The General's Daughter (Snow and Ash #1) (10 page)

“They’re following us?” In my mind, I’m pretty much begging him to say no.

“Hard to say,” he pants. “They could be after Idris.”

They could even be headed back to Bluefield Mountain. Like I said, I have no sense of direction at all. “I hope he makes it.”

“Idris?” The look he flings over his shoulder tells me he never expected that from me.

“He’s not like the others,” I tell him. “He’s still civilized.”

Talon grunts as he heaves me up an embankment. “Most folks take one look at the color of his skin and write him off.”

Things got pretty bad for a while, especially between races. Instead of banding together, lots of people took the emergency as a reason to fling hate. Idris’s skin is dark, but as for race I can’t tell. He could be a mix of races or his ancestors could come from some island in the Pacific. All I know is he is massive, he’s a good-looking guy, and most importantly, he’d shown me compassion.

By now we’re climbing steadily.

“You didn’t answer me,” I remind him. “Where are we going?”

“I have no bloody idea. Somewhere far from here, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Aren’t you afraid of gangs?” One of the things that kept people in Bluefield, aside from the food, heat, and shelter, was the protection they got from the gangs.

“You talk too much,” he gripes. “Right now I’m more afraid of your dad’s people.”

He has a point.

He indicates the mountain that looms ahead of us. “Up there, I think. For now anyway. I don’t think they’ll look for you there.”

The mountain looks like it’s just over the next hill, but I know the Appalachians. The thing could be ten miles away.

We pass plenty of trees. Dead ones. We’re far enough out that a stray wild animal might have survived this long, but probably not. It’s the last place anyone would expect us to go.

I notice that Talon won’t make eye contact. Not that I’m needy or anything, but it’s weird. I’m trying to trust him, but I keep remembering what he said early on.
You owe me two lives.
He can’t have given up on all that pent-up hatred already. He swore back there that he wouldn’t hurt me or kill me, but what if he changes his mind? I have no idea where we’re really going. For all I know, he’s headed for Dad’s place to deliver my head.

Not like it would do General Barry any good, when my own dad tried to kill me.

I hear the engines again, and this time they’re louder. My stomach tilts. “Can they travel through woods?”

Talon wrinkles his brow. “Depends on how wide the trails are, or if there are roads nearby that we don’t know about.”

He picks up the pace, and I’m pretty much running beside him. I don’t complain.

I’m silent for a while except for some wheezing.

“What if we head for one of the towns?” I ask finally. I’m getting pretty hungry.

His lip curls. “You don’t think they’ll look there first?”

“There’s no food up there,” I say, indicating the mountain. “All the animals are dead and so are the plants. And even if there’s a spare duck waddling around, you don’t have a weapon.”

“Look,” he says, and he must think this is important because he stops. “If you want to die, do things your way. Tell me now so I don’t waste any more time trying to rescue you.”

I suck in my breath, and a wash of fear passes through me as I picture him abandoning me. I’ve just had my first taste of hope in days. Maybe I could go along with him for a while and look for ways to escape. But if I do that, there are a hundred different ways I can die out here. Starving to death doesn’t appeal. Neither does falling over a cliff.

Something else to consider—every time something horrible comes up, Talon’s there. He’s the only constant I have in this whole mal-adventure, the only source of hope and life. Putting my trust in him is hard, but he might be my best bet on getting to my nineteenth birthday.

Talon has that code of his. He might have no problem shoving his dick down my throat even though he hates me, but he’s never lied. He may have cooked meth back in high school, but he always looked out for his sister. He may have kidnapped me, but he steadfastly protected me from the others. As long as Talon keeps to his code…

“I’m sorry. I’m just scared. You lead.”

His eyes soften for a moment, and then he takes my hand.

Talon is helping me climb up a rock face as ice crystals fall on us like pin-tipped confetti.

“Come on,” he says. “Put your foot on that outcropping and take my hand.”

I look at the outcropping. That’s way too far. I look down and swallow. It’s at least a hundred-foot drop if he lets go. I take his hand, take a leap of faith, and soon we’re at the top of the cliff face. It’s been hours, and I haven’t eaten anything but that sticky glob of oatmeal this morning. We’ve gone miles. And miles. Four? Twenty? The terrain is so rugged we could have come two miles for all I know.

“Listen.” Talon narrows his eyes.

For a moment I stop breathing. I strain, but I hear nothing. I frown at him.

He breathes deeply, and his shoulders relax. “No more snowmobiles.”

Relief floods through me. That and joy.

“Either they’re following on foot now, or we’ve lost them,” he adds, ruining the moment.

I haven’t seen a single man-made structure since we left the trailer. No roads and not so much as a hunter’s tree stand. I shiver and jam my sodden gloves into my pockets.

Soon the ice fall makes it impossible for us to climb any more rock faces, but when we reach an outcropping, Talon goes out to the edge.

“Do you see anything?” I ask.

He has his hand over his eyes like he’s shielding them from the sun. Yeah, right. But I’m slightly nearsighted, so I rely on him. We’re pretty high up, enough to see the valley, enough to see the far-off remains of the trailer fire. He shakes his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

The ice has settled on top of the previously fallen snow, and our footsteps crunch a clear trail. Tracking us will be easy.

And it’s beginning to darken.

“Should we find someplace for the night? Or do we keep walking?”

He shrugs. “We’ll find something.”

My stomach growls. “You didn’t bring anything to eat, did you?”

He heaves a sigh. “Do I look like I’m carrying a pantry around?”

I recoil. “Sorry. I just thought you’d be a little more prepared.”

He shakes his head like he’s swearing up a storm somewhere in that brain. “Prepared for what, Miss Princess? Your six-course dinner?”

