The Horde Without End (The World Without End) (8 page)

I turn to Finn. "You've given them the stupid warning. It's time to go."

Finn doesn't say anything as I turn on my heel and stalk out. Maybe he has something left to say to the idiots who run this Haven, but I'm done.

I'm leaving. Collin is out there, with a priest of all fucking things. And I'll do whatever it takes to get him back.

The room feels suffocating small. Even more so than it did last night, when all we had was a tiny bed to share—Finn ended up sprawling on the end, while I curled in the dirty corner, half sitting.

Now it feels half that size, and every move he makes, every brush of fabric over his skin, rubs at exposed nerves.

Maybe it's because my grief is welling up so big it will make even this tiny room smaller. Can a feeling eclipse space, shrink it to something that is insignificant and negligible?

Because right now, it feels like it can.

"The Aldermen were startled by how rude you are," he says. I swallow hard and jerk at the lacing of my corset top. Is that really what he wants to talk about?

"Because if I had been a polite little windup doll, you would have been the same? You were about five seconds from shooting one of them."

Oh look at that. I
can
sound normal, even when grief is choking me.

"I have the right to be a bastard—I've lived long enough and killed enough that no one can say a damn thing."

"Is that what it is? Killing gives us rights?"

He goes still and silent, and I shake my head, jerking the corset off abruptly. The lacings sting against my skin, and then it’s gone and I can breathe. “I think death should earn me something. Watching my best friend dead on a morgue table—“

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Something about his voice warns me to stop, that this is dangerous. But dangerous seems like a brilliant idea right now. I twist to face him. “I’m falling apart. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yes,” he snaps.

I stalk to him and shove at his chest, furious. “Then go. Leave me the fuck alone, O’Malley. Go find someone who knows who the hell you are and gives a shit—I don’t need you.”

“You’re better than this,” he snarls, shoving back.

“He was my
lover,
you bastard,” I scream.

His face spasms, and he shoves me into the wall. “He was a boy. A distraction. You deserve so much more than a paltry Haven boy.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hiss.

Finn’s eyes flick down, and I realize, abruptly, that I’m in nothing but the skin tight pants and strapless bra.

“I know that you need someone as strong as you. Someone who won’t be under some fucking delusion that you need protection.”

“Dustin was strong,” I whisper.

Finn laughs, his hands on my hips tightening, almost bruising. “Dustin wasn’t what you need.”

“How do you know?”

A mocking smile. “You walked away. When you find that one thing you can’t live without—that person—losing them will destroy you. It won’t be something you walk away from. Dustin was a distraction—a plaything. Nothing more.”

I slap him, hard. And I don’t know if it’s because he has the gall to say that to me, or if it’s because I hate him for being right. A smile ticks up the corner of his lips, and then he’s kissing me.

And I don’t push him away. I gasp under his lips, and he growls, a low noise that hits me, low, his fingers digging into my hip as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. It twists with mine then retreats, and I whimper. He catches the noise, sucks lightly on my lip and my tongue, and I can’t—I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I don’t even care.

His lips rip away from mine, and I whimper, terrified he’ll step away. But he doesn’t. His big hands come up and jerk my bra cups down.

I have a half second to think—bad idea—and then his fingers are on me, plucking at my nipples, and I groan, arching into him. His lips skim down my neck, nibbling, and I go limp against the wall, braced by the knee between my legs, and his body holding me up, his hands pinning me there.

He pinches my nipple, and I shudder, almost coming off the damn wall. Wet heat wraps around it. I swallow a scream. Every nerve comes alive as Finn traces my nipple then sucks gently.

He thrusts his knees against me, and I move, rubbing against him as he works me over. With every brush of his teeth, every pull of his mouth on my nipple, twist of his fingers, and thrust of his leg, everything in me coils tighter, until I can barely see, all I can do is feel. His hand leaves my nipple, and I almost scream, teetering on the edge. His hand catches mine, jerks it between us, to cup his erection. I gasp as he rocks into my touch. I open my eyes and look at him.

