Sole Survivors: Crux Survivors, Book 2 (11 page)

“I’d like that. And if you want, you guys can take the spare room. I should have offered it last night but—”

“You do not need to worry about that. We’re all still strangers. You’ve done enough just by inviting us to your home and sharing your fantastic food. Have to say, I look forward to whatever you share tonight.”

Cadmar stepped up to Ross. “We’re not even two hours from my farm.”

Ross started to put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but he dropped it and stuffed it into his coat pocket instead. “It’ll take longer with the roads and we don’t really want to be out if there’s a bad storm.”

Keera nodded. “Not with all the downed trees around here. Where is your farm exactly? Do you know the name of the town?”

“Outside of Choudrant.”

“Then yeah, it’ll take longer. Most of the roads between here and there aren’t passable. You’ll probably have to go east and then north. It’ll add a few more hours to the trip, maybe another day.”

Cadmar’s lips tightened.

“Hey,” Ross said softly, ducking until the boy looked up at him. “I promised you we would help your family and I mean it. But even if we did leave today, we wouldn’t be pulling them out by tonight. We’ll have to park away, sneak in and get to know the situation. Watch them.”

Tripp cleared his throat. “Chase and I want to help. We have guns.”

Ross looked at Chase, who nodded. “We do. And yes, we do want to help.”

“So do I,” Keera added. “I have weapons in the shelter and I also have several CBs and can rig them to power off the lighters in the trucks.”

Ross nodded. “That should work to keep us in touch on the road. We tried both CBs and walkie talkies when I first went out on supply runs but neither transmitted far off the mountain.”

“It’s possible you could get a CB to work with the right antenna. Know anything about them?”

“Guess I should have learned.”

“My father taught me a lot. My walkie talkies have rechargeable batteries but I don’t know if they still work and since no regular batteries still work we could have a problem with them. But we could test them out. I couldn’t before because there wasn’t anyone on the other end.”

“Cadmar and I will test them out,” Tripp offered.

“Okay. Let me charge them first. That’ll take a while.” She eyed Cadmar’s feet. “I’m also going to see if I can find boots my father and I stored down there. I think I have some that will even fit him. He has big feet like my dad’s.”

“My mom used to say I’d grow into them, but I’m nineteen, so I doubt it.”

“I don’t,” Ross broke in. “Some men keep growing into their early twenties and because you are finally getting the nutrition you need, it’s possible you’ll grow into those feet.”

Tripp grinned and smacked Cadmar’s shoulder. “You could grow taller than me.”

“I really doubt that,” Cadmar muttered.

Keera started toward the shelter, then stopped. “If we don’t plan to leave until tomorrow, I have an idea. Any of you ever had a crawfish boil?”

Most of them shook their heads, but Cadmar perked up. “You got traps?”

“Lots of them. The mudbugs are slow right now, but they’ll still check out a baited trap. If you and Tripp want to put them out, I’ll charge the walkie talkies and then later you guys can test them and the new boots out when you go pick up the crawfish.” She pointed. “Traps are right inside the garage, hanging on pegs inside one of the cabinets. You can use the small nets to catch minnows for them. I have some deer sausage in the fridge that might work as bait too.”

“Too bad we don’t have any chicken livers.” Cadmar said. “I can’t help but wonder how many chickens will be left at home. The raiders were eating them so fast.” His mouth turned down, his expression going so bleak, Keera felt it in her soul.

Tripp must have felt it too. He stepped closer to Cadmar, towering over the younger man, and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I have never eaten a crawfish. Do they taste like chicken?” He frowned. “Not that I remember what that tastes like either.”

“Seriously?” Cadmar’s mouth fell open.

“Seriously. And I really, really want to have this crawfish boil, so how about you teach me how to set those traps?”

The nineteen-year-old grinned, looking eons younger. “Let’s do this!”

Keera started walking toward the shelter, but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Chase? Want to help me carry stuff back?”

He nodded and followed. He knew why she wanted him to follow her down there and he let her know the second their feet touched the floor. He turned and backed her into the one free wall, smiling when she gasped as their bodies touched.

“Wanted to get me alone, did you?”

Chapter Eight

Keera pushed Chase’s hair behind his ear and traced the puckered scar with her fingers. His cheekbone had literally been dented, leaving a knotted scar in the middle of his cheek with lines zigzagging in all directions. “I can’t imagine how much this must have hurt.”

He closed his eyes. “Not as much as losing my sister.”

“You could have died if the bullet had been a couple of inches higher.”

“This isn’t my only scar.” When he opened his piercing blue eyes, her stomach flipped. It wasn’t very bright in there with the light from the oil lamp, but she could see his eyes clearly and it was like looking into the sky before a storm. A darker blue than usual, vibrant and startling. Stark emotion passed quickly in that sharp gaze. It ripped into her chest and suddenly, she was the one who felt exposed even as she watched him slide the thin flannel off his shoulders then yank his T-shirt over his head.

Mouth dry, she watched as he revealed taut, smooth, tanned skin with a sprinkling of light brown chest hair—just a shade darker than the hair on his head, the same color as his beard. She felt his eyes on her as he continued to reveal more of his gorgeous skin. Muscles in his stomach rippled when he reached up to smooth down his hair after the shirt made it stand up.

Keera worried about making a fool of herself then. She wanted to crawl up that big, male body, wanted to taste his skin and rub all over him like a cat. She clenched her hands into fists to keep from jumping him. Running her gaze up, she saw what he was talking about.

His upper right chest was a mass of more thick lines, some wrapping his shoulder and arm. “That’s not from just a gunshot wound,” she whispered.

“Two bullets and a shitload of glass.”

