Love and Decay, Season Two Omnibus: Episodes 1-12

by Higginson, Rachel

  I tilted my chin with courage and resolve I did not feel. I narrowed my eyes and squared my shoulders, not because I was that resilient or that brave, but because if I didn’t put on a show of some kind of attitude, if I didn’t fake this… I would crumble. I would fall to my knees in defeat and tears and hysteria and I would give up.

  This was a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of moment. And the worst kind. The life-or-death kind.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Matthias asked me, completely serious by now.

  “Perfectly,” I choked out.

  Another winning smile came from the man in charge, this one accompanied with a nod of approval. Kane took that as our dismissal and wrapped his hand around my bicep. He guided me forward and we followed one of Matthias’s henchmen into the main body of the storage facility, up three flights of stairs and to an apartment that had been set aside for Kane.

  It also contained all of my belongings.

  We stepped inside and the soldier went around the room turning on lanterns and lighting a few candles.

  There wasn’t much to the room, but what was here was in excellent condition. I supposed Matthias’s son could only have the best of the best. A double bed, complete with a frame and headboard, a couch in great condition, a long dresser and a nightstand next to the bed furnished the small space and turned concrete walls and floor into an apartment. There was a mirror hanging over the dresser and several buckets in the corner- the bathroom, medieval style apparently. There was also a very small table set against one wall decorated with a vase and flowers on the top.

  How domestic.

  Kane dismissed our tour guide and closed the garage-style door immediately.

  We were alone.

  Kane and me.

  For the first time since the cabin.

  For the first time since I was officially a single girl.

  I had imagined this scenario a few times since he declared his love for me. Not exactly with anticipation. More like curious daydreams that got the better of me.

  I had no idea how I would respond or what I would do. I didn’t know what he would do either. And I was interested to see both of our reactions.

  Except now, all this felt wrong. This felt like the first time we were alone together… in his house. This felt like I was the prisoner again and he was my captor. This felt like all the other times before.

  He had not changed. He had not swapped his darkness for a soul.

  He’d lied and cheated and did whatever he could to trap me.

  And it had worked.

  I cleared my throat and attempted to confront him. “It was an act?”

  His gray eyes met mine, partially hidden behind his glasses. He had pulled them out once he wasn’t cuffed anymore and even though this part of me that felt unnaturally attracted to him when he wore his glasses and loved the mysterious quirkiness they gave him, right now hated them. I hated that they seemed to disguise his true thoughts and hide the clarity of his emotions. I hated that they hid him from me.

  He was a different person with them on, a person I didn’t know at all.

  “No,” he denied.

  We stood apart. He on one side of the dark room, me on the other. Soft light flickered over his face, casting his strong features in a shadow and leaving only his lips illuminated and a flash of light where his glasses reflected the candlelight. His broad shoulders tensed with my accusation and his strong arms bulged as he crossed them against his chest.

  “Yes,” I argued. “It was an act before. You lied to Vaughan. You lied to me. You tricked us into coming here and you played this perfect part of the vulnerable, reformed sociopath so that I would listen to you. You’re not real. You’ve never been real.”

  “I am,” he promised. “With you, I am. I’ve always been honest with you. I’ve always been real with you, even when you didn’t like me. I’ve always told you the truth, no matter how painful or destructive it was.”

  “Not about this.”

  “About everything. I told you I would do anything to have you. I would do whatever it took to make you mine.”

  “You told me you loved me.”

  He let out a frustrated growl. “I do love you.” He closed the distance between us in three long strides and put his hands on my biceps. He ducked his head so he could look me directly in the eyes and squeezed my arms in his encompassing grip aggressively. “You don’t understand love. That’s the problem. You think it’s giving and sacrificial. You think if a person loves you, they will do anything for you. That they will give you everything you want and bend over backward to make sure you have what you need and want and desire. You think if they love you, it should be about you.” He paused to suck in a breath and my head spun with his accusation.

  “That’s because that is love. I believe in those things because they are love.”

  He shook his head once, hard. “No. It’s not. Love is selfish. Love is possessive and all-consuming. I want you with me because I can’t live without you. I can’t breathe without you. You think because I love you, I should give you up; I should let you go so you can be happy. But I know you won’t be happy without me. I love you enough to keep you. I won’t let you go. That’s love. Love is devotion and obsession and worship. I can’t worship you unless I have you. Unless you’re mine.”

  “You’re wrong.” My heart grew wings that beat heavily in my chest. “You’re describing something unhealthy. That’s not love… That’s something else. Something… scary.”

  His grip tightened and I felt his fingertips dig into my flesh, bruising and punishing. “Why did Hendrix breakup with you, Reagan? He wanted you for himself. You wanted him to ignore your feelings for me. You wanted him to be sacrificial. But he couldn’t be. He was selfish. Love is selfish. And I am selfish too. I will always be selfish with you. The difference between Hendrix and me is that he was weak enough to give you a choice. I won’t do that. I love you enough to take the choice away from you.”

