Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2

by Amy Cook

  “Your smile… it’s what got me through the lashin’. I was at the end of my resistance, ready to crumble. I kept desperately prayin’ for a way to withstand, prayin’ for strength. And then your face was there. Your sweet smile, beautiful eyes: they grounded me, gave me the strength to finish.”

  Amiel stared up in him in awe, his confession lifting her heart.

  “I was the center of your storm,” she whispered happily. He nodded, stepping closer still, gaze intensely focused on her lips. Suddenly he jerked, letting out a funny little whoop and dancing away from the spray of water.

  “Holy crap, that’s cold!” That gut-wrenching laugh returned as she climbed out of the shower, pulling him along with her and shutting off the water. They both stood shivering and dripping on the floor.

  “My hot water runs out in ten minutes here.”

  Harley scowled at the shower head. “Guess that’s one way to save on the water bill.”

  “You’re a good man, Harley Coaver.” She grinned over at him, the subject change catching him off guard.

  “It happens,” he teased, a boyish curve to his lips, and an air of relaxation to him she’d never seen before.

  “So modest,” she returned playfully.

  “And so freezin’.” He shivered, gently pushing her toward the door. “Go get dressed, so we can go get me somethin’ to wear. We got work to do.”

  Amiel let him push her the rest of the way out the door, but she didn’t immediately change when the door shut. Instead, she leaned up against the door jamb, biting her lip to keep the squeals inside as her head fell back. She’d been the center of his storm.

  Chapter 34

  Amiel

  Harley pulled up to the small clothing store on the street, shivering as he helped Amiel off the bike.

  “Damn, its cold ridin’ on a bike with wet pants. Excuse the French.”

  “Tell me about it.” She laughed, pointing to the legs of her Robin suit. The fronts of her thighs that had been pressed to the backs of his for the short ride were now soaked through. Though nothing compared to his.

  “Wimp.” Harley smirked, reaching for her hand and pulling her toward the store. The bell above the door rang as they walked through, and Amiel braced herself for the usual glares that accompanied Harley’s tattoos. A surge of protectiveness rose within her. She was ready with her own arsenal of glares and angst if they so much as looked cross-eyed at him.

  “Harley.” The store keeper glanced up from his magazine only for a moment, offering a nod of greeting before returning to his reading. “More stuff in your size came in last night.”

  “Thanks, Craig.” Harley saluted, pulling Amiel toward the back of the store. Pleasantly surprised, she leaned closer to whisper.

  “I like him.”

  Harley chuckled, walking through an employee’s lounge and pulling a box out from under the table.

  “Craig’s a good guy. We’ve had a long-standing, unofficial business partnership for years. I’m in here every other day, with the way Rabids are always wreckin’ my clothes. He makes sure there’s stuff in my size, and I think my clothing purchases alone keep him in business. He don’t much care who the money comes from; business is business, in his eyes.” He left her outside to peruse the store while he changed.

  When he came out in a pair of black jeans and tight black t-shirt, jacket in his free hand, hair falling messily around his face, Amiel pretended he didn’t have her stomach in knots.

  “You clean up all right, Superman.” That was an understatement. Harley rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

  “Dweeb.” He quickly paid the clerk, purchasing a couple of Yorkshire mints and pocketing them on the way out. “Those are for later. If ya behave yourself,” he joked.

  “I guess you’ll be eating them alone then,” she shot back, grinning brightly as she jumped on the bike behind him. She leaned closer, offering her most devious whispered tone in his ear. “Because I plan to be all kinds of trouble.”

  “Heaven help us all!” Harley gasped dramatically. “The little hellcat’s on a rampage!”

  Amiel grinned, holding him closer. “Darn right. Watch out, or I just might take a bite out of you.”

  “I just might let ya.”

  Her eyes flew wide, but the bike jerked forward, streaming down the road before she had a chance to think of a reply.

