WastelandRogue (11 page)

“I thought you were dead,” he said in his defense, letting
go of Iantha and rushing to Rye.

He reached out to wipe the grime from her cheek.

“Well, as you see, I’m not.” She swatted his hand away. “Of
course it appears that’s nothing you’re concerned about. What’s the difference
between fucking one
lamian
and another, right?”

“Oh, there’s a difference, sweetie,” Iantha declared,
dragging part of her torn shirt across her chest. “Unlike the two of you, I’m a
purebred.”

Rye flung her smoldering jacket to the floor. “All the
better for him, I suppose.” She sat down and tried to pull off one of her
boots, torn and partly burned. The red had a crispy charred appearance.

The thought of forcing Rye to accept his embrace passed
through his thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to take her in his arms, hold her
close and kiss her. Kiss her a dozen ways, a thousand times. If only he still
had on his shirt and Iantha wasn’t covering up her bared breasts or blinking
away the crimson veil of lust in her eyes.

He turned his attention back to Rye and saw her furious
stare aimed at Iantha again. He didn’t understand fully until Iantha turned and
he saw the purple marks of his kiss on her neck.

“Let me help.” He knelt in front of Rye.

“You were of no help before, so I don’t expect any now.” She
kicked at him.

He grabbed her lifted leg at the calf and pulled on the heel
of the boot. She was a filthy mess. Dirt and ash clung to her pants, which had
had burn holes that exposed even more of her than before. Hanging on by
threads, they didn’t look long for any practical use.

“Rye, this is Iantha. Iantha, this is Rye.”

“The female who was in that hole you were looking to go
down?” Iantha questioned, her tone heavy with disbelief.

“That’s right. Do you have something clean she can wear?” he
asked her.

“Over there,” Iantha said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose
you’d be willing to revisit breeding with me now that you’ve got your female
back, would you?”

“You were going to breed her!” Rye’s voice rose to an
unfathomable high pitch as she bolted up from her seat.

“No.” He rushed to deny the thought of having sex with
Iantha had ever crossed his mind.

“Right.” Rye snorted with apparent skepticism.

Her gaze swept down to his crotch where his pants hung open,
visibly showing his semi-erect cock as compelling evidence.

“What happened? How’d you get out?” he asked, steering her
attention away from his sexual idiocies while he quickly fastened his pants.

“I climbed and it wasn’t easy with that river of fire
licking at my ass.” She set about the task of stripping off her clothes.

“I’ll go get water so you can wash up,” he told her.

He had to pass her to go outside. She had her pants down but
her shirt still hung long enough to keep her decently covered. He touched her
arm and she shrugged it off, then as if to change her mind, she caught him by
the hand.

Did she want him to say something first, something as crazy
as his feelings felt more than causal desire? He rubbed his thumb lightly over
her knuckles, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

“She said you wanted to go down that hole after me,” Rye
finally said quietly.

“I would have if I knew you were alive. But the heat, the
fire. I called to you and got no response. I’m so sorry you had to go through
that alone, Rye.”

“Bring cold water,” she said, letting go. “I’ve had about
all I can take of anything remotely heated.”

The moment passed for true confessions. He looked to Iantha
about the water situation.

“Got me a couple buckets hanging from the eaves to catch
rainwater. It will be cooler than the ground water,” she told him.

He tried to get close to Rye but she shied away. With her
head down, her expression hidden in the shadows of her hair falling forward, he
could only guess her mood. Was it only disappointment in him she felt? He
thought not. Some other emotion had danced in her eyes.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He opened the door and left, hoping
Rye’s explosive temper would subside in his brief absence.

Around the back of the shack, he found eight wooden buckets
dangling from thick dead branches wedged under the bark-shingled roofing and
rafters. At the first, he lifted down the bucket to find it had a bonus, a
gelatinous glob of some amphibious eggs. Tempted by hunger pangs, he considered
scooping out the protein-packed substance and eating it.

“That’s all I need, is to think of myself right now.” He
hung the bucket back. “She’s already not in a good frame of mind.”

