Book of the Damned: A-E5L1-01-00: (A reverse harem, post-pandemic, slow-burn romance) (The JAK2 Cycle, Book 2)

by V. E. S. Pullen

  By all rights, we should walk away, and give her a chance to build a relationship with someone who has never given her a reason to doubt them or mistrust them, a single someone without the baggage we carry, who wasn’t brought here to further use and humiliate her, and treat her like a bitch in heat needing to be bred. Better men would do that.

  Unfortunately for her, we’re selfish pricks who recognize that she is something we have no right to, but we’ll keep it anyway.

  “Where is she?” I stopped my pacing and rejoined them in the living room, uncomfortably aware that I’d been wrapped up in my own head for way too long, like a pouting child.

  Tai met my eyes, and I saw that he’d been having the same internal debate as me, coming to the opposite conclusion. He was a better man, even if I wasn’t. He’d already resolved himself to letting her go.

  “Bathroom,” Sasha growled from the end of the hallway where he stood guard, staring down it like he could will her to appear.

  But, in fact, Tai had already let her go.

  “Motherfucker!” I cursed, pushing past him in my rush towards my bedroom.

  “What the fuck?!”

  I probably didn’t have to bust down the door, knowing what I’d find, but I did it anyway. And then stomped back to the living room, shouting, “She’s GONE!” Mostly at Tai, who already knew, that fuckwad. “She went out the window.”

  “FUCK!” Luka shouted, heading for the door. “She’s fucking barefoot, no phone, no—” he rushed out the door then stopped, turning back, shoulders slumped. “Patrol.”

  “How are they always—”

  “It’s their job,” Tai said quietly. “All of this is about protecting her. She’s got armed soldiers following her everywhere.”

  “Armed guards and she uses them as a taxi service,” Sev said, collapsing back in his chair. “This is on all of us. We have to fucking fix it.”

  “Chasing her down tonight, all five of us descending on her? Not a good idea,” I advised, wracking my brain to think of the best approach. “It needs to be on her terms. And I think— I think a night free from us, sleeping in her own bed, and getting back into her routine would help. Tai will see her in the morning, first thing, for her blood draw. He can ask her to meet with us again, someplace neutral maybe, to talk.”

  And I’d be having a serious conversation with my brother before that, about priorities, and not falling on swords.

  “Go home,” Tai said, heading down the hall towards his room. “Party’s over.” His door shut, and I knew he was done for the night. Frankly, so was I.

  “Let’s go,” Sasha said to his brothers, and they filed out the door. I locked it behind them.

  Azzie

  I tried ignoring it, I really did.

  I fled Spai’s house like a fucking child, tears streaming down my cheeks — barefoot, when I protect my feet like they’re priceless damn artifacts — and waved down a patrol. No one asked me anything. No one ever does, even when it’s someone I know well.

  They drove me home while I sniffled and snuffled in my seat, using my sleeve as a tissue, and dropped me off at the curb in front of Greg and Rachel’s house. I punched in the door code and shuffled down the hall, ignoring the family watching a movie together in the den, and locked myself in my room.

  Once again, didn’t regret for a minute taking over the master suite and making Greg and Rachel share a bathroom with the kids. Without me, their lives would be very different, if they were even still alive to begin with, so fuck it, I took the big room.

  The big room, my room, is on the other side of the house from all the other bedrooms. It has its own little covered porch looking out over the side yard, reached by a set of french doors off the seating area, and a giant soaker tub in the bathroom that I immediately filled up a few inches and shoved my feet into. What I really needed was to go to the salon, get my feet taken care of properly by people who know what they’re doing and won’t butcher my nails like I used to.

  I let my feet soak for a bit, then scrubbed them thoroughly, checking for any cuts or abrasions to make sure they were clean and I wouldn’t be bleeding all night without noticing. There was surprisingly little damage, mostly just a few tender spots from stepping on rocks that might’ve formed bruises if there was better blood flow to the tissue. My polish was chipped and my nails were getting ragged — I’d missed my appointment while I was in the hospital and would need to call tomorrow to get another. Michelle wouldn’t care if I just walked in off the street and demanded service right then, she’d make it happen, but I tried not to abuse my privilege.

