She was gentle with him. There’d been none of the passionate violence she gave to me, on the rare occasions I kissed her.
Each time we’ve kissed—the boat, the house in 18, the club, even the barracks, when I watched her fall apart under my hand—each time has been a battle, a fight for dominance that shifted into desire. There was never gentleness. Nurrin doesn't need gentle. She needs fire and fight, the heat of passion burning her up until there is nothing left. Until she is broken by it and so desperate for it again that putting herself together is the only option, as natural as breathing.
Kendall has no idea what she needs—what she is. He can't know, because he met her twelve fucking hours ago.
I growl, softly, as a spectator gets a little too close, and there's a nervous titter of laughter from the candy on his arm. She giggles. "He's savage. I like him."
I give her a cold smile, the last smirk from a predator before he devours his prey, and her eyes go wide and hungry.
Then the bell clangs and the far gate swings open, and Kang explodes into the ring. I watch him lazily, the arm candy forgotten as I assess my opponent. He's big—outweighs me by close to thirty pounds, with a shaved head and a fucking face tattoo. Who the fuck is this prick? Does he have no sense of what's fucking idiotic? Who the hell tattoos their face? Who the fuck kisses a man she's known for twelve. fucking. hours?
He bellows and rushes me. I slip aside, twisting around to follow him with a sharp kick to the kidneys. He reels back, and I punch him once, twice. Three times in that fucking stupid tattoo, because dammit, who the hell decided that was a good idea? He roars as he hits the mat, and I kick him again, vicious shots to the kidneys until he lies there limply and I can smell blood and shock in the air. I shake my hand out, blood spraying from it. A few of the girls shriek in mock disgust, and I bare my teeth at the crowd.
Then I retreat to my side of the ring, and money begins to change hands. I catch the Priestess’ eye and nod briefly.
Once wasn't enough. It wasn't even close to enough.
I fight five more people before they pull me out of the ring. I’m snarling in rage, covered in blood, and the clear victor. The Priestess has been replaced by a Black Priest with a clinical stare. “Got a bit of anger.”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I snap. “Take your fucking cut and let me go.”
“You’re the victor for the evening. You’ll be expected back tomorrow,” he says casually.
I laugh, a mirthless noise. “Tell you what. You tell me where the Lone Priest is, and I’ll come back and fight your battles tomorrow.”
“We haven't had a Lone Priest in a few months," he says cautiously. I growl softly. Why is everyone hiding this man? What the hell was so special about him that even the Order is denying knowledge?
I don't say anything else, but as I take my earnings and tug my shirt on my still-bloody body, it occurs to me that reaching out to Omar again might be my only option.
Every time I do, I feel a little more indebted to him, and every time I bring them into our life, I feel the noose tighten around Nurrin's neck.
I curse and stalk back to the Embassy.
I see the wild looks the staff members give me as I stalk into their pristine lobby. The girl singing at the piano falters, swallowing a scream as I storm through the civilized room to their ridiculous elevators.
"Uh..." One of the receptionists hesitantly approaches me, and I give her a icy look.
"Don't. I know I'm offending your guests. The thing is, darling, that I don't give a fuck. You have a problem with me? Ask your president if he'll tolerate you kicking me out. I think you might be surprised by his answer."
She swallows hard, and the elevator doors glide open. The couple inside goes pale when they see me then scurry out.
I step inside and fix the receptionist with a final cool stare. "You can station a guard outside my room—but I'm not bitten, and I won't change."
My temper is still riding the edge, and that’s not good—that’s not how I need to confront Nurrin.
I don’t need to confront Nurrin. I need to walk the fuck away and let some other idiot help her find her brother.
Guilt hits me immediately, and I shake my head. I can't leave Collin—or Nurrin. I swore after Columbus I would never leave anyone behind again.
I also swore I'd never give a fuck about anyone, and that was an epic fail.
I curse softly and push open the door to our suite.
