Flesh Series: The Complete Box Set (Flesh, Skin, Flesh Series: Shorts)

by Kylie Scott

  Nothing but heavy breathing.

  A hand fumbled over her ass and the thing stopped buzzing. Probably for the best. Carefully he pulled it out of her. Her body was too tired to react. Her mind had been defeated. Nick was master of them all. Damn him.

  A wet cloth smoothed between her tender butt cheeks.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She turned her head. It was easier to breathe without her face in the pillow. “No. I think you broke me.”

  He lay beside her, dark eyes searching her face.

  “That would account for the fuck-drunk smile,” he said.

  She tried to frown at him. It didn’t work. “You’re a bad man.”

  He smirked.

  “You’re my bad man.”

  “Mm. I’m going to do that to you every time I catch you day-dreaming about threesomes with other men,” he informed her. “And the plugs will get bigger.”

  Like hell they would. Best not to tell him that, though. He’d only see it as a challenge.

  She stretched lazily as gradually some semblance of life returned to her sated body. “To be fair, Nicky, you were one of the men in my imaginary threesome.”

  He gave her a skeptical look, his brow arched high. Of course, since she had bisected the other brow he could really only raise the one. Lucky it looked good on him.

  “Hey, I don’t want any other men.”

  “No?” he asked, shuffling over until they were close as they could be.

  “Nope. I don’t suppose you’ve got a twin, though?”

  His hand clapped down on her butt cheek. It stung.

  “Ow. Sorry. I’m sorry. Just joking.”

  “And you actually wonder why I abuse your ass,” he said, ever the gentleman. One of his hands rifled around in the dreaded backpack once more. “I picked up some other things for you today.”

  “Do I even want to know?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?” he asked and carefully put a funky-looking pair of reading glasses on her. “There we go. How are they?”

  She blinked experimentally, peered around the room. “Good, I think. Thank you.”

  “Wear them the next time we fuck. That would be thanking me.”

  “Aww. You say the sweetest things.”

  “Don’t I? There was also this.” He set a blue velvet jewelry case on his bare chest. A ring-sized one.

  “Holy hell.” Her heart lurched at the sight. It was the strangest thing. After everything they’d been through, she was going to lose it over a piece of jewelry?

  “I saw it in a shop in town. Thought you might like it, so I grabbed it.”

  Carefully, she popped the case but left it sitting on top of him. Of all the things he could have picked up for her, right on out of any shop window now that alarms and money and all the rest were gone, he’d gotten her this. A circlet of seed pearls surrounded a small winking diamond in an antique rose gold setting. It was lovely. Heartbreakingly perfect.

  “Okay. What does it mean?” she asked.

  “Huh?” His face blanked.

  “Nick, you can’t just give a girl a ring without it meaning something. You do know that?”

  His forehead furrowed up.

  “I mean, it has to say something.”

  “What?” he asked. “Why?”

  “Come on, Nick. The ring says something. Work with me here, please.”

  He looked at the ring like it had suddenly sprouted poisonous tentacles. “I dunno. I just thought you’d like it.”

  Honestly, he was such an idiot. He could probably spend an hour explaining the vibrating butt plug to her, but he couldn’t even string together a sentence about the ring. Her mind was officially blown.

  “Come on,” she said, voice sounding more than a little aggravated. “Surely there was more thought behind this.”

  “So you don’t like it?” His big hand closed around the case and he went to put it away. Like he wanted to die. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Don’t you dare! That’s mine.” She clambered across him, straddling him and wrestling for custody of the ring. And not being gentle about it. “Give it.”

  “Ros.” He wisely let go before her teeth could sink into his arm. “Shit. Calm down.”

  With the ring case in hand she sat triumphant atop him. One cranky-faced man with a world full of attitude. His lips were a tight, unhappy line. Poor baby. Bad luck, he’d chosen her. Now he’d just have to live with it. She wouldn’t be letting him off the hook anytime soon.

