by Skye Malone
He shifted his grip on the wheel. Much longer, and he’d turn around for fear of getting so far from the interstate that draugar could block the way. The last thing the two of them needed was one of those undead monsters getting stuck in the grill of the—
The headlights caught on a farmhouse up ahead.
Relief drove the air from his chest. The house was dark, but at least it was still standing. A driveway wrapped around the building, possibly extending toward a garage, but the layout would give them cover from being spotted until dawn.
With any luck, anyway.
Shoving the thought aside, he turned into the driveway and circled around behind the house. The building was two stories, white-sided with blue shutters that had hearts cut out in the middle. In the daylight, it probably was a cute house beloved by its occupants.
Who hopefully were still alive and not planning to shoot at the two of them.
He pulled to a stop with the headlights aimed at the house, watching the building cautiously.
Lindy moved to open the door.
“Hold it.” He reached over, placing a hand to her upper arm.
She froze.
His wolf strained at his skin, urging him to draw her closer. He released her immediately.
“If there’s something in there”—he kept his voice meticulously level while the wolf whined inside his head—“we don’t want to get trapped with it.”
“That place is a lot more defensible than this thing.” She nodded to the SUV. “We clear the house, and then we’ll have solid walls between us and whatever might be out here.”
His brow twitched up. She sounded like a tactician.
Who the hell was this woman?
He pushed the thought aside. “The house isn’t mobile. If we’re attacked, the SUV gives us a faster escape.”
“There could be supplies in there. Maybe weapons too.”
“So we check in the morning.“
Lindy’s jaw worked around. “Fine.” She released the door handle. “You get some sleep, then. I’ll keep watch.”
Wes restrained a scoff. Right, like that was trustworthy.
“That’s okay.” He gave her a smile. “You had a run-in with the draugar this morning. All I did was drive. You sleep first.”
She met the friendly expression with a dark look, but after a heartbeat, she held up her hands in surrender. “Suit yourself.”
Shoving away from the seat, she climbed into the back, brushing close to him as she passed.
His whole body froze. Vanilla and gunpowder, sugar and the salt of sweat, her scent twisted within the smell of ash and soot on her coat, teasing his senses, making his cock hard. For the barest of moments, he thought she hesitated midmotion, but then the pause was over and she was past him, moving quickly to situate herself in the back.
He cleared his throat. “Blankets behind you,” he managed. “Sleeping bag as well.”
Saying nothing, she reached over the seat and tugged out the thick blankets and sleeping bag he’d brought from the bunker, just in case it took more than a day to find her.
“Mind if I get one of those too?” he added.
Lindy thrust a bundle of wool between the seats.
“Thanks.”
She just eyed him, silent.
Burying a frown, he made himself turn. Staring at her like a damn stalker wasn’t helping anything, and the icy look on her face wasn’t either. His wolf grumbled, wanting to reach out for her like that would solve the damn problem, when really it would just make everything a thousand times worse. And never mind the fact that the minute he fell asleep, she might well try to leave him here and slip away to hijack another vehicle.
He frowned at the darkness. Sleep wasn’t an option. Not tonight. And tomorrow, he’d set himself to figuring out some way to get her to trust him.
Even if right now that seemed impossible.
A sigh left him. Tugging the blanket around himself, he settled deeper into the leather seat.
This was going to be a long night.
7
Lindy
Lindy would bet every can of food in her backpack he didn’t intend to swap places with her tonight.
The asshole.
Lying on the back seat, a pile of blankets on top of her, she kept her eyes on the ceiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence. Stopping was idiotic. Stopping made them a target and gave the Order and whatever the hell else was out here a better chance to find them. And, sure, fine, so the guy may have had a point about the roads, but that didn’t mean stopping was the better plan.
Stopping. God, what was that man thinking?
Furiously, her eyes snapped over to him before she could help herself. She couldn’t even see him in this darkness. How the hell did he intend to spot any threats? With the headlights off and the world swallowed in night, they might as well have been in a sensory deprivation tank.
But then, he was a wolf. Maybe the bastard was planning on hearing them. Seeing hints of their movement.
Smelling them.
She yanked her eyes away from him, for all that it didn’t change a thing. She knew he was there. Heaven help her, she could practically smell him too.
And he smelled good. Better than anyone in the apocalypse damn well had the right to smell, and when she’d climbed past him, brushing up against him for that one little heartbeat…
She bundled the blanket around herself tighter, quivers radiating through her. It made no sense, this way her body reacted to him. The irrational flutters in her stomach. The involuntary way her breasts tingled or the flesh between her legs heated at the thought of him. She’d never been this turned on by anyone in her life, and like everything else, it was utterly idiotic too.
He was ulfhednar. He was the single, solitary worst person she could ever have found herself this goddamn attracted to, and the moment he learned what she was, he’d probably try to rip her throat out. It didn’t matter if he was being friendly now or that he’d volunteered to cross this hellscape with her—and for seemingly altruistic reasons, no less. It didn’t matter that he’d been nothing but kind to her, even while she snapped at him or ignored him. The moment he learned the truth, all that would go away.
