Vargr

by Cari Silverwood

  He opened his eyes and saw her smirk.

  His pain turned to devious intent. Cruel intent even, since he withdrew and smacked back into her so brutally she was thrust backward, her bound arms sliding on the polished but damp timber.

  “You are a fucking…” He slammed in again. “Hellion.” Another pussy-destroying slam hit with a squelch, spreading her wetness, and he ground in endlessly deep. “Cock-tease.” He growled that last insult.

  Though her fingers had scrabbled at her back for purchase, she arched, gasping at the pleasure. She tried to be a snarky bitch for one… more… second but gave up at his repeated slams into her. This was an onslaught, an assault of hard spearing, of sliding, invading thrusts. Her amusement vanished in the heat of a passion so rough it made her cry out.

  Oh god. Yes. Do it to me.

  Where her defiance had come from, she knew not, cared not.

  She craved this new fire in him as he screwed her on the desk. His fingers shifted, painfully clamping onto her thighs then her ass, digging in. The sounds of her moans and gasps echoed the slap of his solid muscle into the fleshy back of her thighs.

  He held her down, didn’t release her, took what he wanted. It was magnificent.

  Her sodden shirt ended up pushed high at her neck, her breasts were grabbed, squeezed, used as anchors so he could hold her down. He paused now and then, to suck and bite her tits, lick her nipples, or tease her clit with his tongue before he penetrated her again.

  He shifted positions, dragged her off the desk, so she must stand on tiptoes while he fucked her from behind. Or he fingerfucked her. Or tongued her cunt and clit, made her come twice while she moaned protests and babbled swear words into the desk under her mouth.

  He only laughed at those curses and impaled her again with his big cock then ground in deeper than any cock should ever go, and he kept… on… grinding. His hand wrapped in her hair, fingers winding as he twisted it. Beautiful pain possessed her scalp. With her hair and hip held and her arms bound, she couldn’t move at all to get away, and how she loved it.

  The desk legs squealed as they scraped across the submerged floor in bursts of movement, and every squeak punctuated a new monstrous thrust into her.

  He stopped again, so very deep.

  After a moment of discomfort, she caught her breath and groaned at the throbbing pleasure.

  She felt him lean over her to tell her with zero uncertainty, with his mouth breathing hotly into her ear, “Your cunt is fuckin’ mine.”

  Then he smacked her ass and began a litany to fucking, a manifesto of the art of sex, while she balanced precariously on her toes, face-first, cheek squashed, drooling and panting from her last orgasm. It only ended when he came. Still inside her, he collapsed over her with his forearms planted to either side on the watered desktop. He kissed her back.

  Her eyelashes smeared across the wet timber as she blinked. Her tongue played on her teeth. Her chest struggled for more air.

  Nirvana.

  They lay together, half on the desk, in that state of sensual fragility, hair wild, bodies sated, muscles and throats raw, as well as her pussy. Oh my, her pussy.

  “Am I still alive?” she murmured, knowing they had to rise soon, or risk death or worse.

  He chuckled from behind her and she felt him move and begin to undo the bindings on her arms.

  “That’s his shirt—Rutger’s.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Just that simple syllable made him sound unhappy. Her mind tinkered with thoughts. Clearly Vargr was jealous. The problem was she was unsure if it was justified. She couldn’t remember much of what had happened before he arrived.

  “It was the Lure again.”

  “I figured that.” He plucked at the last of the cloth and released her.

  Slowly she brought her arms to the front, rotating her shoulders. Despite the violence of the sex, she felt close to fine within seconds, because of course her flesh was no longer plain ol’ human flesh.

  Vargr kissed her back again then slid off to dress, and to fetch her leggings that he’d pulled off fully at some stage in the middle of lovemaking. Make that the middle of fucking. She drew herself into a sitting position at the edge of the desk, too aware of the waterfall at her back, and the lack of much building.

  It was thrilling. Again, not normal. She wasn’t even shivering and all of her was soaked. Including between her thighs. Slipping off into the water, she bent to wash herself there, using scoops of water.

  “Want these? The jeans are worse.” He held out the tentacle leggings.