  “Alright, I will tell you what the beautiful ring says. Since you clearly find yourself incapable of manning up and dealing with the moment as you should.” Carefully she pulled it front its case and slipped it onto her ring finger. Perfect fit. She gave quiet thanks to the universe at large. “It says that I love you and you love me.”

  Nick looked at her and sighed, his face relaxing. “Well, yeah.”

  She allowed herself a small, satisfied grin. The ring really did look splendid on her finger. “Exactly.”

  “That easy?” he asked.

  “You thought that was easy? Hell, Nick. I’d hate to see your version of hard.” She kissed the end of his nose.

  “There was some news from Blackstone,” he said, distracting her from pondering her ring’s magnificence. “Duncan’s been keeping an eye on the place.”

  “What?”

  “Someone killed Tom. Slit his throat.”

  “Wow,” she said. Her good mood started to slip through her fingers. “That’s cold.”

  “He did kill Lila.” Nick’s eyes were thoughtful. Stuff was happening deep inside his brain. She could feel it. Lila’s death had been so unnecessary, such a stupid waste. Ros hated thinking about it. Maybe if they’d moved faster she’d still be alive. Memories of that night had woken her panting and covered in sweat, more than once. The sounds of the zombies coming out of the dark, surrounding them, and the mindless hatred and fear from the people of Blackstone. Lila had been nothing more than an innocent bystander. The noise Sean had made when he’d lost her … Ros couldn’t forget it. Whoever had killed Tom, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it was entirely a bad thing. If that made her a bad person, well … the world wasn’t what it used to be.

  “Hang on,” she said. “You think Sean did it? That he might be alive?”

  The man shrugged and drew her down for a kiss. “With the captain, who knows?”

  “Nicky. There were a lot of infected and he had her blood all over him.” A shiver worked through her at the thought and she laid her head on his chest. Most sublime place in the world. “God, that was a horrible night.”

  “Never again.”

  “No,” she seconded.

  “I was talking to Dan and Finn today,” he said.

  “About?”

  “Whether it’d be better to move on or stay here. It is only a few hours from Blackstone.”

  His heart beat away beneath her ear, good and strong. The arm of her reading glasses dug into her, but damned if she was moving anytime soon. “Erin and Ali seem to have settled in for the long term. Is Blackstone really a threat? I mean, if we stay out of their way they shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  Nick shrugged, his body shifting beneath her. “They could get angry about Tom’s murder. Who knows what they’re thinking. Duncan and Joe are monitoring the radio, listening to their chatter, but it could still be a risk staying this close. So far as we know, they’re unaware of our location.”

  “Other groups out there could be a risk too,” she said, looking up at him. “We just don’t know. But we’ve got walls and a defensible position here. Seems a shame to leave it.”

  His smile lit his eyes. “Yeah, we do. That seems to be how the others see it too. But do you want to stay here with these people? There’s no reason we can’t go find another place like the cabin. Set ourselves up comfortably on our own.”

  She sat up, staring down at him over the top of her glasses. “Is that what you want? Has someone been giving you a h
ard time?”

  “No, sweetheart. Everyone’s been fine. Surprisingly friendly, actually.” He licked his lips. “But it’s your choice whether we stay or go. Whatever you want is good with me.”

  Her heart hurt in the best way possible. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  There was a big wide world out there at their disposal and Nick was doing his best to hand it to her on a platter. Some parts of it were terrifying, but still, whatever she wanted. It was a heady feeling. “You know, I think I’d like to stay here for now.”

  “Okay.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slow.

  “I love you,” he said, his hands smoothing over her back.

