Hidden Flames (32 page)

“You need to find a condom.” Prue gently tugged on Owen’s hair until he looked at her. He contained a laugh at the uninhabited curiosity contained in her smoldering brown eyes that wouldn’t allow them to continue until she had an answer to her next question. She didn’t suppress anything and laughed out loud. “Where in the world did you get a condom?”

“Apparently Ernie made sure to have an adequate supply on hand. Mav and Henley are stocked up for quite a while,” Owen confessed, leaning back down and nibbling on her neck. He had her right where he wanted her and he could breathe easier now that he’d heard her sweet laughter. “You might say that I’ve turned into quite the outlaw. I stole a box…or four.”

“Oh, you’re such a rebel,” Prue crooned, drawing her legs in and pulling his cock closer to her pussy. Owen wanted to take his time, so he tried to hold back but the clenching of his muscles protested. She once again put her warm lips to his ear. She must have figured out how much that turned him on, because she then whispered, “Be my wild boy and fuck me.”

Owen didn’t know whether to laugh or moan as Prue had managed to ratchet up their arousal even more. He didn’t hesitate to don their newly acquired protection and drive into her, causing both of them cry out at the intense pleasure that shot through both of them. They would both see to it that they had ample enough time to love one another properly, but there were times when animal instinct kicked in and they had to cave.

With every passionate thrust the stitches in Owen’s leg pulled against his skin. He ignored the pain as he lost himself in Prue’s heat and love, her hands caressing his back and running down his arms. He’d finally found his home right here in her arms. They held on tight to each other as they both reached that pinnacle. After their mutually satisfying peak he eased himself to the side, holding her against him as they each let their heart rates return to normal.

“I’ll be right back,” Prue murmured against his shoulder as she gently eased herself off of the bed. Owen now wondered if the pills that he’d taken were finally kicking in because he could barely keep his eyes open. He really needed to head into the bathroom with her to clean up and he would…in a couple of minutes. “Owen?”

“Yeah,” Owen said, pushing himself up on his elbows and trying to focus on her face. She was wearing the tank top and a pair of shorts that she usually wore to sleep in ever since they’d arrived here. How long had he been out? Shit. They’d been making love and it had to have been the quickest on record. “Oh, Prue. I am so sorry. I—”

“Lean back, Marine Boy,” Prue instructed tenderly, softening the order she’d just given to him. She had a warm washcloth in her hand and removed the condom, cleaning away the remains of their lovemaking. She was so gentle that he peered through one eye to make sure it was really Prue. She smiled and then in her typical fashion had a response. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“With you?” Owen pulled her down, causing her to drop the cloth on the ground. He grimaced when a sharp pain traveled up the back of his leg, but he managed to tuck Prue underneath the cover. Her back was to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. “You’re like a dancing flame, Prue. You were just hidden among the ash, but you’re wild at heart and totally uncontrollable. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Comforting silence descended over them and Owen started to drift off, secure in their safety here at Lost Summit Lodge. The world had changed and society needed to adapt with it, much like they were doing here. It wouldn’t be easy, but they had each other. The woman he loved was in his arms and that was all that mattered. Of course, she had to have the last word and he had just enough energy to finally figure out a way around that.

“You have to admit a piglet would be cute,” Prue whispered, settling more comfortably against him as she tightened his arm around her. Owen smiled and waited until she had almost drifted off to sleep.

“Yes, dear.”

The End

I hope that you’ve enjoyed the second book in the Surviving Ashes series. There are more to come! If you would like to be kept up-to-date by text on new releases, pre-orders, and special announcements, please text “LAYNE” to 24587.

In the meantime, the CSA Case Files series continues with Ryland…the man we all love to hate. Can a woman redeem a man without a soul?

Find out in Redeem My Heart

Nightmares of the past…

Ryland had lived his life as the world’s most sought-after assassin by numerous clandestine government agencies. He’s been the best of the best while not making apologies for the contracts he’s executed. That was all taken from him when his obscured past was exposed by the malicious actions of a former employer, forcing him into an early retirement.

Dreams of the future…

Fallon Canna was a gifted profiler for the FBI with one goal—to figure out what made Travis Bowers tick. It had become an obsession to unravel why a promising young Marine had turned into a skilled killer for hire. Her fixation becomes personal when a piece of classified information crosses her desk that just might shed light on why Travis Bowers became known as the notorious Ryland.

Restoring reality…

Ryland has done his best to blend in with society, but it’s a punishment worse than death. He’s been passing the time of his seclusion with visions of a beautiful blonde who only wants inside of his mind, so he’s skeptical when Fallon suddenly appears in his kitchen in the dead of night. He’s more than willing to see where their attraction takes them, but there’s an unspoken inquiry in those blue eyes of hers that could only end in heartbreak—because a woman can’t redeem a man who doesn’t have a soul.

*

SHADOW SOLDIER

The Revenant, Book One

July © 2015 Kali Argent

T
he world ended
on a bitterly cold Tuesday morning in January.

Well, it had for Roux Jennings, anyway. Technically, the world hadn’t ended at all, but on most days, she wished it had. Death would be easier, kinder. A year and a half after the Purge, and each day, things only seemed to get worse.

The stench of decay saturated the air of the abandoned fishing shed, seeping into her clothes, her hair, her skin. Clenching her teeth against the bile that swelled in her throat, Roux glanced sideways at the newest member of their group as she readied her pack. Their small band of survivors consisted of only six—four men, her, and…Nevah.

Nevah Ryans had joined them the previous week after allegedly escaping one of the paranormal cities, and while the group tolerated her, they didn’t trust her, not yet. With her appearance radiating a degree of health and vitality many of them hadn’t known in months, she’d become an object of instant suspicion—if not outright jealousy. Where hunger had reduced Roux to hard angles and sunken hollows, Nevah still flaunted feminine curves beneath her long, lean muscles.