I’m scared, and I’m tired, and I’m tired of being scared. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face. I didn’t complain even once about the food at the trailer.”

He throws up his hands. “That was good food. Most people would’ve been happy to have it!”

“Why doesn’t your leader do something about that?”

“Because your father took all the resources!” He kicks a fallen branch and eyes a cluster of boulders.

“He’s rebuilding, Talon. He’s supporting a ton of people!”

“Good for him. Glad he’s taking such good care of his
people
.”

He means me, of course. My throat thickens, and all the fight leaves me as I struggle to keep from crying.

Talon starts gathering downed branches and setting them up against a V in the cluster of boulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a palace.” His voice is sarcastic. “I’m not here to wait on you, you know. You could help.”

“Sorry. Jeez. I don’t know how to build a…whatever that is.”

He presses his lips together and points out some pines. “Grab a bunch of those boughs. We’ll use them to line the floor, keep us up off the snow.”

Insulted by his constant reminders of my useless, offensive life, I stalk off. Some of the trees are still alive. It’s hard to believe after all these years that something still lives out here. I feel absolutely horrible breaking off branches from these heroic giants.

By the third trip, I’ve lined the bottom of Talon’s “house” a good six inches deep. Talon has made a grid-like lean-to against the boulders, and he stuffs the remainder of the pine boughs into the openings. Then he pushes snow up against it.

The wind picks up, snot freezes to my face, and my stomach has forgotten how to be hungry.

We go inside.

Talon clears a spot and builds a tiny fire, closes our “door” with the last pine bough, and hangs his coat over it to seal out the wind.

“Take off your clothes,” he says.

“What?” What?

“Strip.”

I gape at him. “It’s cold out there.”

“It’s warm in here. I want to fuck.”

What. An. Asshole.

“You’re not— Do you really think—” But I’m turned on as hell.

He unbuttons his shirt and lays it over the pine needles, does the same thing with his undershirt. His chest is naked and beautiful, even in the limited light. He’s like a prehistoric caveman warrior. When he unbuckles his pants, I get nervous that he means it.

He does. “But why? You’re mad at me.”

As an answer, he unzips my coat, tugs it off, and dumps it over the pine needles.

I hold my hands out to stop him when he reaches for the button-up shirt, but he pulls both hands around to my back and holds them there. He clutches me against his hard-on and kisses me. He uses his tongue to seduce my mouth, and the masterful way he handles me, it’s like being conquered by a Viking. That place between my legs grows thick, readying me for my mate, and I can’t help myself. I grind my clit against his dick. When he peels off my shirt, I don’t protest, but when he pulls off the undershirt, my breasts chill in the cold air. My nipples go almost painfully hard, and I find my willpower.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I avert my eyes. “Can’t we just hold each other? You know, keep each other warm?”

He grips my chin and forces me to look at him. “No.”

“But—”

He seizes my hand and forces it to his crotch. “You’ve got work to do.”

I can’t help it. He’s big, and he’s thick, and at the thought of stroking him my crotch floods with juices.

He grabs me by the belt and makes swift work of the buckle. Without it my pants fall to my hips. He pushes them down, and when he sinks two fingers into my pussy, I blush. I’m soaked.

He steps back with a smirk. “On your hands and knees.”

I’m breathing heavily. I sink onto my knees and put both hands on the floor. This is so humiliating.

I hear his pants unzip and the sound of material scraping against skin. He covers me. Without any preparation at all, he shoves his dick inside me. I cry out as he pushes all the way in until his balls slap against my backside. My cunt ripples and squeezes at this brutal intrusion.

Talon pushes my head down, and my nose is buried in his undershirt. I can smell his salty, sweaty maleness combined with the scent of my juices. God, my breasts beg for attention, but he ignores them. He withdraws himself all the way to the tip, then plunges in again. A series of fast, shallow pumps follow, and the friction this puts on my clit—Jesus. I close my eyes at the feel of it. My cunt tries to suck him even deeper, and I arch back against him.

He grabs my sides and begins working his hips. The material of his pants scrapes against the backs of my thighs, and his balls slap against my crotch, and oh Lord, I want—I want him to touch me. My breasts sway and slap with each thrust, and despite the degrading way he’s taking me, I can’t stop my hips from bucking back against him. The fact that he’s using me as nothing more than a fuck hole only makes me feel hotter, wetter, and if he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to scream.

“Talon.”
I need you.

Talon grunts with each thrust until they come so hard and so fast my face scrapes against the pine needles that poke through his shirt. Finally, he lets out a loud groan and his penis pulses inside me. He comes in warm, strong jets, flooding my cunt with his seed. He works his cock until it’s empty.

He pulls out of me and gets to his feet, and I’m left facedown on the floor of the hut with a pulsating clit, throbbing breasts, and a hungry pussy.

It’s only when I hear him zip his pants back up that I realize he’s not even going to try to get me off. He pokes around the floor of our shelter, completely ignoring me, and I roll over onto my side. He picks up my discarded pants, roles them up in a ball, and settles them under his head.

He eyes me one last time. “Better get some sleep.”

I wake up twice that night, once to find him fucking my cunt, and the next time he’s sliding his dick back and forth between my breasts. He comes all over my face and chest, then rolls over and goes back to sleep.

“Get up.”

Why is he being such a dick? Talon yanks his undershirt over his head. I sit up, wincing at the tenderness between my legs. My chest is sticky with his cum, and I don’t know how to get rid of it other than to rub snow over myself until I’m slick and cold.

He watches as I pull on my pants, then the rest of my clothes. His eyes are hungry, and I think,
Please. No. Not again.
How could he possibly want it again?