WastelandRogue

by Brenda Williamson

  “I don’t want to show you any disrespect. You seem to be the one with the authority to grant my request,” Sevrin said calmly.

  The man nodded his head and lowered his bullet launcher, apparently liking what Sevrin said. “What if I were to say no? What then?”

  “Could be I’d just leave.” Sevrin whipped out his short-barreled gun in a flash, making the other man raise his weapon. “Or it could be I don’t and we both behave badly enough that someone ends up dead.”

  Rye found herself impressed by Sevrin’s confidence.

  She watched the man’s silent debate. He had the bigger gun. Several shots would severely cripple Sevrin’s mobility. His slow regeneration would give the man ample time to finish him off. Worried about the outcome, she opened her mouth and rubbed one of her fangs. The two flanking their leader backed up.

  “She’s lamian,” the one man commented.

  Sevrin nodded and said low as if she wasn’t going to hear him, “And she’s a mite bit tired and cranky too. She bit the heads off two men last night because they wanted a little fun with her. They didn’t have a fighting chance with the way she can heal almost instantly from any attack.”

  “I’ll let you pass this time, no charge,” the leader said. “But if you come back through here, you’ll have to pay a tariff. Now go on with ya, before someone notices I ain’t collecting my due.”

  “Your kindness will be remembered…what’s your name?”

  “Gondall.”

  “That’s all of it?”

  “It’s enough.”

  Rye moved closer to Sevrin as he tucked his gun back in the holster. She thought he should have kept it handy but couldn’t say so in front of Gondall.

  “I’m Sevrin Renault and this is Mariah Sanborn.” He took her arm and had her move ahead of him.

  A strange sensation of sentimentality formed a lump in her throat hearing her full name, her mother’s name. She didn’t think she’d ever want to be called Mariah. Sevrin saying it so casually made her want to hear it again.

  “Ah, Gondall, might I ask one more thing?” Sevrin hesitated, keeping ahold of her arm.

  “What?” Gondall asked in an aggravated tone, as if they were pushing him past his limit of cordiality.

  “We’ve heard rumors about the Wickstrom Group wanting lamians captured and brought to them,” Sevrin started. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “I may have. Why do you ask? I thought your brother works for Wickstrom?”

  “I haven’t seen him in a long time. That’s why I’m here, to check up on him. And I was concerned for my female friend here.”

  “If you’re so concerned, maybe you’d like to leave her with us?” He flashed another one of his wide grins.

  “I already told you, she doesn’t play well with strangers. Now about the lamians?”

  “Yeah, we heard the same. Haven’t seen anything. Although we do have a deal with the marauders. They pay a hefty tariff for us to let them come and go without bother from us, so it’s possible they may have lamians with them.”

  “How do you know they’re marauders?”

  “That group, small or large, is always fronted by a man called Orland. My men recognize him and keep their distance.”

  “So they could be leading lamians right to the Wickstrom Group?”

  “Could be.” Gondall and his men began walking away and then Gondall looked back. “Remember what I said, Renault. This is the only free entry you get.”

  “Let’s hope there’s a free exit as well,” Sevrin muttered behind her.

  “You don’t think there will be?” Rye slowed and let him pass her.

  “He says he has a profitable deal with the marauders. What’s to keep him from turning us over to them?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “Great, as if we haven’t had enough trouble.”

  No sooner had she said it than a man sprang out from inside a doorway and grabbed Sevrin. Rye ran up and locked an arm around the man’s neck, pulling him back. Sevrin lost his balance and fell to the ground.

  She tried to thrust the man away but he had hold of her arm and pulled her around to face him.

  “A fanger bitch,” he hissed, spittle hitting her in the eye.

  “I am sure getting tired of men calling me that,” she growled.

  Lifting her arm, she bit into the back of his hand clapped on her wrist. He immediately shrieked and released.

  Through the spreading haze of red in her eyes, she saw Sevrin get back on his feet as the man ran away.

  “One day they’ll learn that isn’t a respectful phrase,” Sevrin said, coming toward her.

  Rye lifted the flask strap over her head and twisted open the top. “Men like him are the dregs of the planet and they’re too stupid to learn anything, even if it means saving their lives. Hamner was proof of that.”

  She took a drink from the flask, rinsed her mouth of any blood transference and spit. The powdery dust on the ground puffed up and settled back around the wet spot. She watched it dry quickly.

  “You’re right, of course. Doesn’t look good for the future of our society.”

  “Just the human part, Sevrin. That’s why lamians exist today. Without worldwide communication, neither humans nor lamians have the resources to bring some semblance of order back to our dying civilization. Time and time again, our ancestors have failed in their attempts to bring stability. There is no reason to think they won’t fall short again, especially if scientists are working against the evolutionary changes.”

  “Such a grim outlook.” He frowned and touched her cheek, brushing his fingers against it to remove blood specks, she imagined. “Your eyes are almost clear.”

  “It was just a taste of blood, not enough to hinder my sight long.” She blinked several times. “There, how’s that?”

  He ran his finger down her nose. “As stunning as a clear blue sky.”

  Elated by his affection, she smiled.

