WastelandRogue (5 page)

“I don’t want any blood,” she snapped, recalling him
straddling her in the steam-trekker and forcing her to feed from his arm. It
was humiliating to know he had seen her rapacious hunger.

“I meant water.” He squatted in front of her and picked up a
lizard-skin flask. “You’re still dehydrated. That’s why you feel woozy.”

“How do you know how I feel?” She took the flask and gulped
down every drop of the cool liquid.

“It’s just an assumption since you weren’t jumping around
after waking.” He carried the flask to a pipe that went through a crack in the
ceiling of the cave.

“I have a barrel up top that catches rain,” he explained
when he saw her looking at it and the spigot he turned to let the water flow
into the flask.

“This is your place, then, and not just an abandoned
mineshaft you squat in?” She glanced around, working at the laces on the shirt
when she didn’t think he watched.

“I call it mine, as I do several others in the wasteland,”
he answered, taking the flask and going back to the spigot.

By the crate she had slept in sat a pile of stuff, an
obvious indication he had emptied the wooden box to put her in it. Besides a
few chairs, the small dugout cave didn’t appear inhabited very often.

“I should go.” She stood too fast.

Sevrin wasn’t close enough to catch her before she crashed
into the chair and tumbled to the dirt floor again. He came to her as she
pushed to sit up. Without speaking, he lifted her in the cradle of his arms,
proving his strength once again by the ease of his movements.

“You’re not going anywhere, yet,” he informed her.

Rattled by his words, she struggled to get free. “Put me
down,” she demanded.

His hold tightened. “Just relax.”

He carried her toward a darker area of the cavern. Ropes
hanging over a beam reminded her of her recent imprisonment by Hamner.

“Let go of me.” She swung her arm to hit him.

“Rye.” Sevrin dropped her legs so she stood. “What’s wrong?”

His tight hug kept her arms bound to her sides. She started
to struggle but stopped when his hold loosened.

“Just take it easy. I was just taking you back here to lie
down and rest.” He motioned to a low ledge with some sort of bedding on it.

She looked at him again. Fighting off the paranoia that he
wanted to make her a prisoner, she nodded in agreement. He slowly lifted her
again.

By fate’s design, she fit in Sevrin’s embrace. As if a force
beyond her reason guided her, she resigned herself to his commands and slid one
arm around to his back and the other around his neck. She liked his take-charge
attitude and the way he made her feel protected. The safe ambiance of the
low-lit mineshaft helped as well. She relaxed against him.

“What, no argument or fight?” His brow rose, as if astonished
by her decision.

“No,” she answered. “I’m not a fool. I can tell I need a
little more time to recover.”

Over the years, the negative intensity she existed on had
dulled her senses and diluted her emotions. Not knowing Shay’s fate left her
empty. Sevrin’s seemingly compassionate nature touched the tender frailties of
her spirit. Reassured by his seemingly good character, she deemed it safe to
relax. Later, she’d address his motives.

Letting her guard down, Rye tried to enjoy the attention.
Sevrin smelled good, a clean scent mixed with a hint of smoke. Instinctively,
she nestled her face in the warm recess under his angular jaw. The bristles of
his unshaven skin tickled her cheek. She listened to his steady breath and the
rhythmic beat of his heart.

“Here we go.” He placed her on the thick layer of bedding
made up of rags on the outcropping of stone.

She watched him sort out the mess, straightening the bundle
formed into a pillow.

“Scoot over.” He waved her back.

She shifted on the ledge toward the wall as he indicated.

“Lie down,” he instructed.

She dropped back onto the headrest of bundled rags. When he
hopped up and sat on the ledge in front of her, her pulse quickened. What were
his plans? Was he ready to seek payment for helping her? Trepidation lingered
in her thoughts.

When he fluffed a thin ragged blanket into the air and
spread it out over her, the simplicity of his actions gained more of her trust
than her concern. As he pushed and tucked and smoothed the covering around her,
his consistent care seemed endless.

