Box Set: Rune Alexander- Vol. 1-3 (Rune Alexander Box Set)

by Laken Cane

  And trying not to get bitten.

  A few of the zombies seemed almost…alive. They moved with speeds normal zombies did not possess, and had a spark deep inside their eyes the other zombies lacked.

  Luckily, most of them were lumbering, dull zombies—the kind that could only overwhelm the humans with sheer numbers or dumb luck.

  The air was thick with the strong scent of death and decay. A curtain of blood hung in the air, shocking Rune almost enough to make her lose her concentration. The zombies were bleeding. A lot.

  She spun and sliced her claws through a monster’s neck. She had a second to watch, stunned, as blood spouted, a geyser of red that sprayed her skin and clogged her nostrils.

  Blood.

  Why were some of the zombies bleeding?

  The dead didn’t bleed. Not like that.

  She screamed in rage and terror when a zombie latched onto her with his strong teeth. The strip he took off the back of her shoulder would have fed half the zombie population for a week.

  The pain was immediate and sharp, but she was in full battle mode and a wound wasn’t going to stop her.

  But she’d been bitten.

  “Shit, Rune,” Lex yelled. “No!”

  They kept fighting, all of them. They could do nothing else.

  If anyone could handle a zombie bite, Rune could. She wasn’t human—not fully human. And Others couldn’t be infected by zombies.

  She hoped.

  She decapitated two more zombies before the berserker waded through the monsters and the blade-wielding crew to reach her.

  He slung one monster out of his way then drop kicked an elderly zombie so hard the white-haired hag nearly broke in half.

  “Strad,” Rune warned. “Don’t.” But in the melee, he wouldn’t have heard her. And he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

  Damn the berserker for always treating her like she needed tending. She was so not a delicate flower.

  His eyes blazed blue fire in his pale face. Scared. He was scared for her.

  He thrust his spear into the head of a zombie reaching for her. As it fell, he grabbed her by her good shoulder, ignoring her claws and fangs, and forcefully turned her around so he could examine her wound.

  “She okay?” Denim yelled. He and his twin brother, Levi, fought back to back in a beautiful, gory dance Rune would never tire of watching.

  But there was no time for watching, or for being pampered. “Dammit, Berserker, you can check me out after we kill these zombies.” She jerked out of his grip and turned, just in time to take off the head of a zombie whose teeth were an inch from Strad’s back. “See that? Pay attention before you get your own ass nibbled on.”

  He narrowed his eyes but went back into the battle.

  It wasn’t bad enough they had to worry about whether or not Ellis was going to turn into a vampire child of the mad master Llodra—now they would wonder if Rune was going to become a zombie.

  Perfect.

  Zombies fell, but it was not an easy battle. They were strong, they had no fear, and they were hungry. So hungry.

  Rune could suddenly feel it, and that scared the fuck out of her.

  She knew what hunger could do.

  Gathering her fear and her fury to her, she used it to slaughter the monsters.

  Shiv Crew lived for the fight.

  Maybe they were all freaks, but that kept them alive.

  And they had Rune.

  She sliced through zombie after zombie with her built-in shivs. She was faster than any zombie—her speeds rivaled those of master vampires.

  But the zombies kept coming. Some of them, necks hanging by a thread, got back up. There were nine Shiv Crew members and eight of them were fighting. That was a hell of a lot of shivs and fists and muscle.

  But the zombies just kept coming.

  Rune lost track of time, but even her arms were burning. The other members, all human but for Lex, would surely be tiring under the strain.

  The monsters surrounded them, corralling the crew into a tight knot of flashing blades. Zombie voices assaulted Rune’s sensitive ears. A constant, low moaning in which she imagined she could hear actual words.

  Hungry. Hungry.

  Long, discolored teeth snapped as the monsters tried to bite—eat—the crew, and the sounds of groans, slicing blades, and those hideous chomping teeth filled the air.

  “Fuck,” she screamed. “Where the fuck is Jack?”

  If they’d had time to prepare for the battle, it would have been a little more evenly matched. But Rock County hadn’t warned them, and by the time Rune understood what was really going on, the crew had to move fast and plan faster.

  They’d driven into Rock County in three different vehicles, Rune leading the way with Lex and Owen.

  Strad had been right behind her with Levi and Z. Denim and Jack had ridden with Raze.

  They’d entered Rock County and had been driving down a long, gravel road, surrounded by woods, when they’d spotted a couple of straggling zombies.

  Stunned, the crew had destroyed those first zombies quickly, but in moments, more had arrived. Attracted by the scent of hot blood and warm flesh, no doubt.

  Kill the zombies. Don’t get bitten.

  That was pretty much the extent of the plan.

  She lost sight of the other crew members. Panic began to beat at her brain like waves of an angry ocean. The berserker’s roar comforted her and she fought on. Shiv Crew never gave up.

  Not ever.

  But things had gotten intense in a hurry. They were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The zombies were bad motherfuckers, and they were there to battle.

  A battle Shiv Crew just might lose.

