Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  Chapter Nine

  Ryder sat at the small table for two in his cluttered but clean kitchen. Coils of copper wire, boxes of powder clay, paints and odds and sods to aid in his creations lay on the counter, the floor, and were rammed into the cupboards.

  He stared at the small cake with the lone candle and the bar of chocolate neatly wrapped. In the workroom sat the finished kart, gleaming and ready for its first run. But the person he’d done it all for was absent.

  Stupid! He’d been so stupid to think she would come, but he had believed she would and now he was sitting here staring at a cake that he had taken a beating to obtain, and she was a no show.

  He stood, intending to pick up the cake and throw in the bin. He didn’t care, not really. He’d felt sorry for her, that’s all, and then a thought occurred to him.

  What if something had happened to her? What if she was hurt?

  He had to know for sure.

  Placing the cake in a tin box, he slammed out of his home.

  Rubble Town was settling in for the evening. As the sun fell from the sky, people locked their doors and bolted their shutters, chairs and tables that had been set outside were dragged indoors and things were made as secure as possible.

  He wasn’t sure why they bothered. If something outside wanted in, then it wouldn’t be much of a fight. With the way things were now, there would be no help from the neighbours. People kept to themselves. It was safer that way, but even with this mentality, Ryder was an outsider to them.

  His height, his bulk, it frightened them. When he walked by they disappeared into their homes. The only ones who spoke to him were the ones with little or nothing to lose; the loners, the elderly, and the women who desired his body.

  He took what he could from these interactions; it was how he’d educated himself about this world.

  Questions, always questions.

  Midge was the only one who’d never looked at him as if he was a monster.

  By the time he made it to the hovel he knew to be hers, the sky was red. It was what remained of a two-storey home. The top was gone and her family had boarded it up enough to make it water tight to live in the bottom half. He’d followed her enough times to know where she lived. Each time he’d told himself he was simply going for a stroll, but it had been more than that. He’d been worried about her, wanting to know that she got home okay.

  He stood outside her home, now unsure what to do next. He raised his fist to knock then dropped it.

  This was stupid, it wasn’t his problem. He should just turn around and leave and he was about to do just that when the door swung open and a dark-haired beauty with a black eye and busted lips stared up at him. Her eyes widened in horror and the door slammed in his face.

  The woman from the Under. What was she doing here? He recalled her horrified expression when she’d set eyes on him at the arena and again now. Did she know him? Did she know who he was, what he was?

  He had to speak to her, whether she wanted to or not.

  Chapter Ten

  “We have to get out of here. We have to leave, now!” Star pulled at her mother’s arm, “Get up! I’ll get Midge.” She ran toward the bedroom.

  Midge was under the covers asleep, her brow glistening, her cheeks flushed.

  “Dammit!”

  She’d have to move her. It would hurt. Fuck, what was it doing here? How had it found her? Her hands shaking, she reached for Midge, but then she heard the rap on the door.

  No!

  She flew through the living room toward the hall, but it was too late. Mum had opened the door and she was smiling up at it, nodding and being all nice.

  Star reached down to her boot and withdrew her dagger. Pushing mum out of the way, she lunged at the creature. He grabbed her wrist, twisted and slammed her up against the side of the house.

  “Calm down!” he said. “Please.”

  She struggled and wriggled, but he had her. He had her and he was going to kill her, kill them all and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Star!” her mother admonished.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” it said. “I’m going to let go now, so please don’t attack me. I don’t want to ruin the cake.”

  Cake? Had she heard right? What the hell…Midge. It was Midge’s birthday. Did this thing know Midge? It made no sense. She was suddenly free and she spun round to face him and glared at the cake he was holding.

  “Star, what has gotten into you? This is Ryder, Midge’s friend.” Mum turned back to Ryder. “Midge talks about you all the time. I’ve been dying to meet you, to thank you for the brace you made for her leg. It’s helped so much.”

  The thing, Ryder, nodded and smiled, but his eyes were wary as it looked over mum’s shoulder at Star. Star noted the bruising. It looked at least a week old and the swelling that should have been there from the beating he’d received was absent. Her stomach quivered. No human healed that quickly unless they had settler medicine or unless...he was a monster.

  And then mum was inviting him in to see Midge, and Star began to wonder if she was indeed going crazy, if she had been mistaken about those icy eyes, that face, so perfect yet so deadly.

  He swept past her into her home, her haven. She gripped the knife tighter, one false move and she’d bury it between his shoulder blades. Fuck! She wished Garret was here, but he was still incognito in City.

  There was another week of radio silence left, enough time for her to figure out if her mind was playing tricks on her or not.

  Chapter Eleven

  Garret slapped Viola’s arse hard enough to leave a handprint. She squealed like a pig and he thrust into her harder, faster. The squeal turned into a sob.

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes…”

  He rolled his eyes and continued to fuck her the way she liked it. It was the price he paid for her help. When she’d first proposed the arrangement, he’d thought, meh, whatever, she wasn’t hard to look at, had a pretty decent figure, but after ten takes of the same act he was beginning to think of it as a job. She, however, seemed to get louder each time.