Then he stretched out on his back alongside her. He crossed
his legs at the ankles, wiggled as if it were possible to make the padded rock
any softer than
a padded rock
and seemed content to settle into a
position to sleep.

“Get some rest,” he said, clasping his hands together at his
waist and shutting his eyes. “In the morning, I’ll take you wherever you need
to go.”

His indifference to her presence immediately dissolved her
paranoia. She had never met a human who didn’t show a lot of caution around her
kind.

She watched him effortlessly fall asleep.

Fascinated by his peaceful expression, she studied him for a
long time. Unlike the delicate lines of a
lamian
male’s face, his hewn
features had bolder contours. She had an attraction to his square jaw, straight
nose and full lips.

Strangely, she suffered from pangs of disappointment because
he hadn’t taken her into his arms and requested compensation for rescuing her.
He interested her from the moment she looked into his eyes and saw compassion
in his gaze. Consuming his blood had connected them. It drove her to want a
stronger attachment—a union of their bodies.

“Sevrin?” she whispered.

He rolled to his side, facing her but not answering. With
his arms folded together as if subconsciously staving off a chill, he reminded
her that humans were naturally warmer blooded. They felt the cold more than
lamians
.
Not wanting him to suffer discomfort because of her, she lifted the blanket and
dragged half of it over him. She scooted closer, sharing what body heat she
might offer.

Safely settled against him, she took a relaxing breath. Her
mind slowly turned over the details about the man who had tortured her—Hamner.
He said there were scientists who paid for live
lamians
. What were the
scientists doing to
lamians
? Experiments for sure, but to what purpose?
Hamner had left her. Had she slipped into hibernation, giving him reason to
think she was dead? Why else had he dumped her in that ditch?

Her thoughts turned back to Sevrin Renault. She scrutinized
the weathered creases at the outside corners of his eyes. How old was he?
Sunlight aged skin. Maybe it also aged the body. It would explain why
lamians
lived longer. Her kind avoided the sun because dehydration slowed their ability
to heal.

Content that Sevrin wasn’t a threat, she closed her eyes.
She thought for only a short while. When she opened them, she found herself
nestled against the entire length of him. The tickle of his breath, the warmth
of his limbs and the beat of his heart lured her desires to the surface.

His mouth looked so tempting. Deliciously pouty lips
appeared poised, ready for her. Never one to shy from what she wanted, she
leaned forward and kissed him lightly. He made a small sound, pleasant,
inviting. She pressed another, firmer kiss to his lovely mouth, eagerly seeking
a favorable response.

He heaved a breath that announced his excitement. His lashes
fluttered open and he stared at her with his delicious brown eyes. Suddenly,
she didn’t feel so brave. She feared seeing repulsion or hearing his rejection.
Humans despised
lamians
for their superior healing powers.

Sevrin’s blank expression didn’t convey anything. His
actions up until then were her only indication of his thoughts about her. He
had helped her—a lot. More than any man in her past had.

After the silence went on far too long, she braved another
attempt to attract him. She moved first to kiss him but he gripped her shoulder
and pushed her away, not hard or forceful, nonetheless significantly firmly.

“Because I’m
lamian
?” She verbalized what she
believed to be his unspoken reason. It saddened her to think he was offended by
the difference in their species.

He smiled and rose a little, propping himself up on one arm.
“Not because you’re
lamian
.” He touched her cheek and his stroke moved
her hair back from her face to behind her ear. “You’re still recovering from
what appeared to be a horrific ordeal.”

Her insides flip-flopped and her chest burned from the
swelling of strong emotions. His thoughtfulness should have made her happy. Instead,
she felt overwhelmed by feelings of weakness. She didn’t understand him or his
reasons for taking care of her. Worse, she didn’t understand what drew her to
him. The gravitational pull he had on her felt much more than the effects from
a little blood infusion.