  Blood continued to color the air as the crew sliced through monster necks.

  And they roared their glee.

  They were Shiv Crew.

  And that, right there—the fighting, the killing—that was what they fucking did.

  Chapter Two

  Just that morning she’d awakened in the berserker’s arms…

  “Open the door, Rune. Let me in.”

  She’d let him in. She’d let him in everywhere.

  Even through a layer of grief thick enough to be visible, Strad’s raging energy was evident. And his fear.

  Sometimes so much horror could overwhelm a person. She’d been pulled down into the black depths often enough to know there really wasn’t a hell of a lot you could do about it.

  People had died, and the world was different.

  He didn’t ask questions. He stepped inside the room, kicked the door shut, and pulled her into his arms.

  His embrace was unforgiving, angry, hurting. There was nothing sweet about his kiss. He lifted her and strode to the bed, his mouth opening over hers.

  Some small part of her wanted to make a token show of resistance, but she couldn’t figure out why so she ignored it and wound her arms around his neck.

  She clung to him, realizing that if she had sex with the berserker, nothing would ever be the same between them. Always, there’d be…

  Something.

  She tore her lips from his, gasping beneath the weight of his passion. “Strad—”

  He’d been heading to the point of no return even before she’d addicted him to her blood, and he was too far gone now to stop.

  She didn’t want him to stop. That wasn’t the problem.

  But as her lust and her passion for him spilled over, so did her need to feed. There had been worry about what he might do to her.

  She was worried about what she might do to him.

  He dropped her to the bed and fell on top of her. He held her face between his big hands, deepening his kiss. Moans came from deep inside him, floating into her mouth, into her brain.

  “Strad,” she cried again, against his lips.

  He dragged his mouth away, his eyes glittering as he stared down at her. “I want to fuck you, Rune. Just shut up while I fuck you.”

  She shivered at his words, at his need
. “If I hurt you—”

  He laughed. “Honey.” His voice was tender, finally, as his heart caught up with his black, black despair. “You can’t.”

  He was tireless, and his passion was endless. Hot and hard and ready, he fucked her with an almost terrifying, mindless hunger, his groans becoming cries that became moans.

  Then whispering as he held her, his hands roaming her body with a desperation she knew was not only desire, but addiction.

  Shhhh. Not yet. Don’t think about that yet.

  She resisted running her fingers through the light sheen of sweat covering his skin. Just as she resisted licking off the little beaded line of blood sliding slowly down his neck. She closed her eyes, wishing she could forget everything that made her and the berserker a bad fucking idea.

  He turned on his side to face her, bending his elbow and resting his head on his arm. “Are you hurt?”

  She smiled. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

  His teeth gleamed in the semidarkness as he returned her smile. “It’s a good, tired kind of pain.”

  Yeah, it was. Not a bad, secret pain. A different kind. Neither one of them was a normal person—they fought hard, played hard, and fucked hard.

  “Still,” she said, “you held back.”

  He placed his hot palm on her stomach. “I know. And so did you.”

  “You can’t hurt me, you know. Not really.”

  “And I want to keep it that way.”

  I want all of you, Berserker. Or none of you. “I have to think about this.”

  “Don’t pull away from me.” His voice rumbled quietly into the darkness.

  “I’m in bed with the berserker.” She was suddenly and slightly amazed.

  She’d fed from him as she’d fucked him—fed her need and his addiction and both their bodies.

  It was small wonder the sheets and pillows were no longer on the bed. She was surprised the bed still stood. That the floor remained intact.

  For a little while, the shadows and darkness had hidden beneath the onslaught of the berserker's passion.

  Still...

  Something other than the vision of him in bed with Tina kept poking at her. Something more than the terrible knowledge of his addiction.

  Maybe just the simple fact that she wasn’t whole enough to be in a…relationship. Maybe that was the sad truth of the matter.

  She picked up a long strand of his black hair and twisted it between her fingers. “I have to think about this,” she repeated.

  “Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.”

  But he'd just lost his wife and his child. How could he be clear about anything?

  He couldn't.

  His biceps bunched as he pushed his hair out of his face. The double bed looked tiny with him in it, but any bed would have. The berserker was huge.

  She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, grimacing at the soreness between her thighs.

  He shot a hand out and wrapped his fingers around her arm. “Rune—”

  She pulled away, not ungently, and stood. “Go home, Strad. We both need some time to move on from everything.” She clicked the light on, thinking it would be somehow easier to resist him without the shadows making everything so…soft and forgiving.

  But trickles of remorse became rivers of guilt inside her and she dug her nails into her bare thighs. She’d addicted the berserker and she’d addicted Lex, and she had no idea how to fix either one of them. No idea.

  She really was a monster.

  He stared at her for a moment longer, then left the bed and began climbing into his clothes. At last, when he was dressed, he spoke. “Being calm and happy scares the fuck out of you.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “We're all fucked up. Doesn't matter. We're connected, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  She shook her head. “I don't know.”

  “Whatever else happens, you have to feed, and I need your bite.”

  Gurgle, gurgle. She clutched her stomach.