  She buried her nose in his neck and smiled. “You do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Hmm.” And that was really all she needed to know.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With thanks to … Tracey O’Hara, Kylie Griffin, Mel Teshco, Jess Dee, Rosemary Courtney, Vassiliki Veros, S. E. Gilchrist and anyone else who read bits or answered random questions for me. Thanks to my family and friends who tolerate a phenomenal amount of shit and are always supportive. Thanks to Anne, Joel and Mark at Momentum for being the constant delights that they are. Thanks also to my lovely editor Sarah JH Fletcher. Special thanks to Romance Writers of Australia for simply existing. Thanks to Maryse, Katrina, the Twinsie Girls, Cath, and all the other book bloggers who pour their heart and soul into reading and reviewing. And extra-special thanks go to the people who read Flesh and wanted more.

  FLESH SERIES:

  SHORTS

  ROOM WITH A VIEW

  Caloundra, Queensland

  Thirty-Eight Days Post-Apocalypse

  Waves crashed and rolled onto Kings Beach across the road, the white expanse of sand a beautiful thing. The ocean had long since washed away the bulk of the dead bodies and debris. Only the tank remained and each tide buried it deeper.

  Angus had abandoned her. Which was probably for the best.

  She couldn’t stand to watch him die too.

  The summer sun was blindingly bright, the weather hot and humid, typical for January. Or was it February? She’d lost track of the days.

  Natalie breathed in the salty sea air as she huddled behind the curtains. She watched the world from four floors up. The penthouse apartment, because Sean had to have the best. No matter her terrible fear of heights.

  Another sucky relationship indicator she’d chosen to ignore.

  Sean wasn’t looking so good anymore.

  His body was black and bloated, floating facedown on the surface of the large and lavish lagoon-style pool below. The stench of decay didn’t tend to reach her unless it happened to be a particularly still day. Sean hadn’t believed the reports on the TV and internet. He’d mocked her when she’d filled the bathtub and every other available container with water, shut up the unit and flat-out refused to leave. Sean had wanted to swim some laps, do a little sunbaking. Plus the beautiful blonde from the unit next door had been down there, artfully arranged on a sun-lounge in her teeny, tiny yellow bikini.

  It hadn’t ended well for either of them.

  Hmm.

  What was Angus doing?

  Had he gotten away?

  She bet he had. He was brave. Smart. Resourceful.

  And damn fine-looking. Not that a thirty-two-year-old woman should be checking out a twenty-three-year-old boy, but hey … she might as well get her kicks where she could. Happy thoughts these days were few and far between.

  He’d be okay. He’d be fine. She’d know it if something had happened to him. She’d feel it somehow.

  Natalie scrubbed away a tear with the back of her hand.

  Stupid. Pointless. The resort had become a death trap and she was caught. It was for the best that he’d gone.

  The walkie-talkie sat beside her though, just in case.

  So did the bottle of sleeping pills.

  One of the infected out in the hallway rattled the door handle. Her breath stuck in her throat and her fingers clutched at the curtain. A pounding started deep inside her skull. They couldn’t get in. Not a chance. She’d barricaded the door with the chunky Asian-style coffee table. Backed it up with a couple of the heavy dining chairs for good luck and prosperity. She was safe.

  Safe, but stuck.

  Darkness owned the hallway. There was no night or day for the ones trapped in there. For them, every hour was party hour. She’d long since gotten used to getting by on little sleep. The three caught in the pool area below were huddled beneath the sun-lounges, cowering. Infected didn’t like bright light. And they couldn’t climb. She’d watched them try to clamber over the shoulder-high pool fence again and again, snarling and growling in frustration.

  Like her, they were stuck.

  They too would slowly starve.

  She had enough food for a few more days, but after that …

  The size of her ass had once been an issue for Sean. He’d helpfully stocked the kitchen cupboard with a variety of diet bars and drinks lest she be tempted to enjoy herself over the Christmas break. She’d been furious. Beyond words.

  But without those supplies she wouldn’t have lasted a week.

  Angus had been a miracle, magically appearing in the garden on the other side of the pool. He’d spotted her somehow, stuck in the apartment. He’d stood below the cluster of palm trees, arms waving madly and a gorgeous, crazy-ass grin on his face. She’d thought she was alone.