  The next two hours were filled with Rabid attacks and triumphs on Harley and Amiel’s end. Amiel still didn’t remember her fights, but she felt a flush of excitement after she surfaced from each one. Harley grinned and joked with her between fights, and she often caught him staring at her with looks so intense they melted her from the inside out. She hated that he’d been beaten so badly at Foundation, yet she couldn’t help but feel a small amount of gratitude for it being the catalyst of change.

  For so long, she had felt like they were in a limbo, frozen on opposite sides of a canyon. But since the moment he’d discovered her as the center of his dark storm, it was like something had unlocked within him. Suddenly, she felt a foreign hope, a dream she’d never truly allowed herself to consider. A dream that Harley was just as lost in her as she was in him. And maybe, just maybe, now that those walls seemed to be torn down, she’d have a chance at winning all of him.

  Harley nudged her shoulder with his elbow, pointing to a light pole down the street.

  “Race ya to the pole. Beat me there and I give ya the mint,” he challenged. Amiel met his mischievous grin with one of her own, bent low at the waist and stretched out her legs to prepare for the run.

  “Ready. Set. G—” She never got a chance to finish. Harley put a palm to her forehead, holding her back as he gave himself a head start. “Hey!” She shouted after him, enjoying the sound of his laugh as he ran for his life.

  Eyes narrowing, Amiel shot off after him. She pushed her muscles, willing them to propel her faster. They warmed, burning with the exertion, and still she pushed harder. The tags suddenly warmed at her chest with a friendly tingle, a burst of cool energy rushing over her mind. Somehow, as impossible as it felt, she knew the tags were lending help to her efforts. She grinned as her speed quickened, her legs propelling her past a surprised Harley. His eyes lit with an inner dark spark that did funny things to her stomach. She nearly ran face first into the pole, she was so locked into that gaze.

  Putting out a hand, she grabbed the pole and used her momentum to spin back around and go flying into Harley. The collision knocked him over on his back, and she quickly rolled off, doing a victory dance.

  “Booyah! Take that, cheater! Uh uh, ohhh yeah!” She danced around him, waving her arms around and whooping like a complete idiot, totally high on that burst of energy from her tags and the knowledge that somehow she’d managed to use them without Rabids nearby. Harley lay on the ground, that dark spark still in his eyes as he chuckled. She held out her fingers, demanding her prize. He climbed to his feet, tossing her the mint at the same time his foot shot out in an effort to trip her. She easily danced out of the way with a giggle.

  “Cheater cheater, minty eater,” she sang. Harley shook his head.

  “You’re a goof.”

  Amiel grinned as she leaned in to bump his arm with her shoulder, popping the Yorkshire mint into her mouth.

  “And you aren’t so tough.”

  He frowned. “What happened to being the Man of Steel?”

  “He’s still around,” she conceded with a mischievous grin. “But he’s no match for the Woman of Steel.”

  “Whatever. I could crush ya into the ground if I really wanted to, shrimp.” He mussed her hair. Her eyes narrowed playfully as she popped up and tried to return the favor.

  “I kicked butt tonight!”

  He easily shoved her to the side, keeping her at a distance with one outstretched arm. He didn’t have to say a word; the arrogant crook to his lips said it all. “Maybe, but you can’t kick mine.” Growling playfully in answer to that silent challenge, Amiel leapt, wrapping herself around his e
xtended arm.

  The sudden shift in weight caused Harley to stumble off balance. He grumbled as they tipped over, but, ever the gentleman, he rolled with the momentum of the fall so that she landed on top of him rather than vice versa. She took advantage of the momentary upper hand, shifting in an effort to trap him in a headlock. Harley growled, easily slipping from her grip and tossing her over his head. She rolled with it, managing to only gain a marginal bruise or two on her back, which was preferable to road rash and a flat nose.

  “Chicken arms,” Harley accused.

  “My arms are perfectly fine, thank you very much. Your head is just greasy,” she teased back.

