I-want lifestyle. Before the infection, this mentality had been attributed to professional athletes whenever a case of rape was brought against them. They were used to getting what they wanted, and the word “no” was perceived as more of a suggestion than anything. In their privileged, celebrated lives, they could choose to accept it or not.

  I was that person now. Treating Reagan with respect in every way was hard and foreign, but only because I hadn’t been expected to treat anyone or anything with respect for over two years- save for my parents. The girls that had traveled through my life had been more than willing and the rest of the Colony did whatever I said.

  I enjoyed my position of authority, but I did not like this piece of me. I was once a decent human being. And while the definition of “decent” had evolved or de-evolved in our case, my treatment of women didn’t have to. I was a southern gentleman after all. I would respect this girl. I would regard her boundaries.

  I released my grip on her arm and immediately she stumbled. I frowned at her body, wanting to reach for her again, but determined to keep my distance. She regained her balance and I forced my mind elsewhere.

  “We’ve learned that if they don’t eat human flesh, they don’t emit that noxious smell.” I stifled a shudder at how my father had discovered that particular fact. He had a team of “scientists” dissecting, experimenting and discovering all kinds of pieces and parts of Feeders. “Scientists” was a loose term we used to describe the old farmers that were given the task to figure out how Zombies ticked. Men, too old to patrol, but needed something to do; men that had spent their lives breeding pigs and cattle, who knew the ins and outs of how their livestock thrived or died and what animals needed to survive. They were experts in their fields, and now their proficiency was being transferred to a new kind of animal.

  I had nothing to do with that side of our operation, though. I found the entire thing disgusting; necessary but revolting.

  “But why would you keep them like this? It’s cruel!” She hissed out her words, angry and disgusted.

  I couldn’t help but be shocked by her indignity, “Are you siding with the Feeders?”

  “No!” She shifted on her feet and shot me a sidelong glance, revealing her tell. She did feel bad for them! How… intriguing. “But it’s unnecessary. Why would you make them live through this? They’re starving and emaciated.”

  “They only eat human flesh,” I reminded her. “What would you suggest we feed them?”

  “Don’t feed them anything! But don’t leave them like this either. Shoot them. Kill them. Help solve the problem!”

  She had a point, but so did my father. This was a difficult argument. To defeat our enemy, we had to know them. But it wasn’t a pretty business, no matter how I dressed it up.

  So I tried to flip her argument, “In one breath you share compassion for them and in another you suggest genocide.”

  She shook her head, adamant to make her point. “It’s not that. It’s disgust for a creature that should not exist. It’s revulsion for humans who should know better.”

  Righteous anger burned in my throat. She had no right to judge me. I was a part of something greater than her meager existence. We were creating civilization again- we were ensuring that humanity could thrive again, rule this planet again. “You’re revolted by this?” I demanded.

  “Aren’t you?” She shot back.

  That was enough to silence me, because at times I was revolted by this- completely sickened by what my father and his minions did. But what could I do? This was a necessary evil. My life had filled until it was brimming with necessary evils and it was something Reagan would have to learn and come to accept.

  I stopped walking and she immediately turned to me. I looked down at her, drinking in her features in the flickering lantern light. I watched as the soft light wavered over her face, blurring her edges and creating a halo around her body.

  She didn’t understand my motives or my behavior, but she would. My conduct with her was less than ideal, but it was necessary. And that’s what my life had dwindled down to- a series of ugly but essential decisions. I didn’t like the Zombies in the hallway, and I didn’t like handcuffing a woman and practically throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her back to my cave. But what choice did I have?

  The Feeders had taken almost everything else from me, so the decisions I could control were what I lived for… even if that made me seem like a bad guy. Deep down, I knew that my choices and actions were for the good of humanity, that my choice to keep Reagan was for her own good. If I had to prove that to her one day at a time for the rest of my life, I would. But I was the good guy here. She just didn’t know it yet.

  “My dad is going to ask you a lot of questions,” I told her. “It’s better if you answer… all of them. And if you answer them truthfully.” I wouldn’t let my father hurt her, but if she made this easy, I wouldn’t have to step in either. This could go smoothly if she let it.

  Her big, dark eyes narrowed on me, revealing her contempt. Her words bit at me with the acid she poured into them. “Is this how you treat everyone that stumbles on your settlement? You handcuff them and order them around? Are you going to let us go at some point? Or enslave us? Or eat us, like you said?”