Kendall has a hand on her knee, and she's leaning against his shoulder. Tear tracks stand out on her cheeks.
Tear tracks.
"Get out," I hiss.
Kendall smiles at me smoothly as Nurrin's eyes fly open. Relief and fury war for dominance, but I dismiss her and focus on Kendall.
"Where have you been, O'Malley?" he asks, standing. "I thought we'd get you settled into your house today."
"Get the fuck out of my hotel room, Kenny. I'm too tired for your bullshit."
"I'm here because she invited me."
I cock my head, ignoring the anger at the truth in his statement. Anger later. Get rid of him now.
"You know what I find so odd? That you’re turned on by a girl who looks like your dead sister. Even in our world, Ken, that's some twisted shit."
Rage blooms in his eyes, and Nurrin makes a choked little sound.
"Nurrin, darling, I'll see you later," he says softly, not looking away from me.
She doesn't protest when he leaves. Just watches me with big eyes as he moves closer to the door. I block it with my body and lean into him. "I am very, very good at killing. And killing you would make me very, very happy. Stay the fuck away from her, or I will see you fed to the Horde before I leave this godforsaken haven. Do you understand me?"
"I'm Kelsey's brother," he snaps. "And the fucking president."
"That means a hell of a lot less now than it did when Andrew wore the title. And Kelsey couldn't stand you, so don't think that will stay my hand. Or have you managed to block that little tidbit as well?"
"You bastard," he snarls.
I smirk. I've spent years embracing the fact that I'm a bastard. It's more of a compliment than anything else now. In our world, bastards survive. And I am nothing if not a survivor.
“Kendall, go. I need to talk to O’Malley,” she says, her voice clear and startling both of us. His face goes red—being dismissed by a girl with no name or title has got to piss him the fuck off.
It makes me ridiculously happy.
Until the door closes, and I’m left alone with her. She’s still wearing the dress from earlier, a red dress with a short skirt and thin straps that leave her shoulders bare. I was right. The scratches have formed thin scars. Her first scars.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, her voice shaking with fury.
“Oh, Nurrin. You don’t get to ask me that. Where have you been today? Touring the Haven on the arm of America’s favorite bachelor? Do you have any idea how disgusting it is, that he sees his dead sister in you and wants you?”
“Because you are so much better? You’ve used me as a stand in for Kelsey since we left the Hole. You only want me because you can pretend I’m her. If you want to talk about sick fucks, let’s look a little closer to home.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice even. “So maybe you should stop. Focus on the things you know.”
“I know you want me,” she taunts.
I force a laugh. “I don’t want Kendall’s leftovers, Nurrin. Don’t delude yourself.”
She gasps, and I start to turn away from her. I can’t be with her. The fighting wasn’t enough—I want to push until she’s screaming, until we’re both at each other’s throats, until she shatters against me. I can’t—it can’t happen. We can’t happen. I step away, and she lunges. I twist as we fall, catch her against my chest. She’s furious, spitting mad as she swings at me.
“Coming at my back? Dirty fighting, little girl,” I t
aunt.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to be such an asshole about everything? If you don't want me, why the hell does it matter if Kendall does? He could—"
"What," I hiss, my hands on her hips now. I want to shake her. "He could take care of you? Protect you? He's a weakling, Nurrin. He couldn't protect himself, much less you. You have no idea what he's capable of—he's weak, and he's got just enough power to be dangerous. Stay the fuck away from him."
"You don't get to give me orders, O'Malley," she snaps furiously.
She shifts on me, and even though we’re fighting—maybe because we’re fighting—I groan as her heat hits my erection. Because the second her weight landed on me, the second I felt every inch of her pressed against me, even furious and ready to gauge my eyes out, I wanted her.
I always want her. I always want this.
Her eyes drift shut as she rubs against me, almost like she doesn't realize what she's doing, and her fingers, braced on my shoulders, dig in. No gentleness. Not here. Not between us. Never between us. I thrust against her, and she groans, a throaty noise that hits me just right.