  “Oh.” Close to thoroughly wet. Though the upper parts had escaped. She waded to the doorway and stepped out before pulling them on. No panties but those must have gone missing somewhere, sometime?

  “We should really get going.” His voice pitched louder. “A pity fucking you was the only way to make you sensible and Lure-resistant again.”

  The grin on his face said he wasn’t sorry.

  She blew a mild raspberry.

  “What? You don’t fucking believe me?”

  “You think?”

  Vargr sauntered out looking far drier than her, buckling his gun belt on properly, checking the large pistol. Her ankle boots, and the jeans with the pretty belt buckle, were squashed under his arm. His wings extended partly, fluttering to dry themselves. She paused a millisecond to wonder if that was voluntary or instinctive. Then she adjusted the waistband of the leggings and took the boots from him.

  “So.” He paused, looking across the tops of the cars and rubble while she sat on what was left of the bumper of a semi to draw on and buckle her boots. “What did Rutger do to you?”

  “Truthfully, I can’t remember much.” She clicked her tongue. “I remember him being here. The desk. The waterfall. The sounds of rain. That’s it. He rescued me from somewhere… dark?”

  “Yes. Tom said you were walking into the train tunnel.” He searched her face, as if he could draw more from her expression than her words had conveyed. “Let’s get back. We need to move on. The Worshippers’ camp will be safe.”

  He helped her cross the chaos of the smashed-up motorway, though she was steady by then and needed no help. They negotiated the hole in the wall where Toother waited, wagging his stumpy tail, prancing about like a normal dog might, but leaving bright scratches on the train track where his claws bit.

  Vargr paused to reach up and scratch Toother’s ear. “Do you remember biting the ghoul guard you killed?”

  “Oh.” She stared at him. Memories were triggered, flooding in. “I stabbed him, a lot.” Wet noises, thumping noises, the knife sinking in. Biting though? She remembered leaning over the body. He was dead by then. Cyn gulped. “No, I don’t. I didn’t do that, did I?”

  Vargr shrugged. “Tom wasn’t sure, but his throat was bitten, they thought.”

  “Rutger thought it too,” she whispered. No wonder they’d tied her arms. Made the sex hot but… Her mind switched back to the gory death of the possessed human she’d killed.

  She really hoped she had not done that.

  When they reached the camp, everyone was ready to move on. Maura was waiting beside Rutger. They had tied her hands to Toother’s saddle. Tom placed a body, wrapped in a blanket, on the nanodog, and Toother turned to sniff the corpse, nudged it with his nose. Make that two people, wrapped. Another lay on the ground. They lifted that body onto Toother.

  She should fix Maura again, but with a shaking hand she wiped her mouth. Two bodies. Not good. Who else was missing? She’d seen only one beaster die.

  “Wait.” Vargr stepped forward, hand rising. “Not Orm?”

  “Yes.” Rutger nodded. “A friend?”

  “Everyone is a friend when the world is ending. Fuck.” His voice cracked as he cursed. “Bleedin’ fuck.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. To all of you.” Though his eyes swept the area and took in her presence, she could see Rutger was deliberately trying not to look at her.

  In the middle of this unexpected d
eath, worrying over whether Rutger had done something to her seemed stupid and irrelevant. Not that she was actually worried. If anything, his gaze had caused the blossoming of a subtle thrill. Her nipples peaked. Now that was a reflex and not her doing.

  Death and lust, what better matches. She curled her lower lip into her mouth, sucked on it, feeling dirty, yet aroused… yet dirty.

  Stepping carefully, she wove between the beasters to Toother and reached over to take Maura’s arm. The woman was waiting calmly, so far, in spite of the glazed appearance to her eyes.

  Night-time, remember, it lessened the Lure.

  She knew the way into her head now, knew the threads to peel lose. By the time they were walking, she’d mostly brought Maura out of it. Her intelligence returned, the awareness. Once her hands were untied, Maura squeezed Cyn’s hand and mouthed a thank you.

  Cyn nodded, smiled, and felt the glow of knowing she’d done something good. It was her task, this, same as it was Vargr’s to keep her free of the Lure.

