The Survivors: Book One (69 page)

 Marc’s eyes snapped open, but her guilty face had him shaking his head. “No. Go to sleep.”

Angie braced herself. There was one last lesson to be learned. “Come back to bed, Brady.”

Marc groaned, breaking out in a sweat, and he shook his head, not looking at her. His blood was pounding through tight veins, breathing rough.

Angela frowned at him. “Are you all right?”

Marc tried to nod, but the tempo of the lust beating inside him grew, and he shifted again, thinking he’d have to do something about the iron bar in his jeans before climbing into bed with her. That picture made the need tighten another notch, and he jumped when he felt her cool hand settle on his brow. He hadn’t heard her move.

“Damn, you’re hot. Let me see your eyes.”

Marc grit his teeth as she checked him out, the feel of her hands on him, her hair sliding across him, incredible torture.

“I don’t understand. You don’t ha…” Angela broke off, frown growing. Her bag. She’d told him top left. “I think I know what’s wrong with you.”

He did too. He needed to get laid more often.

”You didn’t take Vicodin. It was Viagra.”

Marc’s eyes flew open again, horrified. “What?”

She opened her worn medical bag. “It got mixed up during the fight. You didn’t read the label.”

Marc watched her step back, hands itching to pull her close. “How long will I be like this? And why the hell do you have that?”

Angela flushed. “It’s for diseases. Lenore wants to trade it for the cornbread.”

Marc groaned again, body on fire. He eyed the white pills she held out.

“This is really Vicodin.”

He swallowed it before she could get him anything to drink and looked at her with wide, glazed eyes. “How long?”

She looked away. “At least four hours, maybe six or eight.”

Marc’s head snapped back, eyes slamming shut. He wouldn’t last that long. “Can’t you give me something to counteract it?”

When she hesitated to speak, he knew there was something, but she didn’t want to tell him.

“What?” he demanded.

“If you...take yourself in…” Face a furious red, Angela indicated the bed, “It will go away once you...” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Marc no longer felt the cold or heard the wind. “Next!”

“Let it wear off.”

 Marc stifled a curse, shifting again. “There’s gotta be something else.”

“I’m sorry, there isn’t.”

The tension in the room only continued to grow. After five minutes of watching him squirm (and feeling her own hormones responding), Angela stood up.

“I’m gonna step out in the hall for a few minutes, have a smoke,” she stated, waving off his protests. “I’ll take Dog. You... handle things.”

“Stay?”

Angela froze at the blatant need in his rough voice, looking at him. “While you…?”

Marc looked down, surprisingly embarrassed, and heard himself beg. “Please.” He’d never been so hard in his life, not even during their time together all those years ago.

His voice was gruff with embarrassment, and Angela was surprised to find herself considering it, woman’s body long denied any real pleasure. “I couldn't...”

“I’ll stay right here. I won’t move from this spot,” he pleaded.

Angela knew she should go before things went any farther, but the heat between them was pulling, stronger than the fear for a change, and she hesitated, torn. He’d made her feel so alive when they were young! Memories, old and powerful, swirled through the drafty room.

"I can't," he groaned as their lips met again, "I'm sorry."

The beautiful girl shifted restlessly under him, body begging for his touch. "But I want you to!" she complained

The boy held himself in place only by a hair. They'd never gone this far before, and the hormones were in control of her mind. She was too young, forbidden…

When she slid a hand between them, he sucked in a harsh breath. "I can't do..."

"Sshhhh..." her hand closed over him, stealing his voice, and he bucked in her grip as she stroked.

Struggling to think, he let her slide his tense hand under her skirt.

"Love me, Brady," she moaned against his mouth, "as much as you can."

Tortured will crumbling, he did just that.

"One of my favorite memories of us."

Angie flushed at his words. The time after that, they'd gone as far as they could. There hadn't been any holding back.

"I can't, Marc, I just..."

"Shhh...." His beautiful blue eyes were tunnels to the past. "Love me, Angie. As much as you can."

Jerked into the pain and loneliness she'd been forced to endure for so long, Angela nodded shakily and watched his hands go to the buckle of his jeans with wide eyes.

Marc couldn’t stop himself, the lust raging, and he held his breath as he popped the button on his jeans, expecting her to flee the tense seat she was taking on the corner of the bed.

Angela’s face was red, but there was no denying she wanted to be here. When he raised his hips to slide his pants down, she tore her eyes away, breathing rapidly.

“Throw me a blanket.”

His voice was gruff, laced with need and control, and she did it without moving from her perch. She heard the blankets rustle, hands shifting for comfort, and couldn’t stop herself from stealing a peek. It was just in time to see his hand go around a rod of flesh that had her on her feet.

Marc saw her eyes go over his body, flashing fear and desire, and tightened his grip. “Mmm…”

The sound woke the woman inside, and Angela found herself returning to the bed to lean against the headboard while she watched him pull the blanket up and start to stroke…she wasn’t sure she could look away.

Marc watched her through narrowed slits, feeling the need tighten as she stared at the movements the blanket now hid. Slowly, he pulled it back down so she could see.

Angela’s breath went out in a rush, the sight of his thick flesh sending heat into her gut.

Marc nodded, hand stroking faster. “You, too? You used to love this.”

I still do,
Angela though, shaking her head. How many hours had they spent this way before the lust had driven them across the line?

Marc heard the man inside push. “There’s another blanket. I’ll stay right here.”

She shook her head again, shifting restlessly, and he closed his eyes…most of the way. “I won’t look.”