  Yes, she had to feed.

  She knew what happened when she starved her monster.

  He hesitated at the door. “We’ll be okay, Rune.”

  “Yeah.”

  But really, she wasn’t sure they would be.

  She wasn’t sure at all.

  Was it some kind of demented love she and the berserker felt for each other? Not the same love she had for her crew, but love love. How the fuck would she know? How would anyone know?

  He closed the door behind him, leaving her to her thoughts. But she didn't want to think. Not about the berserker and not about what fucking him might mean. Or change.

  She needed to work. She grabbed her phone and a long, silver shiv, and headed to the bathroom.

  Halfway through her shower, which consisted mainly of her leaning her forehead against the tile and letting the water beat at her back, her phone rang.

  She got out of the stall and grabbed her cell, ignoring the water pooling at her feet. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Hello.”

  “Rune Alexander?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Roger Wilson.” His voice was full of gravel, old, and somehow weak. “People call me Mac.”

  She frowned, not remembering the name. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Amy’s dad,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’m Amy’s daddy.”

  Fuck me. She leaned against the sink, her breath suddenly gone. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of one thing to say.

  “I saw you,” he went on, when she remained quiet. “I saw you at the cemetery.”

  “I wanted to speak with you,” she whispered, finally. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t bring her back.”

  Sorry never did. “Can I do anything for you?”

  Again, he cleared his throat. “I have a little box for you. Amy told me if something happened to her, I should get this box to you. She made me swear to keep it from the vampires, and I did that. I did that.” He was silent for a second. “She meant it for you so you should have it.”

  Rune nodded, though he couldn’t see her, and held a hand to her stomach. “Do you want me to pick it up?”

  “No, no,” he said, so hastily she was taken aback. “I don’t want to see you. I might…”

  Might hit me? Might shoot me? Might prove you can still throw a knife? I’d deserve that and more. “Sir?”

  “Besides. I haven’t been staying home. I’ll mail it to your work. I have the address.”

  “Are you in trouble? If I can help you—”

  He gave a short laugh. “Help me. Yeah. You, Alexander, have helped enough.”

  And before she could say another word, he hung up.

  Her hand trembled as she ran it through her wet hair. She turned on the cold water tap and leaned over to drink, hoping to cool the fire in her stomach. God, Amy.

  She decided right then she would read Amy’s emails as soon as she had the box. She’d get a bottle of wine—maybe a bottle of gut-rotting whiskey—and would look in the box and read the emails.

  She wasn’t going to let herself hide from the pain. She owed it to the little bite junkie.

  Part of her hoped he’d forget to send the package and she’d be off the hook.

  Yeah, she was that afraid.

  It wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot more to send her spiraling back down into the bad place.

  Even full of the berserker’s blood, she could fall.

  Because the relief that came after, that was…

  Heaven.

  And sometimes she just needed to take a break. To restart.

  Jeremy.

  For a brief second a spark of desolation at his death lit up her insides.

  Who was going to make her feel better? Who the fuck was going to make her feel better?

  She pushed her fist against her lips and stared into the mirror at her pale, stark face. Her eyes were full of terror and weakness, and that brought her back
from the edge.

  She was better than that. She was stronger than that.

  Fuck you.

  And who that was directed at, she couldn’t have said.

  But then Elizabeth had called. “I don't know what's going on out there, but it's bad. Some trouble with the Others. I couldn’t get anything else from anyone. It’s not just Darius Elliot asking for help now. Call me with reports as soon as you can, and we'll take it from there.”

  And so the crew was off to Rock County.

  To the zombies.

  Chapter Three

  She wished, for a brief second, that she held her silver shivs. She’d trained with blades long before she was even aware she possessed claws, and holding a blade in each hand balanced her.

  But her claws were extensions of her body and she wielded them with a natural ease that even the deadly silver blades couldn’t match.

  She shoved the claws of her left hand into a zombie’s chest while she used her right claws to slice through his neck. She was splattered with blood. Blood that was thick and viscous and fucking…

  No, Rune.

  Fucking delicious.

  Human blood.

  These zombies had been busy eating some of the townspeople.

  A zombie fell but latched himself onto her leg as he went down. Because she caught a glimpse of Levi, seemingly unaware a monster was about to take a bite out of him, she was slow to react.

  The zombie chewed on her calf and she screamed with horror as she bent over to rid him of his head—and just barely turned in time to destroy another as he bit the air not a half inch from her face.

  She was going to be a zombie’s dinner if she didn’t concentrate.

  Looking for and worrying about the crew was only going to get them killed. She had to shut them out.

  She had to become the monster.

  She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding him back. Old habits died hard.

  Not him. Me.

  I am my monster and my monster is me.

  She smiled, acknowledging the not quite empty look in a zombie’s eyes as he tried to bite her, and then she freed her monster.

  It was as though another being, one which shared her body, rose up and took over. Her monster wanted only blood.

  Her claws lengthened even farther. Her fangs cut her lip and she eagerly lapped up the blood, and then she lost herself in the zombie battle.