  By fucking me. Such delicious irony. Seeing she loved him doing it. Even though she could not resist taunting him, every time.

  What else were men for except to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous women?

  She smiled to herself, made a note to find a copy of Shakespeare’s Complete Works. There must be a volume somewhere?

  With Vargr silent and processing his grief, she had ample time to think over what had happened. They headed down the same train tunnel the attack had come from, checking any side tunnels and doors for threats. Inevitable. Toother didn’t fit down the smaller corridors, and this was the most direct route.

  With her having to wear wet leggings, it was lucky her body had upped her resistance to cold. She smoothed her hand over the cloth and was shocked at how dry it seemed. A faint mist rose, highlighting her legs. Uhhh. Okay she wasn’t ready to explore the whys of that one.

  Hold on.

  A thought had bobbed up and dangled itself before her. Her gait slowed.

  If she could see the threads of the Lure, and untangle them from Maura, faded as they were with the oncoming night, why could she not do the same during daylight hours when the Lure affected her own body?

  Last time she succumbed she’d been in the middle of a fight to survive. In the middle of a blood rage, from what they’d told her. Had she bitten that guy’s throat?

  Cyn ran her tongue over her teeth and grimaced. She had a need to brush ASAP.

  A swig of water from Tom’s canteen was the best she could manage for the time being. They kept walking, cautious at every curve and divide of the track, checking the ceilings too.

  “About two hours, and we should be there,” Rutger said. “This train tunnel goes most all the way to the opposite edge, though it overlooks a wildlife reserve and where it descended from there to ground level, it got taken out early in the invasion.”

  No one was talking much. There was a somber feel to the last of this journey, though two of them dying would do that.

  She went back to practicing seeing the threads of the Lure and thinking.

  So much thinking.

  What had Rutger done to her? Her body’s reaction to him was so pronounced, her nipples were like little beacons of lust to his proximity, that she was staying on the other side of Toother. If he had screwed her… or should that be sexually assaulted? Nah, fucked would do. Fucked would definitely do.

  Wasn’t bondmating supposed to be one on one?

  Two on one would be really fun, her subconscious whispered. A very scary two on one. Rutger was the size of a tank.

  She sighed. Had she been this immoral before the Ghoul Lords came and dumped their crap on the Earth? There was that octopus tattoo on her ass. She’d looked in a mirror and the tentacles all came from her asshole. From the looks of that, she’d been a wild girl.

  So how did Maura know her? If she did.

  Her stomach rumbled, even hurt at times. They’d left in a hurry and had no breakfast. Or whatever meal you called it when it was dark outside, but you did nightshifts and ate your first meal at dusk. Brupper? Dinfast? She started dreaming of a roast meal, and a steaming hot pizza with an inch-thick topping. Melted cheese.

  And sex. While in a daydream about wild sex, she caught herself watching the bugs scamper on the walls, imagining herself popping one in her mouth.

  Ugh.

  She whispered to Tom, “Any snack bars available? I’m starving.”

  “Beef jerky. Old but not moldy.” He rummaged in a pocket and offered it to her.

  “Thanks.” The first bite was heaven. The expiry date said three years ago. She tossed the wrapper aside and took another bite.

  Who’d have thunk it? The main disadvantage of the Apocalypse was a lack of pizza.

  Chapter 20

  Rutger ambled closer to Vargr and the two wing-soldiers he walked with, figuring he must’ve had enough time to wrestle some calmness into himself. “Why’d you chase after that ghoul guard? Do you have a death wish?”

  “No.” The shrug said he might add more words.

  Rutger waited. He wasn’t going to lead with his story of what he had done to Cyn by the waterfall.

  “And?”

  “And I thought maybe the fucker was someone I knew. His face… not sure but after thinking, he looked like that Dr. Nietz. Now wouldn’t that be one to write home about? Though he’s dead now. Judging by what the stinkers did to him.”

  “They killed him?” Ahead the train tunnel widened at a platform. They were close to home.