  I didn’t bother explaining to her that we usually treated outsiders much worse. I hadn’t even bothered to strip search her, although it was my right if I wanted to. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing her fire come roaring back to life. I suppressed my smile and ignored the hatred and bitterness radiating off her skin like a supernatural power.

  “We don’t actually eat people,” I deflected. “And we don’t have slaves.” Not in the true sense of the word. Everyone who worked here wanted to be here.

  ‘So then why am I handcuffed?” Her words were a growl, her body so tight I thought maybe she could snap it in half if she bent at the wrong angle.

  But all I saw was challenge.

  And that excited me more than anything had in my whole life.

  “It’s temporary,” I assured her. She didn’t believe me so I continued, “We’re taking precautions. You could have been bitten. You could bring the virus to us.”

  “We didn’t even know this was here,” she ground out. She was lying. She’d proven earlier that she knew there was a town here. I let her have this one though, memorizing her face in the middle of her lie, how her eyes flicked downward, how her shoulder bounced up reactively, how she pulled in the corner of her bottom lip. These were her tells and I would know now when she lied to me again. “You found us,” she reminded me, “not the other way around.”

  “And can you imagine what that is like for us day in and day out?” At least this part was true. I wouldn
’t lie to her. I would be better in this aspect and justify my actions. “People wandering through? Potentially carrying a virus or stumbling upon us and hoping to relieve us of our food and guns? We have a permanent settlement here, we have to protect it.”

  Her entire body quieted at my argument. I made sense and she knew it. “You don’t need to treat us like prisoners. You didn’t need to separate us.”

  “Was that your boyfriend you were with?” I demanded. I knew that it wasn’t, but this was another test. The very words started the low simmer of envy through my body. And even if I knew that Vaughan wasn’t hers, either of the other prisoners could be. She was protecting one of them by pretending something with Vaughan, and that idea, the notion that she would shelter someone else from me enraged me like nothing else. When she didn’t respond I explained the situation clearly for her, “His brothers showed up late last night, sneaking around our camp. They had my little brother with them- my rebellious, tenacious, disobedient little brother with them. And then we find you and your… boyfriend this morning. You’re obviously in the same traveling party. You obviously knew they went ahead of you last night.”

  She flinched at my accusations, but tried to hide her guilt with a deflecting question, “How did you know they were brothers?”

  I let her have this, knowing my points had silenced the bulk of her ire. “It’s fairly obvious by their looks.” I rolled my eyes, more at my efforts not to call her out on all of her lies than anything else. “And even if it wasn’t, they carry the same gun. I made an observant guess.” She didn’t respond. She pressed her lips together and looked up at me with a helpless furrow in her feminine brows. I sighed and explained, hoping to ease the tension between us, “I’m not trying to be the bad guy. But I will protect what’s mine.” What I didn’t say out loud though, was that it was her now- she was mine.

  And I would protect her even from herself.

  She met my steady gaze and promised, “Me too.”

  I nodded slowly, understanding her loyalty. But I also knew that she would transfer those adamant feelings to me soon. “Do not leave my side,” I told her. “Do you understand?” She didn’t reply and I felt an urgency to force her to agree with me. I could protect her, I would keep her safe. If she ran from me, what waited for her in the rest of the Colony was unthinkable. And I would be forced to murder anyone that so much as looked at her. “I will say this once for your benefit and I will not say it again. This camp is low on women. But we have an abundance of men. And we do not share our women. Once you belong to a man… he keeps you. You might not like me, but what is inside that room is worse. Stay by my side.”

  She still didn’t respond, but I saw understanding dawn in her expression. And then defiance. That goddamn rebellious spirit reared up and she tilted her chin as if to say “screw you.” Hot fury matched her stubborn attitude and I had the strongest urge to grab her arms and shake her until she promised me obedience. I swallowed down the curdling frustration and clenched my fists at my sides. I wouldn’t let her shake me; I wouldn’t let her make me lose my control. I wasn’t the guy that threw tantrums when he didn’t get what he wanted. I waited. I was patient. And I would be those things with her- most of all I would be them for her.

  Still, just to hammer in the point, I warned, “Just tell me that you at least understand what could happen to you. At least make me feel somewhat confident about taking you in there.”

