“There’s no point. We can’t get past. Mabe’s doing exactly what I would do, making the best of the situation and getting the fuck out of there. He knows where he has to go, and he knows he has to get Foster and Natalie there.” Hardy broke into a walk, dragging her with him, his hold relentless. “We, on the other hand, have perfectly functioning legs and can get there ourselves. He fucking knows that.”
He stopped and gripped her upper arms, turning her so she faced him. Anger was a burn the tops of his cheekbones. “He also knows I will fucking die before I let anything happen to you.” He cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will get you to Brackla. You understand me?”
Georgina dug her heels in and finally broke his control of her arm. She clamped her hands over her ears. Killing the Scutters had unleashed something dark within her and she wasn’t sure how to get it back under control. Her chest rose and fell too rapidly, making it difficult for her to catch her breath. “We have no transport… We have nothing.” She fell forward, catching her knees, choking in big whooping breaths while the world spun and whirled around her in a nauseating jumble.
Hardy crouched in front of her, his face filling her vision. He cradled her grazed cheeks in his hands. She closed her eyes, seeking comfort from his touch. Don’t let go of me. Please, don’t let go.
“Sit,” he commanded.
Her knees buckled and she complied, her backside hitting gritty ground.
“Look at me, Georgina.” His fierce eyes scorched her. “I’ve got you.”
She released a long, slow breath, forcing her breathing to return to normal.
“You brought your sister up on your own without any help from anyone. You aren’t giving up now.” His voice was a cool balm.
Especially now.
She clambered back up onto her feet, using him as a support. Forced her knees to straighten, pushed her hair off her face. She could do this. “Let’s get off this bridge.”
27
Hardy hustled Georgina away from the bridge and into the trees that lined the ruined motorway. He’d take her north in the direction of the Severn Bridge—their only option. His focus was clear: get Georgina to safety. Foster and Natalie weren’t even on his radar any more. Mabe would ensure they made it to Brackla.
With his arm around her waist, he hauled her into thickets of brambles, away from the bridge wreckage, out of sight of the inevitable Chittrix reinforcements that would soon follow. After half an hour he let her rest on a tree stump. Now she sat, swiping at her nose with a shredded tissue. Vulnerable. It made something fierce and hot rise in his chest—the overwhelming compulsion to protect her, whatever the cost.
Georgina had cracked something open within him. Something he’d never believed existed in his own heart. Not only couldn’t he stop whatever it was, he didn’t want to.
He wracked his mind for fragments of Mabe’s map. “There’s a rail and lorry depot on this side of the Severn bridge. There’ll be driver facilities. We can take cover for the night.” Ominous purple clouds filled the sky above. “It’s getting dark, but if we push on, we can make it in under two hours.”
“Okay.” Her voice was strong, but her eyes were bloodshot from tears. Damn. The need to make this right seethed within him.
“The Sweeper battery’s dead. We’re down to old school with our pulse rifles and the SIG.” He checked the clip then slammed it shut again. “Shit.”
Georgina wobbled back up onto her feet.
He steadied her by the wrist, and a loose curl skimmed his face. His nerve endings stirred, craving more. Her pupils dilated, her body reacting to his touch, stalling the breath in his throat. The need to taste her powered through him.
As if she could read his mind, her lips parted, her small white teeth grazing her bottom lip before she released it. His cock hardened at the thought of devouring her, of crushing her mouth with his, sating his hunger for her. Raw desire roared through him, making his hand tighten on her arm.
A Chittrix scream pierced the late afternoon air, and Georgina jerked in his grasp. Her eyes lost their dreamy focus and snapped to high above, where the angular outline of the alien hunter flitted between the skeletal tree branches.
“Chittrix,” she breathed, their noses inches apart.
Reluctantly he released her and urged her forward.
Holding her close would need to wait till later.
