Apocalypse Dance

by M. Barnette

  He'd promised to protect her. He wouldn't just leave her, would he?

  Her heart hammered a frantic beat driven by terror, she turned imploring eyes on him, ready to beg him not to leave. She opened her mouth to speak, then she noticed the way he was looking at her, the faintest smile quirking his mouth as the heavy backpack slid to the ground.

  Freed of its hindering weight, Bells became a blur of movement, hand snatching the assault rifle from the guard, cracking the butt of it against the side of the man's face before he sent a warning burst over the heads of the men on the wall.

  "That did not have to miss,” he informed them loudly, voice and eyes cold as glacial ice. That was when she realized something. What he'd just done hadn't involved using his Immortal abilities. That was pure ass-kicking capability at work. Good as Hawk had been, he'd never fought without relying on the Fenyx at the center of his being. Dal, too, had relied on the power of his Tiger Soul if there was a fight. It made her wonder exactly what Bells was—or rather, what Jason had been—before he'd tapped the Dragon within his soul.

  Bells’ eyes were no longer blue. They were the grey of gunmetal, hard and dangerous. Nikki stared. “The next asshole that threatens me, or my woman, is going to get a taste of death, up close and very personal. Is that understood?"

  The men on the wall, and at the gate stood there slack-jawed. Most of them just nodded, one managed to blurt out, “Sure thing, mister."

  "Anyone else got any ideas about taking my possessions from me? If you do, say so now. I'm in a piss poor mood and I just want to kick back and have a good time. I'm sure you boys can appreciate a man wanting to do that, now can't you?"

  Nikki frowned, somewhat annoyed to be listed as a ‘possession,’ even by Bells. Or perhaps especially by him was more to the point. She'd had sex with him—and sure she wanted him, was probably in love with him—but that wasn't any reason for him to speak as if he owned her. Then again, with these morons, it was probably the only type of conversation they'd understand. It still rankled, though.

  A thought struck her abruptly. He'd said she was his woman. His! Perversely her heart soared. What if that was the only way he could tell her how he felt? Maybe ... Maybe she was a fool to think he wanted her that way. She knew what she looked like, when she was clean she was attractive. But Bells was head turning handsome, and an incredible fuck. He could have any woman he set his sights on.

  From the way he moved and fought, he'd be able to keep any woman he wanted regardless the odds too. So why would he want her anyway?

  Her attention was drawn to the raw fear on the faces of the men by the gate.

  In unison they were shaking their heads in a definitive no over their intentions, and making agreement with a man's desire for a good time. Everyone, that is, but the man Bells had slammed in the face with the butt of the gun. He was sitting on the ground, glaring at the blond. Nikki saw his hand move.

  A booted foot snapped into the man's chin as Bells kicked him. He went sprawling on his back and didn't move. Nikki realized that the Immortal hadn't even glanced down, his stormy grey eyes were still regarding the men on and near the wall.

  "Holy shit...” one of the guys on the wall muttered. They were all wide eyed.

  "Martial artist, damn, that little shit's fast,” another commented.

  "Murph dun went and tangled with a fucking white boy version of Jet Li,” another remarked, chuckling a bit. He was a pretty big man, ugly as sin. He smiled at Nikki, the expression more friendly and respectful, less lecherous as if she'd changed category from common whore to respectable woman in the man's opinion.

  I guess he's established where he falls in the pecking order with these guys, Nikki mused.

  "I think we've reached an understanding. Now, someone want to give me a reasonable toll to enter here, or can we just go in like civilized people and dispense with the bullshit?” Bells asked.

  "We ain't really got much of a toll. If you got some canned goods we'd take a can each for you and your woman,” one of the men on top of the wall said.

  "How about a jar of caviar for both of us?” Bells asked as he passed the assault rifle to her. Nikki took it, cradling the rifle the way she would have held a shotgun while the blond crouched down to search for the caviar inside the backpack.

  "Yeah, that'd work. We ain't seen no luxury goods in a long spell. Sorry about Murph. He's got it big in the head since Sheriff Dobbs made him an official deputy."

