by Carly Fall
He had come down to the gym with the thought of working the booze out of his body, but he
barely had the energy to double-knot his sneakers. The fifty-pound barbells should have been
one hundred fifty pounds, and the old-school Van Halen’s—David, not Sammy—“Hot for
Teacher” blasting through the speakers should be motivating him, not making his head feel like
someone was hitting it with an ice pick.
Sweet Jesus, he was sick of feeling like a sack of shit run over by a tank.
He sat up and gave himself the standard pep talk he had been saying for the past six
months: He needed to cut back on the alcohol, it was necessary for him to work out more, and he
had to get focused.
In the beginning, he was determined to honor the vows he gave to his dead mate, Mia, but
after a few months, Annis had started to steal his attention away. He needed to keep on track
with the course of his existence that he had laid out for himself. He needed to atone for his sins
against the lovren he had loved so very much, the one who had claimed his soul from the first
time he met her.
Their mating ceremony had been a simple one, as was customary for a Forest Dweller.
They had been mated in a traditional ceremony under the high trees, the calls of the animals
acting as their mating music. The rugs they stood upon were colored in Mia’s smoky red-rose
form. The mating chants had been completed, and the party had begun. Cohen couldn’t think of
anything but getting back to their living quarters and joining, or making love, with his new mate.
Later that night, as they’d said goodnight to everyone, the party still going full steam as
parties tended to do on SR44, Mia and Cohen joined for the first time, their smoky forms coming
together, swirling within each other until they became one. It had been a beautiful experience for
Cohen, and one he wanted to repeat as much as possible.
Shaking his head, he came back to the present, the ache in his heart strong. He needed to
keep his pain front and center to remind him of what a terrible mate he had been.
He looked at his big hands, his huge Warrior body. The change from his smoky form to
his current state of muscle mass had been so difficult at first, but now he barely remembered
what he had once been.
And he’d also been a complete asshole last night. He didn’t remember much, just bits and
pieces of his run-in with Annis. He had gone to bed with good intentions of sleep, but none
came. Around midnight, he’d found his friend Captain Morgan. When he finished what was left
in his quarters, he had made his way up to the Great Room bar, looking for another bottle. The
Captain always did him right.
He remembered having a hard time walking in a straight line and the surprise that shot
through him when he turned around and saw her on the couch.
“Hello, Cohen,” she had said in that deep, yet feminine, sexy voice.
There she sat in a black T-shirt, her long, smooth legs tucked under her, and those damn
braids, with the multi-colored beads at the ends, framing her face. As she examined him, her eyes
glowed golden.
When she stood, he was speechless.
“It seems that we are both up at odd hours. Perhaps we can sit and make peace,” she had
said.
Through his drunken haze, his SR44 male roared, wanting the female in front of him.
And with that desire, the hatred bloomed. He wanted to honor his lovren, and there was Annis
coming toward him, her long, dark legs carrying her with such grace she looked as though she
was floating.
And she wanted to make peace.
Then Mia shimmered to life, right next to Annis, following her as if she were her shadow.
He needed Annis to hate him, to never want to be around him. But he also wanted to be
near her. What a cauldron of fuck-all his situation was.
God, he was such a cocksucker, pushing her down on the couch. Not to mention the
things he had said about the rape. It was obvious she had never spoken to anyone about it, that
she dealt with it on her own.
Her slight lilac scent, the soft glow of her skin in the dim light, and being close to her had
jacked him up. The longing within him had crackled as sure as it was an entity to itself.
He had wondered if she felt it.
He certainly had felt her punch his jaw. The damn thing still hurt and was such a deep
purple, it almost matched his SR44 color.
Burying his head in his towel, he sighed heavily. He deserved what she had dished out.
Hell, he deserved a shitload more than a bruised jaw.
Maybe he should just move to the Phoenix silo, or maybe the one in New York. They
hadn’t been there for ages, mainly because everyone hated the weather. But he really needed to
get away from everyone in this silo, especially Annis and her shadow, Mia. If he could get away
from Annis, then he would be away from Mia as well, because she never showed up unless
Annis was around. It also made his stomach turn at all the lovey-dovey shit going on between the
other Warriors and their mates, but he could deal with it. Annis, he couldn’t. All he thought
about was running his hands up the smooth, dark skin of her legs, putting his mouth over her
firm breasts, kissing her full lips, and tasting her secret flesh.
Then, when his thoughts went in that direction, he wanted to stab someone for what had
been done to her.
And after those reflections and feelings, the guilt of his cheating indiscretions while
mated surfaced, and his hatred for Annis came front and center.
Not to mention the ghost of Mia that kept appearing when he came face-to-face with
Annis.
Good God, it was a vicious circle.
