“He went with his gut, which is probably the best idea,” Cerena says. “What about you? You get what you wanted?”
I show her my clips of ammo, smirking. “Too bad they didn’t have a repeater in there. I would have loved a submachine gun.”
“Well, with what I’m thinking, your pistol’s going to be just what we need,” Cerena promises. “Follow me.”
We head into the tallest building in town, the meeting hall with a bell tower that rises a little higher into the air, giving us a view of the surrounding area. Behind us, I can see the dusty bruise on the horizon that’s Ringtown, and maybe Solace itself just beyond it. It’s so close . . . but still so far.
Turning around, I see the bigger issue. Whatever size group the farmers originally saw, it’s nothing compared to what’s arrayed just about a mile off, not even trying to mask their approach.
“What numbers do you think?” I ask Cerena. “I figure if that’s Lucian, he’s gotta be sweating about his control of Bane.”
Cerena nods, getting down on her belly in the bell tower while I follow. “One of the farmers said that he counted twenty-seven passing his farm, so I figure thirty, maybe thirty-five.”
Nine on one odds . . . maybe twelve, if Brandon’s fighting skills are nothing more than a lucky punch.
“You know, this is insanity,” I murmur as I do a functions check on my pistol. “You, me, a guy who might just wig out and destroy half the village the first time he sees a wolf, and an asshole. On the other side, thirty-five werewolves, the baddest and biggest ones in all of the nastiest city in all the Scorched Earth.”
Cerena chuckles. “Yep . . . although I think Tym and Brandon might just be more than how you put them.”
“They’d better be,” I growl, adjusting myself a little better. “You know what my instincts are telling me on all this, right?”
“I’m guessing to pull a fade,” Cerena says, her eyes piercing me right to my soul. “I’m guessing you’ve spent your whole life playing the odds, stacking the deck in your favor from time to time, but when you couldn’t do that, you’ve cut your losses and lived to trick another day?”
I laugh a trifle sadly, nodding. “That’s me. Just another dirty-ass trick.”
Cerena shakes her head, looking at me in a way that makes me want to fidget. “So, why are you sticking this time? A dead man can’t spend a reward.”
I nod and try to look away, but Cerena’s eyes capture mine and won’t let me. Three times I try to answer, but something won’t let the glib lies that are dancing on the tip of my tongue loose, and in the end, I just hum. “Maybe there are things more important than rewards.”
“Maybe,” Cerena says, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “When we get back to Solace, I’m treating you to a hair cut. You look better without the bangs.”
“Speaking of bangs . . . wish we had a couple more,” I reply, finally able to look away from Cerena and out at our enemy. “Grenades, dynamite, napalm . . . something nice and nasty for them.”
“We’ll make do,” Cerena replies. “I wish the villagers could help more. I’m sure they’ve got barbed wire and other things that could help us by the ton, but they don’t need to risk it. We’re just going to have to depend on our guts, our skills, and leave the rest to fate.”
“Or the hands of the gods,” I remind her, and Cerena laughs softly, shaking her head. “Still not a believer?”
“Oh, I’m sure they exist,” Cerena says, sliding backward toward the ladder to downstairs. “I’m just not too sure they can do anything to help one way or another. So if they cannot grant us victory, I say to hell with them, we’ll do it ourselves.”
“I’ll do what I can up here, then join you in the main fight if I can,” I promise her, and Cerena nods. She leaves, and I wiggle around, checking my views. The werewolves aren’t moving, probably waiting for sunset despite their numbers advantage, which gives us at least a little time to recover. My body’s still aching from the run across the desert to get here, but at least for the first time in what feels like forever, my body’s hydrated and my stomach feels more or less full.
Feeling my eyelids droop, I sit up, staying in the shadows while making sure I don’t fall asleep. It’s one of those weird things, I guess. At a time when I should be wired on fear and adrenaline, the one thing I want the most is a nice twenty-minute nap.
