Wings of the Walker (The Walker Series Book 1)

by Coralee June

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Coralee June All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my husband, who somehow managed to be supportive of a book about the sexy men of my daydreams. And for J, my go-to gal for discussing said sexy men when my husband couldn’t take it anymore.

  Chapter 1

  Josiah Stonewell consumed my every waking thought. I knew how he liked his coffee. How he preferred the summer heat to the chill of winter. I could predict his actions based upon the way his nose wrinkled while reading the morning news. I had a borderline obsession with a man I could never have. Josiah Stonewell was not only the love of my life, but he was also my holder.

  It was a chilly morning, despite the summer season. I placed a breakfast plate in front of Josiah and covertly admired the way the sunlight danced along his blond hair. I noticed grey circles beneath his bright-blue eyes and bit my tongue to hold back the concern that practically poured out of me.

  I couldn’t help but worry that he was pushing himself too hard, lately. Taking over his father’s job was out of character for the artistic boy I knew well, and each day pushed him farther and farther into the cynical beliefs of the capital. I could sense that the corruptions of the Galla Providence left him feeling drained and depressed.

  “Thank you for breakfast, Ashleigh,” he said in a sleepy voice that made my stomach clench. Its thick and gravelly tone was delicious. I wanted to dive right in and take a bite. No matter what Josiah did, I couldn’t help but want him. My addiction was both dangerous and heavenly.

  “You’re welcome, Josiah,” I replied sweetly.

  “That’s Master Stonewell to you,” a proper and high-pitched voice filled the finely-furnished dining room. Josiah’s mother, Linda Stonewell, was a nasty combination of distinguished and prideful. Although I will forever be thankful that she procured me when I was orphaned as a young girl, she consistently reminded me of my place in the Stonewell household. I was an attendant in their home, or as commonly called in our society, a Walker.

  Josiah smiled at me, causing my cheeks to blush a ruddy hue. We’ve known each other almost our entire lives, and sometimes, it was difficult to remember that he was my holder. We spent the majority of our childhood together, sharing secrets and secluding ourselves from the world. Despite our drastic, socioeconomic differences, we were kindred souls.

  I was procured at the age of three, but it wasn’t until I turned seven that Mistress Stonewell demanded that I refer to Josiah as ‘Master Stonewell.’ She saw our friendship as a threat to his wellbeing and placed a respectable amount of distance between us. Linda sought out every opportunity to brand me with the Walker status. I received the highest training in cooking and household management while enduring her outrageous demands.

  The life of a Walker was exhausting, but I looked forward to the evenings. After I spent my day scrubbing floors and cooking their meals, Josiah would sneak into my small room, and gift me with a glimpse into what our life would be like if I weren’t a Walker. Although we maintained a platonic relationship, the tension between us increased daily.

  “I apologize, Mistress Stonewell,” I answered. She smoothed her floor-length, crimson dress and sipped her breakfast tea with indignation. Her bright-plum lipstick and perfectly-styled hair gave the illusion that she was well put together, but I knew better. She was hanging by a thread. The entire house was.

  The Stonewell Family was well-known for their influence in politics and trade. Generations of Stonewells lobbied for various laws still in place today, they also negotiated numerous alliances with neighboring Providences, securing our position as a wealthy and flourishing city-state. Almost every regulation and trade deal in existence within the Galla Providence was either crafted or signed by a Stonewell.

  Before his death last year, Master Stonewell Sr. (Josiah’s Dad) was working his way up the Empirical ladder. He was projected to claim the next empty congressional seat for the entire Confederation of Dásos, but his untimely death left the family struggling to keep up with his shady, gambling debts and failing, trade deals.

  Josiah took his place as Governor of the Galla Providence, but he was unhappy. The violin he used to play for me, in secret, sat covered in dust at the bottom of his closet, and each day I noticed a broader slump in his shoulders.

  “Ashleigh, we need to discuss a few things before you begin your daily chores,” Mistress Stonewell said while motioning for me to sit. I kneeled at her feet and bowed my head submissively, while she scrolled idly on her tablet. She liked scanning the socialite and gossip columns, so she could be up to date on the most recent scandals at mid-morning tea with her friends.

  “We have an essential family coming to stay with us for a few days,” she said before sipping her tea. I noticed the wide grin that encompassed her face and revealed her brightly-bleached teeth. She was excited about this visit. “Josiah is working on procuring a very lucrative, trade deal between our Providences, and it is imperative that this visit goes well.”

  There were fifteen different Providences within the empire, each making up the Confederation of Dasos. Each Providence had its laws and ways of running things, but the empire governed all trade between them. Josiah was in charge of one of the largest and most wealthy Providences in the entire realm.

  The Empire Capital was at the center, and each Providence surrounded it. The further away you were from the capital, the more at risk you were from attack by scavengers. It was a confusing web of alliances and trade deals.

  I briefly wondered why Josiah wasn’t the one telling me this, but quickly reminded myself that it was because ultimately, Linda controlled the house. She relished feeling powerful and wasn’t afraid to use her son or late husband as a pawn.