Giving up on his workout and ignoring his pep talk, he made his way back to the elevator
that ran up the middle of the silo, making mental note to stop by the Great Room and see if he
could snag a bottle of Captain Morgan. The Captain was a good guy to hang out with.
Chapter 12
Blake stood in front of the door to his and Talin’s quarters.
With the arrival of Annis, they were out of rooms, and Blake either had to bunk with
Talin or Cohen.
It hadn’t been a hard choice.
The only thing about living with Talin was that Blake never got any privacy. The male
spent most of his time holed up in his quarters trolling around the Internet or grudgingly doing
specific jobs Noah asked him to work on.
He didn’t like to be bothered either. Blake had gotten into the routine of using the room
for sleeping purposes only, preferring to hang out upstairs or down in the gym with the other
Warriors.
As he stood there, he tried to get focused on his task at hand, not the conversation he had
with Annis a few hours ago.
“I want you to stay away from that fucktard,” he had told Annis.
Annis had tilted her head in his direction, her black eyes blank slates. “Excuse me?”
“Stay away from him, Annis. He’s going off the rails, and I don’t want him to snap on
you.”
Annis smiled, her white teeth gleaming against her dark skin. God, she was so beautiful.
“I appreciate your concern, Blake, but I can take care of myself. But please, what is a fucktard?”
“It’s . . . it’s someone who is so incredibly stupid and ignorant, there is no other word to
Annis laughed and nodded. “I shall be using that word in the future. I like it.”
Jesus, that shit with Cohen was wrong. Jovan had told him what had happen last night in
the Great Room, that he and Liberty had felt such anger. Both Jovan and Liberty had the ability
to feel others’ emotions through touch, but Liberty’s gift was much stronger. She could feel
emotions if she didn’t have her “shield” up, as Jovan liked to call it. According to Jovan, they
had arrived in the Great Room just before things got physical between Annis and Cohen. But
Jovan also noted that Cohen’s jaw looked a little red and had began to swell, so maybe Annis did
make a connection with her fist.
It was the talk of the house today. Some of the women were wondering if Annis was truly
in danger, and the Warriors were telling Rayner that as Cohen’s best friend, he needed to
intervene and do what was necessary to help Cohen get a leash on his dog. They knew why his
brain was a mashed-up pile of crap, but they didn’t understand the behavior. According to Jovan
and Rayner, most SR44 males with dead mates walked through life with little or no emotion, like
Talin did. Cohen wasn’t fitting that mold, and they needed to find out why he had turned into a
modern-day tyrant.
It was all so strange.
What would make him so angry? Possibly the fact that he was attracted to Annis?
That thought didn’t sit well with him at all. But one thing Cohen didn’t realize was that
Annis was his. He just needed to get past this fear, or whatever the hell it was, that had him
frozen on the physical front and make his move.
Focusing on the present, he had been working on decoding a file on Susan’s laptop for
the past few hours without success, and he needed to go to the expert, whether the expert wanted
to be bothered or not.
It wasn’t easy rooming with Talin. From what Blake understood, the guy used to be
pretty laid back, always good for a laugh. He had been cocky to the point of annoying, but
everyone said he deserved to act that way because he was beyond brilliant. Jovan told him that
one night after Talin had consumed way too much from the bar, Hudson had dared him to take
the human IQ test. Talin’s score didn’t even compute on the scale—it was off the charts. And he
spoke three languages and liked to do calculus problems for fun.
Gently, Blake tapped on the door.
“What.”
It wasn’t a question.
Okay, so Talin didn’t sound like he wanted company.
“Hey, Talin, it’s Blake. I’ve got a computer issue I need some help with.”
There was a pregnant pause and then the door opened. Talin stood there in a pair of gray
sweats and nothing else. His short dark hair was growing out, as was the beard on his chin. Long
gone were the days of the military precision haircuts and close shaves. Blake caught a whiff of
body odor and noted the guy still wasn’t showering on a regular basis. Maybe he needed
someone to send him a daily text or an e-mail to remind him. Or maybe he just didn’t give a
fuck. That was one thing Talin and Cohen had in common as far as SR44 males without their
mates—neither seemed to be putting personal hygiene too high on the scale of important stuff to
take care of.
“None of the computers in this house have issues,” he said.
“This one isn’t from this house, Talin.”
Talin gave him an exasperated look. “And?”
“And I need your help decoding this one file. I think it’s something big, something
important.”
Talin turned and grumbled something, walking into their quarters and Blake followed.
As Talin sat down in one of the green overstuffed chairs, Blake said, “You need a
shower, my friend. You’re starting to stink this place up.”
Talin’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up, you fucking half-breed, and tell me what exactly I’m
looking at.”
Okay, so that hadn’t gone so well. Maybe he should have gone with a less direct
approach.