And these weird, erotic reactions from her body? They’d probably get her killed.
Which meant Frankie and her dad would die too.
Fear tangled in her belly, joining the anxiety that seemed to have become a permanent resident. She couldn’t let down her guard, now or ever, no matter how damn attractive this rugged, tattooed model of a gigantic wolf might be. She had one last job to do, and it mattered more than anything. Frankie and her dad had to be saved from the draugar and Ragnarok and whatever the hell else might be out here too.
And her mother—because, God, what that woman would do to them.
So Lindy had to stay alive, at least for now.
Carefully, her hand slipped down her side to her pocket and then withdrew her switchblade knife. Gripping it tightly, she watched Wes in the darkness as the minutes ticked by and exhaustion sank little fishhooks into her muscles and bones, dragging her down.
She wouldn’t attack him if he didn’t attack her. That much, she could promise herself. But there was no way in hell she’d trust him.
Or think herself safe, even for a second, as long as he was around.
She opened her eyes to the feeling of someone’s hand on her shoulder, and instinct took over before her mind caught up. Her knife flicked open, stabbing directly at whoever had touched her.
“Whoa!”
Her vision cleared. His hands up and his eyes wide, Wes stood several feet away from the open door of the SUV, as if he’d leapt backward.
A rough breath entered her lungs. Easing the knife down, she glanced around while he lowered his hands.
It was morning.
Of course it fucking was.
Keeping the knife ready, she shifted around on the seat until she was facing him. “You tho
ught I’d leave, didn’t you?”
He eyed her warily. “Crossed my mind.”
Her teeth clenched. “I’m not your prisoner.”
Wes gestured like he agreed. “Didn’t think you were.”
“Then why did you—”
Seething, she cut off. This was pointless. What’s done was done, and she’d been right about him anyway.
Flicking the knife closed, she shoved the blankets aside and climbed out of the vehicle. “You check the house already too, then?”
“No.”
She reached back into the SUV and snagged the handgun from where it had rested near her on the seat. Without a word, she shoved it into the back of her winter pants, grabbed the machete, and then stalked toward the building, leaving him to follow.
Only a heartbeat passed before she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her.
She ignored them.
The morning was silent around her, and to her right lay only empty fields and a few trees sheltering the property. To her left, the garage was closed, no light showing past the windows in the door. Two ravens sat atop the small building, one bird glancing around, the other motionless. When she spotted them, they seemed to turn at once, their beady eyes locking right on her and their heads cocking in eerie synchronicity.
Though surely that was just her imagination. As was the fact they looked like the pair she’d seen near Denver.
Because that was probably impossible.
In a burst of motion, both ravens leapt into the air, cawing loudly as they flew away.
She shuddered, watching them until they disappeared beyond the trees, and then made herself continue on.
A cement stairway led up to the back door of the farmhouse, the steps still covered in snow. With a wary glance at the windows nearby, she tried the handle on the white-painted door, twisting it slowly for fear of making a sound. The knob turned, the mechanism inside clicking softly as the latch gave way, totally unlocked.
Her lip twitched. God bless country living.
Slowly, she pushed open the door and peered in. A spacious kitchen waited inside, complete with an island with pots and pans hanging above it. A collection of dishes filled the drying rack next to the sink, and a coffee cup sat on the island, a stack of mail neatly arranged beside it. The hardwood floor creaked faintly as Lindy stepped one foot past the door, and she hesitated, waiting for a shriek from the draugar or a shout from anything else.
Silence.
Her eyes darted around, taking in the hallway leading deeper into the house and the doorways on either side, one standing open to a laundry room, the other to what looked like a stairway to the basement. The cabinets nearby would probably have food, and more winter gear and blankets might be farther within. The house felt cold, almost the same temperature as the air outside, which couldn’t be a good sign. But then, the electricity might be out.
She bit her lip. If the people who lived here were still alive, then sneaking in was a brilliant way to get shot. If they weren’t, then making any noise at all would probably prompt an attack by them or whatever killed them. Yet, if the draugar were here, drawing them out into the open would be safer than stumbling upon them when she was trapped by halls and stairwells.
Hopefully.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone home?”
Nothing.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She eased farther past the doorway and tucking the machete out of sight behind her. “I’m just…” Looking to steal their food? She grimaced at herself. “I’m wondering if you could help me.”
The silence didn’t change.
Letting out a slow breath, she walked into the kitchen, casting a short glance back as Wes followed her inside. Gone was his friendly expression. Now, he looked all predator, an air of almost preternatural menace radiating from him, promising to make a chew toy out of anything idiotic enough to fuck with him. In swift glances, his dark eyes scanned the open doorways and hall as if daring them to attack.
Lindy swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t gone ahead so swiftly and left him at her back.
