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Authors: Angelique Voisen

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Mace snarled, pupils gleaming gold
under the living room lights. “Why the fuck would you do such a stupid thing?”

“Same reason why you attacked a
slaver convoy, and why Sweet pissed off a major player like The Collector.”

He tried to think past his anger,
because that would get them nowhere. Despite how hard it was Reaper reined in
his pissed-off animal and focused on human logic. Reaper knew Mace wouldn’t
react like this if not for the recent string of events that destabilized Wolf
County’s hard-earned peace.

“Mace, Reaper made a valid point,”
Mercy said, taking position by the door.

To Reaper’s surprise, Mace didn’t
throttle him.

“Fuck,” Mace said, and then glanced
at Reaper. “This human didn’t just want to kill you, he wanted to turn you into
bits and pieces. That isn’t incentive enough to stay the fuck away from him, or
better yet, kill him?”

“He made a mistake. Fuck, Mace.
Someone else used him.” Reaper took deep a breath, and Mace released him. His
wounds began to heal, but Reaper wouldn’t forget Mace meant every word. “Kane
and I understand each other now.”

Mace didn’t speak for a couple of
seconds, but his pupils turned back to human gray. “Revo says you’re going to
deal with the fucker who sent this human after you?”

Reaper nodded. “Harvey Fisher won’t
be a problem. He doesn’t give a shit about the Hellhounds. His juice is with
me.”

“Fisher.” Mace curled his lip. “That
bastard killed plenty of our kind, Reaper. Holed himself up with like-minded
fuckers who would wish us extinction.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to fucking
make sure he’s dead.”

“You better, or don’t fucking
bother coming back here. Your brother might be a dick, but at least The
Collector never made it past our defenses,” Mace said, and Reaper finally
understood why the alpha was so furious.

Mace and the other leaders worked
hard to keep their territory safe from outsiders. Time and time again, bigger
and badder fuckers tried to wreck their home. Reaper would be furious too. They
understood each other, Mace and he.

“I understand, Mace. Kane and I
will be out of Wolf County by tomorrow.”

To his shock, Mace grinned. “Happy
hunting.”

Mace and Mercy saw themselves out.
Reaper wondered if he’d receive any more visitors. Certain no one would come, he
walked back to the bedroom. Reaper watched Kane sleep for a couple of minutes.

Before Reaper left to speak with
Sweet, Kane looked peaceful in sleep. Nightmares seemed to plague him now,
making him toss and moan. Slipping in between the sheets, Reaper gathered Kane
close to him, and began stroking his back. Eventually, Kane calmed down, his
breathing becoming even again.

No, Reaper decided. He couldn’t
leave Harvey Fisher alone. The bastard needed to account for his sins, for
turning an angry, lost boy into something he shouldn’t be. Recalling the way
Kane shook, his hand on a silver blade, and the fear in his wide eyes when he
learned the timer of the suicide vest went off, made his insides churn with
unspeakable fury.

“Reaper,” Kane murmured again, nuzzling
his head against the hollow of Reaper’s shoulder. Funny how Kane used to utter
Reaper’s name with so much hatred, but now, he said his name softly, tenderly.

“We’re going to fucking fix this,
Kane. Put the past behind us,” Reaper promised. It didn’t matter Kane continued
to sleep. He needed to hear the words out loud.

Rough days and nights awaited them
once they started hunting Harvey Fisher down. Knowing Kane, Reaper anticipated
a fight about to erupt between them. Fisher screwed him over, but a part of
Kane still believed his former teacher deserved redemption. He didn’t want to
think his mentor thought him so cowardly that he didn’t tell him about the
automatic timer on the vest. Some would call Kane dumb or naïve, but that
preserved goodness made him special to Reaper.

Too bad Reaper lacked what Kane
possessed in abundance. The fucker who twisted Kane into this had to die, no
matter the circumstances. If Reaper let Harvey live, then the hunter wouldn’t
rest. Fisher would keep sending killers after Reaper and Kane.
Unacceptable.
Reaper might not deserve
Kane, but Kane accepted him. Chose him, and Reaper intended to keep Kane.
Knowing what Reaper was, Kane shouldn’t be surprised. He was mated to a killer
after all. They were bound until death, but Reaper didn’t intend on dying
anytime soon.