Glancing down, I see Cerena, Tym, and Brandon talking, Brandon demonstrating his fighting technique for the others. It’s not because of him that I’m doing this. Frankly, I agree with the comment Brandon made a few days ago. If the whole goal is to eliminate the threat from god-Bane, then it seems the easiest way to do it would be to put a Gauss round right through his head right here and now. Boom, no more special bloodline. Sure, there must be another little dick-slinger around the Scorched Earth with similar genetics, but one problem’s at least eliminated.
But I’m not going to shoot him. In a life that’s been all about doing my own thing, about the hustle and the angle . . . for some reason, I’m sticking. For some reason I still don’t understand, I’m up here in this tower, a pistol in my hand and a pair of knives on my belt, my ass in the breeze with thirty werewolves coming at me.
And I’m sticking.
The sun starts to creep lower, like a countdown clock that’s ticking away the seconds to the start of hell, and I steady myself. Down in the main courtyard of the village, the shadows have already grown very long, and I can see Cerena glance up, giving me a little smile and wave.
“Well, Lance, whatever your life’s been, you’ve at least gotten a beautiful woman to—” I murmur as I wave back, but then out of the corner of my eye, I see a streak flying toward the tower . . . then heat.
Chapter 30
Cerena
The rocket flies out of nowhere, hitting the tower just as Lance waves back to me, and the explosion startles me.
“Lance!” I cry out, and I take two steps toward the building when three more rockets come hurtling toward the town, blowing up two more buildings and sending shrapnel flying everywhere. I duck my head in order to avoid the worst of it, but I still feel pieces go clattering off the body armor I’ve put on, and a loud ping fills the air as one piece hits Brandon’s shield.
“I thought you said they would attack at night!” Brandon yells as a battle cry fills the air.
“I didn’t think they had rocket launchers!” I reply, but before the argument can heat up, the first of the werewolves comes into view. Because it’s daylight, they can’t fully change, but they’re still clearly not normal humans as they come sprinting into the square, some carrying weapons, some just intent on inflicting chaos and death with their bare hands.
Brandon gets the honor of the first kill, using his shield to deflect a werewolf sword upward, exposing the stomach and chest to be skewered by Brandon’s spear. He stabs deep, twisting the head a quarter-turn before pulling out, the werewolf felled in less than a second. “Come on, motherfuckers!”
It’s the easiest kill of the entire battle. The rocket attack broke up my planned back to back formation, and the three of us are quickly pried apart by werewolves, who force us into individual fights for our lives.
Tym’s effective, his fear held back enough by the daylight and incomplete transformations of his enemies that he’s able to swing his hammers with force and precision. I’m only able to get glimpses, though, as in seconds, I’ve got three werewolves in my face.
“Gonna have your guts for dessert, bitch,” one of them, armed with a nasty-looking mace, growls as he swings at me. He’s fast, and I barely have a chance to deflect the blow as I move.
I hate fighting werewolves. Even when they’re just attacking on the street, I have to use my speed and agility to avoid their greater strength. But I’ve trained my entire life for this one enemy, and I’m not going to let them get the best of me. I’ve killed dozens of their brethren, and I’m prepared to slay a dozen more.
But this is harder. These wolves are
prepared to fight, and as they press their attack, I recognize what they’re doing.
They’re working together. When I go to slash at one, his partner brings his staff around, deflecting my sword enough to send me off balance and rolling across the dirt. When I block a sword blow, a mace comes for my legs, making me jump back before I can return the attack.
My body can’t take this for long. Even if I were fully rested, this would be a hard fight, but after racing from Bane and starving for days before barely filling our bellies and then running our asses off for hours to get to this village, I’m quickly pushed beyond my limits.
Tym grunts in pain, and in the corner of my eye, I see him stumble, a wolf battle axe crashing into his left arm. If it weren’t for the armor he was able to strap to his body in a hodgepodge of extra plates, he’d lose his arm. As it is, he still staggers, his hammer dropping from his left hand as the arm goes useless.