I need to erase him. I need his touch on her, his memory next to her, gone. I need her here, fully in this moment.
I rip the dress. She jerks, stunned, her eyes narrowed on me as I yank her bra down and rear up.
Then her cry is in my ears, her hands in my hair, her tit in my mouth. She's rocking against me, and I want her panties gone, I want these fucking pants gone. I want to slide deep into her. I bite down on her, and she screams, a throaty, broken noise that I want to hear every night for the rest of my life.
A dangerous thought.
I roll her off me and smack her butt lightly. "Hold on to the table," I order. She blinks, and I see the questions starting to surface in her eyes. Not what I want. I want her too lost in this to question me.
I dip my head down, lick at her nipple until it pebbles, and then I draw on it, sucking hard enough that she's writhing and whimpering. I bite, and she arches off the floor.
"Hold. On," I repeat. And she does.
I don't let myself think about this, because then I'd have to stop.
And I want this too damn bad.
I tug the dress until it slips from her then nudge her until she's lying on her stomach.
Then I kiss her. Starting with her scar, taking note of every shiver and stifled moan as I trace the curve of her spine. All the way down to where her back flares to meet her ass.
Just exactly as I had imagined. Little nips of teeth and the stroke of my tongue on her satin smooth skin, and I will go to hell for betraying Collin's trust like this, but I don't regret it. I can't regret it.
I will go to hell a thousand times over to have this woman in my arms for even a fraction of a moment.
I tease her until she's almost sobbing, until my name is a plea and a curse and she's thrashing under me. Then I slide up, brace myself above her. She groans as I thrust against her, and I can feel her heat, even through the two layers of clothing we're wearing. I reach between us as I thrust again, and slip two fingers through her wet heat.
And she screams, coming apart as I shove my fingers into her, the contractions of her pussy drawing me deeper. I flick my thumb over her clit, and she makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, bucking weakly against me as her body shudders.
For a long time, we lie like that, not speaking, my fingers still buried in her. She squeezes lightly, and I rub against her silken walls until she purrs like a kitten. I'm tempted—so fucking tempted—to coax her back to that peak, to tease her into begging.
Instead, I slip free of her and push myself off the ground. Adjust my dick in my pants as Nurrin tugs her bra up and shoves her hair out of her eyes. She’s staring at me with a mixture of fascination and revulsion.
Always a good look to see in the eyes of the girl you just got off.
“Tomorrow, I’m reaching out to Omar. The Order is hiding something.”
“Kendall wants you to meet with the Science Czars,” she says quietly.
I go still, and then, very quietly, “Why?”
She pushes up off the floor. Even in the shreds of her dress, with her hair a mess and a sheen of sweat on her, she looks glorious. A tiny frown is on her face. “I might have mentioned that the Horde seemed to be changing.” She bites her lip. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. You’ve told everyone you could get to listen.”
I have. And it shouldn’t be. But this is 1. And they have always ignored my warnings. I told them. Kelsey and I both told them Columbus was dangerous. Omar, though—he had advocated for it, and he was our senior, in age if nothing else. And Buchman listened to him.
I shrug. “Fine. I’ll meet with him. But we’re not here to deliver warnings, Nurrin. We’re not here to court politicians. Especially not this politician.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” she asks suddenly. I shrug a little. Because he was too much of a memory, too much Kelsey, while being not nearly enough. Because Kendall spent his entire childhood hating me and blaming me for something that I hated and blamed myself for. Hating him was easier than looking in the mirror.
I don’t say any of that. I lick my lips, taste her, and see her eyes go sleepy.
“He’s dangerous, Nurrin. And he’s not our problem. Collin is why we’re here. The only reason. Don’t forget that.”
Her eyes go wide, and I have a moment to consider I might have gone too far, but I shove it aside and stretch, popping my sore back. “I’m taking a shower. Tomorrow will be an early morning.”
