Nobody's Hero (3 page)

Looking up revealed a circle of azure-colored sky, so far away she couldn’t even reach it. Riley’s breath tasted thick and heavy. There could be anything in there with her. The tales about Black River were legendary.

For a moment, she thought Wade’d lied, that he was gone, but then a pair of boots swung through the hole, jeans tightening over the man’s butt as he dropped to the floor beside her. Landing lightly on the pads of his feet, with his fingertips touching the floor, he looked up.

Riley smashed her knee directly under his chin.

Wade’s head snapped back, and a growl erupted from his throat as he hit the floor. Riley jumped up, fingertips catching the lip of the manhole. Kicking desperately, she dragged herself up through the hole, hot sunlight staining her face and shoulders for a moment, arms straining, and—

A hand locked around her ankle. “Going somewhere, darlin’?”

Riley kicked out at him, but he caught her other boot. A hard yank tore her back through the hole, stomach scraping against the edge.
No!
She grabbed at a hank of dry grass, the brittle fibers tearing loose from the sandy soil. Fingernails raking over the gravel, she felt herself falling.

And then the world was dark again, strong arms catching her as she fell. Riley grabbed at his shoulders reflexively, his unnatural heat clinging to her skin. Hot breath curled over her face and, as her eyes adjusted, she caught the faint, silvery sheen of his pale eyes.

He was smiling.

The bastard was smiling.

It curled over his lips, slightly crooked and completely wicked. As though he’d enjoyed her attempt to free herself. “Entirely predictable."

Wade let her go, and Riley’s feet hit the floor. Reaching up, he grabbed the rope that trailed up through the manhole. “Lights out,” he called, then dragged the cover back into place.

The room plunged into a darkness so heavy she felt as though she were trapped in a vacuum. Her other senses intensified, and she focused on the scent of musty air, a hint of masculine sweat and wolfish musk, and the sound of denim shifting in the darkness. Her heartbeat was a ragged staccato. Wade had to hear it.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

Reaching out, she felt for anything to grab, taking slow, shuffling steps, testing each footfall before she let her heel strike the floor.

“This office opens into the psych ward, judging by the leather straps on the gurneys, and the labels on the medication bottles in there.” A warm hand wrapped around her outstretched arm. “Watch where you’re going.”

Riley turned toward him. Her own personal psycho, but then it was better to have his company than none at all. She grabbed his shirt, clinging to him in case he left her here.

“Now you want to be friendly,” he muttered.

“Don’t let it go your head. It’s not personal.”

“You’re afraid of the dark?”

“Not usually,” she admitted. “But I think the phobia’s starting to grow on me. Something about being trapped underground in an abandoned research facility with a bad reputation.”

“Nothing’s going to get to you,” he said. “I’m the worst thing here.”

“That’s not very reassuring, you know?”

He laughed, a smoky sound that lowered into a purr at the end. “You want light?”

Her heart leapt at the thought. She’d never realized how much she relied on her eyesight, how much the thought made her feel so much safer. “Please.”

He bent down, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “You can let me go, you know?”

Riley forced her fingers to open, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. The dark threatened to smother her, her breath coming as a loud rasp in the still room.

“Christ Jesus,” he muttered. “I can almost taste your fear.”

A witty retort died on her lips; all she could do was stand there and shake. Blue light sparked at knee level, and then a fluorescent globe overhead blazed to life, blinding her.

Riley took a deep, shuddering breath. The room was stark white, with a pristine warg cage in the corner, and piles of supplies. A comfortable-looking nest of grey, confederacy-issue wool blankets nestled in the center of the room, along with an assortment of clothes strung over a thin rope at eye level. There was a small cook oven in the corner, as well as a set of pots and pans. He must’ve had a generator somewhere, and a fuel supply, judging by the faint hum in the distance.

Surprisingly domestic. Wade had clearly been there a while.

Turning back to him slowly, she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was still racing, but the light had chased away the last vestiges of her panic-fueled phobia.

“You don’t need a paper bag or something?” he asked. “To breathe into?” The silvery shine of his eyes seemed more pronounced. Or maybe that was the fluorescent light that made them seem brighter.

“I-I think I’ll manage.”

“Good.” His expression hardened. Turning away, movements precise and controlled, he knelt in front of a pair of saddlebags and started rifling through them. Tension rolled across his broad shoulders.

Riley looked around.
What I wouldn’t do for a wrench right now.
It might not kill him, but surely it would knock him out for a while. Enough time to escape.

Her gaze fell on the warg cage.

Good luck wrestling him into that.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice cold and hard. It seemed entirely at odds with his earlier demeanor.

“Don’t what?”

