The Lost Souls (8 page)

Hockey placed his glowing palm against the frosted windowsill and watched as the ice quickly melted beneath it. It was a fruitless action. Nightfall was nearly upon them, the storm outside was still raging, nothing but white as far as the eye could see, and it was only getting worse.

Turning, he looked around the city row house he and Mira had broken in
to. They had been there for…weeks? Maybe; he wasn’t sure. During their fruitless search for food, unable to see where they were going, Mira had collapsed. Since she was half-frozen and near exhaustion, Hockey had picked her up and began backtracking to the warehouse. It took him only minutes to realize they were lost and instead of continuing to walk in circles, he’d found the nearest shelter.

He was still thanking God the place he’d chosen had a working fireplace and enough salvageable canned goods to last them a month, more if they ate sparingly.
Worse, he didn’t have any idea how the four helpless people they’d left behind were faring.

It was times like this Hockey wished he had a jug of Jericho’s
țuică
to drown his sorrows in.

Sighing, he started back through the foyer and headed down the long empty hallway toward the one room inside this house they’d been able to heat properly.

Inside the study, the temperature change from the rest of the home was drastic. His skin began to loosen and he could no longer see his breath.

Look what I did,” Mira said proudly. Moving aside
, she revealed a large rectangular plastic container the size of a clothing trunk that she’d overfilled with snow. “Ta da!” she said. “Now, you just need to heat it.”

Jesus, he’d gone so long without a bath. Other than a quick wipe down every so often, always so consumed with thoughts o
f how to survive, he’d forgotten entirely about bathing.

Excited, he headed for the container and thrust his hands deep into the snow.

“Don’t boil it,” Mira warned. “You don’t want to melt the container.”

Hockey burst out laughing. He knew how to contain his magic to one entity without disturbing the other
, and within seconds he’d melted the snow, leaving the container unscathed.

“Magic water,” he announced happily, removing his hands.

“Do you want to go first?” Mira was bouncing, practically vibrating with excitement.

“You first,” he said, laughing.

Squealing, Mira hurriedly began unbuttoning her flannel shirt. Hockey spun around and headed for the fireplace. He wasn’t a stranger to nudity. Quite the opposite, most of his life he’d bathed in creeks and lakes alongside his clan members, both male and female. But this was different. At least, it felt different…as if looking upon another woman was a betrayal to Becki. Especially when said woman slept beside him every night, her arms wrapped around his middle, his hands on her back, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

Grabbing a nearby chair, he turned it on its side and slammed his booted foot down. He repeated this several times until the wood had cracked, weaken
ing enough for him to break the structure apart.

After tossing several pieces of wood into the fire, he wondered what to do next that didn’t involve turning around and taking a good
, long look at the beautiful woman he knew was naked behind him. Mira was attractive. In fact, she was downright adorable. He admired her spunky personality and her determination and her seemingly innate ability to continue surviving and…

Jesus. He needed a distraction. But what distraction was there to be had when you were barricaded inside a house? Other than sex?

“Hockey?”

He didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“I need something to dry off with.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he silently cursed. Of course she did.

Still refusing to look at her, he walked quickly across the room and snatched one of the thinner blankets off their bed. Keeping his eyes downcast, he held out the blanket to her.

“You can look at me,” she whispered.

Ah…God. For his sanity’s sake, no, he couldn’t. After clearing his throat, he said no hoarsely.

“Hockey,” she breathed
. “I want you to.”

He blamed his mother. He blamed his decision to wait until marriage. He blamed Becki and the botched raid and himself
.

As he turned around, he blamed everyone and everything, but mostly he blamed the lack of distraction inside this damn house they were stuck in.

Mira’s dark hair had grown out significantly since he’d first met her. It was past her shoulders now, the wet ends stopped just above her…breasts.

Perfect…full…flawless…handfuls of breast
.

H
is gaze dropped lower and he swallowed hard.

Most of the women in his clan didn’t shave their bodies, very few had taken to the modern Gaje tradition. Hockey didn’t prefer one
way or the other, or at least he hadn’t until right now. Becki had been one of the few women in their clan who had shaved off her body hair, but Mira, not having had much of a choice, had let everything grow out.

And he liked it. It was natural and feminine and he liked it.

“Touch me,” Mira whispered, reaching for him. Her small hand encircled his wrist and tugged him forward. Feeling somewhat drunk, he complied, stumbling forward until was only inches away from her and close enough to—

Cursing, he snatched his arm back, and spun away from her.

“I’m married!” he shouted as he crossed the room.

“To a woman who’s probably dead!” Mira shrieked. “I’m not dead, Hockey! I’m right here, I’ve been here for months!”