  "Sure, no problem."

  She heard the bland tone as Bells replied, saw the way he didn't look away from the men as he dug through the backpack by feel alone. It was all so—practiced. Just as if he'd been in this type of situation and had an instinct for what he could and couldn't do. Maybe he did. She'd seen cops and ex-soldiers with that same type of hard, chilly stare. She'd also seen gangers that held the same look in their jaded eyes. It made her very curious to know more about him, while being equally afraid of what he might tell her if she asked. Providing, of course, he could even remember.

  He passed the caviar to the guard and then scooped up the .45 Murph had tried to draw on him. Nikki observed how graceful his movements were, how controlled and precise. She'd seen Hawk and Dal act the same way when they'd been in Sugarsprings. Wary. Alert for trouble.

  She and Bells had already gotten a bit of that here in Danbridge. If they were lucky the guys on the wall would let their buddies in town know to leave them alone.

  "I'll just be keeping both guns for now. If your friend wakes up and wants them back, he can come talk to me. But no one draws down on me with impunity."

  "Sure thing, mister. I'll let him know,” the guy who'd accepted the canned goods agreed.

  "Be sure you do."

  After hefting the backpack on again, Bells mounted up behind her and rolled the bike slowly forward They passed through the gate without further hindrance, Nikki holding the assault rifle in prominent view as they rode down the street.

  * * * *

  It didn't take Bells long to locate the motel. It was the only one in town, the building sitting at the corner of Main Street, the road they'd come into town by, and another road that no longer had a sign. The place was named after the town—Danbridge Motorlodge—and looked about as seedy as every other building they'd passed. The one good thing they'd both noticed, and which Nikki commented on, was the obvious presence of electricity in some of the buildings. They'd seen the flash of a neon sign in the window of a bar, and they'd passed a diner with big ceiling fans running.

  The diner caught their attention with its promise of a hot meal, though neither of them had their hopes up too high. Nikki couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something that hadn't come out of a can or jar.

  The place almost looked normal if you ignored the wall surrounding it and the fact that every man they saw roaming the streets was armed with guns or other weaponry. Knives, displayed prominently, even a man carrying a bow and arrows.

  Of course there were other things you'd have to ignore too for the place to appear ‘normal,’ like the fact that they'd seen no women outside. Bells had an uneasy feeling as they pulled into the motel parking lot that any women were kept out of sight for some reason beyond the simple expedient of their safety. His spotty memory hinted at female slavery and degradation. Something that was a constant of the backsliding of civilization.

  But he could be wrong, too. Maybe the folks of Danbridge were just very cautious. Considering the little he knew about Roderik and others like him, hiding the women was probably just a good survival practice.

  Never a trusting soul, Bells murmured, “Stick close to me,” as he dismounted from the bike and headed into the motel.

  True to his command, Nikki walked along at his heels, the rifle in her hands.

  "If you have to use it, don't worry about aiming. Just make people duck and I'll handle the rest,” he advised.

  He waited for her slow nod, seeing a flash of anger in her eyes.

  "I know you can take care o
f yourself, Nikki. But I don't know how many shots that rifle has and I'd rather not run out of bullets if it comes to fighting our way out of here.

  His eyes were still the grey of a stormy sky, his state of alertness heightened by the creeping chill that came and went up his spine. They were in for shit, he just didn't know what kind of shit it would be, or where it was going to come from. But they needed food, water and rest too much to just cut and run.

  There was a tap bell on the counter and Bells rang it, wondering how many of those things he'd used in his centuries of existence.

  Centuries? Am I that old? His mind told him yes, but his memories stayed silent on the matter. Probably for the better since he had an eerie feeling of deja vu as he glanced down at the worn and scarred walnut top of the counter.

  A man fat enough to double for Santa Claus came out from the motel's office. Santa, however, wouldn't have carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm.

  "Do you have rooms for rent?"

  "Might. Who's asking?"

  Bells forced a smile onto his face, knowing damn well it didn't touch his eyes. “I am. For me and my woman."

