
To my editor Bethany for the opportunity.
She couldn't believe it. They ditched her. Her friends. In the middle of a huge Las Vegas casino. On her birthday---well, it was almost her birthday. Still.
Jerks.
Samantha Sanders pushed through the crowds that clogged the casino, the clanging of the slot machines ringing in her head and making it throb. There was an unusual energy, an edge to the crowd that was not the usual happy good-time Las Vegas vibe she was used to, but she shrugged it off.
Holiday tension perhaps? The place was surprisingly busy since it was so close to Christmas but she figured if the impending holiday wasn't stopping her from getting her party on, then why would it stop anyone else?
Besides, this weekend was a big deal. It wasn't every day someone turned thirty. Not that her friends cared, considering they'd left her high and dry.
Whatever.
She didn't want to leave the building for fear of totally losing them. She could always go up to her room and wait for them but...she didn't want to. It was still early. Cell phone service was the worst in the casinos, and no one could hear their phone ring anyway. The place was so loud.
Almost too loud.
Spotting a small bar, Samantha headed for it, her feet hurting with every step. She wasn't used to wearing such high heels, and she'd worn the highest ones she'd found from a shopping trip last week. Funny how she forgot there was so much walking involved in Vegas.
She was wearing flats tomorrow. Thank God she'd packed some.
The bar was dark yet cozy, the sconces that lined the dark brown wallpapered walls casting a golden glow within the room. It wasn't very crowded, mostly filled with couples, and she headed straight for the bar, smiling at the bartender as she settled upon the tall barstool.
"What'll it be?" The bartender was cute in that slick I-live-in-Vegas way. Not her type but certainly worthy of a bit of flirtation.
"What do you recommend?" She propped her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her fist, batting her eyelashes for exaggerated effect.
The bartender grinned. "Well, what are you in the mood for?" His brows rose.
She so wasn't going there. She had a feeling he wasn't referring to just drinks. "Something fruity and tropical." She'd already sucked back a couple of elaborate cocktails during dinner, but the effects had worn off.
"I know just the thing." He slapped the edge of the counter and went right to work on making her drink.
She watched him, stretching her toes within the confining, too-high stilettos, wishing like crazy for a foot massage. The bartender's movements were efficient, she caught him flashing a wide smile at another woman sitting on the opposite end of the bar and Samantha wondered just how many he kept on a string.
Not that she was in Vegas for a hookup. No, it was a girls-only weekend to celebrate her birthday. She didn't have any of her girls around her at the moment, though. She still couldn't believe they'd ditched her.
Pulling her cell out of her tiny purse, she saw there were no calls. She dashed off a quick text to her friends---Where the hell are you bitches?---then shoved the phone back in her purse.
The bartender set the glass in front of her with a flourish. The drink was electric blue in color and with a slice of pineapple wedged on the edge of the glass. She leaned forward and breathed deep, the tropical fruity smell making her smile. "Thank you. It's the perfect birthday drink."
"Enjoy, then. It's on the house." He winked and wandered off to help someone else.
"You said that on purpose."
Samantha turned to find a man sitting on the next barstool over watching her, a little smile curving his lips. She shrugged helplessly and laughed. "I'm shameless."
"Is it really your birthday or do you always use that line?"
She feigned offense, bracing her hand on her chest before she reached for her drink eagerly. "You think I'd stoop so low to say it's my birthday everywhere I go?"
"I don't know. It's a pretty good line. One I might try." His warm gaze swept over her appreciatively, and it was as if he'd physically touched her. A shiver moved down her spine.
"I don't know if it would work on bartenders like him." She waved her hand in the direction of the bartender who now flirted with the woman he'd been making eyes at earlier.
"Yeah. You're probably right." He took a sip of beer, his gaze never leaving her face. "Well, happy birthday."
"Thanks, though technically my birthday isn't until midnight." She wrapped her lips around the red straw and sucked, the sweet drink splashing on her tongue. It was delicious---and potent---and its sheer size would have her buzzed in no time.
Hah. She didn't need her friends to have fun on her birthday. She had a delicious drink in hand and a handsome guy teasing her. And he was definitely handsome. A healthy dose of stubble lined his square jaw. His dark brown hair was cropped short, emphasizing the strong lines of his face, and he had the most intense blue eyes she'd ever seen.
And she knew they were so intense because they were still locked on her, watching her every move.
"Is your sissy drink any good?" he asked once she finally set the glass on the counter.
Samantha laughed. "It's really good. Why, do you think it's too wimpy for a big, burly man like you?" Big and burly was the perfect description, what with his broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms that were only emphasized by his long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt.
"I don't really like those frou frou drinks." He grimaced and shook his head.
Samantha smiled. Gosh, he was cute.
"I bet you drink beer and only beer."
He nodded in her direction. "You're right."
Her gaze skimmed over his flat belly. He had a really nice body. Fit. She wondered what he looked like naked. "You don't look like you have a beer belly."
"Nah." He patted his stomach and warmth curled within her. Must be some weird effect from the alcohol. "I work too hard, and I'm not really a big drinker."
"Neither am I." That's why the strong fruity drink was going straight to her head.
Or maybe it was the guy?
He moved so he sat on the stool next to hers, and extended his hand. "I'm Russ."
"Samantha." She took his hand and an electric jolt moved through her, sizzling through her veins, firing up her entire body. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." He smiled and seemed reluctant to let go of her but finally, did so.
She felt the loss keenly and wrapped her trembling fingers around her cold drink to soothe her fraying nerves. Taking a more restrained sip, she glanced up to find him still watching her. "What?" she asked when she released the straw. "Do I have something on my face? Something in my teeth?"
"No." He slowly shook his head and tore his gaze from her, watching the bartender as he approached to check up on her. Russ's eyes narrowed when the flirtatious bartender leaned against the counter and smiled knowingly.
"Is it as delicious as I promised?"
He hadn't made that sort of promise but who cared? She kind of liked the jealous tinge to her newfound friend's skin as he watched them. "It's wonderful."
"Want me to make another?"
"Why don't you go talk to your friend?" Russ hitched his thumb in the direction of the woman who sat at the opposite end of the bar---the woman the bartender had flirted with just moments earlier.
Sneering, the bartender went on his merry way without protest. Samantha stared agape at Russ who only shrugged his shoulders in response.
"Wow. Either that was totally rude or completely hot," she finally said.
"Hot? How so?" He waited for her answer.
"Well." She took a healthy sip of her drink, her skin warming. From the alcohol or the man with her, she wasn't sure. "That was a rather macho display of---possessiveness wasn't it?"
"Maybe." He sounded wary. Like he was afraid how he should answer her question.
"Hmm, well if it was, then I think that's kind of hot." She slid her barstool closer to his, caught a whiff of his scent. Hint of light cologne, clean soap and delicious man, it was a most dangerous combo.
And it went straight to her already spinning head.
He chuckled, the sound tickling at her insides. "You don't hold back, do you?"
"Alcohol loosens my tongue," she confessed.
"Want me to order you another one after all?" He smiled.
"It might get me into trouble."
He leaned in close, his mouth level with her ear and she felt his warm breath tickle across her cheek. "I have a feeling I wouldn't mind your kind of trouble."
Her knees weakened and she was thankful she wasn't standing.
She might've slid to the floor.
The warning signals were going off like fire bombs, big, bold and loud. She had a feeling this man was all sorts of trouble.
Of the good kind.
Russ moved away from Samantha, taking with him her heady scent, replaying in his mind the little gasp of pleasure she'd made after he whispered in her ear.
Ah yeah, this was certainly unexpected. But he wasn't complaining.
He'd come to the casino in the hopes of nursing a beer or two, playing a few hands of Blackjack at the tables and getting away from his crazy family---not necessarily in that order.
Christmas came but once a year, thank God.
He shouldn't feel like this. He was home on leave during the holidays and many of his friends and fellow comrades would practically kill to be in his enviable position. After a long and grueling stint with the Navy overseas, he was thankful to be home. Hell, he'd practically kissed the ground when he climbed out of the plane and felt the familiar, cold yet dry desert air of his hometown.
But then he'd walked into his parents' house and the entire family attacked him, so thankful to finally see him. The entire clan had been there to greet him. They'd thrown a party in his honor and old friends had shown up, including an ex---but still friendly---girlfriend.
Nothing had panned out. Family members had gotten into an argument, the party had gone on too long and was too loud and what do you know, the cops had been called. They'd come and immediately shut it down.
That had been two days ago. The chaos hadn't ceased, and there were four days left until Christmas. He thought it would never get here.
Funny, how he sought quiet solace in a casino. Funnier still how he ended up talking to the most beautiful woman he'd seen in a long-ass while.
And there was no doubt about it Miss Samantha-It's-My-Birthday was a knockout. Green eyes that sparkled when she talked, creamy smooth skin that bloomed with color when he stared at her, wavy dark red hair that hinted at a fiery personality, she was a stunner. From what he could tell she had a nice body and a rack that was more than admirable.
Russ grimaced. He shouldn't be thinking about racks and pretty faces and sparkling green eyes. He had a mission to return to once the new year started. Oh yeah, and a family to hang out with for the rest of the damn year.
Yeah, he was excited about that prospect.
That he couldn't even round up anyone to go with him and hang out at the casino made him feel pitiful, though he'd told himself he came alone on purpose.
Besides, would he have talked to Samantha if he was with someone? He probably would've barely noticed her.
So tonight was his lucky night. An early Christmas gift of sorts. Possibly an early birthday present for her.
If she wanted to ring in her birthday with the two of them naked in her hotel room, he wasn't about to protest.
And damn it, he couldn't help his wicked thoughts. He was horny. When was the last time he'd been with a woman?
Too long, that was for sure.
"I'm really a good girl," she finally said, her voice prim.
Ha. He doubted that. Not that he thought she was some sort of wild child slut bag but he had a feeling she knew how to have a good time. Let loose. Let those inhibitions of hers run free.
Just what he needed to forget, for even one night.
He'd take it.
"A little good, a little bad? A mixture is always nice."
She wrinkled her nose. "Nice? I don't want you think of me as nice." She drank deeply, the frothy drink now half drained from the giant glass.