 

Chapter Six

 

“Yeah, I have the monster’s body
locked in my trunk,” Kane told Harvey on his cell.

He was aware of Reaper standing in
the doorway of the tiny motel room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Still
felt odd, lying to his old mentor. His voice sounded even enough, although his
heart beat furiously against his chest.

Thank God, Harvey couldn’t see his
expression or read his tense body language. Things Harvey taught Kane to look
out for in his prey when he went on a hunt. Weaknesses. Now Kane exploited
those teachings to side with the monsters he hunted. Hell, Kane mated one, and
he didn’t regret it one bit. Looking back, Kane laughed and mourned the young
man who saw the world in terms of black and white, never accounting for the
shades of gray.

To stay with Reaper, to get a shot
at a future, they needed to balance the books. Reaper intended to have Harvey’s
head, but Kane would convince him otherwise. Although, Kane had no clue how to
manage that.

Knowing Harvey, he would make Kane
go over the details of the kill on the phone. Kane didn’t embellish, didn’t
boast. He said the fight was hard, ugly, and he nearly lost his life, that in
his half-dead state, he lured Reaper into a trap, and by happy accident, his
knife won against claws and canines.

Realistic for Harvey to believe
Kane got lucky, than attaining victory by pure skill alone. After all, how
could Kane, a half-baked hunter succeed, where Fisher would fail? It galled
Kane how Harvey thought so little of him, but those days had come to an end.

Harvey let out a surprised breath,
then it turn to a dry chuckle, a hysterical little laugh. “Never thought you’d
manage it, kid.”

“Me neither, but we need to talk
about certain suicide vests going off.” Kane waited for Harvey to deny it, to
have a valid excuse.

With Kev and his mother gone, Kane
wandered, angry and lost, in the fresh Post-fall world for months. Meeting
Harvey gave him purpose. Despite the harsh training, he thought of Harvey as
the father he knew never.

Betrayal stung, made Kane despise
Harvey for thinking so little of his life, but he couldn’t despise Harvey
completely too. During those days out in the sand, where Harvey taught him how
to shoot and hand-to-hand combat against shifters, made Kane feel alive and
wanted. Like he belonged somewhere, but had Kane fabricated those memories?

Harvey finally answered, “What can
I say, Kane? I needed insurance, and you said you didn’t value your life.”

“I do now,” Kane let a little of
his contained anger and disappointment show. The rest of the broken world might
not give a fuck if he lived or died, but Reaper did.

“Always a hotheaded boy. Let me
guess. You botched your escape plan?”

We’re
back to business then. How typical of Harvey.

Kane caught Reaper’s gaze. He knew
the biker heard every word. Reaper nodded. “I need sanctuary, Harvey. The
Hellhounds are after my ass, but I can make a clean break. I need to come
home.”

Once upon a time, Kane believed he
could call the shantytown ruled by old relics and hunter home. Looking back now,
though, painted a clear picture. Most of the folks in New Melville merely
tolerated his presence, because of Harvey. Despite having a room in Harvey’s
house, Kane slept with a gun under his pillow. He carried weapons whenever he
went, even inside the compound.

Kane might be human, like them, but
perhaps they sensed something in him not right. After all, hadn’t Kane belonged
with the monsters?

“I want the fucker’s fur. Hell, I’m
going to mount the mongrel’s head above a plaque.”

Kane shivered, remembering the
heads Harvey showed him, the hunter’s greatest enemies, forever preserved on
his living room walls. “You got it.”

“I’ll give word to the guards at
the gate,” Harvey said eventually, not without reluctance. No word of encouragement
or thanks, but that was just like Harvey.

He cut the call and looked at
Reaper.

“Did catch all that?”

“I did.” Reaper moved towards Kane,
and Kane didn’t realize how badly he shook, until the solid press of Reaper’s
chest molded against his back. Sagging against Reaper, Kane hated how weak he
was, then and now. Kev had always been the strong one. Kane liked to pretend,
hoping someday he’d acquire steel in his backbone.

Even now, he trembled against
Reaper, letting Reaper spin him. Kane avoided his gaze, but Reaper turned his
chin upwards, so Kane met his waiting gaze.

“Sorry,” Kane mumbled.

Frowning, Reaper brushed a finger
over his bottom lip. “For what?”

“For being so fucking useless and
weak.”