  “Bak bak,” he quipped with a crooked grin, flopping his elbows like chicken wings. Amiel rolled her eyes and walked by him, pretending disinterest. Then, eyes lighting with devious intent, she spun and leapt on his back, arms once again closing around his neck. Harley chuckled, clearly humoring her in her efforts of sneak attack. Suddenly he flopped over on his back, knocking the air out of her but making an obvious effort to keep her from the majority of the pain he could have inflicted if he chose. That was her “rough around the edges knight in not-so-shiny armor”. Her lips lifted upward as he chuckled again.

  “I’m suddenly hungry for fried chicken.” An exaggerated sniff to her arm followed, along with a playful nip at the leather sleeve. She tightened her chokehold with a jerk. But her efforts ended in frustration when he easily spun about in her grip, cocky smirk letting her know she hadn’t fazed him in the slightest.

  “Maybe roadkill chicken?” he amended. Amiel “oomphed” as his full weight descended on her, effectively smooshing her.

  “Not fair, fatty,” Amiel groaned, loosening her grip on his neck in surrender. His lips lifted in triumph, the dark spark back in his eyes. Amiel paused, drinking in the warmth issuing from that spark.

  The air between them shifted in that increasingly familiar way. Familiar perhaps, but terrifying too. She had no idea what it was, where it came from or what triggered it. She only knew that, somehow, it felt as though her insides were rising in an effort to mesh with his. It was disconcerting and exhilarating at once. Harley sensed it too, she could tell. His face sobered slightly as he lowered to his elbows, bringing his body flush with hers. His golden tresses tickled her forehead, so temptingly accessible in her current failed headlock position.

  Her arms loosened around his neck, one hand finding its way into his hair. She wished she didn’t have her gloves on, so that she could steal a quick feel of its silky smooth texture. The arctic depths in his gaze cut toward her lips, and she swore she could feel his heart thundering against her chest. Suddenly a different sensation echoed in her chest, pain yanking her from the moment. Her face tightened with the internal battle.

  “Harley,” she gasped in warning. There was no need to warn him; he was instantly on guard. He had become increasingly in tune with her instinctual reactions during their hunting forays. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had felt the approach of the infected as instantly as she had. In unison, their eyes turned toward the mouth of the road, landing on the solid form of something huge, hulking and ravenous. A strange sort of wheezy grunt issued from the creature.

  “Harley… what is that?”

  “That,” he said, pausing as the new foe stepped into the streetlight, “that is ugly.” As though incensed by the insult, the thing released an angry, snuffling snort. “Real ugly,” Harley emphasized.

  Even through the haze of impending blackness, Amiel had to agree. It had obviously been a man at one point, nearly eight feet in height. As a result of the rapid healing abilities, most Rabids had a healthier look to them than they did as Cleans. It was impossible to believe this thing had ever been good-looking, however, even when it had still been human. Now, oddly enough, infection merely lent insult to injury. Patches of hair clung to its scalp in haphazard lengths and angles. Its teeth were blackened and snaggled, easily visible by the gaping hole of missing lips. The entire right side of its face and neck were bubbled from savage burns and scar tissue.

  “Why does it look like that?” Amiel didn’t have a chance to hear the answer, because the creature took one step closer, a step that brought the tags roaring to life. Her eyes desperately sought out Harley’s as she fought to breathe, and he nodded grimly. Sliding to his feet, he grabbed her helmet from where she’d slipped the strap through her belt, and pressed the strap into her hand.

  “Go on, then, girl, do your thing. I’ll stand point.” As though waiting for Harley’s go-ahead, the darkness within burst out, engulfing and dragging her under.

  Chapter 35

  Harley

  Harley watched in fascination as her back arched and she drew herself to her knees, head thrown back, arms spread wide. The scream that followed was painful and exciting at once. He needed to see a shrink.

  His and his Hybrid’s attention homed in on the ugly mutt at the alleyway mouth, instantly battle-ready. Harley frowned, eyes narrowing. Amiel’s scream wasn’t getting just him worked up. The moment the fierce, shrill pitches of that scream hit the air, the creature jerked, hands scrabbling at its ears, and it released its own infuriated roar. And then it charged. Harley slipped a little further into his crouch, readying to launch himself at the charging freak. He didn’t have to glance at Amiel to know she was coming out the other side of the transition, but was still slightly out of it. The transition was taking longer this time, somehow. Or perhaps it was merely the tenseness of the situation that made the moments stretch on for what felt like forever.