If she didn't watch it she'd be drunk and on the floor in no time. And no way could he take advantage of a pretty drunk woman.
Maybe back when he'd been young and obnoxious and practically heartless. But not any longer.
"What do you want me to think of you, then? Pretty? Sexy? Smokin' hot?" He smiled, and she returned it.
"That works." She drank again and he made a murmur of disapproval. "What's wrong?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "Don't drink too much. I don't take advantage of sloppy drunk chicks."
"Oh, I'm not sloppy." Yet her smile was crooked. He had a feeling she might be a teeny bit sloppy. "You'd know if I was sloppy."
He laughed, and she joined in. The banter, the teasing, it was good. It felt...mindless. And not in an insulting way, it was just so carefree. He craved carefree. Simple.
There hadn't been much simple in his life the last few years. Not that he complained. He was military through and through and to the core. It was his career, his life. And he was starting to wonder if he let it take over his life too damn much.
"So you're not afraid of the end of the world thing happening?" It had been talked about for years, and for the last week the media had really ratcheted up the fear. People were barricading themselves in their houses, buying out the grocery stores and filling the air with a pervasive sense of paranoia.
Not that he believed in any of that sort of bullshit.
"No." She waved a hand as if dismissing it all. "I've been joking about it for years since my birthday just so happens to be on the same day. It's the whole reason I'm here. Partying it up with my friends on my big day, celebrating just in case the world ends. Gotta do it right, ya know?"
"Where are your friends?" He glanced about the bar. He'd noticed her from the moment she walked in, and she'd been alone.
"I, uh, lost them." Shrugging, she sipped from her drink, practically draining it.
"Lost them?" He cocked a brow. Where the hell were her friends?
"We got separated in the crowd earlier. This place is so busy." She shot him a little smile. "I wouldn't have come in here if I'd been with them so maybe I shouldn't complain. Maybe you shouldn't complain either," she teased.
Arousal hit him swift and hard. That smile, her seemingly innocent comment was loaded with possibilities. "I shouldn't?"
"No, you shouldn't. Remember how you just said you don't take advantage of sloppy drunk girls?"
"Yeah..." He drew the word out, watching her.
"Well, lucky for you I'm not too drunk. Yet." She flashed him a brilliant smile.
Russ studied her quietly, shaking his head when she finished the last of her drink. She slid off the barstool, her heels clicking loudly on the tile floor when she landed and she held her hand out to him.
"Let's go."
Without a word he stood, forgetting all about the beer he hadn't finished, though at least he'd paid for it. She took his hand, her slender fingers twining with his and she pulled him out of the cozy bar and into the bustling, loud casino. He tugged on her hand, pulling her close so she could hear him above the din.
"Where are you taking me?" He had a feeling he knew but he wanted confirmation.
She smiled. It was wicked and full of promise. "My hotel room."
"Ah." Just as he thought. Leaning down, he dropped a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. A shudder moved through her, he felt it. "Lead the way."
Samantha did, pulling him through the milling crowds, her intent focused, her steps purposeful. Russ tightened his hold on her hand, assessing the room as was habit. The place was filling up fast, modern---and annoying as hell---Christmas music played over the hum of the slot machines and a few cops walked past, their expressions stern. Serious as they not so subtly scanned every passerby.
Russ frowned. Strange. The casinos were usually full of security, both uniformed and undercover, but rarely did he see police unless something major was going down.
He hoped like hell nothing major was going down.
She led them to a bank of elevators where no one else waited. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as more cops spilled into the casino.
"Something wrong?"
Turning, he found her watching him carefully, her brows drawn. "There are a lot of cops here."
"Oh." She sighed. "I bet it's because of all of the end of the world talk."
He snorted. "I doubt that."
"The crazies come out in force, especially when they have reason. And trust me, this end of the world crap is reason enough."
"And Vegas is full of crazies," he muttered. There were always over-the-top predictions about the end of the world. If they wanted to see real end of the world crap, people should spend a few months in a warzone.
That would scare the crap out of anyone.
"I saw that people are stockpiling items in preparation. A lot of people are taking this seriously." She rested her hands on her hips, looking sassy and sexy as hell. "Kind of nuts, huh?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. "But I don't put much into it, you know? I mean come on, just because the Mayan's calendar ends tomorrow doesn't mean the world's going to end, right? How many times do people have to predict this shit and work people up into a frenzy?"
A ding sounded and the elevator doors slid open, revealing an empty car. They walked inside, and she pushed her floor number. "Like I told you, that's why I'm here. I figured if the world is going to end I may as well have a good time while it happens."
Unable to resist he tugged her close. She slammed into him, her hands bracing against his chest, her head tilted back so their gazes met. Her eyes were wide, fathomless and her breath came in short little spurts. Like maybe she was aroused.
He was definitely aroused, having her so close, her breasts crushed against his chest, her legs tangling with his. Tilting his head, his lips were so close to hers they practically brushed against each other when he spoke. "Am I a part of your good time, ringing in your birthday?"
"If you want to be," she offered breathlessly just before he cut her off.
With a searing hot kiss.
Oh, the man could kiss. Deliciously so. He had her back pressed against the elevator wall, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, his hungry mouth fused with hers. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue's invasion and it tangled with hers. Slick and wet and oh, God, her legs were shaky again.
Thank God he was holding her up.
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open with a quiet swoosh and Samantha shoved at his shoulders to get his attention. She didn't want to waste any more time in this elevator, they needed to get to her room so they could get naked.
And quick.
Tearing her mouth from his, she waved toward the still open doors. "Come on." She grabbed his hand and led him out of the elevator, her steps quick as she hightailed it down the hall. He kept pace, chuckling when she stumbled on her high heels, but he caught her just before she went crashing to the ground.
What a gentleman.
With shaking fingers she shoved the card key into the lock, muttering with frustration when the light refused to turn green. She tried it again, but the little light came up red and he took the card from her. Slid it in with ease and the green light flashed, allowing his entry.
He opened the door and held it for her. "I guess I have the magic touch."
Ooh, she hoped so. That sounded rather...delicious. And promising.
Shivering, she went into the quiet, cool room and the door shut behind him with a finality that clanged loud. Swallowing hard, she turned to face him. The room was dark, only a sliver of light shone through from the cracked-open drapes that covered the window and his face was cast in shadow. He approached her stealthily, emerging from the black shadows like some sort of covert warrior and another quiver shot through her.
The air fairly crackled with chemistry, and her blood buzzed with anticipation. It all felt so illicit, so wicked, so...full of potential.
She'd never done anything like this before in her life. Brought a man she didn't know to her hotel room so she could have one night of anonymous sex. But damn it, a woman only turned thirty once so she needed to live it up.
He stopped just before her, so close but not quite touching her. "Do you want this?"
The sound of his deep, gravelly voice made her skin tighten with need. "Y-yes." She hated that she stumbled over the word.
Reaching out, he caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. They were rough, calloused, a real man's hands and she could only imagine those hands stroking all over her bare skin. "If you want me to leave, say the word and I'm out of here."
He was giving her a chance to say no, and she appreciated that. But she didn't want to tell him no. She wanted to scream yes, yes, yes.
Most definitely yes.
"I want you to stay," she whispered. She locked her fingers around his wrist and pulled on his hand so it was pressed against her mouth. Gently she kissed his knuckles, her tongue darting out for a quick lick.
He groaned at first contact, and she smiled against his flesh.
Quick as lightning he had her in his arms, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress, lifting it so the fabric bunched at her waist. He dove beneath the fabric and slid his fingers across her belly, making her whimper.
Russ swallowed her whimper with a drugging kiss, his tongue delving deep inside her mouth while his hand slid up to cup her breast. He played with the lace of her bra, drawing a single finger back and forth across her nipple as it peaked beneath his touch.
He slipped his finger beneath the lacy cup of her bra and circled her nipple, slow and easy, his lips clinging to hers, his other hand smoothing up and down her back. She moved closer to him, slipping her arms around him, diving beneath the hem of his shirt. Smoothing her hands over his hard, hot flesh, she marveled at the sleek muscles rippling beneath her fingers.
"Let's get you naked," he murmured when he broke the kiss. His gaze, hot and seeing everything, roved lazily down her body.
Sweeter words were never spoken. She stumbled out of his arms, her feet wobbly on the heels and reached toward her side, slowly sliding the hidden zipper down. The dress gaped and she slipped out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, she kicked it to the side, standing before him in black lacy panties and matching bra.
She'd done it up right before she left for her weekend trip, indulging in La Perla lingerie that put a significant dent on her credit card limit. But screw it, you only live once, right?
Russ pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the ground, and his entire body stilled when he caught sight of her standing there in just her underwear. His eyes went molten hot, his lips parted and a low whistle escaped him. "Damn, woman."
Emboldened by his appreciative gaze, she did a little turn, giving him a full view. Amazingly she didn't trip over her heels. "You like what you see?"
"Hell, yeah." He reached for her, his grip rough, possessive. Hauling her close, his big hands rested on her butt and he rubbed against her. Letting her know exactly how much he wanted her.
Oh my, he was...huge. She flexed her hips, his erection hot and unyielding even through his jeans and her sex throbbed in anticipation---and trepidation. It had been awhile since she'd had sex and just brushing against him fully clothed made her nervous.
He slipped his hands beneath the thin lace of her panties, kneading her ass, his fingers perilously close to her slick sex. She arched her back, desperate for his fingers to drift down further, but he released his hold on her, his hands coming up to cup her face and lift her up to his kiss.
She drowned beneath his mouth, reveling in the assured way he kissed her, his tongue stroking, his lips and teeth nipping. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs in a tender gesture, drinking from her, taking from her what she so willingly gave him without protest.
Herself.
Samantha broke away first, needing to catch her breath. His hands wandered, teasing the black beribboned edge of her bra, gliding across her stomach. "You're still not completely naked."
"Neither are you." She let her hands wander as well, all over the smooth planes of his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the muscular ridges of his abdomen. He was utter perfection, in peak physical condition and she wondered what the hell he did to get a body like that.
"We should rectify this problem." He reached around to undo the clasp of her bra, and it sprang free. She shook off the straps and shed the bra, her skin heating with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure when his gaze dipped to her naked breasts.