  From the corner of his eye he saw Nikki tense at the ‘my woman’ part and knew he was going to have a bit of explaining to do. This wasn't the fine old world she knew, and equality of the sexes was dead. Things Nikki herself had said, things the others had mentioned told him that was a fact. He could tell by the lack of women in evidence that they were at the very least, off in hiding for their own protection, if not outright enslaved. Of the two choices he found himself fervently hoping the women were just being carefully protected.

  The old world of freedom and near sexual equality was gone.

  "It'll cost you,” the man's gaze went to Nikki, and the front of his pants showed that he liked what he was seeing, his cock tenting the loose trousers he was wearing.

  "Not her, not even for a fuck,” Bells stated, letting a hint of the anger he felt hardened his voice.

  The man's eyes went from Nikki to Bells. “What's a kid like you need with a fine whore like that?"

  A hand shot across the counter, catching the front of the man's shirt. “I don't know what the hell is wrong with you people here in Danbridge, frankly I don't care, but I can tell you I'm sick of her being considered part and parcel to any deal I try and make. Whatever you want for a room and a bath isn't worth me letting you put your damned stinking dick in her! She is my woman, and mine alone. Got it!"

  "Yeah, sure, mister,” the man agreed, not even trying to use the shotgun in his hand because he could tell the blond would take it from him the second he tried to get it into firing position.

  "I'd appreciated it if you'd make sure that information got around town,” Bells told him as he let the man's shirt go. “I'd hate for there to be any accidents to your local population."

  "Of course, yeah, anything you like."

  "Now about that room?"

  "The lady can stay free, I'll take canned goods for you and the bath. We've got running water, even hot if you want."

  "Will you take a tin of gourmet cookies?"

  "They any good?"

  "Yes."

  "Sure. Yeah. Been a while since we had those here in town."

  Bells smiled and dug out the tin. “Well, consider this your lucky day."

  Chapter Eight

  It felt good to be so totally clean. It was the clean you only got with good soap and hot water. Nikki had luxuriated in the tub, lathering up and rinsing twice, then lolling around in the sudsy water until it was barely tepid.

  She was sitting on the edge of the sway centered bed brushing her damp hair, listening to the splashing from the other room.

  Bells taking a quick bath in the water she'd already used.

  I'm as bad as Chet ever was, she told herself, not realizing that they'd only get one fill of the tub for their use. Now it was cold and smelled of roses. He'd said he didn't mind, but she had her doubts. He'd mentioned liking the idea of soaking in hot water before she'd gone in.

  I bet he's aching from all the fighting. Even if the bruises do go away pretty fast, he does feel pain, and he hurts like anyone else.

  She was just about to go and ask him if he wanted anything when he came out, wrapped in a ragged towel, this braids still streaming lines of water down his chest. He was a study in grace and power, even when he was wrapped in no more than a towel and dripping wet. She stared, feeling the thrum of desire between her thighs.

  There weren't any bruises visible anywhere, and the bullet hole in his leg was also gone.

  He healed rapidly, far more quickly than either Dal or even Hawk did. What had Hawk told her? The older an Immortal got the more powerful they became, the faster they healed. Hawk was a little over seventy years old, but he'd only had his power for thirty years. He'd been in his early forties before he'd discovered the Fenyx lying dormant in his soul. The bullet hole in the blond's leg would have taken two or three days to heal if it had been in Hawk's leg, four or five for Dal. She suspected it took Bells less than twenty-four hours to heal that type of damage. It made her wonder exactly how old the too youthful looking blond might actually be since he'd never even mentioned an age to her, not even in passing. But there was the whole tree induced amnesia thing preventing him from remembering.

  "What next?” she asked.

  He shook his head, the ringing of the bells muted by the water still trapped inside them. “I haven't decided,” he admitted as he picked up the towel she'd used on her hair and started squeezing water out of his braids. The feathers tied into them were almost black and looked rather bedraggled.

  "Let me help,” Nikki said, putting the brush aside to help him press the water out of his hair.

  She stood up and reached for the towel, their hands touched and Nikki realized how close his mouth were to hers.

