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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “Am kay, shith.” He tongue throbbed, her mouth filled with blood.

  Ryder laid her on the bed and rushed to the bathroom, returning with a basin and washcloth.

  “Spit,” he demanded.

  She did as told and then took the washcloth and pressed it against her tongue. God she hoped it was clean. Man, that hurt!

  His fingers probed the back of her head.

  Now that hurt! “Ouch!”

  He sighed. “You probably have a concussion. Dammit, Star!”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She was tired and hungry and hurt and now he was shouting at her.

  His eyes widened at the sight of tears. “Fuck, Star, I’m sorry. Look, don’t cry.”

  She shook her head. “Am kay.” Her voice trembled and she wanted to kick herself. This was not the persona she wanted to depict. She was a strong, independent woman who did not cry like a little bitch at the slightest injury. Hell, she’d taken a beating in the arena and kept a lid on it even though she’d wanted to bawl like a baby.

  The bruises still decorated her face; a nice yellow and black now. She felt gross and ugly and she didn’t want him looking at her. “Am kay, please.” She ducked her head, but he gently and firmly grasped her chin and lifted it to gaze into her eyes.

  His visage blurred and she grit her teeth, wincing at the pain shooting through her tongue. Her stomach growled and her face flushed.

  “If your tongue wasn’t hurt I’d kiss you so hard it’d make your head spin.”

  Her heart stuttered, jaw relaxed. Had she heard right? He released her and walked toward the kitchen area.

  There followed the sound of pots and pans banging. She stared at his back, the ripple of muscle visible beneath his thin T, the thick column of his neck and shorn hair. Her pulse was still racing from his words. She wanted to touch him.

  The smell of cooking meat filled the air and her stomach clenched then rumbled. In that moment she knew she could easily love this man.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ryder kept his back to Star as he flipped the burgers in the pan. The way she’d looked back then, broken, embarrassed, her eyes conveying so much, he’d almost lost it, almost crushed her to him. He wanted her and it scared him because he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out before he caved, before he put aside all his promises, killed his resolve and took her. He flipped the meat again, watching the juices seep out. He wanted her, but he also wanted to take care of her. Feed her, soothe her, hold her and protect her. He was so frigging fucked.

  The meat was ready and he flipped it onto some pitta bread and smeared sauce over the top. It was the best he could do with the rations he had. She needed to eat, and she needed to rest and he’d watch over her, make sure to wake her every few hours. If she had a concussion he needed to be alert.

  He carried the plates over to her. She’d wrapped the towel around her body but there was still too much flesh, it was too distracting.

  “I’ll fetch you something to wear,” he said, placing the plate in her lap.

  He rummaged in his basket of clothes, finding the baggiest shirt and a pair of tie shorts.

  She was scoffing the food so fast he was worried she might choke, but he kept his gaze averted, not wanting to embarrass her.

  “I’m gonna take a shower.” He headed toward the bathroom

  “What about your food?” she asked.

  “You eat it. I’ll make another when I get out.”

  “Be careful, it’s slippery in there.”

  He showered quickly, the water was tepid and he didn’t want to leave her unattended for too long. Towelling off, he pulled on his joggers and a fresh T. His stomach growled. Now it was time for food.

  He stepped into the living area to find Star curled up on the bed fast asleep. She hadn’t even put on the clothes he’d given her, but the plates were empty, so at least she’d eaten. He’d give her an hour then wake her.

  He put down his hammer, examining the fender he’d completed; the final piece to his work of art. He glanced at the battered clock. Time to wake Star.

  He walked into the room and lost his breath. She was still asleep, but she had rolled onto her back, the towel had come lose and her breasts were exposed, perfect dusky orbs with dark pink areoles and nipples.

  His crotch tightened and he exhaled, moving toward the bed. Jaw clenched he reached out to pull the towel over her. The backs of his fingers grazed her skin as he did so, and she moaned softly in her sleep. His mouth went dry, blood rushing in his ears. He needed to back away, but he couldn’t. That moan, that sound, he needed to hear it again, so he touched her again, running the tips of his fingers across her collar bones. A slight frown marred her forehead and her lips parted in a soft exhalation. He bit his bottom lip, he shouldn’t be doing this. He needed to back off, but his hands had other ideas. They caressed the tops of her breasts; feather light, waiting, and then she moaned again, a sound that made his erection throb.

  He wanted to taste, a tiny taste and then he’d wake her. He slid his knee onto the bed so that he was hovering over her and then he lowered his mouth to her skin, brushing it with his lips, so soft, warm and fragrant. His tongue flicked out to taste, trailing across the tops of her breasts to the hollow between. She whimpered, arching her back, offering herself to him. His breath was coming shallow and fast, hands running over her breasts, the nipples like pebbles beneath the towel. His mouth ached to take them and before he could think, before he could stop, he’d pulled down the towel and taken the taut, dusky delight into his mouth.

  Star gasped, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, fingertips digging in, but he was too far gone; tugging on her, drawing her in until she was writhing beneath him, whimpering, gasping, driving him wild with the sounds that she was making.