With only two days of knowing Rye, he discovered her
strengths might have overshadowed the more feminine aspects of her personality
but she still had the disposition of a scorned female. He paused at the second
bucket.
Is Rye jealous?
She had thought he was going to have sex with
Iantha. He shook away the thought. No, Rye made it clear she was angry he
hadn’t saved her.

He carefully unhooked the bucket, lowered it and found it
clear. Testing the temperature of the water, he found it quite warm. After
checking the other buckets and finding them equally warm, he carried the one he
had back around to the door.

Entering the shack, he found Rye sitting on a chair wrapped
in a cloth and listening to Iantha.

“There’s a fire in the earth,” Iantha was saying. “For
centuries, since the wars, its heat has radiated closer to the surface in the
wastelands than anywhere. It’s why the ground remains practically barren.”

“A fire in the earth?” Rye questioned. “And you think that’s
why nothing grows in the flatlands?”

“I know it is. The surface may sustain bits of prairie grass
and shallow-rooted scrub brush, but tree roots aren’t able to withstand the
boiling water of underground streams.” Iantha looked at Sevrin. “The core of
the world isn’t where the devil dwells, but the fires are of his making.”

“You said that before.” He sat the bucket on the floor near
Rye. “And you mentioned the Wickstrom Group was behind it.”

“The Wickstrom Group?” Rye stopped running a wet cloth over
her face. “How would scientists have anything to do with a fire inside the
earth?”

“They started it.” Iantha pushed her hands through her
short-cropped brown hair. “The story is they were building a facility in the
Appalachians and their equipment hit a gas pocket that exploded and set a large
coal vein on fire. Over time that inferno spread, following thousands of miles
of veins.”

“How do you know this?” Sevrin asked, distrusting her story.

“I used to work for the Wickstrom Group. I heard stuff,
learned things. I didn’t agree with their vision for the future so I moved on.”

“What were they doing that you didn’t like?” Rye asked, at
the same time cleaning her clothes in the bucket.

He didn’t think it was the time to remind her how Iantha had
offered her fresh garments.

“It wasn’t anything specific,” Iantha answered. “But there
was this underlying tension with other employees.”

“What kind of tension?” Sevrin asked.

“The sort between
lamians
and humans. Each year fewer
and fewer
lamians
worked for Wickstrom. Combine that with rumors of the
unsavory kind of doings and I felt a change was necessary.” Iantha moved to a
cabinet in the corner and lifted a box off the shelf. “I took this as
security.”

“Against what?” Rye turned from hanging her wet clothing on
the chair.

Sevrin watched her, more than interest evident in her
expression. What was it about the Wickstrom Group that had Rye’s attention
beyond mild curiosity?

“Against Wickstrom, of course.” Iantha opened the box.
“These are documents that substantiate the facts.”

“Like I asked before, what is it you have against them?” Rye
asked irritably.

Iantha gave Rye an irritated glance and then turned toward
him. “There was an accident many years ago exposing us to an engineered bacteria.
Only those with
lamian
blood were affected. I and the others at the
facility were inoculated with an antibiotic, and we recovered. No one was aware
that even though the antidote cured our symptoms, we became carriers. Those who
left the facility, feeling it safe to interact with friends and family,
infected hundreds. Many died, including my mate.”

Sevrin thought of his mother, how ill she had been before
dying. Was it possible she had contracted that illness? Why hadn’t he or his
brother fell ill as well?

“How did they stop this bacteria from spreading?” he asked.

“Like many quickly engineered bioweapons, ours had flaws.”
Iantha gathered the papers back together in a pile. “In this case, the
inoculated host’s immune system eventually eradicated the bacteria. While the
secondary hosts that had contracted the disease didn’t have the benefit of the
initial antibiotic, they bacteria itself carried the cure for transmittal.
Those people couldn’t pass it on so the bacteria died with them.”

Rye walked to the window and looked out. “Rain is gone, we
should get going.” She picked up the shirt she had rinsed and dried. With her
back to him and Iantha she put it on. “That is if your plans haven’t changed?”

The cloth wrapped around her slipped from under the shirt to
the floor. She picked up the pants and stepped into them.

“No. My plans haven’t changed,” Sevrin told her, surprised
she thought there was the slightest chance they might.