* * *
It took two hours to make it to the bridge and by then, Hardy was wet and muddy, his hands scratched from the overgrown brambles that had spread unimpeded through the woods. Georgina had fared no better. The ground was boggy, and they’d stumbled more than once into thick, squishing clay that sucked at their boots and plastered their skin before drying to a rigid, uncomfortable crust.
On the edge of the forest, he held her back as he surveyed the Severn Bridge, studying the surrounding landscape for lurking dangers, trying to ignore the trembling rise and fall of her soft belly under his fingertips. She was losing body heat, shivering in her damp clothes. “We’re nearly there.”
She nodded, her gesture accompanied by chattering teeth. Getting her warmed up fast was urgent.
The tide was still out, and pale brown mud stretched as far as he could see. The night was silent and heavy around them. Either they were safe or they wouldn’t know what was out there until they left the cover of the trees. Something still rasped against his instincts but there were no Chitttrix or Scutters. A fox or a dog? Something lurking that had survived?
“W-Where’s the depot you were talking about?”
Hardy indicated a dusky jumble of black buildings silhouetted against the sky.
Georgina shuddered. “Did they look that depressing before the invasion?”
Hardy shook his head, the edges of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, well the Travel Lodge was fully booked.”
“There might be scavengers. Or worse.”
“I know.” He reached down and took her hand. “If there’s Chittrix, they left already for all the commotion on the other bridge. The chances are there’s nothing here.”
“But…”
He squeezed her hand. “We’re wet and cold, Georgina. If we don’t get somewhere dry for the night, we’re going to die of exposure and then we won’t need to worry about the goddamn aliens at all.”
He kissed the back of her hand and her eyes fluttered shut. “We haven’t got time to waste searching for a house nearby. There might not be one. Here, there’s a chance to dry ourselves off and warm up.”
She opened her eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted. “This is my brave face.”
He kissed her hand again. He admired her tenacity, her ability to dig deep when shit hit the fan. “That’s a good face. Shall we put it to use?”
* * *
He led her down a steep incline. The ground was loose and rubbly under foot, and he took her hand as she skidded and fell on her backside more than once before they reached the edge of a vast loading bay. It was bordered with arc lights that were now cobwebbed and dark. Train tracks cut across the top end of the bay, chaotic with lumber carriages, their numbers picked out by early moonlight.
Hardy guided her around the perimeter toward the main buildings. All the windows were barred, and the doors were padlocked.
But, fate was finally giving them a decent hand and the last door clicked open. A shaky laugh escaped him. Thank fuck.
Darkness and the stale odor of abandoned building assaulted his nostrils, but he didn’t give a shit. It was dry and had a roof. He ducked onside, pulling her with him. “It’s our lucky day.”
“Yeah.” Georgina clutched his hand with quivering fingers. “My thoughts exactly.” She followed him into the gloom, the door creaking on its hinges as it swung shut behind them.
28
Georgina shuffled behind Hardy, her joints and muscles gradually seizing up from the cold. Deep tremors racked her muscles as the last of her depleted energy faded.
He helped her through the gloom o
f what must have been a dining hall. Foldable tables were stacked against the walls, along with columns of orange plastic chairs. Hardy steered her to a rickety chair outlined by grimy moonlight from the skylight above.
He shrugged the Sweeper off his shoulders and propped it on the floor. Georgina reached out and gave him an awkward side hug. “We made it,” she murmured.
“Yeah.” His head rested against hers for a second. “I’m going to find water.” He plucked at her damp sleeve. “And dry clothes.”
“Mmm,” Her teeth chattered as chills, sank further into her bones.
“I’m going to look after you, Georgina.” His expression was serious.
“I know.” She crooked her frozen face into a smile.
He brushed her lips with the pad of his thumb. Then pressed his lips to hers. It was too quick and took her by surprise, leaving her lips sensitized. She wanted more.
Then he was off, his boots loud on the linoleum as he crossed to the serving hatch that separated the kitchen from the rest of the building. Dull steel roller blinds secured the hatch but there was a door to the right.