“I was just thanking you.” She scooted away, wanting to hide
from her foolishness. “Don’t think for a moment it was an invite to do more.”

“My mistake, then.” He repositioned from his side to his
back and shut his eyes. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Again with the polite selflessness. She hated it—she loved
it. Her head said good, he had respect for her. On the other hand, her heart
wanted him to argue and demand, take what most men would try to seize without a
second thought.

When it appeared he had gone back to sleep, she took
offense. How dare he lay peacefully unaware of her aroused state? Did she work
through it or challenge his indifference?

Attracted beyond prudence, she shifted closer. She studied
him. It was his blood. It had to be. Her senses alert and instinctive, she
craved his blood. Not the flavor or the healing aspects but the connection—the
bond it created between them. Was the inherent trait of her half-
lamian
side to mate out of kilter? Humans were infertile. Sevrin was inexplicably unsuitable.
Yet what else explained her rapacious lust for this man?

Suddenly, Sevrin lifted his arm and slid it over her. She
froze, holding her breath and not moving a single limb. Nervous, she waited.
Was he awake? Had he subconsciously reacted to her closeness?

She inhaled the scent of him, wishing it were possible to it
commit to memory. Indescribably aroused, she set aside her dampened ego and
whisper-kissed his bottom lip. They lived in an ugly world. Disasters, dangers
and hardships plagued everyone. Her recent troubles had left her scarred with
stress and a mental pain of inadequacy she needed gone. Immersing herself in a
selfish moment wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“Sevrin,” she murmured softly, kissing his chin, sliding her
fingers across his cheek, over his ear into his hair.

“Yeah?” he mumbled sleepily. Then he stiffened suddenly,
more aware of her. His eyes opened. A short space separated their faces.

Not ready for another rejection, she resisted diving in for
a kiss.

“Rye, you’re—” He rose.

“I’m the best judge of my strength,” she interrupted.

“But I—”

Unwilling to accept
no
from him, she put her finger
against his lips. How many excuses did he have? Too tired. Too dirty. Not
interested. Other than slightly longer, much more pointed cuspids, she wasn’t
so unlike a human female. Men of both races said she was beautiful. Did he not
think so?
Damn
, she hated feeling insecure about something as
insignificant as the extent of her attractiveness to him.

Without further hesitation, Sevrin rolled to his back,
pulling Rye onto him. He unleashed his conscience’s restraints and kissed her
with all the pent-up frustration of a man needing release. Why think? Why be so
damn accommodating and deprive himself of a beautiful willing female?

Then he stopped. He held her face. In the darkness of his
sleeping alcove, he stared at the shaded outlines of what he knew to be the
bluest of blue eyes. “I didn’t bring you here to take advantage.”

“And you’re not.” She brushed his cheek lightly with her
fingertips. “This is just inevitable.”

He lifted his head, meeting her luscious lips. They kissed,
exploring each other with their tongues. He liked the little sounds Rye made,
faint and abrupt, as if she were afraid to let him hear how excited she was or
how she was enjoying herself too much.

“If anything hurts, tell me,” he said, sliding his hands up
and down her back, reassuring her that her needs came first.

“Nothing’s going to hurt. I’m all healed.” She punctuated
each word with a peck of her lips against his. “But thank you for caring.” She
kept her hands against the sides of his head and sifted strands of his hair
through her fingers.

He continued caressing her silken skin, examining every
curve. He’d been over those areas before, when he tried not to think about her
firm round buttocks or the smooth planes of her back. Now he wanted to memorize
each contour with the tips of his fingers.

He lifted and turned, dragging her partly beneath him. “Sex
is no fun if anyone is in pain,” he said, praying she hadn’t lied about her
wellness.

“I’m not in any pain.” She sounded sure.

He drew back from kissing her jaw and looked into her eyes
again, seeing them a little better in their new angle. “You’re not doing this
to repay me or anything, are you?”