He stopped walking and closed his eyes. Mira was right. Becki could be dead. God knew he worried about it all the time, but until he knew for certain, until…

He was rock hard and felt like crying. It was an awful, confusing feeling that made him feel like a horrible husband.

“I like you,” Mira pleaded. “I think you’re strong and brave and hot as hell. Hockey, I like you.”

“I took a vow,” he said tightly. “A vow I take very seriously.”

A pregnant silence filled the room and Hockey’s thoughts spun. He could be with her; he could turn around, drag Mira to bed, and give in to what they both wanted. He could give in and blame the world for his sins, blame the madness, the isolation, the constant battle for survival. But then, what happened afterward? What if he did find Becki again? Would he be able to face her, knowing what he had done?

Mira appeared in front of him, breaking him free of his thoughts.

Wrapped in the blanket he’d brought her, she held out her hand. “Here,” she said sullenly.

Avoiding eye contact, Hockey took the small bar of soap and mumbled his thanks. Mira stood there a moment longer before turning away.
He waited until he could longer hear the slap of her feet against the wooden floor before chancing a look in her direction.

Finding her curled up on her side of the bed, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Sending up a prayer of thanks for small favors, he started for the container.

The water was soapy and dirty now, and he didn’t have nearly enough room as Mira had. But as far as baths went, when you hadn’t had one in God only knew how long, it was bliss.

When he was done, naked and wet, he headed to the fireplace and let the heat from the flames dry his skin. Gripping the
mantel, he lowered his head onto the cool stone and closed his eyes. It felt good, the stark contrast of temperatures, hot on his chest and legs, and cool against his back. Then he turned around to let his back receive the same attention his front had, and found Mira sitting up in bed, watching him.

Hockey
knew he was much thinner than usual but he was still heavily sculpted with muscle, and judging by the greedy expression on Mira’s face, she liked what she saw.

She wanted what she saw.

He felt his body responding, hardening, as they stared at each other, and then Mira let the blanket fall from her body. Cupping one of her breasts, she slid her other hand down between her thighs and moaned softly.

He closed his eyes. No. No, no, no…

But all he could envision was Mira’s naked body, and all he could hear was the noises she was making. He found himself imagining how it would feel to sink inside her, how she would taste and smell.

He’d never seen a woman touch herself before
, but he’d fantasized about it. He’d even tried to coax Becki into it a few times, but she’d always refused. Knowing her sexual history, her refusal had surprised him but he’d ignored the ugly suspicions.

“Hockey,” Mira whispered, “please come to bed.”

When he made a move to do so, Mira collapsed onto her back, crying out in frustration. It was something about her cry, so full of desperation and longing, that crumbled his resolve, solidifying his decision and spurring him into action.

Crossing the room, he dropped down to his knees between Mira’s spread legs. Leaning forward, he palmed the mattress, using one hand to keep his body upright while he used
the other to take hold of himself.

“Yes,” Mira whispered frantically. Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of
Hockey’s hair, pulling his head down while she arched her back, bringing him face-to-face with her breasts. His heart began to pound erratically, sweat beaded on his brow, and he began stroking himself faster.

“Inside me,” Mira cried out, pushing her hips upward, rubbing herself intimately against him.

“Inside me,” she repeated. “Inside me…inside me.”

He couldn’t
; he just fucking couldn’t.

No, he could. He’
d surpassed reality; he was inside the realm of all-consuming lust with only one thing on his mind—finishing.

He surged inside of her, groaning as she clamped tightly around him. He thrust once, twice…

“Ah…shit,” he groaned, pulling quickly out of her. Rolling off her and out of bed, he sat naked on the floor and faced the wall.

“Hockey?” Mira whispered.

He ignored her. What had he done?

Bringing his knees to his chest,
Hockey dropped his head and silently began to cry.

God, what had he done?

Spring

With his hands clasped behind his neck, Marko paced the length of the trailer, one foot in front of the other, over and over again. Carrie was sleeping in his bed nook with the blankets pulled up to her nose, snoring loudly. Even sleeping, she was damn noisy and annoying.

And he was bored to death, feeling like a caged chicken.

How long had they been trapped in here? Months? Years? Decades?

He was going crazy.

Their journey to town had proven useless. Once the snow had finally let up
, they’d both made the long trek to Carrie’s hometown. There had been no fuel and even less food to be found, and according to Carrie the next town was over forty miles away.

And now…

The small ventures inside the farmhouse weren’t nearly enough to keep him occupied. Christ, if he could safeguard the farmhouse, he would have moved them inside weeks ago. The house had more space, larger rooms to pace, places to hide from Carrie.

Speaking of Carrie…
Marko glanced back at her and grimaced. Her mouth was hanging open now, yet she was still breathing through her nose. Rolling his eyes, he turned away and continued pacing.

This sucked.