Hardy rattled the handle and then disappeared, the door swooshing shut after him, leaving her alone in the canteen.
She tried to touch her lips, but her hands were uncooperative and when she checked her gray-tinged fingers, they were frozen in weird claw shapes.
She stuffed them under her arms and closed her eyes, willing Hardy to reappear. Preferably with a steaming bath full of bubbles and a shot of bourbon. Her head dipped. The effort of keeping it upright was too much. Her thoughts scattered, losing coherence.
Something shook her hard. “Georgina.”
“Huh?” She opened her eyes, blinking away blurriness.
“Let’s get you dry.” Hardy hustled her back onto her feet and wasted no time removing her soaked clothes. She tried to help, but her numb fingers got in the way, so she stopped and let him strip her to her underwear.
There was a brief pause.
“Sorry, everything’s wet.” His voice was oddly hoarse.
He bent and stripped her of her bra and panties and then wrapped a rough blanket around her shoulders. It was scratchy and smelled of dog, but it was dry. She clutched it around her neck and buried her nose in the wool.
He pressed firm fingers to the small of her back. “This way.”
Every cell in her body hurt. Her bare feet slapped on cold tiles as she took awkward old-man steps. She just wanted to lie down and sleep
“Fucking hell, Georgina. Come here.” He lifted her easily, clasping her close to his chest.
She snuggled against him, the thud of his heart audible as she pressed her ear to his body armor. The strong rhythm lulled her.
He carried her to a different room and tucked her into the corner of an armchair, nestled in an open doorway. Stars winked down at her.
He’d had piled several wooden chairs nearby. She risked a peek above the frayed hem of the blanket as he took them one by one, stamping on them to shatter the wood and make firewood. When he had enough, he built a fire just outside the doorway. The position of her seat was protected from the night air but close enough to feel the heat. Golden light licked at her face, thawing her cheeks and the familiar scent of wood smoke tickled her nose.
“I have a surprise for you.” He dropped to his knees and hefted a box out of the gloom. He pointed, his cheeks rounding in delight, chest puffed.
Baked Beans with Pork Sausages. Twenty-four cans.
Her mouth fell open. “How?”
Hardy jerked his head toward the back of the room. “There’s a storeroom back there. Untouched.” He waved a can opener in front of her. “Dinner, madam?”
* * *
Hardy warmed the tins in a dented saucepan over the fire and then silence descended as they concentrated on their first proper meal in two days. Rich tomatoey steam filled the air. Heat suffused Georgina’s body as she ate and gradually the hard knot of emptiness in her stomach relaxed.
She placed her plate on the floor, her belly full of hot food. Hot blood reached her toes once more, making her feel like herself again. “That was amazing.”
Hardy nodded in agreement. “Never knew I was such a good cook,” he mumbled through his final mouthful.
He cleared the plates away and threw more shattered wood on the fire. When he stepped back from the flames, golden light danced over the planes of his face.
Hairs on the back of her arms lifted. The air around her contracted as if charged with the heat of his gaze. Desire unlocked deep within her body. “Today was pretty crazy.”
He nodded in reply, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her mouth dried up. She stared at him, mesmerized. Warmth gathered between her legs. All she could think about was what he’d look like out of those damn clothes.
Could he read her mind? He reached up and unbuckled his body armor and tossed it to the side. He huffed a low breath then snagged his fingers under the hem of his long-sleeved t-shirt. The fabric slid up across his abdomen, revealing a heavily inked chest defined by glorious muscles. He dropped the t-shirt to the floor and unhooked his belt, sliding the leather out in a long, low hiss.
God. Her nipples tightened under the rough blanket, and a surge of aching need rushed through her, her inner muscles clenching as she visualized what he would strip off next.
Oh, God. His hands were at the fastenings of his pants.
“Best way to warm up. Skin on skin.” His voice was low and gravelly.