Dragging her gaze away from the newcomer, Roux combed her fingers through her hair, wincing when they tangled in the matted, oily, corkscrew curls. The once vibrant chestnut tresses appeared dark and dull beneath the layers of dirt and things she’d rather not think about, a noticeable contrast to Nevah’s shiny ebony locks. Roux couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a pair of scissors, yet Nevah’s pin-straight hair had been styled into a severe bob, the tips ending precisely at each corner of her jaw.

Hell, even the woman’s skin made the group suspicious—the supple, bronzed glow of days spent in the sun. After a year of hiding out in caves, tunnels, sewers, and other underground places, Roux’s normally fair complexion now appeared ashen, if not outright sickly.

Nevah’s very presence served as a daily reminder of all the things Roux had lost, and a dark, unspoken part of her hated the woman for it.

“Everyone listen up!” Their unofficial leader, Cade Novak, stood near the crooked door of the shed. “Everyone knows the rules. Once we’re out there, we stick together.” His dark eyes landed on each member of the group in turn as he brushed his stringy brown hair out of his eyes. “If you do get caught, you’re on your own.”

In the beginning, the decree had seemed harsh to Roux, basic human nature fighting against the lack of compassion and solidarity. In reality, no other way existed, and it hadn’t taken her long to understand why. They had neither the resources nor the strength to launch a full-scale rescue, and any attempt would end with them all dead—or worse.

Sacrifice the few to save the many.

“Everyone got it?” Cade insisted, not relaxing his stance until they’d all mumbled their assent. “Good. Stick close, stay alert, and keep your mouths shut.” He turned, shoved the creaking door open, and stepped out into the gray light cast by the setting sun. “Let’s go.”

After securing her hair at her nape with a length of nylon cord, Roux slipped her backpack on, rolling her shoulders to shrug the canvas bag into a more comfortable position. A military-standard utility knife with a long, serrated blade and a leather-wrapped handle rested inside a makeshift sheath on the side of her pack, the only thing left from her old life.

Roux reached for the knife twice, testing for ease of access. Satisfied, she took her place at the end of the queue, mentally preparing herself for the two-mile hike to their target—a small grocer on the edge of city limits in Trinity Grove, Pennsylvania. The route left them too exposed for Roux’s liking, but at least they wouldn’t have to travel into the heart of the city. With their meager food stores exhausted, and only half a gallon of fresh water between the six of them, they had little choice but to risk the undertaking.

She followed Denny—a shorter, middle-aged man with thinning gray hair and beady brown eyes—through the door and down the two rickety steps. Being the smallest member of their group didn’t prevent the rotted wood from crumbling under her weight, and Roux gasped when she went sprawling into the rocks and mud.

Clamping her lips together, she bit down on the inside of her cheek as fire lanced up the inside of her right arm, just below the crook of her elbow. The jagged rock, no bigger than a baseball, rose out of the puddle, its broken edge stained and shiny with her blood. Beyond the pain and the chance for infection, she had a much bigger, much more dangerous problem.

“Shit,” Nevah cursed under her breath, dropping into the mud beside Roux. “Every vampire in a mile radius is going to smell that.”

As if she needed the reminder. “I know.” She understood what Nevah hadn’t said. Her presence would put everyone in danger. “I’ll stay behind.”

Nevah shook her head as she tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her flannel shirt, leaving her midriff exposed. “I can disable the alarm, but I can’t pick a lock, not like you.” She washed away the excess blood with water from the murky puddle, then wrapped the cloth tightly around Roux’s arm before securing it with a double knot. “That’ll hold for now. We’ll grab bandages and meds at the grocer.”

“Thanks.” Climbing to her feet, Roux brushed as much of the mud from her tank top and jeans as she could, though she only succeeded in making it worse. “It’s not going to cover the smell, though. I might as well paint a target on my neck and ring the fucking dinner bell.”

“Nope.” Nevah pulled a monogrammed, silver flask from a side pocket on her pack and tilted it from side to side. “You good with a little pain?”

Roux narrowed her eyes but nodded. “If it means staying alive.”

With a mirrored bob of her head, Nevah twisted the cap off the flask and held her free hand out for Roux’s arm. “It’s going to sting like a bitch, and not just for a little bit. We need to soak the bandage to mask the scent.”

“What is it?”

A smirk curled the right corner of Nevah’s mouth. “Vodka, and not the cheap shit, either.” With a firm grip on Roux’s wrist, she upended the flask, emptying its contents over the makeshift bandage. “Don’t scream.”

Roux didn’t need the warning. Grinding her teeth together, she stared into Nevah’s eyes, counting the flecks of brown that dotted the amber of her irises until the worst of the pain had passed. Her eyes watered from the fumes, and a sheen of sweat coated her forehead, but she didn’t make a sound.

“Good?” Nevah asked, dropping the empty flask into the pocket of her bag.

“Good.” If nothing else, the alcohol would slow the start of infection. “Let’s go.”

They moved wordlessly through the forest that surrounded the small lake, Cade leading the way with Denny struggling to keep pace behind him. After every few steps, the older man would reach up to readjust his glasses, and sometimes, he’d finger the tape that held the left earpiece together, as though self-conscious about the broken frames. No one else gave a shit, but Denny did. Hell, the former grammar school teacher still wore a sweater vest and yellow bowtie, though both had started to unravel at the ends.

When they reached the main road that led into Trinity Grove, they stayed within the tree line, following the asphalt from the cover of the forest. With a mile left in their trek, and night fully upon them, Nevah finally broke the silence.