  Dangerous emotions flashed across her face and her biceps flexed with the effort to do me physical harm. Finally she said, “Why should you feel confident when I can’t even feel my fingers anymore?”

  That was it. I couldn’t keep my cool with her unreasonableness. I turned around and yanked open the door, eager to take my frustration out on something. I held the door for her, swallowing against the frustration boiling in my throat. I could feel my dangerous temper rising to scalding levels, but there was this undercurrent of excitement that rippled and shook my usually steady core. My feelings were habitually expectable, and even if I felt the extremes of the spectrum- whether intense joy or blind fury- I could count on them to stay with me a while. With Reagan though… there was this bewildering unpredictability that moved through me. I never knew what she would say next or how I would react. I couldn’t seem to feel one thing around her; instead a torrent of inconsistent emotions flashed like strobe lights in my body, making my head spin until I felt dizzy and off-balance.

  So even though I wanted to be furious with her, when she walked by me, I teased her instead, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I followed her into the room my father used as his courtroom. The normal grouping of people occupied the seats on the tiered levels, men who were under the impression my father listened to their opinions, his grouping of trusted ex-framers/scientists and two men on probation that were making a play to join patrols full-time. There were a few women scattered around the room, either because their men had dragged them along or because they had an issue to discuss with my father. My parents held court at the front of the room where they would stay for another hour and a half before moving on to other duties. My mother visibly relaxed when our eyes met and I was warmed by her concern for me. I glanced around the room in search of Miller, but my father must still be holding him in the back.

  That was bad news for Miller.

  If only he would listen to me- then my father would stop punishing him. Miller and my sister Tyler had a place in our Colony, but both refused to play by the rules. My father had been somewhat of a tyrant before the infection, now…. They just needed to listen, or they were both going to end up seriously hurt.

  While Reagan walked ahead of me, I paused at the circulation desk to talk to Lyle. I had him note the additional two prisoners and mark them in the log book. I made sure he noted that the female would stay with me. Once the notation was clearly marked to my satisfaction, I started to ask him if my father had decided what he would do with the other prisoners when the man himself called my attention.

  “Kane?” he demanded. He hated being left in the dark, and Reagan standing in the center of the room had to be confusing for him. He would put a bullet through my foot if I made him wait too much longer. “Who is this?”

  I played this as casually as I could. My father would pick up on my interest immediately. This was the first time I had ever brought a girl in front of him. For him, this would be equal to me standing on one of the rooftops in the center of town and shouting out my intentions for mating Reagan- that’s how serious this was. But, my father was not without enemies, and by proxy, I also had a collection of men who would easily slit my throat if they could get away with it. Or maybe I was paranoid… it didn’t matter though. These assumptions, whether real or fabricated, were necessary to keep me alert and alive. I needed to keep Reagan close without giving anyone a reason to target her or assume I now had a weakness.

  “More wanderers in the woods,” I answered levelly. “We found them close to the edge of the forest.”

  “Any connection to last night?” My father asked.

  “Yes.” That was all I needed to say.

  Understanding lit my father’s gray eyes and I felt the moment clarity hit him. This was my girl. The girl I’d been waiting for. The girl I had started to believe didn’t exist.

  He watched Reagan in the perceptive way he had, the one in which he could take in a person, see them entirely, know their strengths, weaknesses, fears and hopes. In a moment, he could instinctually know whether to trust a person or wait for them to betray you.

  I was a little surprised when he didn’t confirm my pick. He seemed to hesitate with her, like he couldn’t decide whether to hate her or accept her into our Colony. It made me nervous. Experience told me I’d made the wrong decision if my father didn’t approve; but instinct and desire made me stick to my decision.

  This girl was right.

  She was right for me.

  Suddenly my dad called for my brother. �
�Samson, go get Miller.” Samson- one of my father’s henchmen- immediately obeyed and an uncertain ping of nervousness hit me in the gut. Was he going to overrule my decision? This was my choice. He wouldn’t tell me “no.” But if he did… then what? “Make introductions, Son,” he commanded.

  I decided to take that as a good sign. I looked down at Reagan and realized she had never formally introduced herself. In an effort to make her more comfortable, even though I knew I wasn’t scoring points with my father, I said, “We came straight here. I don’t even know her name.”