  He couldn’t think, could only feel, and he felt the satin skin on the side of her breasts as he cupped them and raised his head to look down on her.

  She was awake, her eyelids heavy with desire, mouth parted, cheeks flushed. He could take her now. His cock throbbed in agreement. He could part her thighs and slip between them, deep, hard and fast, or slow and easy. He could have her, she wanted him. He could see it in those silver grey eyes of hers. He could have her…

  He eased off her and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. “I shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again.”

  He stood and retreated into the bathroom. His cock was painfully hard, balls throbbing with the need for release. One arm braced against the wall he unzipped and grasped his erection. He closed his eyes and pictured her face as he stroked himself toward release.

  Chapter Thirty

  Star lay very still, staring at the ceiling, teeth grit in frustration. He obviously wanted her and she wanted him so what the hell was his problem? She didn’t understand, and was so fucking horny she didn’t care. He was probably jerking himself off right now while she lay here unsatisfied and—

  Sod this.

  Swinging her legs off the bed, she strode toward the bathroom, pushed open the door, stepped in and locked it behind her. He was standing with his back to her, legs apart. One arm braced up on the wall, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression tight.

  “Star, get out.”

  “No.” She dropped the towel. His eyes flared, but she didn’t give him a chance to protest as she slipped between him and the wall. She looked down at him, hard and huge, just for her, and then she took him in her hand, locked eyes with him and began to work him.

  His head fell forward, chest rising and falling as she brought him to the edge and then stalled.

  “Dammit, Star…”

  She turned her head, her mouth brushing the shell of his ear. “You want to come? So do I. You’re gonna have to fuck me, Ryder”

  His body tensed, coiled like a spring about to snap and then it did. He grabbed her hips, hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist.

  His cock rubbed against her wetness, sliding and slipping and driving her clit
wild. She moved against him, undulating, her hands buried in his hair. His mouth latched on to her neck and sucked. She cried out at the connection that formed from that point of contact to her core. She needed him inside her now.

  He moved with her, toward the sink, propping her arse against the rim while he fumbled for something inside.

  The tear of a wrapper.

  Condom.

  A difficult item to find since the settlers didn’t seem to require them, but Ryder had some. For a fleeting moment she wondered who else had lain under him, but then he was easing himself into her, stretching her, filling her with bliss.

  She wanted him all, but he was too big. She looked down on the connection, him inside her, and he followed her gaze. He began to withdraw slowly, inch by inch. She tensed around him and he gasped. Then he was pushing into her again. Watching him taking her like this inflamed her desire, and then he reached between them and began to circle her clit with his thumb. Star cried out and threw back her head. She wanted to watch, but, oh god, she couldn’t think, she needed to move. Yes, move. Needed him harder, faster.

  “Yes!”

  His voice was a guttural rasp and she realised she’d spoken out load, but it didn’t matter because he was doing it, he was fucking her, his hand working her while his cock rammed into her, his body angled away from her so he could watch her. She hung her head to see. In out in out, so wet, so hard and then she was coming, crying out and he was squeezing her hip so hard it would bruise, but she didn’t care because she could feel the throb of his orgasm joining hers, fuelling hers and for that moment they were truly connected.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  HQ would have the USB by the morning.

  Garret had handed it over to the courier and now it was out of his hands. He’d spoken to command briefly via one of their secure channels, only to be told they had the situation under control. He’d pressed the issue and been shut down.

  Star was there. He needed to know she was okay for real because saying the situation was under control meant the insider plan had worked.

  He was glad to hear it, but he couldn’t help the sense of loss that fell over him like a shadow.

  He’d checked in with command but not with his street team contact. Command had been clear to keep radio silence a little longer. The street team would worry, but he knew they’d be okay. Now it was time to rest, gather the members of the team that were already at the complex and head to Rubble Town.

  He lay back on his bed. The complex was secure and they moved every three months, having six bases in all. He could hear Ripley humming in the next room while he built one of his impressive matchstick models. The guy was a genius and an artist. In a world not ruled by the settlers he would have been famous. Instead he was simply a pimply nineteen year old with exceptional tech skills making art only a handful of people would ever appreciate.

  There were others at the complex, two other commanders like himself, and six operatives, three of which worked under him. He was waiting on Bentley, who would return that evening with supplies. He worked as a driver for Salvage cover. Then there was Gary, a solid guy and great for general observational shit, but he was no field operative. He’d been working Rubble Town so maybe he had seen or heard something helpful. If so, Garret needed to know. In truth he just wanted to hear about Star, wanted to know she was okay, even though he’d probably be seeing her in a day.

  She was something, that woman; stubborn and strong and sexy as hell. He would have been made of stone not to almost lose his heart to her. Thank god he’d held back though, otherwise the insiders’ plan would have stung a hellava lot more.

  He was drifting off when a tap on the door pulled him back to consciousness. He cracked open his eyes.

  “Boss, got a message from command.”

  Garret took the slip of paper Ripley offered him and read the curt paragraph.

  Sod that!