After what she heard from Iantha, was Rye now wishing he
wasn’t traveling with her? He’d wait until they were well into their journey
again before mentioning her interest in the Wickstrom Group.

Rye and Sevrin walked for a long time in silence. She went
over every moment she’d spent in Iantha’s shack. She hadn’t expected Sevrin to
jump joyously around the room, but she had hoped for more than surprise etched
in his face. The way he cleared his throat as if preparing to make an excuse
for luring her to that dangerous spot was disheartening.

She tried to keep from thinking about anything important.
Yet what Iantha had said about the Wickstrom group had her mind abuzz in
several directions. Was this bacterial virus what Hamner said scientists of the
Wickstrom Group were working on to kill
lamians
? Her father had taken
her and Shay into the Taum Sauk Mountains, away from their mother when she was
sick. Was it the virus Iantha had mentioned that killed her?

She should have asked Iantha more questions. But the way
Iantha kept looking at Sevrin as if he was a tasty morsel for sexual sustenance
had kept Rye’s focus in a different direction.

Rye looked ahead at Sevrin. Handsome, strong, generous,
loving, he had no end to his attractive qualities. He was capable of stirring
up the most amazing sensations during sex, and yet he also confused her. She
was intelligent as well as clever. To think Sevrin wasn’t cunning with a hidden
dark side would be foolish. She’d have to keep reminding herself that his
gallant persona might all be an illusion.

The heat of the earth had dried the surface into a web of
cracks. When the ground rumbled beneath her feet, she knew what to expect this
time. She grabbed Sevrin by the sleeve to run. The thickness of his jacket
prevented her from seizing a tight hold and he slipped out of her clutches. She
fell forward.

His descent alerted her to the opening ground. Quicker than
she thought possible, she spun around on her belly, reached out and caught his
hand. Her heart beat furiously from the memory of her ordeal in a fiery pit.

Rye held tight, pulling with all her strength while Sevrin
clawed the ground with his free hand.

He managed a leg up and climbed out of the crevice. That
didn’t make them safe. He got to his feet first, showing he knew that at any
moment the ground might give way where they lay. He dragged her up and hand in
hand, they sprinted across the cracked riverbed.

Once out of the danger zone, Sevrin stopped and let go of
her grip. He panted hard, bending over slightly to rest with his hands against
his legs.

“I don’t know how or where, but when I go home, I don’t ever
want to cross that riverbed again,” she told him.

He looked at her in silence. Then as if it didn’t matter
what came before, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. His lingering
hold had a strange tightness, the constriction making it hard to breathe.

Fighting him off never crossed her mind as she emotionally
collided with her fears. How many times had she experienced that sensation of
doom in her recent past? Too many, she decided, thinking how relief also came
with an unusual side effect—arousal.

Sevrin’s hands raking over her showed he experienced
something similar. His barrage of kisses made her only faintly aware of her
clothes coming off and then his. Desperate to hold him, to roll her hands over
his hard contours of muscle and sinew and pretend he would always belong to
her, she clung to him.

The hot sun, the hotter ground, had nothing on the inferno
built from their near death experience. Out in the open, surrounded by miles of
dust and shielded from no one’s gaze, Sevrin took her to the ground.

He slid his hands everywhere, not missing a single place
that she needed them. Words of passion flowed freely along with his kisses to
her shoulders and neck. When she tried to understand them, she quickly realized
they were just sounds she had wished were words. Then he spoke clearly.

“I thought I’d die when you dropped down into that hole,” he
murmured against her lips.

The sob that broke from her stopped Sevrin’s sprinkling of
sweet kisses over her face. Propped on his forearms, holding himself suspended
over her, he swept one hand over the top of her hair to the back and lifted her
head.

Then bowing his head, he placed his forehead against hers.
“You’re safe, Rye.”

She gave the slightest nod, not wanting him to leave, and he
didn’t.

“There hasn’t been anything that has ever scared me more,”
he continued. “How about you don’t do that again, all right?”

She hiccupped a small laugh, appreciating the way he used
humor to calm her.

“I’ll try,” she replied.

