The Believers (The Breeders Series - Book 2) (31 page)

“You wanna be alone?” I ask, a coldness crusting over my heart. “Am I bothering you?”

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You're not…botherin' me.” He flicks a glance in my direction. “Just figured you didn't, you know, need me much.”

His words are weighted. They fall around me like shards of ice. I drop my eyes. I have no words to sooth this rift. Words have ceased to help me lately.

“Yeah,” Clay says, standing, brushing dust off his jeans. “Figured as much. I'll be over the ridge, huntin'.” He takes a step down the gravel path.

“Stop!” I stand up, my hand out, reaching for…God knows what. “What did I do?”

His blue eyes cloud. He runs a hand through his brown hair. “What d'you mean?”

“What did I do?” I gesture at his rock-wall posture.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing. One boot toe digs in the dirt. “Nothing.”

“Then what?” I take a nervous step forward, the gravel crunching under my boots. “After all we've been through, I thought you'd be there for me.” I sniff and blink back tears. How can he pick a fight when my mama's not even cold?

He barks an incredulous laugh. “Ha. Like you'd ever
let
me be there for you. Funny, Ri. Good one.” He starts down the ridge again.

I run after him, skidding in the dust. I grab his arm and haul him back. His eyes are cold when he whirls towards me. I jab a finger into his shirt. “You don't get to do that!” I shout. “You don't get to walk away.”

“Why don't I?” he yells. “That's all
you
ever do.” He clenches his jaw. “You push me away every chance you get!”

My heart bangs into my ribcage like a frantic animal, but my anger is fading. “What're you talking about?”

He jabs a finger back at the mall. “You. Push. Me. Away. Every time I try to help. Every time I step in.” He tugs his hair until it sticks up wildly. “I get it. You're independent. You can take care of yerself. But here's the thing.” He leans in, his eyes narrowing. “Everybody needs help. And if you're not gonna let me get close, then there's not much to us.”

I stare at him, letting his words crest over me like an ice-cold wave. Up above, the hawk's wings cast a long shadow over the land.

“I …” I shake my head, sudden tears welling to my eyes. “I'm not good at trusting.” My words come out in harsh whispers. I look up at him. His blue eyes sparkle in the light. I can't lose him. “It's hard…to trust when I've been let down so much. You know?”

His jaw unclenches first, then his fists. Slowly, he turns toward me. His thumbs find his belt loops. He takes a deep breath. “I know I let you down when we got captured—”

“No.” I touch his arm. This time he doesn't yank it away. I stare into his beautiful sun-lit face. “You didn’t let me down.”

He runs a hand through his brown hair. What I want to do is I step close until our bodies are inches away and thread my fingers through his hair, feel its softness between the pads of my fingers. Instead, I stand there and wait for him to break my heart.

He closes the gap between us in two steps and throws his arms around me. His smell overpowers me, that deep musk that sends my heart scampering. I press into him. My right hand grips his shirt back, my left the hair at the nape of his neck. As he leans down, the stubble on his cheek skims mine. My body ignites with wanting.

“You don't trust me,” he whispers. His words flutter at my neck, sending shivers over my skin. “You think I'm gonna leave.” He slips his hand under my chin and lifts my face up until I'm staring into his steel-blue eyes framed with long dark lashes.

“Riley,” he breathes, his mouth moving only inches from mine. “I'm right here.” His hand circles behind my neck. “I'll always be right here.”

He presses his lips to mine and his mouth ignites me with a slow, smoldering fire. His hands lace through my hair as his lips part and his tongue finds mine. The muscles of his back ripple under my fingertips. Panting, I pull back from the kiss and tug his shirt over his head. He stops and looks up at me in surprise.

“What're you doin'?” he asks, his eyes flashing, his bare chest heaving.

I run a hand over his skin, amazed at the feel of it. His pecs flex instinctively beneath my fingertips. “I trust you,” I whisper. I look up at him—the smooth round muscles on his chest and arms, the scar that runs down the hard muscles of his abdomen. Then I stare up into his sky blue eyes. “I trust you,” I repeat. Then I draw my shirt up over my head. The evening breeze playing over the bare skin on my arms and shoulders sends shivers over my body. Slowly, I unwind the binding on my chest.