  I inspected and examined and groomed with only half my mind on it, the other half going over and over what had happened. What it all meant.

  They know who I am.

  They’d known for a week.

  I wanted to believe they would’ve still been there, at the hospital, spiritually at my bedside and holding my hand while forced to stay on the other side of the barrier. I wanted to think that my blood, the vaccine, didn’t matter to them.

  But they’d already told me it was the only reason they were here, the only reason they’d joined the study.

  Did I really think that less than a week in my shining presence, exposed to my charm and gracious personality, would change those priorities? That they’d care more about me, as a person, than me as a bag of medicine that can save their families?

  Maybe a week with me unable to talk or interact might have softened their opinions, but tonight would have reminded them exactly what I was.

  A pain in the ass.

  I’d finally heard it often enough, in all the various ways, that it penetrated even my thick skull. And I finally understood what it meant: there was only one reason anyone bothered making an effort with me, and it wasn’t because of my pathetic B-cups or sparkling personality.

  I’m a living anti-virus, a receptacle of the disease and the cure. I’m a biological organism meant to be studied, cultivated in the equivalent of a petri dish, and used until all my value is exhausted. The meaningful parts will get divided up for study, the leftover bits burned to ash and interred in a government cemetery, and maybe a plaque hung up somewhere in my honor. That’s what I have to look forward to.

  I’m not like other people. I don’t have plans for a future. I don’t get to have a family someday when I’m older, a spouse and children. A career. I am life, I don’t get to have one. I’ve known this for years.

  Is it a shitty, bleak existence when there’s nothing to look forward to but declining health surrounded by oblivious or simply uncaring people who don’t even see me as human anymore? Yeah. It pretty much blows.

  Does it hurt to see everyone around me getting to experience all the things and feel all the feels, never knowing that in some ways, it’s because of me? Would they still treat me like garbage even if they knew? Some people do know, they have known…

  Yep. Asked and answered.

  But it was all worth it when I thought the vaccine was being distributed, saving every life it could, not being used as some fucking prize in a contest. Not withheld as incentive.

  I needed to find Mouse, and we needed to put Operation: Get The Fuck Out Of Town into motion — not a very creative name, but a damn good plan.

  I needed to get to Mouse’s cabin, see if she was just squirreled away and avoiding the world. It’s happened before, she has what she calls “dark days” when she can barely leave the bed, let alone the house, and me being sick again might send her into a spiral. I wasn’t up to biking over there, at least not tonight but maybe tomorrow I could get a patrol to take me close without intruding—

  Someone was knocking on the porch doors.

  I knew who it was, or at least could guess. There were five candidates. I ignored the knocking and finished cleaning up my feet.

  More knocking. My name being called.

  I brushed my teeth and my hair. I hadn’t been planning on going to bed until I ate something, but I was so tired, and They. Wouldn’t. S
top. Fucking. Knocking.

  Then they stopped knocking, and I told myself I was relieved.

  I was relieved for about five seconds after I finally exited the bathroom, shutting the light off as I peeled off my layers on the way to the closet. I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing me, there were heavy curtains over every window, including the porch doors, so I didn’t hesitate to strip down to panties and a cami to sleep in, going for a pair of socks that I’d put on once I lotioned up. Nightly rituals can be comforting.

  “As much as I’d like to see what the rest of the show has to offer, I feel compelled to say something,” a familiar deep voice said from the direction of my bed, and I about had a heart attack. I spun around, my recently removed clothes clutched to my chest, and almost fell on my ass. “We did rock, paper, scissors to see who got to come fix things, and I won.”

  “Lucky you,” I snarled. “Get the fuck out.”