They were both the bane of her existence and her finest feminine asset. They were large, they'd been large since she was thirteen and her classmates had teased her mercilessly, especially the boys. Women paid top dollar to obtain breasts as big and perky as hers but unfortunately, gravity would eventually send hers to her belly button.
Thank goodness that hadn't happened yet.
He didn't say a word, merely bent over her and dropped the sweetest kiss to the tip of one breast. Her nipple tightened and he licked her, earning a ragged groan from her for his efforts.
"Bed," he insisted, his hot breath brushing across the sensitive skin of her chest, and she nodded her agreement.
If she didn't get off her feet soon, she just might collapse.
He pushed her shoulders so she landed gently on the mattress and she scooted upward, propping her head on the fluffy pillows. Reaching down, she started to slip off her shoes.
"Keep 'em on," he commanded. "And take off your panties."
A thrill moved through her at his bossy tone. Normally she would've told any guy who talked to her like Russ did to take a flying leap. Yet here she was heeding his every demand, her sex slick with desire, her entire body tingling as she slipped the panties down and off, flinging them over the side of the bed.
He practically growled when he saw her naked, and she giggled. Okay, maybe she was a little drunk, or maybe the heady, hazy feeling she was experiencing had everything to do with Russ and his hands and his kisses, she hadn't a clue.
But she wasn't going to complain.
Turning his back to her, he sat on the edge of the bed and began removing his boots. She stared in admiration at the ripple of muscle with his every movement, mesmerized by the stark, tribal-style tattoo that spread across his upper back. The shape reminded her of wings. It was sexy, everything about him was sexy and without thought she went to him. Crawled across the mattress so she was directly behind him and she touched the tattoo, her fingers skimming the primal, intricate design.
"This is amazing." His skin was smooth and hot beneath her fingertips, and she swore she felt a shiver move through him at her touch. Emboldened, she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his, her breasts nestled snug against his back.
He sat up straight, turning his head so their lips were a hairsbreadth away from each other's. "Are you trying to attack me?"
She smiled and nuzzled his neck, giving him a little lick. He tasted vaguely salty...delicious. "I think you'd win in any type of attack."
"Mmm." His sexy murmur made her insides tremble and she released her hold on his neck. She wound her arms around his middle and stroked his flat stomach. Leaning back, he propped his weight on his hands and gave her free rein.
She took full advantage, stroking him, teasing him. Finally she went to work on the button fly of his jeans, undoing each metal stud slowly, her fingers brushing against the warm cotton of his underwear. Desire spiraled through her, and she slipped her hand beneath the waistband, curling her fingers around his erection.
Oh, God. She couldn't believe how bold she was, how responsive he was, how utterly aroused he seemed by her. She didn't even protest when he exhibited all that pent-up strength of his and moved out of her embrace so fast he was like a blur. With one tug on her arm he had her flat on her back and he hovered above her, his hands spreading her thighs wide, exposing her fully to his gaze.
"Damn, you're pretty," he muttered just before he buried his face against the very center of her.
Samantha nearly shot off the bed when Russ made initial contact with his tongue on her sex. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged. This woman was hot, the hottest thing he'd ever seen and he worked her while she writhed and groaned beneath him.
A strange noise sounded in the distance---he swore it sounded like gunfire, yeah right---but he ignored it. Focused instead on the woman he was working into a frenzy. She was close to coming, if her accelerated breathing and tense limbs were any sort of indication. He moaned against her flesh.
"Oh, God." Her agonized groan was like music to his ears, and he pulsed with eagerness. He couldn't wait to get inside her and thanked the mighty Lord above he'd grabbed the condom from his wallet and left the foil packet close by on the bed. "That feels so g-good."
He murmured hot words against her, wanting to drive her on further, desperate to witness her fall completely apart.
And that was all it took. She came with a shuddery little moan, her entire body trembling. Reaching blindly, he searched the bed, his fingers curling around the condom packet, and he tore into it with shaking fingers, lifting away so he could sheath himself.
With her body arched, her head thrown back and eyes closed, she was gorgeous. Like a painting. And he didn't think poetic thoughts or such crap like that but damn. She was beautiful, even more so while she climaxed and unable to control himself he slammed inside her.
"Oh." Her eyes flew open and she smiled, her expression one of deep satisfaction. "God, you're so big," she said on a moan.
He took her with slow, shallow thrusts, his body demanding more but he held back. Pride filled him at the look on her face, the glow in her cheeks. He was the one who put that expression on her face and he was going to make her feel even better in a few minutes.
She gripped his ass and pulled him deeper, and they groaned in unison. "More," she urged and he gave her what she wanted, increasing his pace.
"I'm not gonna last," he threatened between puffs of breath, sweat dripping down his face. Not from exertion but from keeping such control of his animalistic urges.
He'd really let loose on her later.
"Me either," she said, her fingernails cutting into his skin so hard he thought she'd leave a mark. "Make me come, Russ."
Never one to turn away from a challenge he reached between them, stroking her with his index finger. Her breathing increasing, her little cries getting louder until she said his name on a gasp and fell apart beneath him.
He let go then with a quiet roar, coming hard, the shudders taking completely over his body. She smoothed her hands up and down his back, murmuring sweet, sexy words until he collapsed on top of her in an exhausted heap.
The ground rumbled beneath them and he closed his eyes, swore the hotel tower swayed gently back and forth.
Then again.
Strange.
"I think you literally just made the earth move," she whispered as she stroked his damp hair.
It swayed again, harder this time and another rumble sounded.
Like an explosion.
"I don't think that was us causing the earth to move, sweetheart."
She stilled beneath him and he glanced up, saw her wide eyes reflected in the dim light that shone from the cracked-open curtains. White light flashed, nearly blinding even through the narrow space, and she glanced toward the window. "What's happening?"
Her voice trembled. She sounded scared. Glancing at the bedside clock, he noticed it was black. He reached for the lamp, pushing the button to turn it on but nothing happened.
"The power's out." She pushed at his shoulders and he lifted away from her, letting her go. She stumbled across the room in just her heels, cursing as she knocked into something and he went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
Concern filled him but he forced it down. Giant casinos like this one had generator power, they always did. It would click on soon.
It had to.
"Oh, my God."
Russ turned to find Samantha holding the curtains open, her back to him. She made a pretty naked picture, all smooth, creamy skin and lush curves and his cock made a halfhearted attempt in interest.
Jesus, not now.
He went to her. "What's wrong?" Stopping just behind her, he rested his hands on her slim shoulders and gazed out the window at the Las Vegas cityscape.
And saw nothing but mass destruction.
"What's happening?" Panic filled her and she turned to stare at Russ, waiting for an answer.
Like he knew. His expression was stern but edged with confusion. He studied what was unfolding before them silently, his hands tightening about her shoulders with every second that passed.
Buildings that once surrounded the hotel were demolished, smashed into bits of rubble. Cars scattered down the street as if they were discarded toys, flipped on their side or completely upside down. The street lights and neon signs were out though flashes that looked like laser beams appeared, red and white in color, streaking across the night sky and illuminating the entire block.
Something was attacking them from above.
"It's the end of the world, isn't it? Oh, my God." She jerked away from Russ's hold and ran to her suitcase, throwing it open and searching for something to wear. She sat on the floor, rummaging through her clothes, her fingers shaking so badly she could hardly grasp ahold of anything.
She needed to get dressed. They needed to get the hell out of here and quick.
If they even could.
A sob welled in her throat, large and overwhelming and she choked it down, a little cry escaping her despite her efforts.
"Hey." He came to her and knelt, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her to look at him. "Stay calm. You need to get dressed."
"What do you think I'm doing?" She sounded hysterical even to her own ears.
It was really happening, and she couldn't freaking believe it. The end of the world was going down on her birthday. The Mayans had been right all along.
"Calm down. We're gonna be okay." His voice was low, soothing and he trailed his fingers down her arm. Gooseflesh followed in his wake, and she shook out of his touch. She didn't want his comfort, not now. "Let's get dressed and get out of here."
"Easy for you to say." She was going to die on the twenty-first floor in a tower in a cheesy casino with a man she didn't know. A man she'd just had sex with.
A man who was still naked, as was she.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she tossed the clean clothes out of her suitcase, grabbing fresh underwear, a shirt and jeans. He stood and dressed quickly, assuming his position at the window when he was finished. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he tried to use his cell phone.
It didn't work. Of course.
"I have a car in the parking garage. Looks like it's still standing."
For whatever reason, the hotel towers, casino and parking garage were all intact while everything else around it was destroyed.
She wondered why.
"Does your cell work?" he asked.
Grabbing her purse, she checked it and saw it wasn't even turned on. She hit the power button, held it but it was no use. "Nothing."
"What the fuck." His quiet murmur frazzled her nerves and she slipped on her flats, the only practical shoes she'd brought with her. She snatched up her regular purse, dumping the contents from her smaller purse into it before she went to the mini bar and swept everything inside of it into her purse. Candy bars, chips, little bottles of liquor and regular-sized bottles of water all tumbled inside.
"Good idea," Russ said when she was finished. "Let's go."
They fled the hotel room, passing the elevators as they walked down the hall. The lights flickered on and off, as if the power was trying to come back on, but they weren't going to take any chances. They were taking the stairs.
On the bright side, at least they were going down and not up.
She followed after him, struggling to keep up. The man was fast, practically bounding from one flight of stairs to the next and a large boom sounded in the distance, causing the building to sway.
"Don't let it bother you," he called back. "Just keep going."
Samantha did as he said, focusing on her steps, the weight of her purse already causing her shoulder to ache. She'd thrown on a sweatshirt she'd purchased earlier at a random gift shop. She'd known it would be cold outside.
The moment Russ threw open the door her earlier thoughts were confirmed. It was cold as ice outside, the wind blowing past them sounding hollow and eerie. Not a soul was around. No scared and wounded people running down the streets, no ambulance or police sirens sounding. The street was quiet.
Too quiet.
"I don't like this." Russ grabbed hold of her hand, and they ran across the parking lot toward the garage. "Where the fuck is everybody?"