I want to scream, I want to go to him, but a werewolf appears in front of me, his lips twisted in a sneer. “Huntress. I’ve been looking for you.”
I can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at me, and I recognize him for who he is. “Lucian. You led your troops, at least.”
“You stole from me. You stole from Him,” Lucian says, his eyes cutting over to Brandon. He’s been putting up a brave fight. I can see another dead werewolf at his feet, but in the few seconds that I watch, I can also see that Lucian’s men are toying with him. They attack, but not enough to commit to anything, darting out as Brandon gets more and more exhausted with each block and thrust. “We’ll let him wear out, then take him like the unfinished toy he is.”
“Like hell you will,” I growl, diving to my left. It was just a small opening, but the wolf with the mace had lowered his weapon as Lucian spoke, and I run him through, spinning with him on my blade and using him as a shield before jerking my blade to the side and slashing at one of the other wolves. He falls, but fire slashes across the back of my left leg, and I scream, dropping to my knee as Lucian comes back around in front of me.
“How appropriate . . . a bitch, dying on your knees. I’ll savor this one.”
He swings the knife he used to cut my hamstring, and it feels like time slows. I can see the blade move, but my sword moves faster, knocking it from his grip so quickly even the Alpha wolf is shocked.
“Don’t think so.”
A new explosion shakes the square, and suddenly, fire pierces the night, a line of superheated air impaling two wolves, and Lance staggers out of the shadows, a grin on his face and his pistol raised. “Sorry I’m late.”
I take advantage of the pause, stabbing Lucian through the side, but before I can turn the wound into a fatal blow, a howl fills the air. A furry weight hits me from behind, sending me face first into the ground, and all is blackness.
“Cerena . . . Cerena, wake up.”
I blink and see Lance kneeling next to me, his face bruised and bleeding, his skin redder than a tomato. I can still hear fighting, but it sounds far away and retreating.
“What’s happening?” I ask, my head feeling like it’s been filled with cotton. That last hit by a werewolf . . . I must have a concussion or something. “Is everyone—”
“We’re alive . . . take it for what that is,” Lance says with a smile. “Reinforcements arrived just as you were trying on your new fur coat.”
I nod and try to get up, but Lance puts a hand on my chest, pushing me back down. “Uh-uh, sweet cheeks. Stay down. I’ll cover you and make sure you stay safe.”
I want to fight, but my body’s drained of strength, and I nod. “I . . . I trust you, Lance.”
I close my eyes, even as Lance chuckles. “You’re such a sucker, Cerena. Trust me? That’ll get you in trouble.”
But the truth is as I let the blackness wash over me again, I’ve never felt safer.
Chapter 31
Cerena
The Academy’s medical clinic isn’t large, only six rooms, but when an autodoc can take care of most injuries within a couple of hours, there isn’t a lot of need for bed rest.
But lying in the bed, looking up at the ceiling and just letting myself feel my body, I can’t help but relish the unexpected luxury. No worries, no cares, just lying back, fresh cool sheets underneath me, and all my food brought to me. Too bad a lot of it is tank-vat stuff. The medical clinic never fails to protect their patients, and besides, other than Hunter Academy students, most people prefer to eat ‘real food.’
It’s funny, but until this last mission, I wasn’t the kind to take any sort of time off. But after this past rough month, I’m ready to take a few days off.
My leg still aches a little, a reminder that Lucian and I have unfinished business. His cut on my hamstring nearly severed the muscle completely, and while my nurse says that the autodocs have repaired all the damage to the muscle fibers themselves, it’ll still be a few days for the nerves to fully calm down. As it is, I’m still feeling a lot of phantom pain, mostly as a deep-seated itch I have to resist scratching at.
Lunch today isn’t bad either, some tomato-flavored algae from the vats along with a real, honest to goodness omelet. The chickens must be laying well, or else maybe I just somehow rate the luxury.
I’m savoring the last bite, along with some herbal tea, when there’s a knock at my door, and I look up to see Lance, grinning as always. “Hey there, sweet cheeks. I just stopped by to see how the walking wounded were doing.”