“Do whatever you were planning to do.” Dragging something out of his bags, he turned and shot her a look that chilled her right through to the core. The monster rode him hard, staring out at her through those glacial eyes. “I can hear your heartbeat speed up.”

Riley took a sharp breath and stepped back.

Wade bared his teeth at her then looked away. “It’s the scent of your fear. It’s... arousing.”

Don’t look down... Don’t look...
Too late. She caught a glimpse of hard, muscled thighs and the thick ridge of his cock, straining against the denim. But that wasn’t the worst bit. From the look in those eyes, she realized he wasn’t just talking about sex.

Riley’s back hit the warg cage.

His eyelids lowered, body completely still except for the tick of his pulse in his throat. “Don’t ever forget that I’m a monster, darlin’.” Holding up a set of handcuffs, he gestured toward the cage. “These? Or the cage?”

Riley’s hand wrapped around the cage bar behind her. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I need to hunt.” He took a step toward her, warg-shine still glowing in his eyes.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me here,” she blurted. Funny, he might look like he was half-tempted to eat her, but the very thought of being trapped there in the dark alone terrified her more than anything.

Heat flared in his gaze. “I can’t breathe without tasting your fear. Trust me, you don’t want me to stay. So it’s your choice, the cage or the cuffs. I won’t be long. I just need to go kill something, let off a little steam. I’d rather it not be you. You still serve a purpose.”

She licked her lips, looked at the cuffs. “Don’t lock me in the cage.”

“Hands out,” he snapped.

Riley held them out, her teeth ground together. Grabbing her wrist, he snapped the manacle around it, then hooked her to the cage.

As soon as she was chained, the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.” Tossing her a blanket and a canteen of water, he turned and strode toward the door.

Within seconds, he was gone.

L
UCIUS PEERED
THROUGH the scope on his rifle, focusing on the narrow canyon track that led to Black Water.

A blur of movement shifted in the hot desert sand. A man in tattered clothes, crawling over the ground near the fence where they’d come in, sniffing at the air. No doubt following their scent. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Lucius’s scent that had caught his attention. No, it was that sweet cinnamon scent of Riley’s, all hot, lush woman. More tempting than the smell of blood and animal flesh for a warg.

He’d known bringing her there would draw the attention of the settlers, maybe even McClain. What he hadn’t counted on was the local wargs. The amulet around his throat kept his mind focused, his beast instincts caged in his body, trying to tear their way out. He wanted McClain. The woman was a means to that end. But the monster within him howled for her blood, her flesh. Wanting to shove her down and take her. The creature out there, prowling along his fence line, didn’t have anything to fight off the surging instinct of the beast. All he’d be thinking about would be rutting with her.

One small native charm. That was all the difference between what he’d become, and that creature out there.

Lucius put the rifle down.

He could make the kill from here. Nice and quick. A bullet straight to the brain. But he was already on edge, pushed there by the scent of her fear, and the fact that he hadn’t hunted for a month, hadn’t let the beast off its chain. It was a constant battle of give and take, to keep his darkness leashed. He needed this to be bloody, both to satisfy the monster inside him and to make every warg in the area wary to take him on.

Sliding off the top of the building, he dashed across the shadowed yard beyond and hit the fence. It took him a second to scale it, then he vanished into a nearby gulch, moving so silently that his footsteps didn’t even stir the powder-fine sand.

Circling around, he descended into the ravine that led to Black River. Odd footsteps tracked his own and the girl’s. The warg, sniffing and shuffling as it hunted them. Lucius let himself make noise at that point, knowing the wind blew straight toward the creature.

By the time he stepped into the open, it was facing him, teeth bared and scraggly beard matted with dried blood. It had fed well the night before, no doubt. From the size of him, this was no creature that feared another. Lucius’s eyes narrowed, sizing it up. Looked like a normal man, except for the crazy eyes, and the fact it roamed on all fours. More used to spending time in its beast shape than as a man. Some skin-shifters even became trapped like that. Maybe it was easier? Because then you'd never have to return to your human shape again, knowing what you'd done the night before. Giving it all over to the beastly half of himself might end bloodily, but he'd be nothing more than instinct then, hunger, hate, rage,
monster
... And a monster didn't care. A monster didn't feel the cold, hard bite of loneliness as he faced night after night by himself.

Maybe, he told himself. One day. But first, he had matters to take care of. Matters like revenge....

“Woman?” it hooted. “Where’s woman?”

Lucius took a step toward it. “She’s mine.”

“Mine,” it snapped, skittering toward him at breakneck speed.

Lucius splayed his hands out, letting the shiver of the beast out just enough to feel it on his skin. His fingernails lengthened, became claws. The warg was on him before he knew it, dangerously fast. No doubt fueled by human meat, and the rage of his inner monster. A dangerous opponent, when Lucius dared use only his man-shape. He smiled.
Might be an even matchup
.