  “Not exactly. As good as. I followed until they dragged him up an elevator shaft, past the actual elevator, and trust me, squeezing him through there was not good for his health. I almost swallowed bits of him.”

  “Why take him back then? I’m assuming they aimed to take him to the top.”

  Again with the shrugging.

  “Funny, ain’t it? If he was the doctor, he’s a pile of dead flesh now.” His gaze swung on Rutger, his wings lifting a little, settling.

  Rutger knew the body tells of the winged soldiers. Here it came.

  “Tell me what you did to Cyn back there. I’ve been planning to ask, once I was sure I wouldn’t rip your bloody head off.”

  His smile spread, an unabandoned grin really—couldn’t stop himself. “As if you’d stand a chance. However!” He held up his palm to stop the insults and arguments Vargr was lining up, judging by the deep scowl and the opening of his mouth. “Sorry. Let’s both be calm. I did what I had to.”

  “And that was?”

  “Hold on. We get to exit here.” He pointed and leaped onto the platform, waited for the others to follow. Toother would fit through the main platform doors, and that led onto a wide thoroughfare. “Vargr, she was wiped out by the Lure, all bloodied from the fight and struggling against us nonstop.”

  Okay, that was a small lie. She’d quieted after they washed her, even sat still while he jerked off, had looked damn fascinated. He was not telling Vargr that part.

  “I did the one thing that might help, considering the nanites in us help kill the Lure effects.”

  Rutger paused in the double-doored entrance to the Trainway platform to let the others go by.

  As when he’d set out on the journey to the Mercantors, the thoroughfare was silent and filled with the debris of the invasion days. Funny how he always listened for the sound of crowds. On walking out here, for that first millisecond he always found the emptiness, the lack of people, a gut-wrenching surprise.

  Handbags and discarded magazines, cellphones, lost shoes and stuffies, prams, shops with their electronic doors shut and the goods inside pristine. Get your Gucci for free.

  He never looked in those prams. Ugliness in there. Rutger winced. Well, he had once, once only. Never again.

  Babies too young to crawl had been deserted by loving parents who’d wandered off to see the Ghoul Lords. He advanced a small way into the street.

  “So. Keep going. What did you do?”

  �
��Oh. I fed her some of my come,” he said it absentmindedly, lost in the past.

  Vargr’s grip on his shoulder was violent, and his snarl was raw anger.

  He twisted away.

  Those wings ripped open to their full span, and the others around them spread out, giving them room.

  “Hey. We can’t afford to fight among ourselves. He was good to her, Vargr.” Tom was trying to do something to settle this, even though he had no clue.

  From how Cyn was staring at his horns, he wondered if he’d grown a few more. His fist clenched automatically, but he relaxed them, breathed. “What would you have done? She liked it. Wanted it. And it worked.”

  Waving an arm, Vargr indicated for the others to pass them by. “Move on! We can handle this. Not you.” After a few seconds, they did, walking down the street slowly with only a few last glances. Except for Cyn, of course.

  She had that evil twinkle spawning in her red eyes.

  “What’s this about, boys?”

  Boys?

  Both of them shot her an exasperated stare. Maura was loitering not far away. The others had moved further.

  “We need to sort this out.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  “Hell, no!”

  The smug grin Cyn sported made him wish he was allowed to upend her over his knee. She’d likely claw his eyes out if he tried. He rather wanted to try.

  “He didn’t screw me, no. Well…” She stuck out her tongue tip, rocking her head as she contemplated him. “Not that I recall? I would hope I’d recall that.”

  “Oh shit.” Vargr swiped his hand down his face, glared at her. “Did you know he fed you his come?”

  “Uhhh, no.” Her eyebrow spiked upward. “I missed that? Sheesh. If you two are planning to fight, I’ll be the referee. Look, this is not a problem. Rutger said he was helping me.” She let her ass waggle to and fro, cheekily, as she spoke.

  With those tentacle leggings on, it made way more than his eyebrows rise up. His dick was joining in. Was she attempting to soothe them or stir them more?

  Rutger chortled then folded his arms. “She’s your bondmate. Deal with her.”

  “Later, I will.”

  “I doubt that.” Her grin stayed.