  “It can be selfish,” I admitted. “But it’s not controlling. I can’t love someone who tries to control me. I can’t love someone who is selfish enough to not realize what I need, or see who I am.”

  He dipped his head until we were just a half inch apart. “I see you, Reagan. I see exactly who you are.”

  “Then you know I won’t love you if you keep me caged. If you keep me prisoner, I can’t. I won’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have you. Because you’re mine.” He released me with a powerful poignancy I felt in the center of my bones. Then he walked to the rolling door. He bent over and pulled it up quickly. There were three armed men on the other side of the door. I flinched at the heavy weaponry waiting for me to make one wrong move. Kane gave them a look that told me he had expected them to be there. Without looking at me, he said, “I’ll send some water. Clean up. Stay here. I’ll give you an hour of privacy. Don’t waste it.”

  Then he walked away.

  I watched him go, my head spinning, my sanity cracking.

  If I believed everything Kane said, I had to believe he was as crazy as ever. I had to believe he was a traitor.

  But instinct told me something different.

  Instinct told me there was truth in his confessions and actions; it wasn’t as transparent as he wanted me to believe.

  Chapter Three

  I took advantage of the hour of privacy Kane gave me. Water arrived in buckets just minutes after he left. I sponge-bathed my way to squeaky clean as soon as I had the door closed again.

  There were clean clothes waiting for me and a dullish razor, plus a fresh bar of soap. I took my time shaving the important parts and really getting my hair clean.

  To be honest, I was filthy. It took quite a bit of effort to get my skin cleaned and shaven. My fingers were tired after my bath and my skin bright red. But it was worth it. Even if I was in captivity, I had no idea when I would get this chance again.


  I felt like a new person with clean clothes and yummy smelling skin. I brushed out my hair and let it air-dry around my shoulders. I felt amazing.

  I felt almost sane again.

  I felt like I could live through the night.

  This wasn’t the end of our plan, this was only the middle. Whether Kane was still on our side or not didn’t really matter. He might add new obstacles, but our plan was still in motion. Granted we had deviated in large, scary ways from the original plot, but we could still succeed. We could still kill Matthias and win back the compound.

  I would survive this just like everything else.

  I didn’t have a clock or a way to tell time, but when Kane came back into the room, I would have bet it had been exactly an hour.

  The men were still stationed outside the “apartment” when the gate opened. Kane ignored them and closed the door, hardly acknowledging me either. I watched him from the couch where I sat tensed and ready for anything.

  He moved around the room, studying the layout and rummaging through everything that was brought here for him. I studied him as he moved. He’d shaved and trimmed his hair. His clothes were fresh, and I had no doubt that he also smelled good.

  His t-shirt fit snugly across his chest and his jeans sat low and tapered on his narrow waist. The ends of his dark hair curled just at the tips, and his glasses had been cleaned. They made him look sharp, handsome… in control. His feet were bare.

  I ignored his feet.

  That was just not playing fair.

  And that was the thing. Even after he’d said all of that to me. Even after he told me that he planned to keep me locked up and a prisoner for as long as he wanted, I still couldn’t help the flutter in my stomach or the quickening of my breath when he was near.

  Kane had been right about Hendrix. And Hendrix had been right about me. I did feel something for Kane, and it wasn’t right to tie Hendrix to me when he was so faithful, and I was so… not.

  What kind of person had feelings for two men? What kind of girl couldn’t see which boy was good for her and which boy was so very wrong?

  Even if Kane was the good guy I believed he could be, he still wasn’t right for me. He still wasn’t the man I should choose or the man I should give my heart to.

  But Hendrix had hurt me, too. He had abandoned me when I needed him most. Maybe he’d been justified. Maybe I deserved everything I’d gotten so far. But the truth was I couldn’t trust Hendrix anymore.

  And I could never trust Kane.

  The even harder truth was that if I couldn’t trust either Hendrix or Kane, then they were on a much more even playing field.

  Kane eventually finished his exploring and came to sit by me on the couch. He sat facing me, with his legs stretched out in front of him. I had pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I gave him a sideways glance and waited for him to be the first one to speak.

  It didn’t take him long.

  “Are you hungry?” His voice was so low I barely heard him.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Are you thirsty?”

  “No.”

  A long minute of silence stretched between us. He leaned forward, and I felt the inches disappear between us.

  “You look nice,” he finally said.

  “So do you,” I whispered.

  “Come here.”

  I ignored him.

  “Come here, Reagan.” His voice hit me with enough force to knock every one of my defenses loose. The low timber vibrated underneath my skin; the cocky authority wrapped around my nerves and pulled on an invisible string between us. The hint of vulnerable desperation molded my heart into emotions I had fought against since the beginning, for as long as I could.

  But that was the thing. I didn’t have to fight against this anymore. I didn’t have any reason to. Hendrix dropped me. And Kane and I were alone. There wasn’t an audience of people judging me or expecting me to make the right decision.

  We were alone.

  And so I let my feelings surface and dictate my actions. I stopped fighting against this thing that I wanted, and I went with it.