  Daggers shot from Harley’s skilled fingertips as he sought to slow the assault. It didn’t even faze the hellion. Glowering, Harley deftly flung himself at the creature. He grunted as he flew backward through the air, backhanded by the monster like an annoying fruit fly. He slammed into a wall, sliding down it to land in a lump on the ground.

  “Damned walls,” he growled, pushing to his knees. He found himself becoming acquainted with them far too often in this profession. The world momentarily spun, informing him that his head had taken quite the pounding from his impromptu flight. Shots suddenly rang out, deafening in their echoes. Harley grinned as his vision finally sharpened on the slim figure before him. Amiel’s Hybrid side was fully intact now, guarding him as she fired bullets into the creature’s torso with smooth precision. Throughout their hours of patrols together, Harley found that they were getting good at tag-teaming enemies.

  But again, the creature wasn’t fazed. In a move that was faster than should have been conceivable for something that size, the creature shot forward, grasping for Amiel. Harley climbed to his feet as Amiel dodged to the side. Using the wall as a makeshift ladder, he jump-kicked off it to leap on the creature’s back while Amiel sent a shattering slam into the dude’s head via helmet. Shattering as far as shattering the helmet, and not so much the guy’s noggin. Pieces of the helmet flew in different directions, and Amiel’s Hybrid growled in outrage.

  “You broke my helmet!” she screamed. The creature gave a snuffling sort of chuckle in reply, only further pissing Amiel’s darker side off.

  “Hold still!” Harley grumbled in frustration. He found himself holding on for dear life, rather than attacking. Every time he reached for his weapons, the jerk would shake like a dog, nearly dislodging him and forcing him to resume a grip with both arms. Harley switched tactics, trying to chokehold the freak, but the guy’s neck might as well have been steel bands. The burned and blistered skin popped open like an overripe melon splitting wide, an egregious scent singeing Harley’s delicate senses.

  “You reek like Hell!” Harley choked. Amiel dodged side to side, trying to find an opening for attack with his pop’s old dagger in hand. The thing swept its arms back and forth, lunging to and fro like a maddened animal, leaving no openings.

  Taking a chance, Harley made another attempt at retrieving a weapon. The only thing he had time to grab was one of his daggers already firmly embedded in the freak’s ribs. Yanking the knife f
ree took a surprising amount of muscle power. For its part, the creature didn’t even seem to notice when Harley yanked it free. It did, however, notice when the blade slammed into its skull, glancing off the bone and slicing off the top half of its ear. Letting out a piggish squeal, the thing reared back, arms swinging wildly.

  Amiel seized the chance, darting inward and slashing up the fiend with deadly aim. Roaring, it flung out an arm, catching Amiel in the head with a solid whack. She soared backward, slamming into a dumpster. That kid and dumpsters were like magnets.

  “Amiel!” Harley shouted in alarm, continuing to stab the creature over and over with the small blade. Amiel climbed to her feet, eyes dark with hate as she wiped the blood from her split lip. She broke off a piece of rebar that jutted out of a nearby crumbled wall, gripping it in her hand as she approached.

  “I’m fine.” It was absurd how incredibly attractive he found her in that moment, smoky voice complementing the fire and murder in her gaze.

  “You’re one ugly devil, did you know that?” Amiel hissed, feet moving fluidly as she circled the fiend in a crouch. “I think it’s time we sent you back to Hell.”

  “I’ll take you with me,” the creature garbled, voice like gravel and broken glass, an ugly laugh accompanying it. Damn, the thing could talk, too. That meant they didn’t just have some dumb creature on their hands, but something capable of some amount of intelligent interaction. Not good. It reached back, trying to yank Harley from its back, but the scarred sinew under its arms kept it from enough range of movement to grasp him. Growling in anger, it took a different route, stumbling backward until it roughly sandwiched Harley between the brick wall and its back.