He stepped to the side, claws raking across the warg’s shoulders. Blood spattered across the sand, and the man screamed. Veins throbbed in the warg’s temples as he turned, baring his teeth in a hiss. Pupils flashing, his shoulders suddenly expanded, tearing through his ripped flannel shirt. Thick, bulging muscles that had nothing to do with a human form. Only the obscene.

The warg roared, his face half-shifting, teeth elongating, and his eyes narrowing to thin slits. Lucius danced forward, striking out with his claws. The warg darted back, caught in half-shift. Normally, that would have bought Lucius the game, but this warg was old, clever. And he’d obviously managed to control his shifts long enough that the half-form gave him no disadvantage. Indeed, with those teeth, and his man’s brain still mainly in control, this bastard had become a far more dangerous adversary than Lucius had predicted.

“Fuck it.” He spun out of the way of those snapping teeth. But it was too late. Claws raked his thigh as the creature sprang for his throat.

Driving his fist up, Lucius buried his claws in the creature’s stomach, using its momentum to shove it up and over his shoulder. It landed on cat-quick feet, and he barely had time to turn before it was on him again, driving him down toward the dirt.

Lucius twisted, bringing his fist forward in a solid punch. Blood sprayed the sand, and one of the warg’s teeth moved. Its claws raked his gut, plowing white fire through him. Lucius ground his teeth together on a scream and twisted the creature into a wrestler’s hold, one arm around its throat, his legs locked around its hips. Crushing it too close to him to do any damage. He yanked the warg’s head back, bracing his forearm against its throat. The stench of its greasy, matted hair seared his nostrils along with the stink of decaying human flesh. No doubt it took its prey back to whatever it called home and ate it there.

“Leggo!” it rasped, raking at his forearms with its claws. No sound that should ever come from a non-human throat.

Lucius ground his teeth together and hauled back harder. A snap cracked through the air, one of its vertebrae. The body flopped onto his, breath rasping through its throat. Lucius twisted, making sure the neck was broken before rolling to his feet. He stunk, the warg’s smell leeching into his clothes and skin. Turning away, bile burning in his throat, he ripped off his shirt and threw it away.

A fly buzzed around the body, sprawled obscenely on its back in the canyon floor. Lucius glanced at it then away, examining the low foothills. There’d be more wargs out there, but few of them ventured out during the day. It was too hot, and they mostly wore their human shapes during sunlight. Human logic would keep them in the shade near water. Only when the moon rose would they have no choice but to turn, the warg curse tearing through their bodies and bringing the beast to the surface. Only a few ever learned to control it.

Ignoring the body, he returned to his rifle on the roof, and the duffel bag of spare clothes he’d brought with him. The bloody slashes across his abdomen had stopped bleeding, beginning to crust as heat burned there. He swiped at it with a spare shirt, ignoring the pain. Sometimes pain was good. Reminded you that you were still human – or human enough.

Stripping off his jeans lessened the smell, but it wouldn’t fade entirely. Not until he’d washed.

Fury simmered beneath the surface of his skin. The fight hadn’t been long enough, or bloody enough. It had taken the edge off, but it wouldn’t take much for him to rise to the killing edge again. He needed to go hunting.

And he needed to feed the woman.

Kill two birds with one stone.

This time, Luc took the rifle with him. One taste of sweet blood in his mouth and even the charm wouldn’t be enough to hold him. He was on edge again, and he knew why. So many days, months, years alone, and there she was, invading his space with her sweet smell, and the dangerous allure of her fear.

Besides, the taste of raw deer flesh made the man in him sick at the thought. Or
not
sick. Maybe it was the opposite? Maybe the idea of craving it made him sick. It reminded him too much of what he could be.

Of what he had been.

N
oise echoed through the tunnels
.

Riley lifted her head from her arms, her lungs seizing as she tried to listen. Wade coming back? Or something else?

Black River was notorious amongst the settlers at Haven. After the skies blackened in 2083 – the result of the meteor carving through half the Continent and sending dust clouds into the sky, joined by the smoke from the wildfires that ravaged the world – it had been abandoned as the world turned to shit. The scientific team who’d been in charge of the experiments had been trying to flee when something went wrong. Her grandfather had been part of the team that first entered Black River searching for survivors. Only three of a group of twenty had returned, raving about revenants eating human flesh and brains, about blood splashed over every wall, every surface... Her grandfather had never really recovered. He’d kept to himself mostly, though they’d had to sedate him in the end. Any sudden loud noises or bright lights could send him into a fury, where he wasn’t quite sure who he hit, or tried to kill.