"I have no idea." She panted, desperate to catch her breath but not about to slow down. Who knew who---or what---was lurking in the shadows? She'd watched enough scary movies to know nothing good happened when it was too quiet.
"Well, lucky for us I'm parked on the ground floor." He turned right the moment they slipped into the garage, leading her to a black F-150 pickup. The garage was packed with cars, every slot filled yet not a single person was there.
It was as if they were the only two people in the entire place---the entire city.
But how could that be possible?
"Get in," he commanded, his voice gruff as he hit the keyless remote, unlocking the doors.
She did as he asked, her entire body trembling with a combination of fear and cold. She exhaled loudly, her breath a cloud in front of her as he slipped into the car and shoved his key into the ignition.
"Pray it starts," he said before he turned the key.
The truck's engine roared to life and they smiled at each other, looking like giddy kids on Christmas morning. With a flick of his wrist he cranked on the heater then backed out of the parking spot.
"My family lives in Henderson. We'll head there," he said as they pulled out of the garage and onto the abandoned street.
"You're local?" Well, maybe that was to their advantage. At least he'd know where to go. She'd be lost if she was left on her own.
A sobering thought.
"Yeah. Well, I'm here on leave. I'm in the military." He cast her a quick sideways glance before turning his attention back to the street, swerving quickly to dodge an overturned car lying in the middle of the road.
Well, that made complete sense considering his outrageous body and quick reflexes, the way he took utter command of the situation once it started to fall apart. "What branch?"
"Navy. They gave me holiday leave. I got lucky."
"I'll say." She watched him, the firm clench of his jaw, the slight tic there, his gaze narrowed as he maneuvered the truck with amazing skill.
Despite the fear and the worry and the utter shock she was experiencing, she couldn't help but admire him.
If the end of the world was really going down, she'd really lucked out.
"I don't get why no one's out here. Why the entire street is abandoned." He turned left at the next light---which was completely dark---and headed east. The street was just as empty, the power out, though a singular flash of white light shone for a brief second, illuminating the dark sky, thick with clouds.
"Is everything going to be okay? Are we going to be okay?" She had to ask, though she really didn't want an honest answer.
Searching for reassurance and she probably wasn't going to find it.
Russ looked at her, his expression solemn, his eyes filled with a hint of---gulp---fear. "I don't know."
Samantha was afraid he'd say that.
He didn't get what was going on.
One moment he was buried deep in the sweetest, sexiest woman he'd ever met and the next the entire building felt as if it was going to collapse all while the city was being destroyed.
Yet they leave the hotel all in one piece and find...nothing. The buildings that surrounded theirs were smashed to bits, the power was out and the streets were abandoned. No one was around.
Where the hell were the panicked crowds? They should be fleeing the city in their cars in mass exodus. Or at the very least, running in droves down the sidewalk, looking for safety, looting closed shops, whatever it was that people did when their city was under siege.
He needed to get the fuck out of here. He needed to get home, make sure his family was safe, hell, make sure the entire city of Henderson was in one piece.
The further they drove out of Las Vegas the less the destruction appeared, though there was still not one sign of humanity. The entire city was shrouded in darkness.
"Doesn't it feel like we're the only ones...here?" Samantha's soft, trembling voice reached him and he glanced at her. Saw she was huddled in the corner of her seat, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out the window.
Lifting up the center console, he patted the space beside him. "Come here."
She undid her seatbelt and slid toward him, slamming her body close to his. Without a word she put on her seatbelt then rested her hand on his thigh.
He needed her close. Not only to make her feel better but to reassure himself as well.
Whatever was going down, this was some scary shit.
"I don't know what happened to everyone," he finally said, desperate to fill the silence that had overcome them both. He was a man who operated best under pressure, had been doing so for years. He'd fought a bitter war and came out the other side a survivor. Hell, he was willing to go back and fight some more. He was so damn loyal.
Or crazy, take your pick.
"There's not even anyone out here," she observed as he turned right and pulled onto the freeway. "It doesn't make any sense."
None of it did but he couldn't focus on it. He had one goal in mind. Get them to Henderson.
Get them to safety.
Pressing his foot hard on the gas pedal, he watched as the speedometer hit seventy, then eighty...finally steadying at ninety. Not like any highway patrol was out to give him a ticket. He was gonna haul ass.
Her fingers tightened on his thigh, sharp and painful even through the thick denim, and he laid a hand over hers, squeezing in reassurance. She leaned her head on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her and the floral scent of her hair drifted up, tickling his nose.
He released his hold on her and clamped both hands on the steering wheel, peering into the darkness of the night. Damn it, it all felt so---normal. How he wished it were normal.
But it wasn't. Not even close.
"What was that?"
Another flash of light appeared, this one brighter and shining upon the freeway ahead of them. Tapping on the brakes, he slowed, watched as the beam of light swung wide, as if trying to capture them.
Glancing out the window, he saw it. A giant---plane?---above them.
"Something's following us." He hit the gas and gunned the truck, speeding to one hundred in less than a minute. Thank God for a turbo engine.
"What?" She grabbed the dashboard and peered into the sky, a gasp escaping her when she saw it. "What is that?"
"I don't know." He didn't want to say it. It didn't look like a normal plane, it didn't look like military either. He'd seen enough of those to last a lifetime.
It looked...foreign.
As if it might be from another world.
The light shone directly upon them, illuminating the cab of the truck and momentarily blinding him. Samantha screamed as he swerved, his truck sliding into the median, the back end twisting with the impact.
The light disappeared.
"Oh, my God. They're trying to get us." She was panting, her voice rising. "Did you see that? Did you feel that? I swear it was trying to pull the entire truck up."
Their gazes met, held. He switched the truck into four-wheel drive because the median strip was so rocky and the tires gripped the rough ground with ease.
Russ had definitely felt it. An inexplicable pull, just like in the fuckin' movies. What the hell? Were they trying to capture them and yank them up into their alien ship? Was that what happened to everyone else?
Some sort of freaky alien invasion?
The light shone again from behind and he glanced over his shoulder, saw that it was gaining on them.
"Hold on tight. Go back into the passenger seat," he warned Samantha, ready to do damage to his precious truck. He'd finally paid the baby off and rarely got to drive it, and now he was about to put it through the ringer.
He'd mourn the loss of his truck later. If his plan worked, it was the only thing that would get them through this.
Samantha did as he asked, her hand griping the handle above the door after she slipped her seat belt on. Sending her a look, he cocked a brow in question and she nodded once in answer.
Perfect. She wasn't one who needed lots of explanation, thank God.
Steeling himself, he jerked the steering wheel as hard as he could, sending the truck spinning in a one-eighty. The light from above scanned back and forth, as if they lost their subject and he slammed on the brakes. Watched as the light continued on, leaving them shrouded in darkness.
"Did you lose them?"
"Not yet." He hit the gas again, spurting forward, leaving a cloud of dust and gravel in his wake. He drove across the southbound lane and straight down the embankment, through a copse of trees until he came to a frontage road. Flicking off his lights, he stopped the car and breathed deep.
"Holy shit," Samantha whispered, her voice shaking.
He laughed. He couldn't help it. "Got one of those waters you pinched from the mini-bar?"
She dug in her purse and handed him one. He tore the lid off and drank half of it in one swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was finished. "Ready to go?" He set the water bottle between his legs.
"Where are we going? Where are we?"
"Not too far from Henderson. I'm going to take some back roads to get there."
"Okay." She nodded. "You're going to drive in the dark?"
Russ eased his foot on the gas pedal, slow and steady. The light from above was nowhere to be seen.
For the moment. No way could he get too comfortable yet.
"I used to all the time when I was in high school." They would drive the desert back roads with their lights off when they were kids, he and his friends. Like they had a death wish or something.
Now all of his teenage driving high jinks were coming into good use.
"Okay." She blew out a harsh breath. "Do you think we've lost them?"
"No way. They'll find us eventually. We just need to stay one step ahead of them." Reaching out, he grasped her hand and squeezed it tight.
"Do you think? Oh, my God, I sound absolutely crazy, I know it." She paused and turned her hand within his so their fingers entwined. "Do you think they're aliens? Why do you think they want us?"
"Yeah." He chuckled because he knew it sounded crazy but fuck it all, it was the truth. "Yeah, I think they're aliens. I have no clue why they want us. Maybe they want you."
Her eyes went wide. "Me? Why?"
"I don't know. You carrying a secret alien baby or what?"
"No." She released her hold on his hand and shoved at his shoulder. "Of course not."
"Then I don't know what the hell they want. But we'll worry about that later. First, we need to get to safety."
Russ hoped like hell he could actually keep them safe.
Samantha felt like she was living the wildest nightmare of her life. Like she'd been dropped into the middle of a movie and there was no way of escaping. It had all become so surreal she wasn't sure what was truly happening and what was tumbling around in her brain.
Unfortunately, she knew everything was actually happening. Her newfound lover was barreling down a country road with the lights off, driving like a bat out of hell. Trying to outrun the freaking aliens---or whatever the heck they were---who followed them from above in their mother ship.
God. It sounded absolutely nuts. It was absolutely nuts.
When that beam of light had shined directly upon them on the freeway, she'd felt it. A tug within her belly, grasping hold and trying to jerk her, Russ, the entire truck into the night sky and into that...that thing.
But somehow, Russ had outrun it. Or more like outsmarted it. He was rather skilled behind the wheel she had to give him that.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the car window. It was ice cold, making her gasp and she pulled away from it, her gaze unerringly going to Russ.
He drove with a focus that was almost unnerving. Big hands tightly clamped around the steering wheel, his jaw hard as steel, his lips firm. She felt a little starry-eyed, staring at him, but really. He was her hero. He could've left her at the hotel and never looked back.
Lucky for her, he hadn't. This thoughtful, big, strong man had a conscience. And he was doing right by taking care of her.
The night was dark and foreboding, the engine whining, the wind buffering against the truck. She saw nothing outside, no house lights, no streetlights, no sign of life. That was the part that disturbed her the most. The absolute lack of any human movement whatsoever. The entire area had turned into a ghost town. It was disconcerting, feeling as if no one else existed.
Scary.
