by Kate L. Mary
My heart beat harder. I grabbed his face and slammed my lips into his, reaching for the button on his pants. He tugged on the hem of my shirt—his shirt—and pulled it up, forcing me to break the kiss long enough so he could toss it aside.
I was still working on his zipper when his hands moved up my sides. His touch was slow and hesitant, and I pulled back so I could look him in the eye, knowing what he was thinking.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”
“I wanted to kill him,” Kellan said as his hands moved up to cup my breasts. “I’ve never wanted to watch someone suffer as much as I did today.”
“It’s okay,” I said again. “We’re going to be okay.”
I had his zipper down when his lips covered mine again, and I pushed his pants past his hips. Kellan wiggled out of them, his hands never leaving my breasts.
We made it through, heading for the bathroom and bumping into the wall on the way there, fumbling for the light switch once we had reached our destination. Never breaking the kiss. My hands were working on the button of my own pants when he pulled away so he could start the shower.
The water rained down, pinging against the tile floor, and Kellan turned back to me. I’d kicked off my boots and was in the process of shimmying out of my pants, which he was more than happy to help me with. Once they were gone he slid his hands down my body, starting at my breasts and working his way down to my threadbare underwear. He held my gaze as he grasped the waistband and pulled them down my legs. The movement was torturously slow, and his eyes stayed focused on mine until they were pooled on the floor at my feet. That was when he took a step back and looked me over.
He had the same intense expression in his eyes I’d seen so many times, only now I understood what it meant. Desire. He wanted me.
“God,” he whispered, reaching out to run his hands down my body again. “You’re so beautiful, Regan. You know that?”
I swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say. No one had ever told me I was beautiful except Jasper, and it had never sounded like this. When Kellan said the words, it came out sounding like adoration.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No,” Kellan kissed me again, “thank you.”
The shower was encased in glass that had steamed up, and the air was now stuffy with moisture.
“The water’s hot,” I said, reaching out with trembling hands to grasp the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I think we should get clean.”
“Before we get dirtier?” he asked.
“Exactly.”
I smiled as I pulled his boxers down, focusing on kissing him, too timid or unsure to look down for the time being.
He held my face between his hands as he backed toward the shower, only releasing me so he could get the door open. I stepped in and water ran over me, rinsing the dirt and sweat from my body. Kellan followed, his mouth on mine the second he had the door shut. My back hit the cold tile as his lips and tongue moved.
“We should wash,” he said, his lips pressed against my neck. “I want you. You have no idea how much I want you. But it doesn’t need to be now.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, thinking about all the times I’d wanted to do that very thing when it refused to obey and stay out of his eyes.
“I want you now,” I gasped.
He shook his head and pulled away. “Not here. Not in the shower.”
I was panting, my eyes closed, and totally out of my mind when he said, “Regan.”
I opened my eyes and was rewarded with my first real look at him. He was standing in front of me, soap between his palms as water ran over his hard muscles, washing the dirt from his brown skin. It was the first time I’d seen a man naked, and Kellan was even more magnificent than I’d imagined.
He moved the bar of soap between his hands until there was a nice lather, then ran his hands down my body, touching every inch as he washed me.
Once we were both clean and rinsed, he turned off the water and took my hand, leading me out of the shower where he grabbed a towel and slowly dried me off. My already hot blood grew closer to the boiling point every time his skin brushed mine.
When we reached the edge of the bed, Kellan started kissing me again. Somehow I found myself on the bed, lying on my back with him on top of me. Kissing me, touching me, driving me wild. He was between my legs, his body as ready as mine, but no matter how many times I lifted my hips to meet his, he didn’t seem to get the point.
“Kellan,” I said between kisses. “Please.”
“I don’t want you to regret anything,” he whispered.
I pulled back so I could look him in the eye. “I could never regret you. You have to know that. I love you, Kellan. I’ve loved you for so long.”
He swallowed. “I love you.”
It was slow and steady, like him, and better than I ever could have imagined. I held onto him, knowing the first time could hurt but also aware that Kellan would never let anything bad happen to me. The pain was fast, though, and when I gasped, he leaned forward and kissed me like he was trying to suck the pain away. In seconds, the ache was forgotten.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he whispered as he moved.
“And you’ll never leave me.”
“Never,” he said, moving faster.
After, as I lay in Kellan’s arms, I couldn’t help thinking about how much had happened over the last few weeks. It wasn’t just Kellan and me or Jasper’s death, but also the men coming to Oklahoma, us learning that Atlanta was searching for people who were immune. Meeting and losing Harper so fast.
I twisted so I was facing him. “We’re going to get her back, aren’t we?”
“We’ll do everything we can,” he said.
His gaze moved down, over my naked body, but this time I knew he wasn’t thinking about sex. He twisted away from me so he could sit up, gingerly taking my right leg in his hand and turning it toward him. When he ran his finger over the crescent shaped scar on the inside of my ankle, I shivered.
He didn’t look away from it when he asked, “She doesn’t know about this, does she?”