  He did the clit rub thing, finishing up with his super-smooth I’m-about-to-come-manoeuvre where he paused, tensed, then went haywire on her arse.

  She went wild, pushing into him, grinding and moaning. He wondered if the settlers had porn and, if so, how much of it starred Viola.

  Finally it was over. He pulled out and flopped onto the bed beside her. She was on him in an instant, kissing his jawline, rubbing her tits up against him.

  He endured because he needed her, needed the cover she provided.

  “So good, always the best. Randy, come live with me, be my pet for real, I promise you will not be disappointed.”

  Yeah, and this was the part he hated. She was becoming too clingy. He figured another two, three favours tops and then he would have to mist.

  He smiled and ran his hands through her hair. “You know I can’t, Vi. I have a duty to my people, but once this is over, once we are free, then I will find you.” He stared into her eyes, all intense like, summoning every chick lit moment he had been forced to endure. What did they like to hear? Oh, yeah. “I will find you and we will be together. Many women have claimed my body, but none has claimed my heart.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  Bingo.

  “Oh, Randy!”

  More kisses. Man, how much more of this did he have to endure? He let her play for another few minutes, but when her hand began to travel south, he propped himself up on his elbow.

  “I have to get moving, Vi. Do you have the chip?”

  She sighed and nodded. “All too brief, always to brief.”

  “But so sweet and savoured in my mind for weeks to come.”

  This made her smile. Man, he was good!

  She slid off the bed and sashayed, all naked flesh and pale skin, toward her dresser. Rummaging in her jewellery box, she retrieved a small plastic bag containing the temporary citizen chip that would allow him to travel thr
ough City without question.

  Getting into City was easy. The Under had routes that were closed off to the public, routes the insiders used to bring them into City right under the settlers’ noses. Once here, however, they relied on their contacts, the human sympathisers. Not all settlers were bad, just like any race. There was compassion to be found, kindness and generosity in the most unexpected places, and not all the settlers wanted this life. Viola had told him of her life before, the music and laughter and beauty of Aretha. She told him about their scattered history, how they had originated on Earth, how they had travelled the stars finding home after home, until the only option left was to return. The settler civilian population had not known about the humans, and by the time they were allowed to land it was too late, much of the planet had been decimated, so many lives lost when they should have been coexisting.

  It was a nice thought, but Garret knew different, knew what the settler government did, that there wasn’t enough room on the planet for them all. They had done the only thing possible in order to survive, but now it was time for the humans to strike back, to take back control.

  Vi handed him the chip and he took it with a grateful smile. She risked her life for him, stealing from the tech labs on a regular basis. Eventually she would be found out, another reason for him to disappear.

  As if reading his thoughts, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You are worth it, my love.”

  Yeah, he was a piece of shit alright.

  Ten minutes later he was showered and dressed. The chip taped to his chest he stepped out into City proper and joined a sea of grey garbed humans as they went about their settler allocated jobs.

  He spotted the back of a dark head, long dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, and for a moment he thought it was her. That she had been reallocated and the powers that be had neglected to inform him, but then she turned her face and he saw her profile.

  Not her, not Star.

  Star was home where she needed to be. He didn’t like it, but maybe…maybe it was for the best.

  Chapter Twelve

  Midge was silent, deathly still. Ryder glanced sharply at Midge’s mother. She nodded reassuringly and he stepped further into the room, closer to the bed.

  It smelt like death.

  “Midge? Midge, can you hear me? It’s Ryder. I brought you cake just like you wanted.” His voice cracked, surprising him. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Midge?”

  Midge moaned, her eyelids fluttered but failed to open, and a long exhalation filled the room.

  “She’s dying,” Ryder said.

  The mother gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth and turning away.

  “Ever heard of tact, arsehole?” the dark-haired young woman asked.

  He frowned. “It’s the truth, why haven’t you taken her to Moss City? There’s a medical facility there.”

  “That costs a bomb. We don’t have that kind of cash. For Pete’s sake, do you think we’d be sitting on our arses if we did?”

  Ryder’s pulse jumped at her words. His eyes raked over the tiny human lying in the bed. So brave, so full of life she had been, and now she would die unless…He bit the insides of his cheeks. This wasn’t his fight, he needed to walk away.

  Midge moaned and he closed his eyes because he knew his next words would doom him. “I can get the money.”

  The mother stared up at him in awe. “Where? Where would you get that kind of money?”

  He handed her the cake. “If she wakes up then give it to her. If not, then eat it. It won’t last long. I need to go, but I’ll be back in two days. Just…keep her alive.”

  He strode out the room, brushing past the young woman, inhaling her scent as he did so. His crotch tightened and he clenched his teeth. There was no time for that now, no time for worrying about what she knew or how. He had to focus, because if he was going to win a fight without killing everyone in the room, he needed to learn to control his rage.

  He was almost home and he could feel her behind him. Man, did she honestly think he was unaware of her presence? He contemplated calling her out, but decided to let things play out.