  “That’s better.” He touched her lips. “You have a wonderful smile. It makes those gorgeous blue eyes twinkle brighter.”

  “Let’s find that door.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him along. “Gondall said about a hundred paces, right?”

  “Yeah.” He took the lead.

  She watched him survey the area and glance at doors. Some entrances sat crooked and partly buried in the ground, while others loomed high above their heads.

  “Here, I think that’s the door.” Sevrin hopped up onto a pile of junk and hoisted himself to a half-railed balcony. “Give me your hand.”

  “I can do it myself.” She mimicked his moves and joined him on the ledge. Getting to her feet, she gripped the railing for support and it gave way.

  “Got you.” Sevrin grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to a steady stance. He let go and ran his hand over the markings on the door, examining the design. “Yes, this is the right one.”

  He pressed the lever and tried to open it. The steel slab creaked as it moved.

  “Are you sure this is it?” She helped to push.

  “I put my initials on it.” He pointed.

  She touched the scratched letters S.R. She seldom saw anyone write. Her parents were intelligent, yet reading and writing had never been a high priority for her and her sister to learn. Her father had too much to do to keep them safe.

  “Do you know just your letters or can you read too?” she asked, curious about his level of schooling.

  “I can read and write and do math. Scientist father and mother, remember?”

  “Right.” She didn’t tell him that her mother was a scientist too and that she didn’t live long enough to get the chance to teach her and Shay what she knew before she died.

  “And you?” he asked, straining to open the door farther than just slightly ajar.

  Not wanting to talk about her shortfalls, she assisted him, throwing herself at the scarred steel. The hinges gave way a bit more.

  “It’s obvious no one has used this in a long while,” she s
aid, squeezing through the narrow space.

  The door groaned as Sevrin forced himself through the opening also. His larger build required effort and more shifting of the dented steel. She cringed as the door made another resounding protest at being moved.

  Darkness engulfed them.

  Rye shivered against the cool draft of air. “What a difference in temperature,” she commented while rubbing her arms, hoping it was the change in atmosphere and not the dismal surroundings that gave her chills.

  Sevrin’s hand banded her upper arm, his grip tightened, signaling for stillness. He put his finger to his lips, motioning for her to keep silent. She nodded, already knowing the less noise they made, the better.

  When he let go, she proceeded through the cluttered room. Metal furniture lay overturned, cabinets hung half-suspended and crumbled chunks of wall sat heaped on everything else.

  Sevrin lagged behind, picking through debris as if he looked for something. She stopped at a doorway and waited. Her sixth sense wasn’t as honed as a full-blooded lamian’s, yet she’d never ignore gut feelings. A looming presence waited ahead.

  Sevrin leaned against her back, whispering low in her ear. “What is it?”

  “I was just waiting for you,” she said, having nothing definitive to report. An eerie feeling they were being watched wasn’t a firm fact.

  “Looks as if we need to get through here.” He touched a door and fingered the slit in the handle. “You have that key?”

  She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the piece of metal. While he worked it into the doorknob, she touched the lettering on the door.

  “Authorized Personnel Only,” Sevrin said. “Nothing important we need to know.”

  “I can read,” she lied.

  “Doesn’t matter, I’m pretty sure whatever is written on doors, walls and signs in this place is outdated and nothing either of us need concern ourselves with.”

  “Except what’s outdated to us may not be to those using this place. Take that key, for example. Why that instead of scanners?”

  “Remember, purebred lamians don’t have fingerprints like humans do. They can regenerate theirs to match ones they touch. Same goes for their eyes.” He handed her the key.

  “So if I was human and I really wanted to safeguard something behind a lock, I’d use a physical item like this. That makes sense. But what if I use the powers of my mind to manipulate the tumblers and unlock the door without a key?”

  “You can do that?”

  She tossed the key back to him and laughed. “No, but I had you believing it, didn’t I?”

  “Great, of all the lamians for me to hook up with, I get a jokester.”

  His reference to their breed upset her.

  “Why do you keep calling me a lamian as if I’m different from you?” She had tried to overlook the hint of disgust in his tone that often accompanied the word lamian.

  “I don’t mean anything by it.”

  “Don’t you? You said yourself when you were shot that we weren’t very different, yet I feel as if I’m somehow inferior in your eyes.”

  “Rye.” He touched her arm. “You’re not inferior. On the contrary, I’m the one lacking.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t do most of what you do. I’ve never even taken the time to learn about the recessive part of my genetic makeup. Not even that saliva trick.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me from the start that you were a half-breed—afraid I’d judge you for your differences?”

  “I don’t tell people because I don’t trust anyone to know me.” His expression turned thoughtful. “With the exception of you.”

  Rye put her hand on Sevrin’s cheek. “That you guard the secret is very lamian of you.” She rubbed her fingers over his smiling lips. She leaned in and kissed him. “I like you just the way you are.”

  She slid her arms around his neck as he kissed her back. His hold tightened around her waist, drawing her up against him. It was in his arms that all her concerns about any ill intentions he might have for her fell away.