“No one does except you anymore.” I swallowed as memories of that day came back.
“I never understood why Jasper wanted you to keep it quiet, but I think I do now.” Kellan traced it a few times before looking up again, his eyes holding mine. “He did everything he could to make sure we were safe. Including keeping the fact that you’re immune a secret from everyone.”
A small smile tugged at my lips, but it was sad. “He was a crazy, paranoid old man, but I loved him for it.”
“So did I,” Kellan said.
He dropped my leg and scooted up the bed so he was once again by my side. He didn’t lie down next to me, though, but instead hovered over me, staring.
“I can’t ever lose you, Regan.”
“You won’t,” I said, but even as the words left my lips, I knew I couldn’t control everything. In this world, there were so many things left up to fate.
To be continued…
The Brightest Darkness
Bonus Content
Thank You, Daddy
A Novelette from Broken Stories
Chapter 1
Altus, OK
The floorboards creak under my feet as I head toward the living room. Mama and Daddy are watching TV, and the newscaster’s voice booms through the house, meeting me halfway down the stairs. My parents have been watching the news non-stop since martial law was declared up in New York. People everywhere are freaking out, acting like it’s the end of the world. I’m not really convinced, though. It seems like the government has it under control. They’re locking people in the infected areas and limiting travel everywhere. Doing what they can as best as they can. It’s going to be okay.
“The virus is getting worse,” Mama says, not even looking over her shoulder when I step into the room behind her. She makes a little tsk-tsk noise as she shakes her head at the TV screen, and her gray hai
r swishes across her shoulders. “Most of New York is infected, they say, and they’ve locked down more areas.”
My shoulders straighten automatically. “What does that mean?”
“It’s going to be tough to contain.” Daddy glances over his shoulder and smiles, trying to reassure me. “Don’t look so worried, pumpkin. We’re a long way from the infection zone.”
I try to force myself to relax. Daddy’s right. Oklahoma and New York are worlds apart. So much so that sometimes it feels like the states are in two different countries. We’ll be fine.
Maybe there’s one good thing about living in the middle of nowhere.
Mama groans and drags herself to her feet. “I need to head on in and get dinner going,” she says as she heads my way. I’m blocking most of the doorway, so I step aside, giving her room to squeeze by me. She pauses long enough to give my cheek a little pat. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
I nod as if I believe her, but my eyes are still on the TV, and my stomach has started to knot the way it does when fear is eating away at me. Without thinking, I cross my arms over my chest like I can hug the apprehension away. Mama sighs and walks off, knowing her words are lost on me. I inherited Daddy’s worry streak.
The second Mama is out of sight, Daddy grabs the remote and turns the volume up until it feels like the walls are shaking.
“Aren’t you glad we’re not in New York!” he calls over the noise. He tends to turn it up so loud it’s impossible to talk unless we’re yelling. “That virus they got out there is something nasty, that’s for sure. Killing a lot of people, according to the news.”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably some government experiment gone wrong,” I say, hugging myself even tighter.
Too many movies and end of the world books start like this not to be concerned. If this thing is something the government created, it’s hard to imagine we’ll be able to stop it.
“Biological weapon is what they’re saying online!” Daddy replies.
I jerk my head back when my father’s loud voice makes my eardrums vibrate. “You and your conspiracy theories.”
Daddy grins and wags a chubby finger at me, then mutes the TV when it goes to commercial. “You give me a hard time now, but just wait. One day you’ll be glad we have that basement full of food and supplies.”
I laugh despite the tension building inside me. I can’t help it. Daddy loves survivalist chat rooms. He and his online buddies are always plotting how they’re going to survive the end of the world. He’s been on the computer constantly since this outbreak started.
“What are they saying online?” I ask, knowing Daddy was surfing the chat rooms this morning. Just like every other day.
Daddy chuckles and his gray eyes twinkle. He acts like he’s having the time of his life. “Oh, all kinds of theories. There are a lot of people waiting for zombies to pop up now that people have started getting sick, but you and I both know that’s a lot of hogwash.” He winks, and I let out a laugh that makes my father’s smile broaden. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles, and it suddenly hits me how old my father is starting to look.
Daddy scratches his round stomach as he presses his lips together like he’s trying to figure out a way to solve the whole crisis himself. “Found myself on one site this morning that I don’t go to very often. It’s a bunch of hard-core preppers who take the whole thing way too seriously. I’m only thinking about the welfare of my family, but a lot of those guys act like the world is about to explode into violence and chaos. Not really sure I see it that way, but we live all the way out here. Maybe in the cities…” He pauses, thinking it through, then shakes his head like he still doesn’t believe men are capable of such things. Not sure I really agree with him about that. “Anyway, there are a lot of crazy theories out there, but online people are saying most of New York is gone already and the government is covering up how bad this thing really is. I think it’s a bit of a stretch, but it wouldn’t hurt to get some more supplies. Maybe stock up on weapons.”
Daddy turns to watch a commercial, a big smile on his face even though the TV is muted, but his words are stuck in my head.