Angela was still shocked to find herself here, in this moment, but fear wasn’t the strongest emotion – desire was. Physical contact was something she’d been reminded of during this trip and it was one of the things she had hoped to have conquered by now. In all the years since they’d been apart, she’d only pleased herself a dozen times, and not at all in the last year.

“Please?”

Before she could change her mind, Angela grabbed the second cover and tossed it over herself, but from there…

“Angie, you don’t have to do this.”

The sudden flare of guilt from him had her shaking her head. He had nothing to feel guilty about – and neither did she. With that choice, she put her hand beneath the cover and went back to watching Brady…like she used to, when it was just them against the world.

Marc tried to slow himself down, not wanting to be done before she was, but he was on that edge already. He saw her arm brush a rigid nipple as she got comfortable and listened to her small hiss of surprise at the sensation, with fire boiling. She did it again, intentionally this time, and he stroked harder. This was the Angie he knew, the fearless, sexual nymph he’d eased into womanhood, and it was okay to think of that moment now, of how her tight body had wrapped around him in willing surrender.

He groaned at the feel of the memory mixing with reality and jerked himself back from the edge by a hair.

Angela had stopped, watching him, remembering. She flushed when his burning eyes met hers. “I can’t wait much longer…”

The fear rose, making her tense, and Marc delivered one of those smoldering looks she had always been effected by. “Scared?”

She nodded, voice rough. “A little.”

He started to pull the blanket back up.

“No!”

He stopped, eyes knowing, and his smile was beautiful to her. “You are free to do as you please, Angie. No one owns you anymore.”

The happiness that gave her! Because it was true. She grinned, cheeks darkening further. “I’ll watch you for a minute.”

Marc wasn’t sure he had a minute after that. Lust surged, sending his hand back to rub and caress in slow movements that he burned to increase the speed of. Her hands were moving under the blanket now, slowly at first, with her eyes glued to his movements. The urge to storm that bed and have her screaming out in climax was a hard one to resist.

“Move the blanket,” he coaxed. “Let me see, too.”

She did it slowly, revealing long, sexy legs, and then white panties with a hand pushing the center aside. Her fingers moved in small circles and Marc’s heart thumped as the edge flew his way.

“Damn, that’s hot. Lay your head back, pretend you’re alone.”

“Mmm…” The sound of Marc’s sexy voice had her convulsing in pleasure and her legs opened further to reveal dark curls and slick skin than began to pulse.

“With me, Brady!” Angela demanded hoarsely as the first wave of fierce light exploded through her body.

“Uuhhh!” Marc arched, grip freezing as he released wildly at her climax. “Yeah!”

Coming down first, Angela immediately rolled over, pulling the blanket up. She’d thought to face fear or even guilt, but there was only a huge relief as her body continued to jerk and twitch in satisfaction. She was free now.

Very unsure of her mood, Marc cleaned himself up and kept his mouth shut. He blew out the candle and moved toward his side of the bed, intending to give her some space to think. He was surprised when she held the blanket back and smiled at him.

“After that, I think it’s probably okay to ask if you’ll hold me while we sleep.”

His heart skipped a beat and he grinned as he eased into the bed with her. This was what he wanted the most, what he had longed for at night.

Sated, the Witch and old Angela went away a bit, pushed back by the new person emerging. This new woman belonged to herself, wasn’t so afraid to take chances that she forgot to live, and Angela smiled, tight against Brady’s hard chest. She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat for the first time in fifteen years.

Marc didn’t sleep at all – just held her and remembered.

Listening from the next bedroom, Lenore was disappointed, but she would keep her word and let them go with no trouble, sure the minute they were out of sight, she would forget about the handsome couple. There was trouble on the horizon for all of them. The giantess could feel it coming, and she didn't think she would see them again…at least not alive.

Chapter Thirty Six

March 31
^st
, 2013

He really hadn’t expected to see her again, not even the body.

Fury-darkened eyes watched the couple as they slept, ignoring the unpleasant feel of the tall ash tree between his legs and the darkness that only let him hear the animals padding restlessly below. They sniffed and pissed, tried to find a way into the truck he had right up against the thick trunk, but the furious Marine paid them little attention.

Kenn had found the sprawling ranch house just before dawn, hitting shapes in the fog that were either dogs or coyotes as they attacked his tires. He’d taken up a high vantage point to watch the windows as a dim, foggy morning lit up the area, sure she was in there. His starlight scope had penetrated seven windows, and then he’d found them.

Covers tangled, limbs entwined, they looked like a night of passion had worn them out. She wore only a sleeping shirt that barely covered her thighs, flashing white panties, and the man, the wife-stealing, walking dead man, had on a pair of green boxers that the intruder recognized even from a distance. They were Marine issue…

Kenn’s grip tightened on the sniper rifle in his hand, nails digging shallow grooves into the stock as his eyes saw dog tag, familiar Recon tattoos, and that careful look around upon waking that every Marine did.

Dread and cold rage formed a thick knot of hate deep in Kenn’s gut. The man was one of the few people he’d ever felt threatened by. Brady was with Angela. Sergeant Marcus Brady was her show of force.

The Marine struggled with himself: the old Kenny wanting to aim and fire, the new Kenn not wanting to kill without justification, and he waited tensely to see just how close his wife and his team leader really were.

End of book two – On The Road

Notes

Dear Reader,

It took a long time to get them here, but we’ve finally arrived, and with an ugly glimpse of the new world the refugees must now adapt to. Unable to stop them from gathering, the Slavers and Mother Nature have no intentions of giving up. Neither does Kenn, whose true side is about to be revealed to Adrian and his Eagles. We can only hope the time he’s spent with the blond leader has been enough to keep him in control.