I don’t look back as I leave the room.
Looking back only ever gets you regrets and death.
Part 4. The Science of Change
Change is the law of life.
-John F Kennedy .
We change. We adapt. The biggest change we allowed was letting fear dictate our lives—and zombies didn’t do that. We did.
-Finn O’Malley .
Chapter 40. The Nature of Change
We all live in stasis. In a kind of floating state that gives us the impression that because things haven’t changed, they never will. When the zombies rose, that delusion was shattered, for a time. But humanity is made up of creatures, and all of us are creatures of habit.
Falling into stasis was inevitable, as easy as breathing. Each Haven was its own self-contained world. Of course some things changed from one Haven to the next and supplies would be brought in from Havens that specialized in other things. But for the most part, we lived apart, and we were all able to convince ourselves that the world was only as big as the horizon at the edge of the Wide Open.
But that’s not true. And we know it, when we allow ourselves to think about it.
Every once in a while, there is something that happens, something that is so catastrophic that we are forced to examine who we are, and why we are. What makes us different from the people around us, and what separates us from the infects.
It’s a painful place to be. Change is never easy, but self-examination? That fucking hurts.
Chapter 41. The Morning After
The air feels different now. After the incident in the barracks, even then I was able to ignore the simmering attraction. He was furious. I was horny. Nothing but biological needs being met, just like Finn said.
I can’t say that now. Not when there is someone who wants me, who I sent away. To fall in fucking Finn O’Malley’s arms. What the hell is that? What weird life am I living?
And there was his comment, afterward—the one about Collin. How had I managed, even for an instant, to forget my brother? Was I so fucking shallow that I had been distracted by a pretty face and a charming boy? I roll to my side. 1 is dangerous. It’s seductive and beautiful—lies wrapped in their glittering lights and open air restaurants. And that makes it dangerous.
Someone bangs on the door to the suite, and I tense. I’m tempted to let Finn decide to answer it, but I know, deep in my gut, who it is and what it�
�s about. I sigh and slip out of bed. Grab my robe from the end of the bed—the Embassy provides robes. What the hell is that? Wrapped in the white fluffy material, I shuffle to the front of the suite.
Kendall’s Walkers all have a stylized S on their shoulders. I picked up on that quickly, the small signal that symbolizes their loyalty to Stiles. I don’t know if they share their loyalty with the Walkers, but first and foremost, they belong to Kendall.
“He wants you,” the Walker announces. “Now, please.”
I force a smile, even though I’m bristling inside. That he thinks he can snap and I will immediately jump to his demands is more than a little bit annoying.
“Why?”
The Walker blinks, startled. “Does he want to talk about the Horde or O’Malley’s thoughts on them? Or perhaps the missing Black Priest who has my brother?”
“I…I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Tell President Stiles I’ll be in his office at noon. With O’Malley. To discuss the Horde with his czars.”
Confusion fills the Walker’s eyes, and a kind of dislike that makes me shiver. I’m defying his boss—and he doesn’t like that at all.
I step back into my room, letting the door fall gently shut.
I wait, counting silently. I’m reaching twenty and getting nervous when I finally hear him start walking away. I let out my breath and let my shoulders slump.
“Why didn’t you go?”
The air crackles with tension between me and him, and I take a deep breath before turning. O’Malley is propped against the door jam, a pair of sleep pants hanging low on his waist. There’s a trace of stubble on his jaw, and it hits me that his hair is getting long.
He watches me watching him, and a tiny smile tilts his lips. Shit. I’ve been staring too long.
“Why didn’t you go?” he repeats, softly this time. Letting the question wash over me like a balm.
“Because I want to find Collin, and I can’t do that while I hang on Kendall’s arm.” I shrug and tuck my robe tighter around me. Not that it matters. Finn has seen me nearly naked, writhing for his touch.
The Horde Without End (The World Without End) Page 12