"Tired?" His rumbling deep voice startled her and she jerked her head away from the glass, turning to find his gaze on her before he turned his focus back to the road.
"I am." She yawned and stretched, her lids getting droopy. She hadn't felt sleepy prior to him asking...
"Grab a quick nap." He peered into the darkness, exhaustion etched all over his handsome face. "I'll wake you when we get there."
"Get where?"
"My parents' house." His mouth tightened.
She knew he was worried, and her heart grew heavy for him. She hoped his parents were all right.
It wasn't looking very good.
"I don't feel right, trying to sleep when you can't," she murmured.
Reaching across the seat, he settled his hand on her knee and gave it a quick squeeze. Despite the danger and the insanity of it all, his touch felt good. Right. She traced the ridges of his knuckles with her index finger, needing the connection, surprised at the pleasure that bloomed within her.
If circumstances were different...
Samantha frowned. But they weren't different. They couldn't change what was happening even if they tried.
"Go to sleep," he whispered, his voice low and soothing and she leaned her head back on the seat, closing her eyes. The rumble of the truck lulled her, and her hand fell away from his though he continued to touch her. He slid his hand up higher until it was resting on the inside of her thigh and she sighed when he stroked her.
She tingled everywhere at his touch, and her mind drifted, drifted...
Until finally, she slept.
"She belongs to us now."
"Confirmed. We've taken care of the male subject. He's been disposed and is no longer an issue."
Samantha remained completely still, her eyes tightly closed. She was too scared to open them and see who---or what---was speaking.
And taken care of the male subject? They must be speaking of Russ...
A sob welled in her throat, and she fought to keep it down. She couldn't lose it now. She'd come too far and besides, Russ would be so disappointed in her.
Not that he was even alive to see her...
Something cold and hard touched her leg and she jumped, a yelp escaping her. Eyes snapping open, she discovered two giant metal objects standing next to her, pale blue light shining from where their eyes should've been.
"She's awake. It's time."
"Strip her."
They spoke in a foreign language unlike anything she'd ever heard before, yet she understood everything they said.
And she wasn't about to let them get their...hands on her.
"Get away from me." She kicked out a foot, but it was restrained. By what, she couldn't see. "Don't touch me!"
Invisible shackles wrapped around her ankles, then snapped about her wrists. She was lying on a thin bed spread-eagled and they were looming over her, their metal fingers gliding over her skin.
Her clothes had disappeared.
"N-no." Samantha shook her head, struggling against her invisible restraints, tears stinging the corners of her eyes when she felt them touch her. One of the metal beings touched her breast, pinching her nipple so hard it hurt, and the tears came freely now. Flowing down her cheeks as she began to sob.
"Don't touch me. Don't touch me!"
Samantha woke on a gasp, sitting straight up, completely disoriented. The steady hum of the pickup truck's engine reminded her where she was and she turned to see Russ driving with the same intent expression he'd had before she fell asleep.
"Bad dream?"
Nodding, she pushed the hair away from her face, noted that her skin was damp with perspiration. "It was awful."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"Alien robots ready to experiment on me." A shiver moved though her. That was all she wanted to say.
"Sounds fucking terrible."
"You can say that again." She tipped her head back against the edge of the seat and rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. They felt gritty, her mouth tasted nasty and her entire body ached.
She could only imagine how great Russ must feel.
"You woke up just in time." He turned left onto a gravel driveway. "We're here."
The trepidation in his voice was there, just beneath the surface. She worried for him, a tremble moved through her as they pulled in front of the dark house, and he turned off the engine.
They remained in the truck, the only sound their even breathing and the tick, tick, tick of the engine cooling. She chanced a glance at him, saw the grim expression on his face and she reached out, patted his shoulder in reassurance.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
He breathed deep and leaned over, popping open the glove compartment and pulling out a small flashlight. The man was impressively prepared for just about anything. "It's now or never."
They climbed out of the truck and she followed Russ up the sidewalk that led to the front door. He tested the knob but it turned easily, the door swinging open with a slight creak. Within the house it was dark, it was dark everywhere and they walked inside, Russ calling softly for his parents.
There was no answer.
She trailed after him as he searched every room with the flashlight, his footsteps becoming quicker, heavier with each room that turned up empty and he finally stopped in the master bedroom, turning a slow circle. "No one's here."
"No one is anywhere," she murmured, her heart breaking for him. She wished she could offer him some sort of reassurance, but she didn't know how. She'd already lost her friends. She had no idea where they were.
But to face the possibility that her parents were gone forever? She couldn't fathom it.
"Where the hell could they be?" he roared, throwing the flashlight with all his might. It crashed against the wall before it dropped to the floor, denting the drywall, and she watched in horror as her personal hero crumpled to the ground and beat his fist upon it.
Samantha ran to him, kneeling by his side and slipping her arm around his trembling shoulders. He was upset, he had every right to be and it scared the ever-living crap out of her.
He'd been the strong one from the beginning. If he lost it now how would they ever make it? On her skills and gumption alone?
Yeah, right.
"They must be dead." His voice was shredded, and he sniffed. "My parents must be dead. I don't know where else they could be."
She wrapped her arms around him and brought him to her, his head resting against her chest. Smoothing a hand over his thick, dark hair, she offered soothing words, her eyes closing when she felt him shudder.
It broke her heart to see him like this. His arms banded around her waist, and he held her tight, his face buried against her neck. She swore she felt the hot dampness of tears, but she would never ask him. Had a feeling he was a bit of a macho man who would never admit to such a thing.
"What should we do, Russ?" She hated asking, but they needed some sort of plan.
He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. The discarded flashlight was still on, throwing a shaft of light across his face, and she saw all the despair there, all the weariness.
"I don't know," he croaked, sounding good and truly lost. "What do you think?"
She pushed his hair back with her fingers. "You're tired. Maybe we should try and rest for a bit."
"They'll find us."
"We'll stay only for a little while. You need to sleep."
His eyes slid closed for the briefest moment, and he grabbed hold of her hand, bringing it to his mouth so he could press a gentle kiss to the back of it. A full body shiver moved through her at the contact and when his eyes opened, she leaned in, kissing him soundly on the lips.
He looked like he really needed it.
"I fucking hate this," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."
"I don't know either, but we can't go on like this. We're both running ragged. That's why we should rest. Even for just an hour."
He sighed. "You're right. Let's stock up and hide in the detached garage in the back. Sleep for a while and then get the hell out of here."
"Stock up? I have food." She shook her purse, which she'd brought in with her.
"I'm not just talking food, sweetheart, though we should grab more, good idea. I'm talking about useful stuff." He kissed her again, as if he needed the bit of physical contact to keep going. "I'm talking weapons. My father has a stockpile of them."
The sadness had slowly left him, replaced by a simmering, potent rage that bubbled just beneath the surface. His parents were fucking gone---hell the entire family had probably disappeared, and he could do nothing about it.
Nothing.
He'd cried, not like a blubbering baby but tears had slipped out and he'd struggled not to ball. Samantha had offered comfort, holding him close, not saying a bunch of stupid words to try and make him feel better because nothing would've made him feel better at that particular moment. Not even now.
Nope, she hadn't said anything at all, just offered him a shoulder to sniffle on. He appreciated her more than she could imagine.
After gaining control over his emotions he forced himself to get over the sadness. He was pissed. He wanted to kick some ass.
He wanted revenge.
First though, he needed to remain calm and rational and gather supplies.
Samantha filled a few grocery bags with food from the pantry while he went to his father's den. The gun case was locked. Samantha had the flashlight so he kicked his booted foot through the glass door, smashing it to bits. The broken glass fell to the floor in a tinkling pile.
His mother would've had a fit if she could see him.
Reaching through the broken glass pane, he unlocked the door and it swung open. He grabbed two shotguns and two handguns, a set each for himself and for Samantha. They needed to be prepared for whatever might come at them. He had a sneaking suspicion it would be pretty damn bad.
Russ hoped like hell she wasn't scared of guns.
Meeting her in the kitchen, Samantha had at least five grocery bags full of various food, both perishable and nonperishable, plus water and soda, paper towels, plastic silverware...the works.
"You've done good," he said with a nod of approval. He had to admit he was impressed. Grace under pressure and all those clichés, he gave Samantha a task, told her what to do and she never backed down. She probably would've made a good soldier.
A damn sexy one too.
"These are for you." He set two of the guns on the counter, pushing the lighter shotgun and the tiny silver handgun toward her.
Samantha gaped at the weapons for a long, silent moment before her gaze lifted to meet his. "What do you mean?"
"We need to be prepared and, when I say prepared, I mean armed to the fucking teeth." He watched her, his expression as serious as his tone. "We have no clue what's going to happen next."
Carefully she reached out and touched the shotgun. "I shot a BB gun once but that's it. I have no experience with guns. I'm a girly-girl, remember? I drink frou frou cocktails and run around in high heels that pinch my toes."
"A BB gun is close enough," he muttered. "And you can handle yourself when the going gets tough. I'm not worried."
She seemed pleased by his compliment. "You really think so?" She picked up the small handgun, turning it this way and that as she studied it.
"Most definitely. And watch it. The gun's loaded so be careful."
She set the gun down as quickly as she could, her fingers recoiling as if the shotgun was really a snake. "I don't know about this. Guns make me nervous."
"We don't have a choice, Sam. Those assholes are out there, and they're making everyone disappear. Like go-up-in-smoke-and-never-existed disappear. It's a trick I've certainly never seen before and I've seen a lot of shit over the years." He paused, scraping his hand across his stubble-covered jaw. "And for whatever reason, they're chasing after us and I have no clue why. Do you? Have you figured it out yet?"
Her hands curled around the edge of the white tile kitchen counter. "No."
"Yeah, me either. There's no other way around it. We need to be armed at all times." Grabbing his handgun, he slipped it into the back of his jeans. "It's a war out there, and we're fighting an invisible, unknown enemy."
Lifting her chin, a determined expression crossed her pretty face. She grabbed hold of the handgun again, stared at it with wary caution before she copied his movements and slipped her gun beneath her waistband.
"Be careful," he warned with a little smile. "Don't want to misfire, especially when it could damage that pretty little ass of yours."
Her eyes went wide. "That---really couldn't happen could it?"