“You’re not. I can see Harvey means
a lot to you.” Reaper didn’t hide the disgust in his voice, or his enmity.
“Betrayal from someone you once trusted isn’t easy to get over.”

“Harvey didn’t elaborate how much
history you guys had,” Kane pointed out.

He tried to focus, but he couldn’t
ignore the tempting press of Reaper’s body, the hard muscles he liked running
his fingers across, and the bulge pressing against Reaper’s jeans, and his own.
Didn’t help Reaper could probably smell his arousal. Damn shifters and their
sense of smell. Feeling horny all the time—was that an aftereffect of receiving
Reaper’s mark?

Hell, Kane didn’t want to ask.
True, he gave consent in the spur of the moment, in the heat of the moment, but
regret and panic didn’t set in after, like he thought. Instead, a kind of peace
settled over Kane. A sort of incomprehensible surety the world was right again.

With no more secrets left to hide,
Kane felt completely at ease with Reaper, on the back of Reaper’s bike, while
they left Wolf County and headed for Beaver’s Mill. The Mill served as a kind
of rest stop for the last everything—whores and rent boys, basic supplies and
gas. After that, Kane knew they would be hard-pressed to find necessities.

Reaper mentioned trust, and Kane
knew they had to possess a lot of it, to survive each other in the wastelands.
Logic and honed instincts told Kane he should be a little more worried, a
little guarded with a man he’d never traveled with before. A stranger, who
happened to be his mate, but he’d seen Reaper’s fierce loyalty. Reaper risked
the wrath of his club for him. Kane needed to be worthy of that sacrifice.
Simple.

“Are you sure you want to hear this
now?” Reaper eventually asked. Sensing the reluctance there, Kane wondered if
he was opening a can of worms he shouldn’t.

“Yes. Please.” Although Kane saw a
flash of Reaper’s memories during the mating, he didn’t see the details. Just glimpses
of Reaper and his brother dodging Harvey and his crew, and fights that ended in
heavy casualty.

“We should sit down.”

Alarmed, but trying not to show it,
Kane took a seat on the edge of the bed. Electing to stand, Reaper paced while
he talked. “When we first met, Fisher didn’t know what I was, or I, he. We met
at a roadside bar, two lonely men looking for a hook-up.”

Kane didn’t know what he expected,
certainly not this. Ignoring the unexplainable envy that wormed its way inside
him, Kane mentally did the calculations. Werewolves aged much slower than
human, although they weren’t immortal. “That was twenty years ago?”

Reaper nodded. “Both of us were
young. Stupid. I won’t bore you with the fucking details. Harvey got roaring
drunk. I shot up a vein. The next morning, I woke with a blade to my throat.
Back then, Harvey had only been a trainee hunter, and he didn’t have the guts
to end my life.”

A knife to Reaper’s throat—like
master, like student. The thought Reaper met Harvey in a circumstance similar
to his, knotted his insides. Made Kane wonder if anything good can really come
out of hate, but he couldn’t dwell on it now. Besides, Kane couldn’t define what
his relationship with Reaper would be like. Fisher had been a one-night stand.
Reaper made Kane his mate.

Hell, everyone could see the now
healed bite marks on the side of Kane’s neck to know he belonged to a shifter.
Not just any werewolf, but Reaper. The fear would continue to linger in the
back of Kane’s mind though. Two decades. A lifetime. That was how long Harvey
cultivated his hate. Enough, Kane wanted to say. He didn’t want to hear
anymore, but he could see Reaper struggling with the weight of his memories.
Had Reaper kept these shameful memories purposely locked up when he gave Kane
his mating mark?

It didn’t matter. They were dragging
out all their dirty laundry out now. Kane listened as Reaper told him about the
long years of Sweet and him running from Harvey and his crew, his tone
unemotional and detached. Harvey hadn’t been anything special. He’d just become
one of Reaper’s many enemies. Kane predicated the rest. The Fall made it hard
for Harvey to track Reaper. Disappeared had been the words Harvey used,
although the old man never gave up.

“Fisher made one last attempt, but
his crew targeted my brother.” Reaper let out mirthless laugh. “My wolf didn’t
like the bastard playing dirty. Together with Sweet, we killed each member of
his crew. The slippery bastard escaped, became history, and I thought he died
or moved on. Then you know what happened. Sweet and I separated, and I rode
with some bad company.”