  He raised one hand to her head. Burying his fingers in her hair, he tilted her head back and laid a trail of kisses across her cheek. Along her jaw, beneath her chin, his sucking kiss showered her with sparks of affection. She trembled at the sheer power in his lips.

  Lightning heat moved through her, weakening her to the point she sagged against his solid frame. If not for his crushing embrace, she might have slipped to the floor. His mouth captured hers. Their lips melded and then he parted hers. His tongue thrusting against hers devoured her senses. She couldn’t think with her emotions colliding. Desire, the strongest, became overwhelmed by love—the deepest, longest, lasting kind.

  When his hands roamed, never settling in one place, she wanted to strip off her dirty clothes and feel his skin rubbing against hers. Instead, a sliver of common sense crashed into their moment of pleasure. She broke from the kiss and dropped her head down against his shoulder.

  He pulled her head up with the fingers he had woven into her hair. Strangely commanding, he kissed her again and she succumbed to his claim on her without protest. She wanted to belong to him, as she’d never wanted anything before.

  In his zeal, he pushed her up against the door. Unlocked and ajar, it swung open and they fell into the next room. The door slammed against a wall behind it as they let go of each other in their stumbling entrance. A partition of mortared brick that separated one area from another swayed forward.

  “Watch out!” Sevrin yelled, lunging for her.

  She ducked into the doorway as the wall crashed on him. “Sevrin?”

  “Still here,” he announced.

  She climbed out from behind the rubble and over the pile of bricks to him. While kissing him was wonderful, they did have more important things to do. “We had that coming.”

  “Yeah. I guess we better keep our attention on where we’re going.” He took her hand and got up from the floor.

  She had taken pride in her independence, always the one taking care of Shay and keeping them both alive. It felt especially nice to come to Sevrin’s rescue, even if he didn’t need rescuing.

  “Come on.” He led her across to yet another doorway. They followed the corridor, went down some stairs and ended at a room with no other exit.

  “This is obviously not the right route.” He went back the way they came but not as far as the door with the lock.

  “How about we go to the left this time,” she said, looking at another stairwell inside a room with a windowed door.

  “Like there’s even another choice.” He let go of her hand and moved on ahead. “Stay close this time.”

  She walked behind him, not mentioning the room with the staircase. If they found themselves at another dead end, she’d tell him then.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sevrin faced the dead end with frustration. “I guess we check each room.”

  “Or we check the one with the staircase.”

  “You saw a room with a staircase? Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “I thought you wanted to be in charge.” She flashed him a wide grin. “Men always like to be in charge, even when they’re not big on details.”

  “Very funny.” He turned her around. “Lead the way.”

  As Rye walked ahead, he looked at the placement of the holes in her pants. Almost if purposely, strategically placed, they teased the observer. One fell on the bottom curve of her ass, while another sat just to the left of the upper area of her rear end. He liked the pronounced sway of her hips with each step she took. Sexy. Alluring. Perfectly inviting.

  Sometimes stubborn, sometimes sassy, she had an easy way about her nature. Even when she showed her emotions, she kept them in check.

  “Here, this room.” She went in and pointed to the spiraling metal steps.

  He went over and looked up. “Ready?” He glanced back at her.

  She shrugged, and he accepted it as her yes.

  A
landing at the top opened into a corridor. Not many doors lined the smooth metal walls. He turned into the first room. Since not seeing the stairs before, he’d not let any area go unexamined. Rye must have had a similar thought as he looked at her holding a knife perpendicular to the wall and scoring the slick finish with three lines.

  “Good idea, marking the rooms we’ve already searched,” he said.

  At the third room they walked in, a mechanical sound caught his attention. He spun around to see the door quickly slam shut.

  Rye was first at the steel barrier. “It’s inside a channel in the wall. There’s no handle and no place to grab hold with my fingers.”

  “Stand back.” He picked up a chair and hit the slab of metal several times.

  “It’s solid steel,” Rye said.

  Before he even tried, he knew it was a waste of his strength trying to break through.

  “Not original to this old building, is it?” He flung the chair aside. “I’d say we came the right direction this time.”

  A shrill whistling overhead claimed their attention.

  “I think we’ve set off an alarm,” he said.

  “What?” Rye pulled her hands from her ears but still had a grimace on her face.

  “It’s an alarm,” he shouted.

  “When is it going to stop?” She walked toward a metal grate on the wall above her head where it seemed the sound originated.

  The chair he had tossed aside became her club. She picked it up and slammed it against the wall. The alarm suddenly stopped.

  “Oh thank goodness. I thought I was going to go deaf.” She sat the chair down and then lifted it again when an annoying crackling replaced the blaring whistle.

  “Wait.” He stopped her. “I’ve heard devices like these before. They’re used for communication.”

  He stared at the grate. They both waited for something to happen.

  “Maybe no one is one the other side,” Rye said.

  “No, they don’t have to be that close. Some kind of sound waves travel through wires. Zandt explained it to me once. He said the technology used to be very popular several centuries ago. People talked long distances through buildings. He read all about it in some historical government archives my father took him to when he was studying to be a scientist. He even said they talked on communicators that had no wiring. But I think he might have been pulling my leg on that one.”