I expect him to be closed off, his eyes vacant or closed. Anything but what I see.

Finn is staring at me, his gaze hot and demanding, taking in every twitch of pleasure as his fingers caress me and his body rocks against mine. I can see the hunger in his eyes, and then he twists, and his knee hits me again, just right. I can’t see anything as the orgasm hits me, hard. I shudder, pleasure sweeping over me in endless waves, and the world spins—it actually motherfucking spins.

When I can breath—when the tremors ease and I can move without twitching in remembered pleasure—I open my eyes to find myself on the bed. Finn has his back to me, his shoulders hunched as if expecting me to start screaming.

What just happened hits me, and I take a breath.

“Get dressed. We’ll leave in the morning,” he says.

I open my mouth, to ask where, to ask anything. And then I close it again, because there isn’t anything to say.

I crawl off the bed and grab a t-shirt off the top of my bag. Finn is very careful to keep his back to me as I strip out of my bra and pants, redressing quickly in the new t-shirt.

My panties are wet. It’s all I can think about as I curl in my corner of the bed. Finn flicks the light out, and the room is plunged into darkness and a new level of tension.

As I lie in the darkness and listen to Finn’s steady breathing, I can smell the scent of sex. On me, and him, and the air. I flush and twist to get comfortable.

What will this strange partnership be like now? What the hell came over him, that he would do that? Is it that he’s bored and I’m the only girl readily available? Finn hates me—I’m something he was saddled with, a burden he’s carrying because of a loyalty to my brother. So what was this?

I don’t have answers. As usual, with Finn, I only have a lot of unanswered questions.

And the unavoidable knowledge that no one—not Dustin—ever made me feel like that before.

“I could come.”

The words shift through the small room, and Finn pauses in the middle of shouldering his sword. Looks at Ansliey with curious and unsurprised eyes. “You are a Warden, sir. Leaving isn’t really an option, especially since we have no idea when we’ll be back this way.”

Disappointment shadows the Warden’s face, and I think I understand.

“They need you,” I say softly. Finn stiffens. “The Haven is in danger—if you aren’t here, it will fall. You’re a war vet—you can help prevent that.”

“Or I can go down with a dying Haven,” he says, his voice bitter.

“You are their best chance for survival. Would you take that from the entire Haven?”

He snorts. “The Haven is run by politicians with little time for a war vet who is more crazy than he is cautious. They won’t listen to me—and I’ll let the Haven fall before I give the infects a chance at me.”

Finn hesitates, and I look at him. He’s ignored me all morning, ignored the tension that spikes whenever we brush against each other in the small room.

“Have a plan. You won’t be able to save them all, but you might save a few and you’ll have a better chance at getting out alive if you have a plan. Don’t count on the gates—those will lock down as soon as the Horde gets close. Have another way out. Don’t go to the Hatch—those will be death traps.”

“Is that how you got out? When Hellspawn fell?”

Finn’s lips thin, but he nods reluctantly. “Yeah. It is.”

Ansliey frowns, clearly unhappy, but he nods.

And that quickly, we’re done. We’re ready to leave. Except...

“Dustin,” I say softly. Both men turn to look at me, and I see the tension in Finn’s face tighten, just a little. He doesn’t like me asking about Dustin. Not even this little bit.

Well, fuck Finn and what he likes.

Ansliey’s lips tip into a slight smile, and he pulls out a thin silver chain. A tiny vial swings from it, and tears cloud my eyes. I take a deep breath, determined to get through this meeting without breaking down like a little girl on her first day of school.

“I thought he seemed important to you. I can’t give you everything—Haven procedures when we have a mutating virus.”

I nod, and he hands me the thin chain. The little vial swirls and clouds with gray dust—not much at all, but so much more than I expected. “Thank you,” I whisper, hugging him suddenly.

Ansliey goes stiff and startled, and then he relaxes into my embrace, patting my shoulder softly. “I’ll see him buried, girl.”

I nod and pull back, wiping my eyes quickly. I loop the thin chain over my head and let the cold vial settle against my skin, the ash inside swirling and slowly coming to rest.