“What if I am?” She smiled. “Are you so honorable that’d
you’d stop me?”

Was he? It didn’t take much thought to know he was. If he
couldn’t be honest with himself, he’d be in trouble. He lived a solitary life.
Conversations were within his head. Guilt would eat at him the same way maggots
devoured the innards of lizards he discarded after skinning them. He’d not take
advantage of anyone, ever. It wasn’t in his nature.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret,” he said,
compromising with his conscience.

“Do you really think I’d be offering myself up to you out of
gratitude?” Her breathy whisper bathed his face.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you something, Sevrin Renault. I don’t do
anything I don’t want to do. If it was just gratitude I wished to convey, I’d
come up with something less personal.”

“Like what?” He stroked his hand over her head, happy he’d
washed her hair as thoroughly as he had. The soft abundance of it shimmered in
the firelight.

“Tend your fire, clean your living space, cook you something
to eat.”

“I like those ideas. Can I get them along with
this
?”
He kissed her moving lips.

“Let’s just work on
this
first.” She pressed her
mouth solidly against his.

Her tongue darted between his lips. The low purr of her
enthusiasm stirred a bigger one in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her. When
they were in the steam-trekker, he hadn’t thought he could go another moment
without having her. His desperation to feel her clinging to him only faded
after she had thrown him against the opposite side of the steam-trekker’s
interior. Still, that yearning to connect physically with her hadn’t totally disappeared.

“You’ve been alone far too long.” Rye speckled kisses over
his face.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re hesitant and quiet. What’s going on in that head of
yours that you’re not voicing? Are you questioning your actions, maybe debating
your options? Or is it the fact I’m
lamian
?”

She moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed him up. “I
won’t bite, if that’s what you think. Even in the throes of rapture I can
control myself.”

“You talk too much.” He covered her mouth with his.

She filled him with a soft hum of satisfaction and it melted
his mind. Her soft wet tongue circled his. She nibbled his lips, tugging
gently. Full of passion, she gave freely. She left nothing to the imagination,
and he kissed her harder and longer, hungry for every ounce of her eager
display.

Then he slid his hand along the outside of her leg, pushing
under the shirt. He followed the curve of her hip and grasped her ass, kneading
the supple flesh. She drew her leg up as he rubbed down the backside of her
thigh and up to her ass again.

One of her hands wiggled between them, touching the front of
his pants. He shifted to give her room to work open the laced flap and release
his cock.

He kissed under her jaw, groaning low when her cool fingers
glided around his hard shaft.

“You’re really ready, aren’t you?” she murmured.

He shuddered from her tightening grasp. “For quite some
time.”

Metaphorically, he’d been ready for years to have someone
like her, beautiful, seemingly intelligent and a bit sassy. More importantly,
he felt he could trust her with his life. But he still questioned,
why
?
What was it about Rye that made him feel secure enough to let down his guard?

Rye ran her hand up and down his shaft. She used her other
hand to work his pants off his hips. He helped without giving up his hold on
her. Kicking the garment to the floor, he worked on removing her one piece of
clothing. His old, worn-out shirt never looked so good as it did on her.

He fought letting naked anxiousness push him to move too
fast. “Are you all right?” he asked, running his hands over her, hoping not to
find any wounds still not fully healed.

“Mmm, more than all right.” She pulled his hand between her
legs, just as she had when he had washed her. “I’m stronger than I look,
remember?”

He probed her smooth cunt and fingered lightly over her
clit. Her moans deepened, her breathing escalated. He dipped his middle finger
into her where spasms of the muscles clenched around his knuckle and released
repeatedly.

She pushed her hands up his arms, across the top of his shoulders
and held his face. Heavy sounds of her agitation rushed into his mouth under
her passionate kiss. Her body heaved forward as he added his forefinger and
pumped both in and out of her wet cunt. Then she broke from their lip lock and
threw her head back, letting out a high-pitched note of exhilaration. The sound
faded along with her shudders.