He really wanted to move out of here. If he took things to the next level with Annis, he
would hopefully share a room with her.
But he just had to get past his own inner bullshit.
Chapter 13
Cohen woke to a tapping on his door. “Go away.”
“Open up, Cohen.”
He was surprised to hear Talin’s voice, and rolled out of bed to get the door.
“What’s up?” Cohen said, trying to rub sobriety and alertness into his brain through the
top of his skull.
“Let’s go to the gun range,” Talin said, loose jeans hung on his hips and a black
sweatshirt covered his wide chest. His dark hair stood on end as if it had a really good case of
static.
“I’m not supposed to play with guns,” Cohen said.
Talin cocked his head to the side. “How come?”
“Rayner says I’m too unstable. Noah says I’m a jackass. I guess the two don’t go well
together.”
Talin nodded, as if he understood. “Well, if you can’t go to the gun range, how about a
bar in town?”
Cohen shrugged. “Sure. Haven’t been sober in a while. No point in starting now. Just let
me get some clothes on.”
He turned and searched the floor for something that had hit the washing machine
recently, but found nothing. He settled for what was at his feet, a white T-shirt and a pair of
sweats. He slipped on his flip-flops and said, “Let’s go.”
Talin looked him over. “Your feet are going to freeze.”
“Like I give a shit.”
“Right.”
They rode in the elevator in silence and Talin grabbed some keys from the hooks in the
kitchen.
“Where are you boys headed?” Hudson asked as he came into the kitchen, his arm around
Beverly.
“Out,” Talin said.
“Out where?”
Talin sighed and shut his eyes. “Just out. And no, we don’t need an escort or a babysitter.
We’re big boys and we can take care of ourselves.”
Hudson arched his eyebrows, as if to say, “You’re joking, right?” but he didn’t utter
another word and let them go.
They walked out the door to the Navigator and got in. Talin drove for a few minutes, then
pulled into a gas station once they hit the main road.
“What happened to the bar?” Cohen asked.
“I don’t feel like dealing with people,” Talin said. “I’m going to get a twelve pack, and
we’ll drive out to the middle of the desert and get drunk with the coyotes.”
“The coyotes only come out at night, Talin.”
“Then the rabbits and lizards.”
A minute later, Talin was back in the SUV with a twelve pack of Budweiser. Without a
word, he handed it to Cohen and tore off down the street. A few miles later, they hit the dirt road
that led to the silo. Before they reached the gates, he swerved off the road and headed out into
the vast land of nothing that was the Nevada desert.
He drove for about twenty minutes, then screeched to a stop, a brown dust plume
encasing the car.
Talin reached over and tore open the twelve pack, popped a can, and stared out into the
distance.
Cohen grabbed a can as well, put the twelve pack down between his legs, and waited for<
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the dust to clear. When it did, he was staring out into miles upon miles of brown dirt peppered
with sagebrush and other miscellaneous desert plants. It was depressing.
“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Talin asked.
Cohen shrugged, clueless.
“This reminds me of my life,” Talin said, his voice quiet.
Cohen studied the horizon and didn’t quite get it, but said nothing.
“A vast wasteland. A long, long view of nothingness. This landscape is flat. There aren’t
any hills or valleys. There is very little vegetation, very little life, except for the desert animals.”
Cohen sucked down the rest of his beer.
“And most of the animals that inhabit the desert are poisonous. Scorpions, snakes, and
other nasty creatures.”
Cohen didn’t quite understand how snakes and scorpions fit into Talin’s life, but figured
he was about to find out.
“Those scorpions and snakes represent my sadness. They’re ugly. They sting my soul,
and just like when the venom goes into an unsuspecting prey, I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
After a long moment of silence, Talin said, “This—this vastness—that has many deadly
inhabitants, is a really good picture of my life.”
Cohen looked over at Talin and wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he pulled out a Glock and
chased his beer down with a bullet.
“Well, what can you do to avoid the . . . deadly inhabitants?” Cohen asked.
Talin shrugged. “I’m trying to keep my mind occupied.”
“How are you doing that?” Maybe Cohen could get some pointers on dealing with his
own inner turmoil.
“I just finished learning Hebrew.”
Cohen nodded. He was thinking more along the lines of Scrabble. “How many languages
do you know now?”
“Hebrew makes four.”
If he had it in him, Cohen would have chuckled. He had problems getting around the
English language at times.
“I’ve also read the Koran and the Bible.”
“How did that go? Any answers?”
Talin shook his head. “In fact, the more I read, the more confused I became. And you
know I don’t like being confused about anything, so the whole thing just pissed me off.”
Cohen sighed and drank more beer. He didn’t know what to do for Talin—he didn’t even