It’s a tiny memento, but it is more than I expected. It will be enough, because it has to be. I step away from the Warden, and Finn clears his throat. Tosses me my pack. And that fast, we’re done—ready to leave once again.

We’re in the ZTNK, pulling the truck behind us. I’m not sure if that’s because Finn wants the versatility of an extra vehicle, or if he’s too stubborn to leave it behind in a Haven we will likely never return to.

I move around the back of the RV, getting our bags stowed and changing out of the corset and into a loose practice shirt. A bag of weapons gets tossed between the driver and passenger seat and I grab two bottles of water from the RV’s fridge before dropping into my seat and cross one leg under me, handing Finn a bottle of water silently before I flip open the book in my lap.

“What is that?”

It’s a thin book I found in the barracks last night, when I couldn’t sleep and slipped out.

I’m still a little surprised I was able to get past Finn without waking him. Or maybe it’s just that he didn’t care that I was leaving.

“Oral history of the Change.”

He glances at it, and I hold it up. The title is very self-explanatory, but I elaborate anyway. “People who were in the Battle for the East, and who survived that first few years—these are some of their stories.”

“Everyone has a story,” he says dismissively.

I pin him with a hard stare. “Everyone does, but not everyone wants to talk about it. Unless you’d like to talk to me about the Thrasher? Because I can put this down, if so.”

His gaze darts to mine, furious, and I smirk. “That’s what I thought, O’Malley.”

I turn back to my book. I don’t really want to talk to Finn any more than he wants to talk to me, and I definitely don’t want to remember the feel of his leg between mine, his mouth on me.

He opens his mouth, and for a moment, I think he’ll talk. That he’ll tell me one damn thing without me having to beg for it or fight it out on my own. Instead, he makes a face and focuses on the road. I stare at the page, the words blurring as my temper rises, and reach for the vial hanging between my breasts. I clench it, hard, and fight to even my temper. Flip to the next page and try to read these strangers’ horror stories.

Ironic, that I will know more about them than I will about the man I’ve been traveling with for two weeks.

“Why do you suppose he went to the Stronghold?”

“What?” Finn says, distracted as we weave down the potholed road. Clearly 9 has priorities, and maintaining the roads in and out of it aren’t high on the list. Maybe it’s their proximity to the border.

“Collin and that priest. Why would he go with a priest to Vegas?”

“He didn’t.”

I jerk hard in my seat, twisting to look at Finn.

“There was another message. With the morgue attendant. He’s not headed to the Stronghold—he’s going to 6.”

“Why there?”

“Why not?” Finn shrugs. “I don’t really know, Nurrin. I’m just following the breadcrumbs and hoping we get to him before they run out. But what it does tell us is that he’s alive—or he was three days ago.”

That’s true, a comforting truth. But maybe he isn’t anymore. Maybe Finn is feeding me that line of hope because I’m crumbling and he can see through my shell and tell.

Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it. I nod a little, blinking back the tears that are stinging my eyes. “So. Not the Stronghold?”

“Not this time. As much as I’m sure Omar would love to see us.”

“What happened between you and Omar?” I ask, the question out before I can stop it.

Finn’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, enough that the plastic creaks alarmingly. “What is the only thing that matters?” he asks, softly.

I don’t have to question what he’s talking about. “You will keep me alive and keep Collin alive.”

Something flickers across his face, and then, “Omar betrayed me. He betrayed the mission. I can forgive a lot—but not that.”

There’s more to it—so much more, from the rage in his voice. But for once I’m not interested in pushing him.

“One day, you’ll trust me enough to tell me some of what happened to you,” I says softly. He looks at me, staring as we bump down the road, and I don’t look away. Finn finally smirks, a mocking twitch of his lips before he turns back to the road. I let out the breath I’m holding and lean my head back on the seat.

“One day, little girl, you will have earned it.”

The trip to 6 is surprisingly uneventful. With a bed to crash on and plenty of food, we don’t need to stop for much—once for gas at a fortified little station that sells us fresh, hot sandwiches, and then we’re on our way again.