“You don't…have to,” he says, watching with rapt attention. He lifts his eyes to mine, softness in his gaze. “You don't have to do this to keep me. I'm with you whether you want to or not.”

I nod and continue to unwind the cloth that covers me. “I know.”

I pull the last of the cloth away, and I'm bare, undone before him. His eyes go wide and a smile plays at his lips. I reach for him.

“Wait,” he says. He fumbles in his pants pockets. He pulls out a small gold ring—simple, beautiful. “I want you to have this.” His face is bashful, his long lashes fluttering as he takes my hand and slips the gold band on my finger. I hold it up to the light.

“Clay,” I whisper. I place my hand on his cheek. “Where did you get it?”

“Mage,” he says, smiling. “I asked her for one before…” He waves his hand back toward the mall. “People used to give each other rings as symbols of their commitment. Or marriage or whatever.” He blushes. “Wanted to give you one a while back, but I wasn't sure how you felt.”

I twirl the gold band on my finger and marvel at the silken feel on my skin. I press my lips to his with a tender kiss. “Being with you is the most right I've ever been.”

He draws me to him and I'm lost to sensation—his skin on my skin, his hands on my body, his mouth, his tongue, his breath skimming the bare flesh of my collarbones. We lay together under the open sky and I let go of the fear and the pain of this place. I give myself to Clay. And it’s beautiful.

Once again we're loading up a truck, yet this time there's two empty seats that will never be filled. I toss another sack of gear into the back. The Brotherhood have allowed us to fully stock ourselves from their warehouse. We've got more guns, ammo, cooking utensils, spare parts, fuel, and knickknacks than we need. Ethan even found a comic book and a T-shirt his size that reads
Red Sox
in big red letters. Clay's got a revolver on each hip, boxes of bullets, and a smile so wide you couldn't scrape it off. He finishes up a conversation with Lavan, slapping him on the back and laughing. When he walks my way, my hand reaches to the ring resting on a chain under my shirt.

“We ready?” he asks, pulling me in to kiss the top of my head. He runs a hand through my short hair. “Mage really gave you the barber shop treatment, huh?”

I touch the hair at the nape of my neck and blush, self-doubt rising like a cork. What if Clay doesn't like my haircut? But, as if he senses my insecurity, he presses his lips to my ear. “You look gorgeous.”

I sigh and kiss him. Then I go find the kids.

Ethan and Mage lean against the back garage wall. Mage gave him a haircut too, so that he no longer has to toss dark locks out of his eyes. He looks good. Older. I realize he's probably had a birthday by now. Is he nine? Did I miss it? I shake my head, feeling that pang of loss that always hovers just beyond my line of sight. Mama wouldn't have missed his birthday.

“Riley,” Ethan says, pulling his hand from where it rests on Mage's. A blush burns in his cheeks.

“Ethan.” I nod. “Mage. Sorry to interrupt. We're all packed.” Both kids' heads droop. “Ten minutes,” I say to Ethan. He nods. I don't walk over and muss his hair or pull him in for a hug. He'd kill me and rightfully so.

It'll be hard for Ethan to leave Mage, but I've promised him that once we have Auntie we'll come back here. Maybe by then Lavan will have the Citadel up and running. Maybe we could stay. But then, we'd have to be free of the Breeders.

I find Clay already in the truck cab, his cowboy hat pulled low, a twig clamped between his teeth. He nods at me as I open the truck door and slide in.

“Ho there, pretty lady. Can I give ya a lift?” He throws me a wink.

I press my palm to his cheek. “You better quit that pretty lady stuff when we get back on the road.”

He dips his head, his cowboy hat tilting down. “Whatever you fancy, ma'am.” He smiles big. Then his smile drops into seriousness. “Lavan says we got a couple days of rough drivin' 'fore we get back to town. That's if the old girl makes it.” He pats the truck's door. “And if we can find a place to refuel.”

I don't say anything, just stare out toward the road and the gentle uphill climb out of the valley.

“You scared?” he asks, his hand resting on my thigh.

“Nah,” I say, placing my hand on his. “We've gotten ourselves outta worse scrapes.”

He smiles, flashing his straight teeth. “We sure have, pretty lady. We sure have.”

I pat his hand. “I gotta do one more thing.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “Take all the time you need.”