  “Nope.” Fucking Sasha and his smug fucking grin! “Go on, finish what you were doing.”

  I muttered curses as I dug out a pair of flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt, dressing in the massive walk-in closet, before stomping over to the bed, my socks dangling from my fist clenched so tight my hands were shaking. “Get. Out.”

  He sighed. “No. I’ve got stuff to say and you’re going to listen.”

  “Oh, am I?” I growled, then decided maybe this could work out after all. “How did you get here?”

  My abrupt switch of topic threw him off, and he eyed me suspiciously before answering. “I drove.”

  “That obnoxious over-compensation you call a truck?” I asked sweetly.

  “The one that was given to us at orientation? Yes.”

  “Whatever,” I rolled my eyes, returning to my closet and stripping off the clothes I just put on, opting for jeans and a hoodie instead.

  “Really is a great show, I’d like to watch it in reruns,” he said from my fucking. closet. door.

  “Stop it. Enough already. I know what I look like,” I said, without turning around, my voice devoid of any emotion. None of them got to see me hurt.

  “A beautiful woman?” He asked, mildly, and I twitched. Fucking beautiful people! Always so fucking mean! I’d forgotten, for a little while, that they might as well be a different species, alien overlords examining the masses with disdain, looking for any worth the effort of probing. “You don’t believe me, I know you don’t, you don’t see what I do.”

  He sighed. I was frozen in place, my back to him, and I felt it when he approached, the heat radiating off his skin. He stopped, only inches away. When he continued, his voice was raspy and low. “You need to put on some weight, I’m not going to lie, you’ve been sick and it shows. But even skin and bones, you’re still beautiful Azzie. And it’s got nothing to do with your blood.”

  Goddammit, why was he doing this? Why was he torturing me like this?

  I felt a fingertip run up the back of my leg even through the denim of my jeans. “Long legs,” he murmured, that one finger becoming a palm cupping my bum. “Killer ass. Round and firm even when you’re underweight.” I sucked in a breath as his hand slid up under my shirt, circling around my waist to rest on my abdomen, callused palm and fingers warm and dry, scraping the skin and sending shivers through my entire fucking body. “Slim hips and teeny waist, soft belly…” His hand drifted up, cradling my breast through my bra. “Perfect tits that will only get better when you’re healthier.” He pinched my nipple between his thumb and side of his palm, and I felt it like a bolt of electricity shooting from my nipple to my clit.

  “Perfect,” he repeated in a whisper so soft that I barely heard him.

  Holding me in place with my back to his front, he kept gently kneading my breast and playing with my nipple while his other hand slid up to flick and twist my hair. “Natural redhead. So fucking hot.” He caressed my cheek as he tilted his head and ran his lips down my neck. “Smooth skin like cream, so soft all over. Beautiful face. Fucking gorgeous.” He pulled me back tight against him, his erection pressed against my lower back. “You might not believe what I say, but you should believe what you feel.”

  I was paralyzed, torn between what I wanted and what I needed. I wanted to turn in his arms and kiss him, let him show me how beautiful he thinks I am all night, over and over. What I needed was to be alone.

  “Sasha,” I finally said, my voice steady despite the damage his lips and tongue were doing to my neck and my sanity. “I know you think you’re helping, making me feel good about myself, but you aren’t.”

  “Let me show you what I see,” he murmured, sucking my earlobe between his lips and I shuddered.

  “You can’t,” I said flatly, “because you don’t see me.” He stilled, and I carefully extracted myself from his hold. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not— capable of being what you want. If you want to talk, fine, I’m willing, but you can’t touch me anymore. If you want to talk while driving me somewhere, even better.”

  I tried to step away from him but he grabbed me again — loosely, so I could pull away if I wanted — and held me against him. “And you don’t know me,” he said quietly. “You think you know what I want from you, but whatever you think you know is wrong. It’s okay, I’ll back off. For now. But we’re not going anywhere, Azzie.”

  Maybe YOU aren’t, I wanted to say, but I am. As soon as I found Mouse, we were out of here.

