LAW Box Set: Books 1-3 (Life After War Book 0)

by Angela White

  “Is it because they burn the witch at the end?”

  She didn’t pretend ignorance. “Yes.”

  “That’s why I picked it. That scene will also bother the hell outta my men and make them determined to keep it from happening here.”

  She raised a brow, too tired to be upset. “Is there anything you leave to chance?”

  Adrian blew out a steady stream of smoke. “Not if I can help it and you shouldn’t either. There’s too much at stake.” He scanned her, noting Kenn’s ring hanging from the thin gold chain around her neck. The Marine was currently using it as proof that she was his wife. “You gonna watch the next movie?”

  “What is it? Witches of Eastwick? Harry Potter?”

  Adrian’s tone deepened. “Excalibur.”

  Angela broke the connection, feeling the hunger, the demon inside, stir. “What’s the camp viewing?”

  “Bruce Almighty, and then Independence Day.”

  She chuckled, able to recognize the usefulness of both films, but also the irony.

  The wind dropped suddenly and they could almost make out the words of those in the big tent before it gusted and they were alone again. It came to her then, what he needed, but couldn’t openly ask her for yet, and she felt no reason to delay him discovering her other gifts. She had basically brought a man (her man) back from the brink of death. If that didn’t freak him out, nothing would.

  Adrian felt the change in the slender woman next to him and stayed still as the soft hum of electricity filled the air. Her breathing was shallow, a bit faster than normal, and Adrian stored the feeling as the cool wind brushed her hair against his arm and filled his nose with vanilla.

  “They will come in the darkest hour of the wake. They hate you, plan to behead your men and rape your women while you watch.”

  “What should I do?” He was prepared to grab his notebook.

  “You’ll know when the time comes.”

  Her lids flashed open in the darkness and his pulse sped up as the witch studied him intently.

  “You have great secrets, but there is more support for honesty than you’ve given them credit for. Tell the truth now, before it all comes out,” the witch spoke to him directly, dripping need. “I’d protect you,” she seduced, and though Angela tried to pull her in, the demon continued to remain in front. “Or find you a new herd to care for…”

  The lust rolled off her in waves. A hundred times stronger than in the training tent with Seth, Angela was helpless to control the actions of the hunger inside when the witch surged forward.

  Adrian froze, too aware of her as a woman to turn away. He had time to notice she wasn’t wearing a bra under her tank top, unable to keep from dipping, and then those red orbs were locked onto his. A current of need ran the length of him as her nostrils flared, the woman inside scenting, sampling.

  Sweat, fresh cut straw, and underneath, man. Hers, if she wanted him. The witch ignored Angela’s protests as she inched forward.

  Adrian stared, drowning in her glowing depths. He knew he had to stop this. A single word would help her regain control, but he couldn’t wait to taste her, claim her.

  The witch slipped into his mind. I’m hungry.

  It was something Angela would never have said and Adrian felt the spell break as he became immune to the waves of lust the demon was hitting him with.

  He retreated. I feel her fighting. She’s not willing.

  The witch sent erotic images through his mind. She wants this as much as you do. She fears a bond with yet another man she can never have.

  Adrian opened his mouth and heard Angela clearly.

  Think!

  The witch flinched and Adrian froze as flames shot up around them.

  “I will have this!” the demon hissed violently and it cleared the final layer of haze.

  “No.”

  It was the first word spoken aloud, and instantly the witch and her fire were gone.

  Angela slid onto her knees, winded, and mortified at her lack of control. She had never been around her own kind before, and Adrian was definitely that.

  When he would have helped her up, she flinched. “I’m fine!”

  Adrian gently guided her to her feet anyway, making her look at him in the process. “Is this you?”

  Angela snorted at the very serious question. “No, it’s the Sandman.”

  Adrian kept full eye contact and hands on her skin. “Take what you need. I give it willingly.”

  His words had an instant effect, as he’d known they would.

  Thunder crashed as she drew energy from him, followed by the angry waves of a salty ocean, and then it was just them, the dead night, and two very curious Eagles.

  Angela’s voice trembled with renewed energy. “I’ll show you something beautiful as a reward for your strength.”

  Adrian felt her cool, soft presence in his mind, so unlike the feverish heat of the witch, and he struggled to control his thoughts, to keep her out of his desires.

  “This is what I see,” she whispered, blowing into her cupped hand.

  As her sweet breath rushed into his lungs, a black as death map, of their country, appeared.

  Gone! was his first thought. There was only charred outlines of apocalyptic landscapes…but as the huge sun sank, thousands of tiny lights emerged, scattered across the states.

  “Campfires.” Adrian blinked as the vision panned out and even more flickers appeared in the darkness.