"Nah." He shook his head with a light chuckle. "The safety's on. You should be fine."
"Should be? Should be? That's all you can give me?" She tugged the gun from behind her and set it carefully in her purse, which rested on the kitchen counter. "I hate this."
He hated it too---and had already made that clear earlier---hated that she was involved more than anything. But there was nothing they could do to change their circumstances. They needed to make the best of it.
"Come on. Let's go outside."
Samantha followed him out to the detached garage his father had built only a few years ago. The door was unlocked and they walked right in, Russ spotting his parents' old couch sitting in the far corner, covered with a bunch of empty plastic containers labeled "Christmas decorations".
Sadness pierced his heart. All of those decorations were inside, scattered everywhere. His mother loved Christmas. She made a big deal about the holiday every year. When he was a kid it had been awesome. As an adult he'd thought her behavior a little over the top.
With the realization that she was gone, it tore him up that he'd never see her again. Never see her get excited over a newly decorated Christmas tree...
He pushed the dismal thought from his brain, desperate to stay focused on his anger. And his fear. The combination amped him up, sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was ready to fight these motherfuckers the minute they showed up.
Samantha headed toward the couch, removing the containers and setting them on the floor before she collapsed onto it with a weary sigh. He may be ready to fight, but she wasn't. She was exhausted.
And he had to admit, so was he.
He went to the workbench where he spotted three gas cans nearby on the floor. His father had kept them on hand for his quad, his lawnmower and whatever else that needed fuel. Walking over to where they sat, he picked each one up by its handle. Luck was on his side.
They were full.
"I'm taking these out to the truck." He held a gas can up for her to see. They'd be good to have on hand. Most gas pumps wouldn't work without power.
"Okay," she answered with a yawn and a little wave.
Walking out into the dark quiet night, he stood stock still, looking, listening for any sign of life.
There was none. He didn't hear any of the normal sounds, just complete and utter silence.
It was damned disconcerting.
His movements quick, he set the gas cans in the back of the truck, then slammed the tailgate into place. The loud boom in the total quiet caused an echo that rippled through the night air and sent a shiver down his spine.
Chicken shit.
Wiping a hand over his face, he shook his head. He wanted to get inside and be with Samantha. He needed her more than he cared to admit. She wasn't a hindrance---he was glad he had her with him. Without her, he wouldn't know what to do.
For a man who always considered himself a lone-wolf type, the realization was startling.
Hurrying back inside, he went to the couch to find Samantha curled into a little ball in the corner, completely zonked out. Shaking his head, he settled in next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her near.
She scooted closer to him, resting her head against his chest with a little sigh. He stretched out on the couch, Samantha snuggled against him, and his cheek on top of her head. Her hair tickled his nose and he batted it away, breathing deep as exhaustion settled over him.
They could sleep, but only for a little while. An hour...two hours, tops. Once they woke they needed to get the hell out of here.
To where... He had no fucking clue.
Samantha roused slowly, lids heavy, entire body numb with exhaustion. Stretching, she found her face smashed against a solid wall of muscle, strong arms wrapped around her, one extremely large hand splayed upon her left breast.
Her nipple tingled and hardened at the seemingly innocent touch.
Subtly arching into his hand, his fingers tightened and his thumb brushed across her nipple in a languid caress. Biting her lip, she nuzzled her face against his chest and slid her hand beneath the layers of his sweatshirt and shirt, touching bare, hot skin.
Russ smoothed his other hand down her side and over her ass, cupping her there, hauling her closer. He was awake and God help them, they didn't have time for this sort of shenanigans, but she was so painfully aroused.
And only Russ could ease the ache within her.
"You awake, sweetheart?" His deep, rumbling voice sent a spark of pure desire shooting through her body, and she nodded. She didn't want to speak.
Afraid once she opened her mouth, she might beg him to give her what she wanted. Just this one moment together, skin on skin, so she could lose herself if only for a few minutes before they faced their ugly reality once again.
He flipped so he lay on his back, her sprawled across him. He tugged off her sweatshirt and shirt all at once, tossing them over his shoulder before he attacked the clasp of her bra. His fingers trembled against her flesh as he slipped the garment off, and she found comfort in the tiny sign of emotion.
It appeared he was just as overcome as she was.
"You feel good," he whispered, trailing his hands across her stomach before they wandered up and he filled his palms with her breasts. She sighed as he stroked her, his thumbs playing with her nipples, pinching them between his thumb and index finger until she gasped.
"So do you." She bent over him, dropping a kiss on his forehead, his cheek, his bristly chin. He angled his head, their mouths meeting and she sunk into his kiss. She parted her lips, letting him in and he swept his tongue into her mouth with a sensuous efficiency that sent gooseflesh cascading over her skin.
Samantha shoved his clothing up to his neck and attacked his pecs, licking and kissing a path down his stomach, nimbly undoing the snap on his jeans. She worked herself into a fever pitch, her skin overheated, her nipples so hard they hurt, and her sex throbbed to feel him pound inside her.
Russ seemed just as caught up as she was. He shucked his sweatshirt before he shoved his jeans and underwear down in one push and she helped drag them off, tossing them onto the floor. She kissed the inside of first one thigh, then the other before she finally wrapped her fingers around the prize.
He jerked beneath her touch and she licked him, earning a ragged groan from him. "God, Sam." He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging and pulling tight as she continued her oral assault on him. He tasted good, salty and masculine and she wanted to give something to him. A few minutes of pleasure to help him forget.
His body tensed, his breathing grew labored and she knew he was close.
"I wanna come inside you," he rasped, his hands clasping about her shoulders and trying to haul her up.
Quickly she shed her jeans and panties, now as naked as he was. Crawling up his big, hard body, she straddled his stomach, his erection brushing against her backside as she bent over him and kissed him long and deep. His sure fingers found her sweet spot, and he teased her, making her groan at the pleasure of it.
Rising up, she grasped the base of his cock and slid down. He stilled, his eyes open wide and beseeching as he watched her.
"No condom?"
She shook her head. It didn't matter. Did it? It didn't feel like it should.
Not wanting to say it out loud, she really didn't think there was any hope for them.
He didn't argue and he didn't ask why, either of which was just as well. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he guided her, showed her the rhythm he preferred and she rode him.
"Baby, you know exactly what you're doing," he said with a lazy smile just before his eyes slid closed.
She didn't answer, merely watched him as they moved together. He was so gorgeous, so strong and those big, capable hands held her firm and steady. A wave of sadness suddenly threatened to wash over her.
Why couldn't she have met him months ago, years ago? Why did it have to be now, when their entire world was crumbling apart, when it felt like they were the only ones left? Being chased by aliens, for the love of God, or whatever the hell they were.
Why, why, why, she wanted to ask. Shake her fist and demand answers that she knew didn't exist.
But she didn't know who to ask. Didn't know who was responsible.
"Hey." His eyes flew open, as if he sensed her sadness and he reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his palm. "Come here."
She bent, their mouths meeting, tongues tangling, soft and sweet and she wanted to cry.
"It's gonna be okay," he whispered against her mouth, their bodies stilling. "I've got you. We've got this together."
A tear trickled down her cheek and plopped onto his face and he drew away from her, his fingers skittering across her face, catching a few stray tears. "I'm scared," she whispered.
"I'm scared, too," he confessed and she knew he spoke the truth. He was a badass like she'd never seen before but this was scary shit, what was happening to them. "As long as we stick together, we'll be all right."
"Do you really believe that?"
He licked his lips and breathed deep, his chest expanding. His gaze cut away from hers for a brief moment, and she touched his face, turning his head so his eyes met hers once more. "Do you?" she asked again.
"I don't know."
At least he was honest. She had to give him that.
"What should we do?" Her voice trembled and she couldn't believe they were having this serious, frightening conversation while he was still inside her.
"Well." He lifted his hips, sending himself deeper and a little whimper escaped her. "We should finish this. Then we should get dressed and get out of here."
"And go where?"
"We'll figure that out when we get to that point, sweetheart. Now let's snatch these few stolen moments before..."
Before they had no more stolen moments whatsoever.
She was hot and snug, like soft, damp velvet wrapped around him. And she was also scared she was going to die.
So was he.
Russ tried to blot her questions out of his mind, erase the memory of her tears tumbling down her cheeks. He wished he could fuck their worries away but this was temporary. It was only a fleeting moment before they had to face the serious stuff.
Before they most likely would face their doom.
She sat straight, her hands above her head and buried in her hair, her breasts swaying with her every move. He clenched his hands around her slender waist, guiding her, and he released a shuddering breath.
Fuck, she felt good. Had he ever been inside a woman without a condom? He didn't think so, not really. Maybe a quick slip before he put the jacket on but never, ever like this.
She was so beautiful, so raw and real and into it, into him. The low moans that escaped her drove him on, making him groan and sigh her name, making him whisper all sorts of wicked things he wished he could do to her.
Any other time of his life he would've run from this woman, scared shitless over the things he was thinking, feeling for her. But now...now he had nothing to lose. If he wanted to show Samantha how much she affected him then he would.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this.
Sitting up, he kept her in his lap, his hands splayed across her slender back. He was still inside her, shifting even deeper and she smiled just before she kissed him.
"Like this, baby," he whispered against her trailing tongue, his darting out for a lick. "I need to be close to you when I make you come."
A whimper choked in her throat and she kissed him again. He slid his hand down her back to curve around her ass.
She shivered. "Oh, my God, Russ."
"Come for me, Sam." The expression on her face was pure, unadulterated bliss and he knew she was close. "I want to feel you when you fall apart."
His words worked some sort of magic because she did fall apart, all over him. Clutching him close, her body undulated against his. She cried out his name and he buried his face against her fragrant neck, his hands tight about her waist as he brought her down over him.
He tumbled over the edge right after her. Her name fell from his lips reverently, his hands smoothing over her, as if he couldn't get enough.
It felt like he couldn't get enough of her. She was tender and strong, beautiful and sweet, brave and scared. He wished he could ease her fears and tell her everything was going to be okay.
It would be a lie. He was many things, but he wasn't a liar.
"We should pack up and go," he whispered close to her ear just before kissing her there.