Wincing, she raised her gaze back to those blue eyes and took in his narrowed stare, the flare of his nostrils, and knew he expected her to be sickened by the sight. What she saw were scars, yes, but the ones he carried on the inside were the ones tearing her up right then.

With her heart threatening to beat through her rib cage, Keera reached for the hem of her sweater and quickly pulled it over her head. She wore no bra—hadn’t owned one since her last had turned to threads and she’d never bothered to learn to make another. Her father hadn’t considered bras necessary clothes to stock in this shelter.

Chase sucked in a breath, lifted his hand then dropped it.

Before she lost her nerve, she stepped close until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest hair. “Oh,” she breathed, glanced back up.

He’d closed his eyes and a look of near pain flattened his lips, flushed his neck. The man was holding himself back with such a tight leash, it threatened to snap any second. She’d thought to take this seduction slow but in that instant, she wanted the snap. Standing on her tiptoes, she put her mouth on his and this time, she was the one who sucked in air when he
did
finally snap.

Within seconds, her back was against the wall again as he increased the pressure of his mouth, opening her lips and sliding his tongue in to meet hers. He touched her bare waist, running his calloused palms up to rest on the sides of her breasts. His rumbling groan caused his chest to vibrate against hers, but he pulled back and gazed down at her with something like awe before his lids fell. He cupped her breasts, ran his thumbs over her nipples. “So soft,” he murmured. “Never felt anything so soft.”

He growled and abruptly wrapped his hands around her jean-covered ass and lifted her higher against the wall.

Keera felt small and weightless, surprise sending her eyes open wide at the strength revealed in the wiry muscles of his arms. When her chest was even with his face, he stopped, held her in place and slowly rubbed his cheeks over her nipples before burying his face between her breasts, rasping his whiskers side to side.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Keera speared her fingers in his silky hair and led his mouth to her nipple, then gasped when he took it into his hot mouth. He sucked and pulled lightly on it and she felt the answering tug in her womb. Instinctively, she spread her legs.

He set her back on her feet and reached for the snap of her jeans and had them down around her thighs before she could blink.

She pushed him back. “Wait. Damn.” She bent over to catch her breath, staring at him between strands of her disheveled black hair.

His hands were clenched into fists so tight, his knuckles were white. A thick ridge filled the front of his threadbare jeans and they were so worn, she half expected his dick to poke all the way through.

“You don’t think your brother or Cadmar will come down here, do you?”

He shook his head. “You sent them off with the traps and the promise for food. Not much takes Tripp away from a food goal.” His gaze raked down her body, narrowing. His chest began to move faster as his breathing picked up. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you. Wish I didn’t have the scars to offer back.”

She pointed to her side, turned slightly so he could see the thick, three-inch scar she had there. “A raider tried to stab me. He missed. He didn’t miss with Dax.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve only ever been with him.”

 
“We don’t have to take this any further.”

“I think we do. No, I know we do. I loved my husband, but he—” she broke off and looked over his shoulder. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this here, or worse, had been about to say what had been on the tip of her tongue.

Chase followed her gaze to the urn. He stepped back again.

“No.” She held up her hands, beckoned him back. “My husband is long gone. More than six years and the truth is we were close and we loved each other a lot. But we didn’t have passion. I’m not entirely sure women were his first choice and he…well…I recognized the post-traumatic stress in your brother for a reason.” Her gaze briefly touched on the urn again before coming back to him. “Dax had issues.”

Chase looked at her, then marched over to lift a box and place it in front of the urn.

Keera laughed. Couldn’t help it.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“You want me? In here?”

“Woman, I’d want you anywhere. Even if the ghost of your husband is watching.”

“Luckily, I don’t believe in ghosts,” she whispered as she bent to unlace her boots. She pushed them, then her jeans off and stood in front of him only in her yellow underwear. They were her best pair—ones she hadn’t made herself, but saved. They had pretty lace around the edges and she guessed they looked good by the flare of Chase’s nostrils as he stared.

“I do like the box there, though,” she whispered. “Come here.”

Scorching heat filled his features, making him look even more fierce than usual. He walked past her, climbed the ladder and pulled the door to the shelter firmly shut. When he came back down, his intentions were clear. He put his hands on her waist, slid his fingers in the top of her underwear, then cupped her ass. He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist and walked them to one of the futons.

He stretched her out then stood over her, tall and broad and so obviously turned on, nerves fluttered in her belly.

But she held her arms up to him.

He sprang into action, pulling off his boots, his jeans. He wore no underwear and when he finally stood still, she held her breath. That brown hair—the beard color— looked soft on his thighs and around his beautiful cock. Long and cut—the first she’d seen like that outside of movies because Dax had been uncircumcised. It stood out, hard, and even in the dim light of the oil lamp, she could see the shiny tip. She reached up and ran her thumb over it before taking that drop of precome and bringing it to her mouth.

He groaned, eyes so hot they burned her, then bent and hooked his fingers in the sides of her underwear. She lifted to help him as he tugged them down her hips. Gently.

“Be a shame to tear these,” he murmured.

A smile tickled the corners of her lips and she was glad she’d saved them.

His palms smoothed up her calves and he knelt on the futon, nudging her legs open enough for him to settle on his knees between them. She resisted the urge to squirm in embarrassment because the man didn’t shy away from studying her. A lot. He also stroked the skin of her inner thighs, making them quiver.

“Damn, Keera,” he whispered. “So smooth. So fucking beautiful.”

She’d shaved her legs the day before, before she’d even gone to meet them at the plantation. She’d torn her apartment apart looking for a razor, then slashed up one ankle because she was so out of practice.