Why, out of all the people still left in the world, had he gotten stuck with this ridiculous little girl? She was too young to have a decent conversation with, and she was one damn annoying chatterbox. Hell, she wasn’t even attractive.

Not like Nadya was
.

He stopped pacing and frowned.

Fuck Nadya.

No, fuck him for being such a pushover. He shouldn’t have let her wait. He should have married her when he had the chance.

Marko’s frown deepened. And then what? He would have been married to a woman who didn’t love him. More than likely, she would have ended up in Xan’s bed regardless.

Xan.

Fuck Xan.

The only person in th
is giant mess who deserved any sort of sympathy was Trinity. Everyone else had dug his or her own holes. Trinity…everybody had been digging hers for her. And it had been Marko who’d thrown her in, covered her in dirt, and spit on her.

As soon as he found fuel—yeah
, right—he was heading out. Then he’d find her. Everyone else could go straight to hell, but he had to make this shit right. He had to…

He had to piss.

Shutting himself inside the small bathroom, he jimmied up the window, letting in a waterfall of spring rain. Cursing, he slammed the window closed and grabbed Carrie’s toilet solution, aka her shit bucket. Unzipping, he aimed and relieved himself.

How long could it keep raining like this?

Christ, they were already partially flooded. Even if they had gas, they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Panic rose in his gut, and he headed for the supply room. At one point it had been his bedroom, but he’d needed the extra space for supplies, and the bed nook served for sleeping purposes.

Marko counted his pile of logs and then he recounted, trying to calculate how many they’d gone through daily. He had an ax, though, and there was always the furniture in the farmhouse. Shit, there was the farmhouse itself.

His panic eased, and he turned to the food he’d stockpiled over time. He scanned the boxes of canned goods and bags of dried food. They had enough.

But how much food was enough when he didn’t know how long they would be stranded there? Despite the area being rural, he had no way of knowing if there were live game in the area.

And what about the Skins?

He and Carrie had nothing to do but twiddle their fucking thumbs and wait for some stray Skins to get a whiff of their location and attack.

His magic could hold off one, maybe two at a time, but three was seriously pushing it. Their speed and reflexes made it nearly impossible to keep a location on them.

A large group, and they were done for. Skin fodder.

Blowing out a breath,
Marko ran his fingers through his hair. Greasy. He needed to bathe. Bringing in the rainwater, heating it, and then lugging the dirty water back outside seemed like a lot of work that he really didn’t feel like doing.

He left the supply room and glanced toward Carrie. She was still sleeping, the blankets pulled up to her nose, still snoring. Blowing out a frustrated breath,
Marko turned away and resumed pacing. This time, something stopped him dead in his tracks.

It started off small, just a tickle of a feeling beneath his skin
, but as he stood there it continued to grow and grow until his entire body was humming with sensation.

“Magic,” he breathed.

Excitement flooded his belly and he spun around, jogging for the door. After thrusting it open, he jumped down the two steps and into the pouring rain, his bare feet sinking instantly into the flooded muddy ground. He turned his head wildly—left, right, and left again—looking for the source of the power he’d sensed.

Shielding his eyes from the rain, his clothing and body already drenched, he squinted, trying to find whatever was causing the pull inside him. But there was nothing. The farmhouse, the acres of land surrounding it, the forest beyond
—

His eyes wide, Marko fell to his knees in the muddy water. It looked like the sun. No, it was more beautiful than the sun. Bright white light was shimmering and radiating, crystallizing the air around it, as it hurtled from the sky at record speed, heading straight for him.

He tried to move, tried to twist his legs, tried to reach for the trailer in hopes of grabbing hold of something to pull himself up off the ground, but it was as if he’d been cemented to the earth.

As the ball of power
hurtled closer, Marko turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut. He was just about to begin listing off his sins and begging for forgiveness when—

His breath left him in a painful whoosh and he was screaming, clawing at his chest, ripping open his shirt, certain his skin was melting off his bones. But when he looked, there was just a slight glow from beneath the surface of his skin. Then suddenly, the pain began to ease until only
a slight burn from the bloody scratches over his heart remained, along with a dull ache in his chest.

Marko
took a deep breath and tried to calm his quivering body when, out of nowhere, his vision tunneled and everything around him—the trailer, the farmhouse, and the forest beyond—turned a shade of white so bright it blinded him. His vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, the colors blended, expanded, and slowly dissolved, revealing…

Faces and places unknown to him overtook his sight. Lifetime after lifetime bombarded him—memories, thoughts, feelings, anger and pain, births and deaths, happiness and love
.

The visions continued to change,
more people and more places, over and over again, he felt life and love and death until the timeline soon became one he recognized and—

Flash
. He was watching Trinity from across the camp. He was aching for her, his entire body felt afire as the need to be inside her grew to unbearable levels. If he didn’t touch her soon, if he didn’t make her his, he was sure he would die an agonizing death.