"You're right." She lifted her head, and they stared into each other's eyes. Leaning in, she pressed her forehead to his. "I don't ever want to forget this. How good it is between us."
Their feelings for each other were heightened because of the situation they were in. They had to be. There was no other explanation for the overwhelming wave of tenderness he felt for her that threatened.
So he went with it. Clutching her close, he both felt and heard her rapid heartbeat and he kissed her, consumed her really, before he finally broke away. "I don't want to forget either," he whispered against her damp, swollen lips.
And he knew at that moment he never would. If they were to survive this, really survive it, he would never let her go. The possessiveness within him should've felt unusual, unsettling. But it didn't.
It felt right.
She was his, and he was hers. Nothing could come between them.
Nothing.
They headed back to Vegas. Why, she didn't know, but he'd insisted and she wasn't about to argue. He knew this area best and hopefully, he knew what he was doing.
Samantha had a sneaking suspicion he didn't know what the hell he was doing.
Not that she was going to protest because she was completely in the dark. And not that he wasn't capable. Oh, no. Studying Russ out of the corner of her eye, she watched him drive, his expression one of grim determination. He wore a black knit cap that covered his hair, his brows drawn together in fierce concentration, his lips thin. Lips that only an hour earlier had traveled all over her skin, been connected with hers, soft and giving and so unbelievably good...
He was an amazing lover and a strong, smart man. Life was a real bitch, delivering him into her lap on the night before her birthday only to screw everything up approximately one hour after they met.
If she had more energy she would've been really angry. But she was over it.
She had no choice but to live in the now.
"Power's still out," he observed as they crested a hill and the city suddenly loomed before them. It was almost six in the morning and the sky was starting to lighten, but dark clouds hung low. There would be no sunlight today.
Would there ever be sunlight again? Would she be around long enough to see it?
She didn't know.
"Do you think anyone is---out there?"
"I don't know. It doesn't look like it." He pounded the steering wheel with his fist once, twice. "What I want to know is where the hell did all the people go? Where are they? It doesn't make any sense. None of it."
"I know." She glanced down at her hands, which were covered in thin, black wool gloves. After they'd dressed, Russ had taken her back into the house along with the empty Christmas decoration containers, to load up everything they could get their hands on. Clothes and blankets and toiletries, more food, more weapons and bullets---lots and lots of bullets---all of it piled in the narrow backseat of his truck.
"No sign of those freaks that were chasing us earlier, either. Though I'm sure they're out there." He pounded his fist one more time before his gloved fingers finally uncurled and gripped the steering wheel again. "They have to be."
"Maybe they'll leave us alone?" She sounded way more hopeful than she felt.
"Fat chance." He snorted. "They want something from us. Wish I could figure out what."
She remained silent, thinking of her dream and how they'd wanted...her. She'd woken up before anything really bad could happen, but she'd been left with an uneasy feeling, a sense that the chase was all about her. How they wanted to---mate with her.
Impregnate her with their alien child.
A shiver moved through her, and she gripped her hands together. It had felt so real even though she told herself over and over again it was only a dream. It was just her overactive imagination running full steam ahead. They didn't want to make a baby with her. It was straight out of a cheesy horror movie. Aliens landing on earth, looking for fertile females to fill with their alien offspring and then they would rule the world, ah ha ha ha...
Samantha frowned. Yep, she'd lost it, for sure.
Another shiver moved through her, and Russ noticed. "You all right?" he asked, his deep voice laced with concern.
"I'm fine." She shrugged, feeling stupid for what she was about to say next. "I, uh, kind of need to go to the bathroom."
"You're kidding." He rolled his eyes but shot her a quick smile. "Why didn't you take care of that before we left?"
"I didn't have to go when we left."
"Well, lucky you, there's a rest area up ahead, I'll pull in there."
"You think it'll be okay? Safe?"
"I'll get out with you and check it out before you go in." Reaching over, he settled his hand on her knee and gave her a little squeeze. "I got your back, remember?"
Of course, she remembered. Without him, she'd probably be dead. Or dissipated into thin air. "Thanks."
"Anytime, sweetheart." He flashed her a heart-stopping grin, and she couldn't help but smile back. How he could appear so cheerful she didn't know, but she was going with it.
Better than feeling shitty and depressed.
He pulled off onto the next off ramp, the truck slowing as they neared the abandoned rest stop. There were a smattering of cars parked in front of the restrooms and a few semi-trucks parked off to the side. No other sign of life, no lights, no people walking around, nothing.
She told herself to get used to it but so far, her brain was fairly resistant.
Russ pulled into a spot directly in front of the restroom and killed the engine, yanking the keys out of the ignition and shoving them in the front pocket of his jeans. "Let's go."
They exited the truck, and Russ led her up the concrete path toward the women's room. She glanced about, clutching her purse close, the handgun Russ had given her nestled within. She wasn't about to let it out of her sight.
He went into the bathroom first, checking it out for her before he whistled, giving her the signal she could come inside.
"Looks safe," he said when she walked into the cold, dark bathroom.
"Will you stay close?" She didn't like thinking of him even leaving the room.
"I'll be right outside." He kissed her once, softly, right on the lips. "Don't worry."
She watched him walk out, admiring his firm backside despite her fear.
God, her emotions were absolutely all over the place. She couldn't get a grip on them no matter how hard she tried.
She took care of business quickly, surprised that she could flush the toilet. Who knew how long that would last but at least she could also wash her hands.
Scrubbing her hands with liquid soap, she dashed them under the frigid water, rinsing quickly. The automatic paper towel dispenser didn't work but luckily there was a spare roll sitting on top of it so she tore off a large piece, drying her hands completely before she slipped her gloves back on.
The minute they got back into the truck she was going to tell Russ she wanted out of here. Out of Vegas for good. Maybe it was stupid but she couldn't stand to be in this empty city for another second longer. There could be life out there. For all they knew this could've happened to Las Vegas only, they didn't have a clue.
But if that were true, wouldn't there be rescue teams overtaking the city by now?
She pushed the rational thought from her head and exited the bathroom.
And headed right into disaster.
Kicking at a rock, Russ walked around the side of the building, keeping close to the women's restroom side. He scanned the horizon, the endless, sparse desert spread out before him just on the other side of the fence. Talk about desolate. The dry Nevada land was the perfect setting for the end of the world---like straight out of a movie perfect.
He shook his head and leaned against the wall, his senses on high alert. It didn't feel...right here. Something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it might be. When Samantha was done, they were hightailing it out of here, heading straight out of Vegas if he had his choice.
There was no reason for them to stay. It was virtually abandoned and even if there were anybody left, he couldn't trust a soul. Who knew what they might want and what they might do to get it? The only person he did trust was Samantha.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he whirled around, gun drawn, gaze skittering this way and that.
But nothing was there.
Slowly, he headed toward the women's restroom. It was so quiet he could hear the flush of the toilet, then the sound of running water as it splashed in the sink. Good. She was almost finished. This place was making him jumpy. He didn't like it one bit.
"Lieutenant Russell Weaver?" A high-pitched voice asked from behind him.
Slowly he turned around, his eyes widening with horror when he realized what he was looking at. It was as if his reflexes were hindered, as if everything was happening in slow motion.
The gun slipped from his hand, clattering to the sidewalk. He didn't even bother reaching for it. He felt as if he were frozen in place.
Five of them stood before him, loomed over him really, and he was no slouch in the height department. They were at least seven feet tall. Their bodies covered in silver metal uniforms that gleamed and shone, reflecting in his eyes, nearly blinding him.
They had no weapons. But they held some sort of otherworldly power over him he couldn't begin to explain.
"Lieutenant Russell Weaver?" one of them asked again, and he cleared his throat, tried his hardest to speak.
No words came out.
"Seize him." The command was spoken in a foreign language he'd never heard before but he somehow could understand. His knees nearly buckled when they grabbed him, two on either side of him taking his arms and dragging him down the sidewalk.
Samantha. He needed to get to Samantha. He had to save her.
The other three had disappeared, rounding the corner of the restroom facility and heading straight to Samantha no doubt.
He could do nothing but watch them go.
"You don't care about her. She's nothing to you."
Russ blinked, shocked by the strange voice sounding inside his head.
"She's useless. A weak, stupid female you must discard to survive."
Perhaps she was...
They took him to another small building not far from the restrooms and pushed open the door like they belonged there. They tossed him onto the floor as if he were a useless piece of garbage. He rolled over on his side, his breath coming in wild spurts as he stared up at them.
Even in the dark, the shiny metallic of their uniforms shone in his eyes and he held his arm in front of his face to block the glare.
"She'll leave you when she finds someone better, stronger. She'll do anything to find a far more worthy protector."
A sharp pain pierced his brain with every word that was whispered, and he grimaced, closing his eyes tight. "Stop," he muttered, but they didn't acknowledge him.
"You must leave. Now. Leave her here. She doesn't want to go with you."
He lay with his back on the floor, the cold cement seeping into his bones much like the strange words seeped into his brain. Pressing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, he fought the foreign thoughts, the manipulation. He knew they were fucking with him. And he needed to fight with everything he had to make them quit.
"Stop with the mind fuck," he said out loud.
The voice within laughed.
"It's not a mind---fuck. It's the truth. And you can't deny the truth, can you Lieutenant Russell Weaver? Russell? Russ?"
He could move faster without her. One less person meant more supplies, no one to consult. He could just...go. And not worry over what she might think.
"Yes. Yes, that's it. You can just go. Leave and never look back. She won't help you."
No, she wouldn't help him. She was too scared, too afraid of what might be out there.
"You're not scared. You can be on your own while she cannot. It's better if you leave her behind to die..."
Russ dropped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping open to stare at the ceiling. He didn't want Samantha to fucking die. He'd known her not even twenty-four hours and he already cared for her.
"She belongs to us now. Relinquish her. Relinquish her to us and let us do what we must to ensure our future..."
"It won't work. What you're doing." He tried to reach for his other gun, the one he kept in the back of his waistband, but his arm wouldn't budge. "Use your tricks on someone else."
Problem was, it did seem to work. Somewhat.
"She's one of us, Russ. We've taken her away and soon---soon she will do what she was created for. What all women are made for."