“I’ll check for food,” he murmured.
She managed a nod, moving to put distance between them. Peering around the corner, she looked down the length of the hall while Wes quietly opened the cabinets.
The front door was open.
Shit.
Not taking her eyes from it, she drew the machete out in front of her, gripping it with both hands. Wes paused behind her.
“What—” he started.
She hissed at him to be quiet and then nodded to the hall. There was a screen door beyond the opening, and at night, it would have been difficult to tell the door wasn’t shut, at least from the outside.
But it explained the cold air… and possibly the silence too.
She shifted her grip on the hilt, grateful that they had stayed in the SUV the night before. The open door didn’t mean anything was in here.
It didn’t mean something wasn’t.
Carefully, she inched forward. There was a dining room to her right, the table cleared and the porcelain dishes in a glass cabinet untouched behind it. A closet waited below the stairway to her left, the shut door blending with the hallway walls paneled in oak. Pictures framed in cheerfully blue-painted wood hung along the corridor, showing a smiling young couple, some older people who may have been their parents, and countless adventures skiing or fishing or visiting Disney World.
Lindy trembled, hoping for their sakes they’d made it out somehow. Casting a short glance over her shoulder, she studied the shadowy recesses of the second floor above the stairway before creeping farther down the hall and peering into the living room at the front of the house.
She froze. They hadn’t.
Two corpses sat on the couch, both of them positioned as if they were watching the lifeless television. Their bodies were desiccated, their skin gray and toughened like leather, pulled tight across their skulls. A few tufts of hair clung to their heads while more lay in piles on their laps, and they held hands as if sharing a private moment, even as their mouths gaped open in horror.
“Lindy?” Wes’s whisper carried from the hallway, making her flinch.
She didn’t look back, her eyes darting across the spacious room. This wasn’t the work of the draugar, and she’d never heard of the Order doing anything like this. Which left… something.
And she didn’t want to run into it herself.
Soft footsteps came from behind her. “Oh, shit,” Wes breathed.
“Yeah.” Lindy backed toward the hall, gripping her machete. “We need to get out of—”
“Help me?”
She whirled at the small, desperate voice.
A woman walked down the steps, her legs seeming unsteady beneath her. She was pale with long brown hair that hung past her waist, and her eyes were like black pools. Tottering down the stairs, she braced herself with one hand on the banister.
And she was naked. Stark naked, with her long hair covering her breasts and not much else. Breathing in short, ragged gasps, she staggered from the steps, her eyes locked on Wes like he was water in a wasteland.
She never even glanced at Lindy.
“What the hell?” Wes looked around fast and then pointed to an armchair. “Grab her that blanket.” He started toward the woman. “What happened to you? What’s wrong?”
Warily, Lindy slipped past the woman and hurried over to the chair.
“Please?” the lady begged. “I don’t know where I am. Please tell me where I am.”
Snatching up the blanket, Lindy turned back quickly.
And froze.
The woman’s back wasn’t human. Wasn’t even like any animal Lindy had ever seen. Her skin was like tree bark, and a tail like a cow curled up along her spine as if tucked out of sight.
“Please?” The woman stretched out her hands as if to grab on to Wes for balance. He reached for her. “Where—”
“Don’t touch her!” Lindy cried, dropping the
blanket.
Wes pulled back immediately, alarm flashing over his face.
“Please?” The creature staggered toward him faster even as he retreated, her voice becoming strident. Hungry. “Where am I? Where am I?”
Wes backed away, his eyes darting across the room. The woman was between him and the hallway, and she was coming closer with every second.
Lindy yanked the knife from her pocket, flicking it open. “Wes!”
She tossed the blade, only to have panic grip her. He might not know how to catch—
Wes snagged the knife from the air effortlessly, whipping it between himself and the creature with lightning speed.
The blade sliced her palm, and the woman howled, recoiling. Hugging her hand to her naked chest, she glared for a heartbeat and hissed at Wes like a snake.
And then she lunged.
He swiped the blade at her again, retreating fast, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. The corpses on the couch toppled to the side as he bumped into the sofa, trying to stay on his feet.
Lindy swung her machete hard. The blade slammed into the woman’s back, lodging in her tree-bark skin and going no farther.
The creature screamed.
Lindy’s hands released the machete and clamped over her ears against the high-pitched, deafening sound. Whirling fast with the blade still stuck in her back, the woman snarled and then jumped at Lindy like a wild animal.
Scrambling backward, Lindy retreated behind an armchair, moving fast to keep it between herself and the creature. She didn’t know what would happen if that thing touched her.
The corpses seemed a good indication.
Wes spotted the woman’s back, and his eyes went wide. “Holy—”
“Run, goddammit!” Lindy pulled out the handgun and opened fire.
Bullets ripped into the creature’s chest, making her stagger, but she didn’t fall. Her lips curled back, her face distorting as the motion continued, stretching her mouth like a demented clown and widening her eyes until the whites showed on all sides.