  Spontaneously their lips met, but Nikki took it a step farther, unwinding the towel from around his hips, seeking the smooth velvet of his cock. Her fingers closed around flesh that was already hardening as she touched it.

  "Nice,” she murmured as she grabbed a handful of his hair and kissed him again while she stroked his cock, feeling it pulsing against her palm with each rapid beat of his heart.

  "You want something?” he asked.

  "I'd like some of your cock, Mr. Dragon."

  He laughed. “And I thought I was addicted to damsels."

  "We're mutually addictive, Mr. Dragon.” Nikki told him as she dropped to her knees and gently lapped at the head, tasting the tiny bead of precome in the little slit of his cock. His hands caressed through her damp hair.

  "Hmm ... I thought you were hungry."

  "I am. For this,” Nikki murmured and sucked the head into her mouth, tongue sweeping sensitive skin in a lascivious demonstration that elicited a groan of appreciation from Bells.

  * * * *

  She was on her knees, the head of his cock being sucked as if he were a piece of candy she'd been yearning for. It felt so good, eroding his resolve to stop the madness of their relationship.

  It was too late. Too late for so damned many things.

  He wanted this. Wanted her so much it hurt. Worse than a bullet, worse than dying without death to silence the pain.

  Her mouth, teased, enticed. Her hand caressing his balls sent streamers of light through him, heat that coiled deep, molten, burning.

  "Nikki...” he moaned her name, letting her hear what she was doing to him. No longer hiding. Not from her, and not from himself.

  He was lost. But he was also found in the same breath, in the same throb of his heart, the pulse echoing though his body in time to the passion she had returned to life in him. Passion he'd thought dead. Gone. Gone with Kimiko.

  A few tears slipped from his closed eyes, tears she didn't see. They fell into her damp hair, unnoticed as she drove him toward orgasm with her mouth, the touch of her hands.

  Bells couldn't take it. He didn't want to come in her mouth. He wanted to be inside her, wi
thin the clinging embrace of her slick velvety channel.

  He gripped her shoulders, “Nikki, please, I want you."

  Sable eyes met his as she tilted her head back, but she didn't let go of the flesh in her mouth.

  "Please, Nikki. Let me fuck you."

  Her mouth moved faster over his cock and he had to brace a hand on her shoulder as the pleasure built higher. The sweet musky scent of her arousal, the feel of her skilled tongue and hands on him were driving him rapidly toward an orgasm. One he wasn't willing to give into. Not yet. He remembered the flavor of her as he'd fed on her cream. He wanted more. He wanted it now, the Dragon's hunger as aroused as Nikki's body.

  He had her down the bed with a speed that left her breathless a squeak of surprise coming from her parted lips as his tongue slipped along her slit, dove in and struck her clit, jolting a pleased gasp from her. Bells grinned and lapped gently, tasting, worshipping her with his mouth as she deserved. He plunged a finger into her depths and heard another exultant gasp that brought a smile to his lips as he worked her clit over with eager strokes of his tongue.

  Female. She held him balanced on the edge of sanity and madness. Between man and Dragon. His Warrior's Fire alight, the Dragon shifting beneath the binding chains of his will, Bells fought to retain the tenuous control he had on the Beast at the heart of that Fire.

  Nikki moaned and bucked under his mouth, her cunt clamping down on his thrusting finger as she came for him. Bells's smile became a pleased grin.

  The Dragon was definitely winning.

  * * * *

  Bells made her feel loved. Each and every kiss, the way he drank her up like a starved cat in a bowl of cream, how he fucked, how he groaned when he was inside her. No man had ever given her what Bells—her Jason—gave her each and every time they made love.

  Tears spilled from Nikki's eyes as she felt him kissing his way up her belly, her wet slit hot and ready for more of what he had to offer. Eager for the hammering thrust of his hardness as he rammed into her. She wanted it, wanted him.

  "Hey, Nikki, did I hurt you?” he asked her softly as he kissed her closed eyes. She could smell herself on him as he kissed her tear streaked face, taste herself as he kissed her lips.