Sliding her hands around his hips to his ass, she pulled him
down. He pushed his cock deep into her cunt. Her insides went taut with the
warm fullness of his thick shaft filling her. His coarse public hair brushed
her sensitive skin. An inclination to rush swept her up against his downward
movement.

Again and again, she rose to the compelling friction burning
the air around them. His breathing escalated. Low groans reverberated. Sudden
spasms roiled through her as if the earlier storm were trapped within her body.
Inundated with intensity, she dug her fingers into his arms and cried out from
the sudden spasms.

The fervent moment ended as quickly as it had come. Sevrin
expelled a heavy breath and rose from her. On his knees between her spread
legs, he looked almost remorseful.

“We should get moving,” he said too casually, pulling her to
sit.

Then he cupped her face. Tears rolled freely down her
cheeks. Sevrin leaned and kissed them away. His tenderness only brought on more
as he nuzzled her face lovingly.

“I’m sorry, Rye,” he said, without defining the basis of his
statement.

Did he mean for not being there to save her? Was this regret
for his obvious indulgence with Iantha? She watched him rise to his feet and
walk to his clothing. His skin glistened with sweat in the sunlight. From his
shoulders, down his spine, to his buttocks and the backs of his thighs he was
perfect. He moved with confidence, the kind that provoked darker thoughts about
his apology.

She’d seen the bite on his hand and the spots of blood on
Iantha’s chest. The female had drunk from him. Had he felt the sexual bond and
imagined Iantha while they had sex? Those sounds that almost formed words were
different from other times. Was he projecting an excitement he had built up for
that purebred
lamian
? Rye suppressed her anger at the trait. She got to
her feet and dressed.

Silence blanketed them as they continued on their journey.
The scorching sun seemed hotter than ever. Sevrin marched along far ahead of
her in stoic strides while she carried her jacket over her head, now a shield
against the sun. They traveled for two days without her speaking more than a
dozen words to him. When they rested, keeping watch became her excuse to sleep
separately from him. She wished for the coolness of rain again but knew there
wasn’t any hope of seeing it for a while.

Then the visions came.

Sevrin ignored Rye’s entrance in Iantha’s cabin. Frozen
in shock, Rye watched him pull Iantha’s torn shirt down her arms, stripping her
naked, staring hungrily at her body. He slowly drew Iantha close until her
breasts and his bare chest met. He kissed her in a light sensual fashion,
circling her face from left to right, touching his lips to her cheeks, her chin
and finally her lips. There he landed hard, taking her mouth aggressively,
biting her lip and drawing blood.

Speechless, Rye could not move. Her feet, her legs, her
entire body burned with rage—no—the heat coursing through her wasn’t fury but
intense desire. Sevrin licked at the blood rolling down Iantha’s chin. He
followed its path to her neck, sucking up the red liquid with fervent greed.

Rye hungered for him in a way she’d never wanted a man
before.

As if sensing her deep yearning, Sevrin stopped his
fondling of Iantha’s breasts. He drew back from spotting Iantha’s neck purple
with his sucking lips and he turned to Rye.

Rye sucked in a breath as Sevrin’s gaze washed over her.
The look magically undressed her, leaving her naked and trembling with lust.
When he grabbed her, he held her face between his hands and kissed her as if it
were the last she’d ever receive. His caresses roamed her body, the friction of
his rough palms stimulated every nerve as he maneuvered her to the small table
in the room. He bent her over it and held her down with his hand pressed to her
spine. She shuddered at the touch of his fingers gliding over her buttocks,
moving between her legs and sliding into her.

Mesmerized by his strokes, Rye didn’t question Iantha
snatching her arms where they hung over the sides of the table. Sevrin had her
attention on the orgasm building within her. Rye said nothing as Iantha tied
her torn shirt to Rye’s wrists and bound them to the table legs. Rye didn’t
want any distraction from the oncoming rapture.

Then a sharp pain radiated across her shoulders. It drew
her concentration away from Sevrin, away from Iantha, even though they were
laughing. Why were they laughing? A glint of something shiny flashed near her
face and she looked up to see Hamner, Levor and…no, it couldn’t be…Sevrin was
with them.