  “Think she’ll be as difficult as those boys last night?” he laughed easily. The prisoners last night refused to give us their names, and I could feel a test in his words. The question was… was he testing me or her?

  “She’ll tell us,” I promised. “She just got done explaining to me that she’s not our enemy. If she’s not an enemy, then she’s our friend. And a friend wouldn’t withhold a simple detail like that.”

  I could tell by her face I would pay for that mischief later.

  I couldn’t wait.

  “Reagan,” she answered evenly. “My name is Reagan Willow.”

  Reagan Willow.

  Reagan Willow.

  Reagan… Willow…

  The name sounded poetic in my head, beautiful, enchanting and for some reason untouchable.

  “Reagan.” I let the name roll of my tongue, loving the taste of it as I said it aloud for the first time. “This is my father, Matthias Allen and my mother, Linley.”

  Reagan held my parent’s steady gazes but didn’t reply with polite manners or any other way. I bit back a smile as I watched her defy Matthias Allen with silent resolve. She had no idea who she was pissing off or the horrible repercussions she could bring down on herself. Still, she was fascinating to observe. Like a storm on the horizon- you could see the danger, the destruction that played with the skyline; it hadn’t touched you yet, hadn’t invaded your world but it was coming. You knew the storm was headed for you, waiting until the moment it would absorb you into its wild, torrential jungle and make a mark on your life.

  I should be pissed she was treating my mother with so much disrespect.

  But I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I couldn’t wait to see what she did next.

  Finally my father broke the silence first- not something he was known for- and asked, “Where are you headed, Reagan Willow?”

  “South. Past Mexico,” she answered.

  Lies. I could see her tell, sense her half-truths. The corner of her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth and her shoulder bounced once with the cadence of her words.

  The room reacted exactly like it should have, with amused disbelief. Nobody went past Mexico. Not since the infection had taken over and spread like wildfire through that region.

  My mother seemed concerned, which meant she’d picked up on my decision for Reagan. She grew attached quickly. She was probably already plotting a church wedding with our limited resources. “You’re not serious?”

  “I’m very serious,” she confirmed.

  But my mother wouldn’t let it go, “What could possibly be down there that could draw you into Mexico?” I could almost hear my mother’s next thought out loud, she was that doting- Or away from Kane.

  “We started out following a lead. But that was two years ago. I guess… it’s just a direction to go,” she explained.

  Now that, I believed.

  “A foolish direction to go,” my father taunted. “Mexico has been overrun by Feeders. You wouldn’t make it past the border.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond verbally although I watched her body shiver with the effort to keep her mouth shut. I wanted to smile again.

  “Are there more of you?” My mother asked.

  Reagan shook her head and her ponytail wobbled. “Just the four of us.”

  “One girl for all those boys,” My father sneered. Oh yeah, he hated her or at the very least didn’t trust her. And now he was trying to make a point.

  Reagan immediately reacted. Her entire body tensed and readied itself for a fight. Her arms stiffened, her thighs lowered so she was bent over her knees. Her eyes flashed furious heat and her lips pressed into a grim line.

  She was seconds from attempted murder of my father. I could see it all over her deliciously flushed face.

  I prepared to fly after her, to keep her from first degree murder. But the moment my muscles went hard next to her, she seemed to come back to herself. I stayed tight, just in case this was some kind of trick of hers, but secretly I reveled in the synchronization of our bodies. She could read mine as easily as I could read hers. That meant something.

  It had to.

  Just then Samson walked back from the interrogation rooms- reorganized old practice rooms- shoving my little brother in front of him. Samson looked smug as hell and Miller looked… Miller looked like he should have never gotten caught last night.

  Typical.

  I glanced down to say something to Reagan, something reassuring about my father and his attitude towards her, but the pained look in her eyes suggested I keep my damn mouth shut.

  I glanced back at Miller, trying to see what she saw in him- the way her new eyes took in our situation and perceived us. Good or bad.

  But Miller was in terrible shape. And even though I knew my home would be the best place for her, she just didn’t seem to buy it. Her face had paled, her muscles falling slack in disbelief. She was disgusted with what she saw.

  And that could easily translate into her being disgusted with me.

  Which was no good.

  I needed to get her out of here. I needed to show her she was safe with me, that nothing like this would ever happened to her.

  Just as long as she cooperated.