  “Get command on the line for me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  This wasn’t how she’d imagined her next up close and personal encounter with Ryder would be. Pinned to the floor and writhing to get free. She could feel him growing, getting hard against her, his pupils dilated. She wanted to reach down and—

  “Focus!” Terry said. “You know what to do.”

  She grit her teeth. “Dammit there’s no leverage.”

  “Then give in.” Garret’s voice said in her mind. “Let him think you’ve won.”

  She stopped fighting and Ryder eased up a fraction, giving her the chance she needed. His eyes widened as he realised, too late, what she was about to do.

  Her fingers closed around his testicles and she squeezed.

  “Okay, you win,” he said tightly.

  She locked eyes with him, a short sweet moment before releasing his jewels.

  Terry was laughing, a wet sound that grated on her nerves.

  Ryder rolled off her, getting to his feet then offering her a hand.

  “You as ready as you’ll ever be at such short notice,” Terry said. “Star, you got to focus on keeping Ryder clean and Ryder you tag her once and then gets her out there fast. Long as she sets foot in the arena, at least once you qualify.” He turned to Star. “You gots to evade, honey, best you can. Three fights to qualify and I checked who yous fighting first.”

  “Who?” Ryder asked.

  “Carter and James. Them twos been a team for a long time, and their fast and wily sonofabitches. If you beat them then you gots a chance.”

  They left Terry with mixed emotions. Star’s stomach was filled with butterflies, fear, anxiety, excitement. Fear for the fight that evening, anxiety for Midge, and excitement at being alone with Ryder again.

  Although there was a little confusion mixed in with that. He’d been awfully quiet since their little shag in the bathroom. Was he regretting it? She didn’t understand why. He was single, she was single. He obviously wanted her. She wanted to ask him straight out what his problem was, but what if he thought she was being clingy and insecure? Best to wait a bit, see how things played out.

  An hour later and she was coiled tighter than a spring, and all she wanted to do was get away from Ryder. She knew just the place to help her wind down.

  “No,” Ryder said.

  “Fine, I’ll see you at the arena in time for the fight then.” She headed toward the workshop but didn’t make it far. Ryder’s grip on her elbow was like steel.

  “You’re not going alone.”

  She shrugged him off and glared at him. Who did he think he was telling her what to do? He’d ignored her, keeping his distance as if she had the plague, making the past hour since training torture. It was obvious he was trying to send her a message, the sex had been just that—sex—and if she had anywhere else to go right now, and if it wasn’t for Midge, she’d be out the door. One night stands weren’t usually her thing, but she knew the score. You fucked and you left and, in this case, Ryder was stuck with her. It made sense now, why he’d been reluctant to sleep with her. He’d known she’d be around for a while. The tenderness she’d seen in his eyes was an illusion, and yeah, she was pissed, more at herself than him to be honest. She’d followed him into the bathroom, she’d egged him on, she’d wanted him and now there was this awkwardness that made her want to scream. She needed to get out, with, or without him.

  His breath hitched and his chest heaved and he backed away.

  “Star…” The word was a strangled gasp.

  Shit, the bloody switch, she needed to rein it in. God, this was so unfair! She couldn’t even get pissed around him without it setting him off!

  Only one way to resolve that. She turned on her heel and left

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Spot was heaving—pre-fight crowd plus the usual. She didn’t come here often, preferred to fly under the radar, but she had her contacts and checking in on Garret would make her feel better. The Spot was an old converted warehouse off the Under, the go to spot for warm-ups, hence the name. She wound her
way through the crowd, strobe lights blinding, giving everything a rose and emerald tinted haze, where even the gross found beauty.

  Her aim was the bar that ran the length of the back wall, but her body ached to move, to dance to the bass beat that throbbed through it. In a minute, she promised.

  Peroxide was in right now, and Henna was big too, so many crazy hues of hair. It was the people’s way of getting on, forgetting that they were now outcasts in their own world. Kholed eyes and rouged lips; purple and black and blue. Punk was so back.

  Star drew eyes simply for standing out, clean face, dark hair, and plain clothes. Yeah, what a turn on.

  She reached the bar without incident, eyes scanning the length looking for that familiar face.

  She spotted it to her far right, lips curled in a familiar sneer, hip cocked as she watched the crowd, Mohawk, razor sharp and gleaming silver in the strobe lights.

  “Mae!” Star called out.

  Mae’s head whipped round. Her lip curled, becoming more pronounced. She rolled her eyes then sauntered over.

  “Names Murder, Star. Say it.”

  It was Star’s turn to roll her eye. “You killed one guy.”

  “Yeah, and how many you killed?”

  Right, she had a point. “Fine, you made your point…Murder. I need your help.”

  Murder ran her tongue over her teeth and stripped Star with her eyeballs.

  “Not happening.”

  “I can rock your world, baby, and you know it. It scares you don’t it?” She stuck out her tongue and wiggled it about. “This thing got skills.”

  “You finished?”

  Murder sighed. “Yeah, what you want?”

  “Status report.”

  Murder shrugged. “Nada”