A government cover-up doesn’t seem very far-fetched to me. Zombies… Well, that’s nuts. But with everything we’ve seen reported on TV so far, a conspiracy doesn’t seem that impossible. How much footage are they actually showing of New York now? Not a lot, and there’s been more than one repeat scene on the news. Just last week they showed some footage of people lined up outside a hospital. Only it was old. I know I saw the exact same line of people waiting for treatment the week before because there was a girl about my age in the group who was leaning against the wall, staring at her phone. I noticed her both times because she had the exact same turquoise phone case as me.
I think about the whole thing for a few seconds, and before I know it, I find myself laughing. Now I sound like my father. He’s always looking for a conspiracy to liven things up.
“Well, when the day comes that we do end up needing all those supplies you have collected, I’ll be sure to kiss you right on top of your bald head and tell you what a genius you are,” I say, drawing Daddy’s attention away from the TV. “For now, though, I’m going to keep referring to you as my crazy conspiracy theorist daddy.”
He grins back at me and says, “I’ll be waiting for the day!”
The news starts up again, and Daddy turns back to the TV, unmuting it. The voice of the newscaster booms through the room as he reads through the precautionary measures they’re taking in the locked down areas. They’re trying to make sure the rest of the country doesn’t get infected, but I tune it out. If something really important happens, Daddy will read about it online before the news ever reports it. Kind of like how I find out about all the major news stories of the day on Facebook.
Of course, if that happens, Daddy will have us all locked in the basement to ride out the worst of it with the two-year supply of food and water we have stored down there. Daddy doesn’t like to do anything half-assed.
“Emma Jane, come on in here and take out the trash for me!” Mama calls over the TV.
“Sure thing, Mama,” I say, heading into the kitchen without complaint.
I’m only home from college for the summer, but I want to be sure to help out as much as possible. The old house is big, and my parents are getting up there in years—I was their late-in-life-child—and I can tell it’s getting hard on Mama.
I wrestle the bag of trash out of the can, but it’s so heavy I can barely lift it, like Daddy stuffed it too full instead of taking it out, which is a habit of his. Getting it to the dumpster is going to be fun. I would drag it, but then it will rip open and spill everywhere. Then I’ll be in real trouble.
I lug the bag into the back yard, and the blistering Oklahoma day almost takes my breath away. It’s evening, and the sun is low but still hot. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks, but otherwise the day is quiet.
My family lives in an older part of Altus where the houses are mature and oozing with character. Past Wal-Mart, all the way on the other side of town, are the new homes. They’re nice and big, but cookie cutter, really. Our house is two stories, which isn’t very common in Oklahoma—thanks to tornados—and the yard is bigger than what most of my friends have. We even have a guesthouse in the back yard. It’s small, but provides a little bit of extra income. Since Altus AFB is a training base and such a major part of the community, my parents have always rented the small building out to student pilots coming in.
The grass crunches under my shoes as I head across the yard. I’ve only made it halfway when the door to the guesthouse opens and Blake steps out. It’s like a scene from a movie. The tall, dark, and handsome stranger who’s staying in the house in my back yard steps out just in time to see me struggling with a heavy, too-full trash bag. Right on cue, a bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and into my eye. I try to wipe it away, and in the process the trash bag almost knocks me over with its weight.
Blak
e rushes forward like the pretend knight in shining armor he is. “Let me help you.”
“Oh! No, it’s okay.”
My tongue feels too big for my mouth with Blake standing so close. He’s cute. Too cute. And older than I am by probably five or six years. His hair is dark and cut short in the typical military style, and his eyes are hazel. Greenish brown and shimmering. He presses his lips together like he’s trying to keep in a laugh, and the dimple in his right cheek deepens.
“Really, Emma, it’s no big deal.”
Somehow, Blake wrestles the bag from my hand, grinning the entire time like he’s on the way to watch a rodeo, not taking a bag of trash to the dumpster. I’m not sure if he wants me to follow him or not, but I find my feet moving that way. Better to give in to the desire and walk next to this super-cute pilot who has the smile of a Greek god than to try to fight it.
“Any plans for the rest of the summer?” Blake asks as he unlocks the back gate and shoves it open.
“Not really.” I shrug as I try to think of something clever to say, but there’s nothing.
I live in Altus, not San Francisco. The Saturday night festivities here are limited to Applebee’s and Wal-Mart.
“Well, with this virus going around, it looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while,” Blake says.
He lifts the lid on the dumpster and drops the bag in, and I wonder how in the world anyone can look sexy while taking out the trash. It doesn’t seem fair to the rest of the world.
It’s not like I think I’m a dog or anything; in fact, I’d go so far as to call myself cute. My hair is thick and glossy, but a dull shade of brown. Mama never would let me get highlights when I was younger, and now that I have to pay for them myself, I don’t want to waste the money. I’m blessed to have Daddy’s big, brown eyes and Mama’s smooth skin, but I also have Aunt Sally’s ears that stick out way too far. Meaning I look like Dumbo when my hair is pulled back.