“Finally, civilization,” Sevrin announced.

Rye snapped out of her wildly irrational, disturbingly
frightening trance. The heat was getting to her, pushing her dangerously close
to developing sun-fever. She had already suffered several bouts of paranoia
from dehydration, starting when Hamner had her tied up in that building. She
didn’t need any more bizarre thoughts making her paranoid.

She felt around for the flask hanging on her shoulder.

“Damn.” She rattled the empty container. She needed to cool
her core temperature before she suffered more mind games of her subconscious.

Sevrin had said civilization. They’d find water there.

The mud hadn’t fully washed from her clothes, leaving her
pants stiff, so as she trudged up the slope, the seams scratched her inner
thighs. The burning sting only lessened when she stood still and let the
chafing heal. Her shirt had a rancid odor and she blamed it on the water Sevrin
brought her at Iantha’s. Some creature had to have fouled it. But there was no
way in hell she was going to take any clean clothing from that wasteland whore.
Every time she thought of Iantha, she saw Sevrin moments from ravishing the
female. Maybe he didn’t care about Iantha, but if Rye hadn’t showed up when she
did, she was sure she would have found him dulling his emotional state with
sex.

Rye leaned against a decayed stump near Sevrin. Ahead lay a
community of slapped-together structures from what appeared to be leftovers
from a once-thriving mining camp. In the far distance hovered higher
hills—mountains and trees—the reminder of home, the peaceful setting of her
cabin in a forest of evergreens. She missed the tranquility of doing mundane
chores. Even listening to Shay’s complaints about them was better than
wandering the wastelands.

The tension between her and Sevrin had fueled her
determination to keep on the move and he never suggested otherwise. Now she was
ready to pipe up and voice her fatigue. “I don’t care if I have to sleep
sitting in a corner,” she said, thinking of how soon she’d be able close her
eyes and rest.

“Get down.” Sevrin grabbed her by the arm and dragged her
behind the stump and the scruffy wasteland bush alongside it.

She fell to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

“Marauders.”

She wiped the sweat from her face and tried to see what
Sevrin did. It had been years since she’d had any run-ins with the band of
thieves. The vicious human thugs preyed on the weak and gave her reason not to
find much redeemable in the human species. However, as a
lamian
, she had
little to worry about from them. They targeted mostly their own kind, either stealing
or abusing them.

“We could go to the south,” she suggested. “Once we’re out
of their line of sight we could then swing back up toward the northeast.”

“It’s a small community. Maybe forty or fifty people,”
Sevrin commented as if not hearing her. “They don’t stand a chance at defending
themselves against marauders.”

“You’re not thinking we should go help them, are you?” She
didn’t want side quests slowing her down. Her sister was her priority.

“Knowing how many of them there are will make coming up with
a plan easier. I think if we wait until dark, we’ll find most of them drunk on
fermented dandelions. Then I find the head guy and make him a deal he can’t
refuse.”

“And that would be?”

“He and his gang leave and I don’t kill him.”

“Great. You’re going to pick a fight.” She pushed away from
him, not wanting to get involved. “They’re just humans.”

Sevrin’s frown and furrowed brow reminded her if not for him
she might be dead.

“They’re people, just like us, Rye.”

“And what reward can you possibly think they’ll pay you?”
she asked, hoping he wasn’t as serious as he sounded about being a Samaritan.

“A place to clean up and something to eat would be nice.” He
pushed his fingers into his hair and combed the unruly dark-brown strands back.

“I find it more likely they’ll be unappreciative of our
help.”

“A bit prejudiced, aren’t you.” His matter-of-fact comment
hit a nerve.

Not more than three days ago, she was telling her captor
that his prejudice against
lamians
was obsolete and yet, as Sevrin
pointed out, she wasn’t acting much better.

“I’m just wary of them.” She had to think of finding her
sister. Shay needed her.

“Understandable after what you’ve endured.” Sevrin finally
took note of her feelings. “However, I recall you showed some trust in me when
you thought I was pure human.”

“That was a side effect of being poisoned.” She stood up,
took off Sevrin’s coat and handed it to him. “I was vulnerable and delirious.”