  “My people!” he moaned, struggling to memorize their locations. “I’ll never get them all.”

  “We’re not meant to.”

  The map vanished at her words.

  Adrian kept his lids shut, still able to view it in his mind and Angela moved to the table, letting him work. In the distance, lightning flashed violently.

  Adrian was in heaven and hell at the same time. So many!

  How do I know the ones I remember are the right ones?

  “Fate controls that, not you.”

  Finished with his mental imaging, Adrian joined her on the table, frowning. “You use a lot of energy to do these things.”

  “Yes, and to keep the witch in line.”

  “It’s the energy she wants.”

  “It creates a bond and I think you already knew that.”

  “But having it confirmed makes the choice easier. It can be done in dreams?”

  “Yes. Don’t you worry about keeping things under control?” she asked suddenly, sensing where he was going.

  “Good leadership is control. Let her have their dreams. You’ll be in some of them anyway. Pretend you don’t know. With her satisfied, you’ll be in charge and your gifts will grow.”

  She regarded him coolly. “If I let her loose, your men won’t be good enough. She’ll go straight to the top.”

  Adrian felt need rise up and begin lashing him with stinging flares. He stood. “I won’t turn her away twice.”

  Angela shrugged, but he understood how against it she was as lightning flashed again, illuminating her features.

  “What about time with Brady? I can make some arrangements.”

  She brightened at the offer before going dim again.

  “No. I’m fine without it. I always have been.”

  “You’re doing more now.” Adrian motioned toward camp, sure the electrical storm would make the herd uneasy, and was glad when she followed. “Let her out to play. It’s just a dream.”

  Angela sighed, not certain she was strong enough to keep the witch in line tonight anyway. The demon inside already liked it here and Adrian had given her free reign.

  End of Book 1

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  Note from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  Life After war is a story that I’ve carried around in my mind for decades. It’s an honor to finally be able to share it with you. Thank you for giving me a chance.

  I’m on Facebook for any number of reasons these days, so if you’d like to check out my wall, you’ll find the url on the very last page of this book. I often talk with readers there. I also communicate with Betas and conduct some work-related business, meaning you’ll get to watch parts of the process and maybe even help me choose things--like new covers! I always listen to advice.

  Have you explored my website yet? Here are just some of the fun features:

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  You can also contact me and leave comments for everyone to view. Please stop by. You are all welcome.

  Hey, have I said thank you yet? Thanks for reading my work! I hope it drew you in and refused to let go.

  Waving,

  Angela White

  Deleted Scenes from Book 1

  Deleted Scene #1

  12/21/2012

  Granite Mountains Complex

  Stunned, Press Secretary Pat Michaels sat in the rear of the large, crowded room that was embedded under a dank maze of tunnels. Half a mile beneath a secret military base, the compound was now being overrun with terrified citizens demanding the protection they knew the Essex could (but would not) provide.

  The limestone command center was thick with smoke and people, some of them in on the original testing of these weapons. Pat hoped his own punishment would not be as harsh as theirs would. After all, they had known firsthand what a horrible thing had been created. It was so powerful, so unstoppable, that the America above them was about to be destroyed, and a new, hostile land would take its place.

  The slyest of presidential defenders since Nixon’s well used man–Pat Michaels, former press secretary–was useless, forgotten in the chaos and not even sure he should be here. His family had been in New Jersey... Someone had been with him when he got the news, had brought him along when they had evacuated from the Las Vegas convention hall, although he wasn’t sure who it had been. Amanda, the kids! How would he go on? How would anyone?

  Panic was rampant. Voices barked orders, people scrambled to get information, papers floated through the humid air, and satellite phones rang continuously, annoyingly. Thanks to an EMP and a lucky shot from a disgruntled citizen with a grenade launcher, the vice president was dead. The Speaker of the House was now the legal recipient of the highest seat in the land, but she wasn’t here and neither was the new Secretary of State. No one had discovered where they’d been evacuated to, or even if they were still alive. Those jobs were no longer in demand, and the result was chaos, fear in control. Maybe that would change later, if they survived the missile headed for Montana.

  Deep and sturdy, this complex had been built secretly during the 1990’s and not only was untested, it was less than one hundred miles from what was about to be a direct hit. Pat shuddered. They would probably feel it.

  Lurking near the back wall of air vents and panels, the press secretary broke into a light sweat as one of the remaining clocks on the cold, sterile walls around him neared and then passed the five minute mark.

  Washington, New York, and most of the east coast had already been destroyed. Of the seven warheads that the long-denied Star Wars program hadn’t been able to deflect, three were definitely going to find US targets, and maybe two others that they had lost radar on would as well. Their own warheads had decimated countries around the globe, and now, America would pay the price.