She swallowed, watching him strip out of his remaining wet clothes till he was in his underwear. Dark shorts, low on the hips, his defined V-cut descending under the waistband.
She stared at him unabashed, the recent brush with death pumping hot through her veins. Heat flared in her cheeks as he shrugged off his underwear.
Fuck. A raw wave of carnal desire raged through her at the sight of him. A primal mix of tattoos and battle scars.
Her pulse hammered as he lifted her from the chair then settled her in his lap, her back to his broad chest, and tugged the blanket over them.
He enveloped her, his arms wrapping around her waist. Georgina squirmed as his bare thighs scorched the underside of her legs. Hardy was hot. In all the ways. He held her against him, the labored rise and fall of his breathing whispering against the side of her neck.
Slowly, her muscles relaxed as she luxuriated in the unfamiliar sensation of muscular male arms around her.
His lifted the hair from her neck, running his fingers through it. The roughness of his palms was delicious and she dipped her head, relinquishing control.
“If you keep moving like that, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” he muttered in her ear, his voice thick with lust. The hardness of his cock burned between her thighs, like when they’d been stuck in the broom closet.
“Would that be a bad thing?” Lust made her voice breathy.
His palms slid round to her front. She traced the ridges of scars that marked his knuckles. She’d been afraid and cold for so long. Denied herself. But with him, searing desire burned all the loneliness and emptiness away. Right now, she wanted him, to have this just for herself. To be selfish and greedy, with no apology.
“Enough talking,” he whispered.
And then he nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Just like that. Her breath hitched in her throat as liquid heat ignited at the apex of her thighs. She tipped her head back against his shoulder, allowing him access to the sensitive skin behind her ear, desperate for him to continue.
Wordlessly, he caressed her skin, kneading her aching muscles till they softened under his touch. He stroked lower, massaging her thighs, the side of her bottom. She writhed against him, not caring if her actions were brazen. Hunger roared through her, clawing deep, making her gasp, unleashing the emotions she’d kept in check her entire adult life.
He nipped the shell of her ear, then sprinkled her shoulders with burning kisses that made her skin pebble in anticipation. She reached behind
, over her head, pushing her fingers against the buzz of his hair, arching against his cock. Hardy growled in response and heat bloomed between her legs. She didn’t want this to ever stop. He freed her breasts from the confines of the blanket, his rough fingers tugging at her nipples, stroking the sensitive skin between her breasts before heading down toward her belly button.
“Georgina?” His voice was ragged against her neck.
She groaned. “Don’t stop.”
Her muscles tightened, control slipping from her grasp, as he delved between her legs and slid his fingers between her slick folds.
Oh.
She parted her legs, desperate for him to never stop touching her.
Her breath stuttered in tiny pants as he stroked her clit with his thumb, pressing the erect nub between his fingers in an exquisite tease. She bucked against him, the heated pressure between her legs building in intensity. She’d expected to struggle in this unexpected freedom of taking this pleasure for herself. Instead Hardy had released an unbridled passion she didn’t know she was capable of.
A pull of connection pulsed through her. She wanted him, but more than that, she needed him. For once she wasn’t worrying about the past or the future. What might or might not be. Just how he filled the void she’d created out of pure self-sufficiency.
Hardy groaned in her ear. “Acushla.”
She had no idea what that meant but the way he said it... Molten need seared through her, blocking out everything but his touch in a delicious sensual fog.
He shifted, pressing his fingers within her, clasping her against the hard prod of his cock. Heat roared through her. Had she even been cold? She was falling, losing herself in his embrace, till there was nothing left but pure sensation. Mindless, she gripped his hips with her fists, his name spilling from her lips as her breathing accelerated into a jagged pant, losing all rhythm.
God. She was close, her muscles tense as he worked her body with a skilled touch. He dragged her deeper, taking her over the precipice, her heart thumping. She bucked, giving herself up to him as pleasure poured through her in a dizzying rush.
Hardy Page 12