  You see, I’d figured it all out. All of it.

  And I was not happy.

  Chapter Five

  Azzie

  Sasha followed my directions, driving me the fifteen minute ride it took to get across town and out to Mouse’s place. We were both silent, thinking our own thoughts. Him probably planning his next move to seduce me, and me untangling everything I just figured out, looking for holes. Unfortunately, there weren’t any.

  They were recruited for a study about multiple births being conducted on a top secret military base posing as a town, where a seventeen year old girl (me!) with priceless blood lives and goes to school.

  All of them are extremely good looking and desirable. They’re older and more experienced than they’re pretending to be.

  They’ve been shoved into my face at every opportunity — in all my classes, even the lab where I go for treatment.

  By their own admission, they joined the study to get access to the vaccine I produce, for their families.

  Despite my obvious ill health, and the physical toll my disease takes on me, they flirt, flatter, and come on to me whenever we’re alone, when exceedingly more desirable women fight for their attention at every opportunity.

  If I’m willing to suspend disbelief, they may even use those women to try to make me jealous.

  I’m difficult, rude, and bitchy, and they still keep coming back for more.

  The patrol that guards me 24/7 let’s them do things like break into my house, into my bedroom.

  Less than a week before they entered my orbit, my brand-new gynecologist took me off birth control.

  I keep reminding everyone that I’m not stupid. I really wish they’d listen.

  If these men were just honest with me, I’d tell them to drop out of the study, and meet me on the outside.

  If these men were honest with me, I’d show them that I’m not some fucking bunny rabbit that’s going to freeze in place when a hawk circles overhead or the wolves are on a hunt, and I’d give them the one thing that they actually want: my blood.

  But they’re lying to me. So maybe I am a rabbit, but I’m the one that’s racing down the track ten yards ahead of the yapping hounds. And if any of them gets close enough to catch me, I’ll break them. They’ll never run again.

  I don’t care how depressed and out of it she is, I will carry Mouse out the gate if I need to. Figuratively speaking, I have like no strength right now. And there’s no way we could leave through the gate.

  “Where the fuck are we?” Sasha asked, almost petulantly, as I directed him to turn down Mouse’s driveway.
He drove the winding path through the pine forest, my leg bouncing the closer we got. I wanted to see lights on in the little cottage as we pulled up, but no luck. Fuck.

  I wished I could tell him to stay in the car, but that wasn’t going to happen. I really hoped she left me a note or something obvious so I could have him take me home and then come back tomorrow. I punched in the door code and disarmed the alarm, turning on all the lights. The house was empty.

  “This is where Mouse lives? I haven’t met her but I’ve heard about her from Tai and Sev… and this doesn’t look like what I’d expect.”

  I looked around the one room house, neat and tidy, the whole thing decorated in every piece of merch related to the Fallout games that she could dig up. Everything was Nuka-cola and vault 111 themed, Mouse’s sense of humor in every carefully chosen piece.

  I ignored him, checking the fridge. The food was spoiled.

  Now I was starting to get worried.

  I stood in the center of the room and slowly turned in a circle, looking at everything. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Things were moved. Things that shouldn’t have been.

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here while I go for a short walk in the woods, can I?” I asked, eyeing Sasha with a small, hopeful smile. I can be charming when I want to be. I think.

  “Not on your life,” he said, eyeing me speculatively. “I’m getting really fucking curious now.”

  I raised one eyebrow, not saying a word.

  He smirked. “I recognize the reference, Azzie. Show me what’s in the woods.”

  Motherfucker. Sometimes Mouse’s cleverness gets the better of us.

  I excused myself to the bathroom to mask my tracker then I led him out to the woods, not bothering to try to confuse him but just leading him directly to the door of the bunker. It’s inside a very unnatural — but natural looking — cave built into a small ridge, and it has been here so long that lichen and plants have grown over it, disguising the traces of poured cement among the rocks.