  The huge, multi-picture screen in the front of the crowded room changed when the next clock hit four minutes, flashing to a satellite view of the incoming missile careening toward the Sunshine State.

  Pat found he couldn’t look away. Why, in God’s name, had the former president done this? And who had given the technology-challenged man the disk that would allow him such unforgiving control? Surely, this was a bad dream? If not, millions more were going to die in only…

  03:45

  03:44

  03:43

  The computer switched to full alert, alarms all over the vast compound warning of the impending arrival. The press secretary’s stomach churned as the ceiling lights flickered a hazy red.

  America was in the same panicky state as this room, thanks to the convoys of soldiers taking all males, ages ten to sixty. The soldiers had been told to get a full truck of warm bodies any way they had to and be back within eight hours, and gunfire was filling town after town. They had reports of it in nearly every major city across the country: soldier and civilian wars over their sons and husbands and over remaining food and weapons. The end was close and everyone felt it.

  02:50

  02:49

  02:48

  Would mankind survive? Had they really blown themselves up? How much of this new hell was he personally responsible for? Millions of lives were already gone… So many cultures and their history!

  01:20

  01:19

  01:18

  Pat cringed at a fresh braying siren from the front of the loud, crowded, tactical room. They’d destroyed the world. Was that the red stain on his hands that refused to wash off?

  00:40

  00:39

  00:38

  When was my last orgasm? he wondered suddenly, too scared to recall what it had felt like or what the intern’s name had been. Greg? Gary?

  00:25

  00:24

  00:23

  When was my last confession? Pat struggled to remember. Did I mean it? Is it too late?

  00:15

  00:14

  00:13

  He shut his eyes and began the comforting, useless litany from his seat, still unable to make himself get on his knees even though the true hour of judgment had come.

  “Please forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  00:02

  00:01

  00:00

  “I did it for my country...”

  Deleted Scene #2

  1

  “Everyone shooting must sign in. Only people that have passed the gun class can enter. Shooters will stay in front of the gate, everyone else behind. Sign in folks, and let’s get started.”

  Jeremy was the MC tonight, Neil’s second Eagle, and as Adrian stepped by, he again caught a whiff of perfume that he now recognized as Cynthia’s, but he said nothing. Adrian wasn’t worried the Eagle would slip with anything he shouldn’t. Before the war, Jeremy had been a devout Catholic, quiet and observant. He knew the meaning of secrecy, and he’d found his place here, something the church had been unable to provide. The guard would be careful with it.

  There was standing-room-only in the bleachers, and a large crowd lined the gate as the shooters signed in and checked their weapons. Adrian was glad to discover no real fear, no desperation in the faces of his people. The crowd talked loudly, betting on
their favorites as they sat in chairs in the sand or on thick blankets. The men shooting waited behind the gate, eager to start.

  “Okay. We have twenty-nine shooters tonight,” Jeremy announced.

  Adrian picked up the clipboard on the bales of hay. “Make that thirty.”

  The crowd cheered loudly, and the other shooters groaned as Adrian signed up.

  “First, Kenn Harrison.”

  The sun was gone, the night dark and gritty, but the moon’s outline, while not clear, gave some light and made people feel better to be able to glance up and finally find it in the sky. It was something they hadn’t seen much of for almost a hundred days.

  The area was still dim, but spotlights on top of the trucks lit up the ball field and roller-bound targets. The ones set at thirty and fifty feet were hardly a challenge to the men watching Kenn get set, but the ones at one hundred and one hundred twenty-five were difficult, and all the contestants knew they would likely be gone before round seven. Adrian and Kenn had dueled it out last time, easily leaving everyone else behind. When they were shooting, no one else stood a chance.

  “As many direct hits as you can, any target. On your mark.”

  Kenn held the gun steady against the gusty wind, accounting for it, and then fired smoothly.

  The crowd cheered when the call came, and the guards on the perimeter stayed alert, knowing the noise would carry.

  “Eight bulls-eyes! Next, Adrian Mitchel.”

  The leader checked his weapon and then put it into his holster, letting his hand hang loosely like an Old-West gunslinger.

  The newer people, who hadn’t yet observed him shoot, were nervous; sure he would miss and prove he was as fallible as the rest of those who had tried to lead.

  Adrian’s hand was a blur as he drew and fired, fired, fired. He twirled the black 9mm a single time and slid it neatly into the holster on his hip.

  “Eight bulls-eyes!”

  The crowd roared, and Jeremy had to shout to be heard as Adrian grinned and joined Kenn.

  “Next, Kyle Reece.”