  They reached the garage, his home, and he let himself in, heading straight for the shower. His skin felt grimy from the fight the other night. The plumbing system that had been set up for Rubble Town was intermittent at best, but he had stored up some water in his tank and a generator he’d bought a few months back meant he could have five minutes of hot water to slough the crap off his body.

  Stripping off, he stepped into his tub and flipped the switch to heat the water, then turned on the taps and stepped under the shower head.

  The water rattled in the pipes and then he was hit with a spray of delicious heat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two days…

  She had a feeling she knew what he intended to do. If she was right, then he was bleedin’ nuts. She’d seen him in that arena, seen him getting his arse handed to him. The big fight…that’s what Terry had said. She’d heard about it, once a year, fighters from all over came to Rubble Town, to the Under to compete for the ultimate prize pot. It would be more than enough to get Midge the medical care she needed, more than enough with pots left over. It was a good idea, but there was no way he would be able to pull it off, despite his size and illusion of strength. The guy’s technique sucked.

  She followed him, sticking to the shadows, wanting to see what corner of Rubble Town he called home, needing to find a way to confirm her strong suspicions about his true nature before she acted. His huge frame cut through the night with confidence and ease and she found herself tracing the line of his broad shoulders, and his taut buttocks, on more than one occasion. The tight T-shirt and even tighter jeans didn’t help either.

  She’d seen his expression as he’d looked down on Midge. The hard planes of his face had softened, lips pursed in anxiety. He cared. Could she be wrong about what he was? And if she was right, what then?

  They walked until they were at the farthest edge of town. She hung back and watched as he entered what used to be a Ford garage. Her throat tightened with memories she didn’t want to take out for a look-see.

  She waited until he had vanished inside then faltered, torn. Terry’s face came to mind. He’d seemed to think that Ryder was capable, that he could win the fight. If that was true, and even if Ryder was who she thought he was, could she put aside her fear, her anger, to enlist his help?

  There was no contest really.

  It was a long shot, but this was Midge’s life on the line and any shot was better than none. She needed to speak to Ryder. If she helped him them maybe…maybe they could do this!

  Hope flared in her chest and she quickly made her way toward the garage.

  She knocked, but there was no answer. The doorknob twisted easily beneath her hand and the door swung open.

  Who the hell didn’t lock their doors at night? She stepped inside and was hit by the smell of turpentine.

  Wrinkling her nose she called out, “Hello? Ryder?”

  There was no answer. Strange, because she’d seen him enter just a few minutes ago,

  Venturing further into the building she realised she was in a store of some sort. It was too dark to see properly. She navigated her way around the counter to the back. How had she not known about this place? The area behind the shop was a work room with a forge and plenty of tools to hammer and stretch and mould.

  A blacksmith?

  That would explain the brace he’d made for Midge. This room too was wreathed in shadow. She spotted another door across the room and made her way toward it, stepping into his home. She took in the compartmentalisation; a kitchen area, a living area and a sleeping area.

  It was cosy, clean, but cluttered.

  The sound of running water drew her toward a bathroom. She didn’t know why she stepped in. Bathrooms were used for privacy, but she didn’t think, drawn by the rush of water and the low hum that accompanied it.

  She stood in the doo
rway, her mind short circuiting at the physical perfection before her.

  Broad shoulders and a back that tapered down to a slender waist and taught muscular buttocks, thick corded thighs and calves and skin the colour of burnished gold. He was beautiful and enticing and the hum was the deep baritone of his voice as he moaned, his arm was moving, pumping as he worked himself. She couldn’t see his cock but she didn’t need to. The sounds he made tugged at her core, heat spiralling outward and downward, making her wet and then the sound stopped, abrupt, leaving her aching. The muscles on his back rippled, tensed and that was when she noticed the scar, pale and puckered at the base of his spine.

  Oh god. It was him!

  Her dagger was in her hand before she could think. All the fear, the anger, all the memories of what his kind had done came rushing to the fore and she was across the room in a flash, blade ready to slice. She didn’t get the chance to even knick his flesh. Instead, she found herself pinned up against the cool tiles while warm water cascaded over her face. The hand gripping the dagger was pinned firmly to the wall above her.

  “I don’t mind the company, but there’s no need for violence.” He cocked his head. “Or you could just continue to enjoy the show.”

  Star twisted in his grasp, but his grip was too tight. She couldn’t break free, but that didn’t dim her desire to hurt him.

  “I know what you are, I know what you did.” She made sure to inject as much vitriol into her tone as possible.

  His shoulders sagged. He exhaled and released her before stepping back, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his narrow waist.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me. I hate me for what I was, what I did. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I had no control.”

  Star stared at him, looking for any sign of deceit, any tell tale twitch that indicated insincerity, but she found none. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? She pushed away from the wall and strode past him back into the main room, heart hammering. He was the creature responsible for her father’s death, for so many deaths, but now he was telling her that he hadn’t been in control. She wanted to disbelieve him, but it made sense now. He’d been an automaton, unresponsive, unstoppable until she had struck him in the small of his back, until she had taken what belonged to him. She fingered the lump in her palm, the foreign object that had once been lodged in him. It made sense and maybe he was telling the truth.