“A slaving crew. The ones
responsible for taking Kevin,” Kane said.

Nodding, Reaper didn’t offer
anything else.

Peachy, because Kane felt too
exhausted to think about his brother.

“Tell me about how you met Harvey.”

“There’s nothing much to say,” Kane
returned the favor. “My trail picked up two years after I identified Kevin’s
body. Gathering information led me to Harvey and New Melville.”

By the time he finished telling his
side of the story, Reaper went downstairs during an interval to get them some
greasy fried grub along with some beers.

“New Melville, huh?” Reaper didn’t
hide the distaste in his voice.

“You know about the town?”

Reaper let out a laugh. “Every
shifter does. A place that breeds angry and fanatical humans is something most
avoid. We can’t draw Harvey out?”

“He’s paranoid. Harvey wouldn’t
leave his house,” Kane mused out loud. He popped a French fry into his mouth,
regarding Reaper thoughtfully. “I have an idea, but you won’t like it.”

“As long it doesn’t involve
fighting our way into that damn compound,” Reaper said.

Rubbing his palms together, Kane
told him.

****

Days bled to weeks. Time passed
differently in the wastelands. The rolling landscape looked the same, filled
with sand and dead things. Towns or what passed for human civilization, became
few and far in between. Riding behind Reaper on his bike, Kane found a strange kind
of peace. The heat mercilessly bore down on them, but Kane liked burying his
head between Reaper’s shoulder blades, resting his head there.

Occasionally, he’d point out things
he recognized and passed by during his travels like the dilapidated general
store, a graveyard of cars and other rusting pieces of metal piled on top of
each other. They spotted human ones too, marked by two pieces of hammered wood,
crosses shoved into the ground. A shudder passed through Kane’s spine. Not long
ago, one of his Harvey’s lieutenants brought him here.

“See
our fallen brothers and sisters, Kane? Every one of them died for their
beliefs, for a new world free of monsters,”
said Ash Greene, Harvey’s
left-hand man.

Kane remembered shivering, thinking
if he succeeded, would anyone bring his body back here to rest? They passed by
the graveyard without incident. Like before, the highway seemed empty of life,
although Kane knew biological mistakes, mutations of the T-11 virus, lurked in
the deep sand. He didn’t fear them. Human monsters made for worse enemies.

How would Harvey and his little
army of hunters react to betrayal, to someone who trained and lived with them?

It seemed like another lifetime ago
Kane passed these landmarks leading to the den of hunters. He thought he’d
never make this journey back. Hell, Harvey and the rest presumed it was a
one-way road too. Any sane person wouldn’t consider waltzing into a town run by
the enemy without backup. Funny how Kane valued his life so little then, and
how much he wanted to live now.

Thinking back, Harvey didn’t give a
fuck about Kane’s suicidal tendencies. A good mentor would tell Kane to
reconsider, to not throw his life away and find another way. Instead, Harvey
helped Kane fan the flames of his hatred. Kane saw Harvey as the father figure
he never had, but maybe, his delusional mind refused to believe he’d been
something more than a tool.

“Death left pretty souvenirs,”
Reaper remarked. They spoke little, to conserve what little water they had
left. Kane didn’t mind. He liked the sound of the bike’s wheels crunching on
uneven gravel and hearing Reaper’s even breathing.

“We’re near,” Kane whispered,
licking his dry lips.

No signs marked the way to New
Melville. The heads did the work. Mounted on crude stakes driven into the sand,
they lined the sides of the road, a mile from each other. Most bore skulls worn
by time and the elements. Some looked fresh, rotting and crawling with engorged
mutant desert flies. The uneasiness festering inside Kane grew, making it
difficult to breathe. Riding with Reaper, Kane could conveniently forget about
what he needed to do. The reality of their situation began to sink in.

“Reaper, stop here.”

Not arguing, Reaper cut the engine.
Kane saw Wolf County in his head. A place where trees and crops grew, thanks to
Mace’s investment in expensive Pre-fall farming technology, Wolf County seemed
like heaven compared to the hell they were about to enter. Kane dismounted,
stumbling like a drunk. His feet took him to the nearest mounted skill.
Yellowing and cracked, Kane could tell it didn’t belong to any supernatural
being that looked remotely human.

BOOK: Ride and Reap
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