The other two survivors didn’t last long either. One had died during the six years of the Darkening, when food grew scarce and people were forced to retreat to secret bunkers underground to survive. The other survived the Darkening, only to vanish out into the desert one night, muttering about the dead coming to life again.

Over the years, Black River became a rite of passage for local youths. Back before the reivers formed organized parties, her own father had been one of the kids who’d ventured out to see what secrets Black River owned. Or to find out what had driven his father mad, most likely. Four teenagers went in. Two came out. Nobody talked about the two bodies they never found, but the local settlements got together and passed a law. Nobody entered Black River. This entire swathe of land was off-limits.

Riley looked up sharply as noise sounded through the walls. Empty, clanking sounds that echoed from some distance away. Staying very still, she cocked her head to the side, trying to listen. There it came again. Another echo, like a lead pipe striking a wall.

She yanked hard on the metal bracelet around her wrist, skin tearing at the edges. She’d tried to undo it when Wade first left, to no avail. But this new fear spurred her on. Something was coming. Something deep in the facility. She just knew it.

There was no way she could get the handcuff over her wrist. Not without dislocating her thumb, which she was loathe to do. Her gaze strayed to the keys hanging from a hook on the far wall. She’d never reach them.

Glancing around revealed nothing long and thin with which to retrieve them.
Damn him. What I wouldn’t give for a broom right now.
She glared balefully at the hook. It looked like plastic.

Breakable. She knew that. Her grandfather had collected old relics and items, anything pre-Darkening. He’d hit her once, when she played with an old toy truck and broke it. That was the last time her father let her visit him. She’d been seven.

A plan began to form. Standing up, Riley extended her foot, her hiking boot falling just short of the nest of blankets at the base of the wall. Straining, she stretched her whole body out, toes pointed, each muscle in her frame trembling. The tip of her boot landed on the edge of the blankets and Riley stilled, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Hollow noise echoed through the wall, close to her ear. Swallowing hard, she edged the blankets toward her.

The thick wool was warm with Wade’s scent. It wasn't entirely disgusting. Reminded her of a man – sweat, dirt, hard labor, and warm skin. Scowling to herself, she bent down and picked up one of the blankets, shaking it out before kicking the rest of them to the side. There was a thin mattress rolled out underneath, but Wade obviously didn’t care much about comfort since the floor was hard linoleum, the blankets thin.

What had brought him out there?

Revenge against McClain? There had to be some reason for him to want the man dead, and it had been personal. The light of it had lit his eerie eyes, which meant he knew Adam McClain somehow.

McClain wasn't exactly a friend, though everyone else seemed to think him some kind of hero. His arrogance rubbed her the wrong way every time she heard his voice. McClain didn’t ask people to do things, he told them as if he expected it done. For the last few months, he’d been pushing her to commit the people of Haven to him – to abandon their settlement and accept his protection. His argument was that the reivers were coming, and Haven had to be the next on their hit list.

Of course, McClain ruled one of the more old-fashioned settlements. His entire council included only one female, and that was his sister. He’d also made it quite clear that if Riley wanted a protector, she had only to ask. As if she hadn’t spent the last six years of her life looking out for herself, or even earning her own spot on Haven’s council.

He was a chauvinistic asshole, but he wasn’t a bastard.

So, why would Wade want him dead?

And why should she care? All she needed to think about was how to escape him.

With a scowl, Riley flipped the ends of the blanket out straight, letting it settle on the floor. It took three throws before it rested against the far wall, nice and flat.

Wade had even left a pair of heavy boots behind. Riley dragged one toward her with the tip of her shoe, then hefted it. Nice and solid. Real leather with heavy soles crusted in red dust.

The boot hit the plastic hook dead-on, and the thing smashed to pieces. Riley blinked in surprise as the keys dropped neatly onto the blanket along with the boot, and the pieces of hook.

Well, what d’you know?

Grinning to herself, she grabbed the edge of the blanket and hauled it toward her. Slipping the key into the lock on her handcuffs, she clicked it, and the metal sprang open.

Free.

Ignoring the ominous clanking, she grabbed a spare pack and filled it with some of the foodstuffs he had stored in crates along the wall. Wade was there for the long haul, his provisions well-thought-out, if not exactly gourmet. Hardtack and dry biscuits, sourdough bread, a wheel of cheese, flour, sugar, tea, and canteens with fresh water in them. There was plenty of weaponry too. She stole a knife, testing the edge with her thumb before strapping the sheath around her thigh. An old military rifle with plenty of cartridges that looked like it had once belonged to one of the enforcers. A closer look showed they were silver shot, most likely for taking down a warg. It would work perfectly, as long as she wasn't overtaken by a roving band of enforcers, who'd want to know how she'd got it. They tended to shoot first, then ask questions.