  I rose up to my knees and inched forward. He took my hands immediately and pulled me the rest of the way.

  When my knees pressed into his thigh, he guided me over his lap, so I straddled him. I stayed raised up high, so that the only place we touched was where the insides of my thighs pressed against the outside of his.

  He took my fingers and held them gently in his calloused hands and looked up at me with what could only be described as reverent awe. He said that love was worship. And right at this moment, I felt that. I could see him worshipping me. I could feel his devotion and adoration.

  Looking down into his silver eyes, I could feel his love, too, and see every emotion as it flickered behind his suddenly open, painfully honest gaze.

  “I meant what I said earlier, Reagan,” he whispered to me.

  “Which time?” I tried to smile, but I felt it wobble.

  He ignored me. Apparently he expected me to be able to figure out that part on my own.

  He continued to whisper. “I won’t let him hurt you. Not in any way. I will protect you. And I will find a way to protect your friends.”

  My heart expanded and something heavy and debilitating lifted from my shoulders. He had been acting. He had been tricking his dad.

  I knew it!

  Well, okay, maybe I didn’t exactly know it. But I had hoped. I wanted to believe he was capable of reform.

  I wanted to believe he was capable of salvation.

  “Thank you.” My voice was a trembling whisper of gratitude and relief.

  His brows furrowed. “Will you always think the worst of me?”

  “No,” I said immediately, but that was a lie. “Yes. Probably. No, possibly. Yes, I will. I can’t help it.”

  Pain flickered in the depths of his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “I probably deserve that.”

  “It’s not just you,” I promised him. “It’s everyone.”

  “Hendrix?”

  I shook my head sadly. “Not anymore.”

  He surprised me by staying silent. Although he did nod in understanding.

  His hands drifted from my fingers to my sides where they came to rest by palming my hips. He gently guided me down to his lap, pulling me tightly against his body. I rested my hands on his shoulders and let my fingers tangle in the silky ends of his hair.

  “I’m always going to be selfish with you, Reagan. But I want you happy, too. Can you be happy with me?”

  Before I could understand what I was doing, I nodded my head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yes,” I confessed.

  When I pulled back, his eyes were closed and he looked the most peaceful I had ever seen him. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward, removed his glasses and placed a kiss to the corner of his eye. “Sometimes, you already make me happy.”

  That serene expression turned even more beautiful when his full lips curved into a smile. My heart ached as I watched him. I had never seen him look so satisfied before, so extremely content.

  “Sometimes you make me happy too,” he teased.

  “Sometimes?” I laughed.

  His eyes opened and we stared at each other for long, silent moments. “These next few days are going to be rough. Please don’t hate me again.”

  “I get it now. I won’t.”

  He relaxed and more tension drained from his hard body. “I love you, Reagan.”

  He meant those words. I could feel it. They were a physical force I felt roll over my skin and sink into my bones. I had never heard such committed depth in simple words before. They did something to my insides; they changed me in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

  I didn’t say them back.

  I couldn’t. I didn’t feel them and I wouldn’t lie to Kane. Besides, I had a feeling he would know I was lying.

  I didn’t love Kane, but I cared for him deeply. And when he told me he loved me
, he said it like that, like I was his sun and moon and earth and sky. Like I was his hope and his downfall and his salvation all at once. I couldn’t help but be moved by them.

  I couldn’t help but bow under the power of them.

  I didn’t tell him I loved him back, but I had to do something. I had to reciprocate in some way.

  I dipped my head and kissed him. On the lips. I pressed my mouth to his and let him feel me, feel everything inside me that I couldn’t say.

  His body tensed sharply at the contact. I felt it undulate through him from head to toes. His entire body coiled impossibly tight, but then all at once he released that pressure and kissed me back.

  His lips were not soft; they were dry and chapped, but when he wet them with his tongue and moved them against mine, I knew it was one of the most richly spiritual experiences I would ever have.

  His hands tightened on my hips and his chest moved rapidly against mine. Our bodies fit together perfectly, exactly as they should. My own grip tightened when he deepened the kiss and I felt an intense urge to hold on to him or I would blow away.

  He had kissed me once before… back at the cabin. Then, it had been an aggressive demand that I hadn’t expected. He had kissed me with desperation and force. He had practically begged me to kiss him back. And I had not.

  This time was the exact opposite of that kiss. This time he kissed me gently. He kissed me as though I was delicate, as though if he hurried this kiss in any way, I would break. I would shatter. And maybe he was right. His lips moved against me gently, carefully, caressing me in the most adoring way.

  This was a level of sweetness I had never experienced before and never, ever expected to find in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse.

  His lips were perfect, his tongue hot and just hinted at the desire that pulsed beneath his skin and in the frantic rhythms of his heartbeat. His hands held on to me with the only hint that he was afraid I would pull away. At my waist, he held me forcefully, desperately.

  Still his mouth moved against mine and I understood the word “worship” at an entirely different level, in its purest form. This was worship. This was Kane being selfish.