I walk over the ridge, my heart heavy. When I see the two rock piles, brown and silent in the dawn light, my pulse picks up in my temples. I sink down beside Mama’s grave as the dawn light bleeds into the sky. How can I leave her here? I look at the mound of stones and think of Mama beneath them. All that weight, as if we wanted to hold her down, to tie her soul to the earth. I want a way to lift her body into the sky. Let her float somewhere far from this earth.

My eyes lift up to the sky. A bird skims the ridge, dipping low on a gust of wind. Above, the sky is turning orange.

My eyes trail to the west where the deep purple night hasn’t yet been washed out by dawn. There, in the cloudless sky, is a bright pinprick of light. A morning star? I stagger to my feet, my heart instantly beating. Could it be?

The star, like a diamond tucked in a sea of blue, winks brightly and I'm transported to that first night in the mall when Mama held my hand and told me about Arn, about feeling his love shine down from a morning star.

I stare up, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Please, Mama,” I whisper. “Give me a sign. Let me know you're up there. Let me know you love me.” Tears course down my cheeks in waves. I wait, my heart pounding, my chest tight. I want to feel her hands on me. I want to hear her whisper,
I love you, baby
.

There's no whisper on the wind, no hands on my body. And the star is fading with the spread of dawn.

I turn my eyes upward. The morning star,
her
morning star, seems to wink. Is it a trick of the light? The tears in my eyes? I kiss my fingertips and raise them toward the sky. I could choose to believe it is all in my imagination, that there's nothing in the sky but light, but instead I choose hope.

I choose love.

Lavan watched as the three outsiders drove away, their truck coiling a trail of dust. He’d given them more supplies than he'd wanted to spare, but then the Messiah's girl wanted them well stocked. He never could say no to Mage.

Footsteps drew him out of his thoughts. A Brother was running up with pink cheeks and wide eyes, something black clutched in his fist. Lavan turned, one hand instinctively reaching for the gun slung over his back. But then he saw the radio in the Brother's hand. Lavan closed the gap in three quick strides and reached for the black radio.

“There's a call?” The squeak in his voice betrayed the nervousness he'd hoped to hide. Lavan grabbed the radio from the Brother and felt the weight of it in his palm. He’d only heard the voices from far away a few times and each time it scared him. They'd never spoken to him before. He swallowed, not sure if he was ready.

“A call,” the Brother panted. He wiped sweat off his forehead and flicked it ground-ward. “They wanted to speak to whoever was now in charge.”

Something hitched in Lavan's chest.
He
was in charge now. This both terrified and excited him. His hand trembled as he leveled the radio with his mouth.

“Hello?” He hated the weakness in his voice. Clearing his throat, Lavan tried again. “Hello.”

Static. Then a voice crackled forth from the void. The voice, he realized, of a woman.

“With whom am I speaking?” the woman asked. Or more demanded. Lavan's arm hairs rose.

Awkwardly he thumbed down the talk button again. “This is Lavan. Lavan LaVue.” He let off the button and then hastily pressed it again. “I'm in charge.” Gods, he wished he sounded like it.

A long pause. When the woman's voice returned, she sounded even less pleased. “Lavan LaVue, this is Nessa Vandewater. I'm head of research and development for the Breeders. Do you know who we are?”

Lavan swallowed hard. Gods yes he knew who they were. Rumored to be monsters, maniac doctors who mutilated people for what they called science. The very people his followers were indebted to. The people who would come and kill them all if he stepped a toe out of line. The tremor returned to his hand. Thank goodness she couldn’t see it.

“Yes,” he said as evenly as he could. “I know who you…who the Breeders are. I know the Messiah worked with you. That you told him how to work the grow lights and where to find the outsiders.” He pressed the radio so close to his lips they brushed against the dimpled speaker. “I want to work with you too.” He didn't, not really, but for now he wanted her to think that he was on board.

“I'm glad to hear it,” her voice said. He wondered at her age. She sounded ageless, like a mountain and just as sharp.

“Lavan LaVue, we can help each other. I have a shipment of medical supplies already en route. I knew you'd need them.”

Lavan bristled as her message crackled over the airwaves. How could she already know what happened? Was she watching them? Unease crawled over his skin as he pressed the talk button. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Lavan, in return I need something from you.”

He knew this was coming. He flicked a glance at the Brother who’d stood all this time, listening. The boy shrugged. “What…what is it?” Lavan asked.