He pushed her arms up, guiding her to fold them together
above her head. Submissive to his direction, she parted her legs as he
repositioned between them. He lowered, teasing her hot cunt with the tip of his
cock. She lifted her hips and he rose, preventing the connection, delaying the
union.

He lowered again, resting on his forearms and holding her
arms curved and cushioned in her cloud of hair. Since drying, the sun-kissed
golden locks had rippled into big waves. He fingered the soft textured curls.
Amazed by their sheen, he brought one lock to stroke against his cheek. He
leaned and kissed Rye’s jaw, noting the equally soft smoothness to her skin.
Trailing kisses down her neck, he paused on the jugular pulse. He sucked on the
rapidly beating spot, drawing the vein nearer the surface.

A moan stuttered from her as he pressed his swollen cock
head against the wet warm center of her cunt. Her prior orgasm had lubricated
the passage, making it easy for him to push inside her.

Involuntarily, he shuddered as the heat encircling his
erection wafted through his pubic hair. It had been a long time since he had
fucked something other than his own hand. Excited, he lifted his hips and
retreated slightly and then he thrust deeper, grinding his groin to hers. Over
and over, he rammed into the tight opening, slamming his cock as far into Rye’s
core as possible. His motions stimulated responses from her, surrounding him
with sounds of her pleasure.

“Mmm, yes, oh yes,” she groaned, her body arching toward him
as he plunged again.

She folded her shapely long legs around him, digging her
heels into his ass. He let her arms go to feel her hands glide over him. Across
his shoulders, down his back, along his sides—everywhere her gentle touch
landed sent thrills of a deepening desire through him. Even when she clawed and
pressed her fingernails into his hips, the stings enthralled him.

“Oh—ah—oh—oooh,” she groaned. “You feel so good.”

She went on to say more, instructing, telling, demanding the
way in which she wanted him to perform. Her commanding tone might have
intimidated him if not for the explosive trails of white-hot lightning roiling
through his groin. His entire focus fell on the sweet coo of her voice leading
him to a rare gratification.

“Sevrin,” she whispered. “Sevrin.”

Over and over she called to his emotions. His scrotum
tightened and the tremors in his core erupted. He lowered his body onto hers.
She clung to him, crying out. In response, his orgasm ripped through him as
quickly as the steam-trekker raced over an open wasteland route. His vocal
cords quavered under the strain and unlike Rye’s, his sound of relief came in
the form of stuttering grunts.

Ecstasy flooded him as he hugged her tight and rode out the
pulsating jolts still moving him. Then he lowered her. They remained entwined,
gasping to catch their breath. When he lifted, she held his arms, preventing
him from moving off her.

“Wait.” She breathed heavily.

He hovered with his cock still in her twitching cunt. “You
are so beautiful.” He slid a caressing touch over her head. “What’s your full
name, Rye?”

“Mariah Sanborn,” she purred.

“Well, Mariah Sanborn, you enchant me.”

“I know just how that feels.” A satisfied smile came with a
glowing sparkle of joy in her eyes. “I haven’t felt this fulfilled in a long
time.” She lifted to him and he bowed to catch her kiss.

Pride swept through him, calming his muscles. His cock
shrank and slipped free sooner than he hoped. He flipped off her onto his back,
took in a lungful of air and let it out in a quick puff. He waited for Rye to
say more, anything to keep him from blurting out the overpowering way he felt.
At the same time, he didn’t want her to think him a callous cretin by ignoring
her.

“Come here.” He pulled her close and hugged her to him.
“You’ve had your way with me, now will you get some rest?”

Her contented sigh let him believe she accepted the quiet
end to having sex. He appreciated she wasn’t pushy with talk. When she slid her
arm over him, he relaxed. All was good between them.

Sevrin looked forward to the morning and getting to know
everything about Mariah Sanborn.