  Angus played AFL. He also had a decent throwing arm. He’d demonstrated it by chucking care packages up onto her balcony. Protein bars, bottles of water. The walkie-talkie, wrapped tight in a towel so it didn’t shatter on impact. Lots of batteries, because they ended up talking for hours about everything and anything. His aim wasn’t perfect. One time, he accidentally smashed the glass door of the apartment next to her. Infected had shambled out, emerging from all their various hiding places, alerted by the noise to the possibility of a free meal. Angus could run like a demon, not that he had to. Infected didn’t move fast.

  Natalie snuffled, blinked furiously. Crying didn’t help. So why had it become her favourite pastime?

  He was gone. A good thing.

  Right.

  She sucked in a breath.

  Except he wasn’t gone.

  Suddenly, Angus was right there, below her. Striding into view and marching across the courtyard. Heading straight for the pool gate like he was contemplating a dip in the fetid green waters. There was a pack on his back and a sawn-off shotgun in his hands.

  Her heart punched hard.

  No, no, no. The noise. They’d swarm him.

  Natalie scrambled to her feet and shot out onto the balcony. Too damn scared for the young man below to worry about the vertigo assailing her. Too busy to freeze up in fear. He couldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. “Angus!”

  The metal lock on the gate clattered as he pulled it up. Rusty hinges squealed as he kicked the gate open. He stomped into the pool area like some warrior of old and the infected stirred beneath their sun-lounges. A blonde head tangled with dried blood appeared from beneath the green and white striped cushions. The gate clanged shut behind Angus, locking him in.

  “Angus! No! Get out of here!”

  He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her. His focus stayed total.

  The blonde in the dirty yellow bikini struggled to her feet, a low growl emanating from her throat. A middle-aged man with a sunken belly and mangy red boardies followed her.

  Angus didn’t pause.

  He aimed the gun, pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The deafening blast took out the blonde’s head and splattered the middle-aged man with blood and grey matter. Blinded, the infected male stumbled back, moaning, his hands waving urgently in front of his face. Angus fired again and the man flew backward, landing sprawled across the lounges. Eviscerated.

  Oh, hell. God. There was … there was a sickening amount of blood.

&nbs
p; Angus looked up at her, victorious. His blue eyes squinted into the midday sun. “Gimme a minute. I’ll climb up.”

  She blinked stupidly. He’d done it! He’d actually done it.

  “You’re insane.”

  His gorgeous face broke into a broad grin and her stomach swan-dived. He was really there. He’d come back for her. She wasn’t alone.

  But neither was Angus.

  A third infected stumbled out from beneath a nearby picnic table, its bloody mouth snarling. Angus hadn’t seen the thing yet. Its arms were outstretched, reaching for him.

  “Behind you!”

  Angus spun and the infected fell upon him, taking them both down. His shotgun clattered to the side, out of reach. The two bodies struggled on the ground directly beneath her, four stories down. Angus gripped the thing’s shoulders, wrestling with it, trying to push it off. The infected’s head twisted and jerked, yellow teeth snapping.

  “Angus!” She strangled the railing, panic rattling her bones. She was going to wet herself. It was so far down. It was. But she had to help him, had to do something.

  But what?

  The only weapons she had were a set of steak knives and they weren’t going to cut it.

  What to use? There were pot plants. Two of them. Heavy, ugly, ornamental things, cluttering up the balcony.

  If she could just lift one.

  Her sweaty hands slipped on the glaze, baked hot from the sun. She could do this. Natalie scrubbed her hands on her shorts, drying them. Tried again. Her back strained, shoulders protesting. It was bloody heavy. Slowly, she lifted it. Not dropping it. Not yet.

  “Throw him off, Angus! Get him off you!”

  There was a flash of blue eyes from below. Angus kept moving, struggling, but she couldn’t see … oh, shit. Angus was strong. He was fast. He could do this. He could. She’d never been big on faith. But she had faith in him.