Flash
. “You are not his anymore, Trin,” Xan said, his voice rough as his body retreated and then returned. Marko gasped as foreign sensations of pleasure burst forth and exploded within him.

“Do you know what this means?” Xan asked, his tone and body language fiercely possessive. “You’re mine, Trinity. Mine.”

“Oh God,” Marko groaned, still clutching his head. He fell onto his side in the mud.

He was turning into a monster. His skin was literally ripping apart, he could feel his organs shifting, growing, as he watched in horror as scales erupted over his body. He felt the god-awful pain from his skull splitting and reforming as horns pushed their way through his head and fangs dropped from his gums.

The pain was suddenly gone, and he was…

Jesus, he was inside Trinity again, watching her writhing beneath him with pure ecstasy on her face, magic radiating from within them, surrounding them, making them one. He’d never felt fuller, stronger, more complete than he did in that moment. It was everything, she was everything
.

And then his heart was breaking as the dragon took flight. He was alone again and his chest
ached with the loss. Desolate, heartbroken, sick with misery, he lay down on his bed and prayed to the gods that he would never wake up again.

Then Marko’s thoughts grew even more jumbled, more confused and indecipherable. He was hungry, he was tired, and he wanted to fly, but he hurt. Why did he hurt? His insides were burning, and his massive body was heaving as an icy cold ripped through his scales, through his skin, plunging deep inside of him.

Flash
. His small feminine hands flew to his chest. “Gerik!” he cried. “Gerik!” But Gerik was gone, everyone was gone, they’d all left him and he’d never felt more empty than he did in that moment.

Then the visions stopped and Marko blinked through the rain at his familiar surroundings. The trailer, the farmhouse, everything was exactly the same.

Everything was exactly as he’d left it.

Everything except for him.

He’d seen it all, every last person who’d shared that damn soul throughout the centuries, going all the way back to the very beginning of time. He’d lived a thousand lives within a matter of minutes—the happiness, the sadness, all of it, every last emotion that made a person human.

Jesus fucking Christ.

How had this happened?

How had he become the ungrateful recipient of Gerik and Trinity’s soul?

And now, his body was on fucking fire. His chest felt like bursting, not from pain but from a feeling that could only be described as full.

Too full.

It was too much.

He needed…

He needed something…

Someone…

Scrambling to his feet, Marko grasped hold of the trailer door and yanked it open. The door had barely shut behind him when he began undressing.

Naked, he stood over Carrie, his chest heaving, and his body was hard, rock hard, throbbing with a
singleminded need. Yanking the blanket off her body, he climbed over her, shoving up her shirt, baring her breasts, groaning as he watched the soft skin pebble with gooseflesh in his wake.

She stirred, stretching as she moved. “Marko?” she murmured sleepily.

Ignoring her, he took one breast between his teeth and sucked it inside his mouth. His hand slid down her back, inside her sweatpants, and cupped her backside.

“Marko!” she squeaked, her body going rigid.

Releasing her breast, he reared up over her. Straddling her hips, he bent his head and crushed his mouth to hers.

“
Mmmph!” she protested, trying to pull away.

Feeling frantic, he moved his hand from her backside to between her legs
, where he grazed one finger lightly over her. Gasping against his mouth, she stopped pushing at him, stopped fighting his kisses, and shivered rather violently.

He continued to kiss her and touch her, groping her in earnest now. Whether
Carrie actively participated or not, he had to fuck her.

Right now.

Shit. Right this second.

“Marko!” she cried out, turning away from him, trying to avoid his mouth. “Wait, please…”

Marko grabbed hold of her hair, keeping her still, and forcefully took back her mouth. Gripping her right knee, he wrenched her legs apart and jammed his hips between her thighs, subsequently pinning her perfectly beneath him. Reaching between them, he dipped back inside her pants.

She
shoved at him, whimpering as she tried hard to push him away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. He had her head and body pinned in place as he eased his fingers in and out, in and out, working up momentum and rhythm and…

When he couldn’t take one more second, when his dick was throbbing angrily and his head was spinning with need, he took his hand back long enough to quickly shove her pants down and maneuver himself between her legs.

“Marko!” she screamed, shoving at his chest. “Please don’t! I’ve never done this before!”

He could not stop.

He just couldn’t…

He needed this, he needed someone, something…

He needed her.

“Wait!” she cried, trying to wiggle away from him. “Please!”

He could not stop. If he stopped, he would lose his fucking mind.

“NO!” she yelled, violently wriggling her hips back and forth, making it almost impossible to keep a good grip on her.

He just wanted…

He needed…

He didn’t even know what he wanted or needed.

He just plain wanted and needed
.

Tears poured down
Carrie’s cheeks. “Please…”