  “Master Black and his sister are to be treated with the utmost care. I want this house to be spotless before their arrival. I also want you to prepare only the finest meals available. Spare no expense.” I had access to the budget, as I regularly referenced it when meal planning, I wasn’t quite sure how she wanted me to spend money we simply didn’t have. “Also, I think we should convert the basement into your permanent, living quarters. It has direct access to the kitchen which I find to be more appropriate and convenient for your role here. Please be completely moved in by this evening—that is all.”

  I had my reservations and fears regarding the basement but knew that arguing would be useless. It was hot and muggy in the summer and unbearably cold in the winter. Not to mention, the shadows that danced in the basement’s darkness haunted me in ways I couldn’t explain. “Yes, Mistress Stonewell,” I replied with artificial respect. The damp and dismal basement was intimidating, and the thought of spending my nights in its scary embrace made me tremble. My current room was an oversized-storage closet loca
ted on the main floor, but I found it to be comfortable and warm during the winter.

  I cleared their plates and stole a quick glance at Josiah, wondering what he thought of this new arrangement. Although our eyes met, a stiff smile answered me back. He apparently had no say in the whims of his mother. Honestly, he had no say in anything–not if he didn’t want to become a Walker like me.

  It wasn’t always this way. The divide between Walkers and the Elite began decades ago when Influenza X came into existence. It was a deadly virus that spread like wildfire through our communities. Although a small handful of the population was naturally immune, entire cities still crumbled as it infected those within its path. The disease caused its victims to burn white-hot and collect painful blisters all over their body.

  What made the virus so deadly, was that the infected were compelled to walk the streets in fevered confusion, sometimes in a rough and violent state of mind before slipping away into death. It made containing the disease near impossible because the Walkers infected everyone in their path.

  A scientist created a vaccine in the Galla Providence, but the cure came at a steep cost, thus causing a great divide between those that could afford to live and those that could not. As a result, those that couldn’t afford the vaccine were forced to migrate into concentrated areas of sickness and poverty now known as the Walker Zones, where I was born.

  Walkers have since developed drastic ways to prevent the spreading of Influenza X throughout the Walker Zones. At the first sign of infection, a Walker is killed and their home burned down. Some mornings, I could look out the kitchen window to see smoke billowing in the distance, indicating that another infected person was dead.

  I escaped into the kitchen after breakfast to begin my chores and menu-planning for the upcoming visit. While I washed the dishes, I heard Mistress Stonewell announce that she was leaving for her morning walk, and shortly after, I heard the slamming of the steel, front door, Josiah wandered into the kitchen. Over the years, I learned to treasure the few times Mistress Stonewell left the house because it was in those precious moments that the boy I once knew and loved came out.

  “You hate that fucking basement,” he said while looking down at his boots that I had polished the night before. He ran a hand through his parted, blond locks and adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned side to side, and I assumed that a stream of messages and updates appeared before his eyes.

  “I don’t have a choice, Jo.” I shrugged and continued to wash dishes. I only used the nickname I gave him as a child when we were alone. He walked around the steel, kitchen island and approached from behind while my hands scrubbed dishes in the soapy water. I craved being near him, and each step he made gave me goosebumps.

  He brushed one of my golden-brown, curly strands behind my neck and winced when he saw the ear tag clipped to the ridge of my ear, marking me as an owned Walker.

  “I’ll buy you a small light on my way home. They even have some that project stars on the ceiling. Do you remember counting stars with me, Ash?” he asked softly while still standing close. I could feel his hot breath against my neck, and I fought the urge to lean back against his muscular chest. Aside from the lingering stares and occasional flirtatious touch, he was a Stonewell, and I was a Walker. An invisible barrier of society would always be between us.

  “I remember everything, Josiah,” I sighed.

  “Me, too,” he answered with a sigh. He then rolled his eyes at another message that flashed across his glasses and groaned. Our little moments together were always cut short.

  I dried my hands off and grabbed the lunch tin I’d prepared for him early this morning. It was a beautiful day outside, so I assumed he would want to take a walk at the local pond, therefore, I’d made him something easy to hold. I was always thinking of the little details where Josiah was concerned.

  I helped him into his button-up coat, and my hands lingered on his shoulders to dust off the nonexistent lint. We followed this routine every morning. A friendly gesture that acted like an imaginary dam between what was expected of us and what we truly wanted to do. It was in this little moment–every morning–that I allowed myself the fleeting pleasure of touching his broad shoulders.

  Before walking out the door of the kitchen, he turned to face me. “I wanted to warn you. The Black family isn’t known for their civilized practices. Their Providence follows the old laws of our people, and unless you are serving us, I would appreciate it if you kept your distance from them.” Josiah then gave me a look of protective determination that made my knees weak.

  I had heard rumors of those that followed the old laws. They were considered primitive and fierce. “I’ll keep to myself,” I promised. Josiah rewarded me with one of his rare, earth-shattering smiles that made me tingle all the way down to my toes.