“You know you shouldn’t be calling me that anymore,” I reply, blushing a little for some reason. Maybe it’s because in the past three days, I’ve learned so much about Lance’s heroism. Picking himself up from the rubble of the destroyed tower, he took down five wolves with his pistol and three more with his knives, even while dealing with his own injuries. And his first concern? My safety.
Yeah . . . yeah, I guess he has earned a blush. Still, it’s not safe for either of us for him to use his ‘pet name’ for me around here.
“I know, and I’m more or less being careful around town,” he says, entering my room fully and shutting the door behind him. His face is so pale, it’s almost laughable, but that’s the result of the autodoc treating his burns, which covered a large portion of his exposed skin. I was so concussed at the end of my fight with Lucian, I hadn’t even noticed the severe blisters that had already formed. “Actually, I was out today, doing a little bit of home shopping.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, setting my lunch aside and swinging my legs out of bed. I move to get up, but Lance is there by my side, putting a hand on my thigh and urging me not to move.
“Relax, I can sit here,” he says, hooking a chair with his boot so he can leave his hand on my leg. “But yes, I was looking at available spots in Ringtown. A lot of places open, some closer to the city than others.”
Somehow, the idea of Lance settling in Ringtown brings both good feelings and bad. On one hand, it means I’ll be able to see him again. On the other hand, he’ll be in Ringtown, and he won’t be covering my back.
Amazing what one mission can do to you when it comes to learning to trust others.
“I’ll be sure to stop by, if only to apologize to all your new neighbors,” I joke, biting my lip as Lance’s hand drifts between my thighs, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin there. “What are you doing?”
“Figure it might be my last chance. I gotta take it while I can,” Lance says, his eyes never straying from mine as he strokes higher. I can’t believe I’m letting him, or that my thighs are parting to let him touch higher, but my pussy’s aching, and looking at his dimple, all I can think of is how good he is at making me feel good. “Don’t worry, Cerena. I’ll behave . . . a little.”
“And what is a little?” I ask, and Lance chuckles.
“I just want something to remember, a little taste. I’ll let you in on a secret, but taste has always been the sense that creates the strongest memories for me.”
I whimper, letting him reach higher until I can feel the tips of his finge
rs brushing against my pussy, and I lick my lips. “You know . . . I’m wondering if maybe after this, I’ll be looking for freelancers to help me on missions more often. The pay would suck, but the side benefits could be . . . mmm, very nice.”
Lance nods, his eyes captivating as he slips a finger inside me, not deep enough to really penetrate me, but enough to gather my honey on his wicked digit. God, what am I doing? I’m in the middle of Solace, in the middle of the Hunter Academy, for fuck’s sake, and I’m trembling on the edge of begging this man, this demigod who certainly isn’t part of the Hunter or shelter genetic bloodlines, to roll me back and eat my pussy while stuffing my mouth full of his cock.
But I don’t want him to stop. In fact, I push my hips a little forward, letting him enter me more.
“And on these missions . . . would I have to call you Huntress all the time?”
His thumb brushes my clit, and I hiss, licking my lips. “Not always. Hey, I had a question for you. That explosion—how’d you survive it?”
“Time stop,” Lance says, and around me, I can feel the world spin to a freeze. I wonder how he’s doing it, but then I remember . . . if he focuses, he can bring things he’s in physical contact with into time stop with him. Taking advantage, his thumb rubs my clit quickly, and I let my breath out in the long, deep moan that I’ve been holding back. “Like that.”
“Fuck, Lance. I haven’t been fair to you. You’re fucking amazing.”
“No . . . but maybe we can find a way to make that up later,” he says, his breath coming quickly. I look into his face and see the strain he’s exerting, holding time still, and I pull back, my body screaming for release, but I know it’s impossible. Lance lets time start up again, his breath exploding out in a long whoosh as he does. “If you’ll let me.”
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