  Sometimes I wondered if Josiah felt anything for me outside of familial obligation and brotherly friendship, but every day before walking out the steel door of the Stonewall dwelling, he looked back at me with longing eyes, and I knew this affection, this want, wasn’t one-sided.

  Chapter 2

  The next few days, I spent every waking moment scrubbing the Stonewell Manor from top to bottom. The list of chores Mistress Stonewell required of me was never-ending, but a good distraction. I used the Black Family’s arrival as an excuse to stay up late and avoid the basement as much as possible. Josiah set up a beautiful nightlight that filled the basement ceiling with a star constellation that was breathtaking. The sweet gesture had me swooning and smiling throughout the day.

  A few days passed of me cleaning and preparing for the expansive meals Mistress Stonewell required. Josiah spent most of that time avoiding me. I could tell something serious was bothering him, and I desperately wanted to be the person he revealed his troubles to. This visit was causing him immense amounts of stress, and it bothered me that it made him go out of his way to avoid me. What could the Black Family be doing to have Josiah all out of sorts?

  I spent the morning of their arrival baking goods and adequately preparing the guest rooms with clean sheets and putting homemade mints and flowers on the pillows. I wondered briefly what deal could possibly be made between the two families, but was mostly too busy to ponder it.

  About an hour before they were scheduled to arrive, Mistress Stonewell cornered me in the kitchen with a fierce expression.

  “We need to do something about your appearance. I can’t have the Black Family thinking that I let my Walkers go around looking like that.” She then gestured to my dress and sighed dramatically, causing a self-conscious blush to overcome my cheeks.

  Once I finished what I was doing in the kitchen she quickly ushered me to her upstairs, lavish bedroom with a king-sized, four-poster bed topped by a thick, red comforter. She sifted through the many racks of long dresses in her walk-in closet until she found a modest, forest-green, floor-length, 3/4 sleeve dress. I felt the thick, velvet material and sighed. It was rare that I was allowed to wear such beautiful clothes, but the fabric would be too delicate to keep clean as well as would be hot on my daily walks to the market.

  “Go shower and scrub the dirt from under your nails. And, for the love of God, try to brush your hair.” We both knew that trying to tame my wild curls was useless, but I nodded at her orders, nevertheless.

  I made my way to the bathroom and shut the door. Usually, I was allowed two, timed, cold, showers a week, but given that this was an unusual circumstance, I took this opportunity to truly enjoy the scalding water that beat against my back comfortably. I scrubbed the dirt and oil from my face and hair until the water ran clear down the drain. Then, I towel-dried my body and hair and attempted to make my appearance pleasing to Mistress Stonewell.

  She usually was disinterested in what I looked like, but given the circumstances, I didn’t want to disappoint. I put oil in my hair to smooth the unruly, coarse, golden-brown curls and applied some bee’s wax to my plump lips to help them shine. I shimmied into the form-fitting dress and repositioned m
y breasts so that they no longer spilled out of the low-cut top. The green color made my lightly-freckled skin take on a golden hue, and the overall effect made me smile. Not being one to obsess over my looks, it was nice to have a brief moment of vanity to appreciate my appearance. I even quietly stole Mistress Stonewell’s eyelash curler and used it to make the thick lashes around my hazel eyes form my lids nicely. Then, using my nails, I plucked a few stray hairs from my thick brows.

  As I finished, I glanced down at my watch to see an alert from Mistress Stonewell flash across the screen:

  Hurry up they’re almost here.

  I sighed and stole one last look before slipping my hard feet into flat, black shoes and heading downstairs. While making my way to the entryway, I passed by Josiah’s room and briefly wondered what he would think of my dress. Feeling brave, I casually stole a glance through the crack of his open door and found him hunched over his desk, wholly absorbed in his work. He was massaging his temples, with a scowl on his brow when he looked up.

  I felt the caress of his gaze as he openly observed every inch of my body. He bit the eraser end of his pencil, and a slight groan escaped his peach-colored lips. His reaction made my heart race, but my feet remained firmly planted outside his door, despite my body’s desire to be close to him.

  With a strained voice, I broke the silence, “Your guests are almost here.” He stood up from his work desk and then adjusted and tightened the blue, striped tie that lay loosely around his neck. “I’ll accompany you downstairs,” he replied with a hoarse, gruff, voice.

  He then walked towards me. Once close enough, he placed tender fingertips at the base of my hips and guided me out of the hallway and down the steep steps towards the common room. The tension between us was thick and suffocating, and I deepened my breathing to stop myself from doing something foolish, like kissing him right there on the stairwell.

  Once at the base of the stairwell, Josiah briefly glanced around, checking to see if we were alone, then leaned in to whisper against my neck, “You look stunning.” His words tickled my exposed skin, and I imagined what it would feel like if his lips touched where his words were. Before either of us could lose ourselves in the moment, he briskly walked away.