Slowly he breathed, in and out, taking great big gusts of air every time he inhaled. The tension left his body, his limbs relaxed and he reached behind, grabbing the butt of the gun that was still nestled there.
"We'll soon fill her belly with our seed, and she'll be one of the founders of our breeding colony. A new life force will invade Earth and there will be nothing you can do to stop us."
Russ rolled so his back faced the two alien fucks and he counted to five, then to ten. His entire body shook, but he fought it, fought the voice, fought the control.
He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't.
Using all the strength he had and relying on his quick reflexes honed by years in the service, he leapt to his feet, right arm out, gun drawn. Aiming at their faces, which he knew weren't covered completely by the metal, he fired. Rapidly, the sound of constant gunfire ringing in his ears, echoing throughout the entire rest area and one by one they dropped.
"Jesus," he muttered when he was finished, the gun slipping from his fingers and landing on the cement floor with a clatter.
They lay motionless in front of him, their arms and legs spread, the glow from their uniforms dulled. Avoiding them, he ran out of the storage closet, the sky bright and making him squint despite the clouds.
"Samantha!" he screamed her name, his voice ringing through the trees.
Nothing.
Panic lit within him, making his heart race, his blood pump ferociously, and he ran into the women's bathroom.
She wasn't there. Just her purse, lying discarded on the floor.
"Shit." He crumbled, fell to the ground and clutched her purse to his chest. It smelled like her, floral and sweet and he brought it to his face, breathing deep and feeling like a complete jackass. "Where are you?" he whispered.
The corner of his eyes stung. He blinked and ran out of the bathroom, the purse still clutched in his hand. He ran and ran, looking in every building, every car, even the trailers of the semi-trucks, shooting each of the locks off. He'd throw open the doors, hopeful she would be lying in wait for him but there was nothing but emptiness.
Nothing. She was nowhere to be found.
Rage filled him. He went to his truck and climbed inside, starting up the engine. Backing out of the parking spot, he swung back onto the empty freeway, headed toward Vegas.
He had no idea where to go. No idea how to find her.
Damn it. Would he ever find her?
I must.
They'd knocked her unconscious, the aliens or whatever the hell you called them. One moment she'd been standing in the women's restroom, ready to walk out and find Russ and then they'd appeared out of nowhere.
And taken her to this...place. It looked like a hospital, but she knew it wasn't. It was makeshift, something they created. The room was white, almost completely empty with the exception of a sleek white cabinet that occupied the entire corner of the room and a thin bed that reminded her of a gurney but without wheels.
Which she just so happened to be strapped down to.
Struggling against the restraints, she realized quick it was no use. The more she struggled, the tighter they seemed to get. As if they had their own sort of power, as if they could sense her strength and fought it with equal measure.
A sob welled in her throat and she choked it down. No way could she cry, not like this. She needed to get the hell out of here. Where was Russ? Had they done something to him? Did he know where they took her? Had they taken him as well?
She thought of her dream yet again. How they talked about disposing of the male subject and how he was no longer an issue.
Had that really happened?
A fair mixture of panic and fury swirled inside her gut, and she gritted her teeth, jerking against the restraints that were made of some sort of rope. They cut into her skin, rubbing it raw, and tears leaked from her eyes. She ignored the pain and pushed on, a cry escaping her when she felt the rope slice against her left wrist. Blood seeped, trickling down her arm but still, she pushed on.
She wasn't going to let these---things break her, damn it. She had to escape.
If she didn't, who knew what might happen to her?
A quiet swoosh sounded, and she looked to her right to see two of them standing in the doorway, quiet and intimidating in their silver metal uniforms and helmets, their faces black, almost shadowed.
She couldn't make out their features no matter how hard she stared. Which was probably best. For all she knew their faces could be horrifying.
Monsters.
Without saying a word, they approached her and she fought against the restraints once more, vigorously, grunts of frustration escaping her. The ropes cinched tighter, so tight her arms and legs were pressed into the firm mattress and she gave up with a cry.
It was no use. The restraints would sink her into the bed completely if she continued her fight. And her arm hurt, the rope cutting deeper into the wound, the blood dripping down her arm.
"Cease your movements." She didn't see a mouth move but could hear the voice, high pitched and foreign sounding. Were they even speaking English? She didn't think so.
But how could she understand them?
"Fuck you," she mumbled defiantly. Maybe she was being stupid but screw it. She was so far gone, facing death, no doubt, that it really didn't matter any longer.
If she was gonna go, she was gonna do it warrior-style.
"Your crude language isn't becoming."
"Who the hell are you? Miss Manners?" She sneered, laying it on thick. She'd rather they kill her now than go through whatever they planned to do to her.
"Silence." His dark command in the weird voice wasn't very effective but she did as he asked. Weariness settled over her and she closed her eyes, wondering if they'd somehow used mind control to get her to cooperate. "Your resistance is most disconcerting."
It sure was. Not that she was resisting at the moment. Her entire body felt heavy, as if something sat on top of it and she lay there, eyes still closed, mind filled with thoughts of...
Russ.
How much she liked his smile, his strength, that quiet confidence he exuded even while he slept. He was a man not to be trifled with. A man she admired.
A man she could easily fall in love with given the chance.
"Stop thinking of him. He's gone."
Her eyes snapped open. How did that voice get in her head?
"Don't fight it. You're one of us now."
"Hell no, I'm not," she whispered.
They approached her, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her though she couldn't see their eyes. Felt their gazes crawling over her. Assessing her, calculating her worth, her entire body and how they could use it.
What did they want from her?
Samantha gasped, an icy sensation sweeping over her and her clothes evaporated. They just dissolved, as if they'd never been there. She lay naked, completely exposed and cold metal hands clutched at her ankles, wrenching them apart.
"No," she sobbed, the tears coming freely. It was as if she had no control over her emotions, as if they wanted to see her fall apart.
"Lieutenant Russell Weaver is no longer with us. Your senseless emotions are futile."
She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it.
The metal hands slid up her calves, over her knees, pushing at her inner thighs. Her body wracked with shivers, she bit her lower lip, revulsion filling her as they touched her in such a sexual yet clinical manner. The hands went higher, spreading her wide and she cried out at the invasion.
"It's too late. We found her too late."
The hands moved away from her body, the disgust in the strange voice unmistakable. Confusion filled her. Why were they too late? And for what?
"The male subject impregnated her. Her womb is already full."
Shock washed over her in consuming waves. What in the world? No way could Russ have impregnated her. She only just met him...
And she'd had sex with him earlier this morning without a condom. But it was impossible. She couldn't be pregnant. How could they even know?
"When did he impregnate you? When?"
She ignored the voice in her head and thought again of Russ. Slowly she closed her eyes, seeing him, his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, his mouth fused with hers, his cock buried deep inside her...
Samantha's head throbbed, her temples pounded as the implications of what they said hit her. Could they really have made a baby together in that one stolen moment? She'd ignored the use of protection because she'd figured it pointless. It had been a reckless move, but she'd believed recklessness wasn't in the cards any longer.
They were doomed. They were going to die. One encounter without protection really didn't matter in the scheme of things.
"We weren't fast enough. The male subject filled her with his semen, and she now carries his child."
The disgust in the alien's voice was evident. It wasn't pleased with this particular discovery. She shouldn't be pleased with it either.
But along with a healthy dose of shock also came the tiniest bit of...elation. She figured they didn't know what the hell they were talking about considering it hadn't been more than a few hours since they'd had sex.
The thought of being pregnant, carrying Russ's baby...oh, it was crazy. And exciting.
Just the tiniest bit thrilling.
"She's useless to us." The voice lowered to the barest whisper. "We must dispose of her."
Her mood crashed, terror filling her at their words. It was hopeless.
She was as good as dead.
For whatever reason, Russ pulled up in front of the casino where he'd met Samantha. The building was deserted, but it still stood tall as did the two hotel towers and the parking garage. Not a trace of damage could be seen which he found---strange.
The rest of the block, however, had been completely decimated. Demolished, nothing left but a cloud of powder and a pile of bricks and cement.
There was a reason for this. It felt as if the casino had been singled out. And he'd finally figured out the reason.
They really had wanted Samantha. For what, he wasn't sure.
A hinky sensation slithered down his spine. He didn't really think he wanted to know what they wanted from her. It was almost too horrifying to think of.
Which meant he had to find her right away. He couldn't wait another minute.
Climbing out of the truck, shotgun in hand, he entered the casino with ease since the doors were wide open. The giant room was cold, quiet. Freaky.
It was strange, being inside the abandoned place when it was usually filled with people and bustling with activity. He wound through the casino floor, past the quiet slot machines, the empty blackjack tables until he found himself in front of the bar.
Without hesitation he entered the small, dark spot, as if guided by some sort of unknown force. Walking into the backroom, he stilled, swearing he heard a voice.
Heard Samantha---Samantha's unmistakable voice, her sharp cries ringing down the hall, throughout the entire building as if someone was hurting her.
Fury choked him, dark and swirling from within. His entire body taut, he clutched the gun in front of him, sneaking down the hall with stealth-like precision.
He was going to surprise those motherfuckers and he was going to take them down. And if he was sacrificed in the battle, then so be it as long as Samantha survived.
Russ frowned. He didn't want to leave her all alone in this shithole existence, either. He had to be smart enough, careful enough.
He had to survive. He didn't have a fucking choice.
Finger tensed around the trigger, he rounded the corner, heard the now familiar yet disturbing voice of one of those alien...creatures.
"We weren't fast enough. The male subject filled her with his semen, and she now carries his child."
What the hell? Russ hovered by the side of the doorway, not ready to reveal himself just yet. Had they said what he thought they said? And where they referring to Samantha carrying his child?
It sounded impossible. Freaking unbelievable. They had to be talking about someone else.
But when he peeked his head around the corner and saw her lying there completely naked and restrained on a sleek hospital gurney, sobbing as two metal-covered creatures stood before her, he knew they were talking about her.
And him. Making a baby.
How the fuck would they even know?
"She's useless to us now. We must dispose of her."
Aw, hell no. With a loud cry worthy of a warrior of old, Russ jumped into the doorway, gun drawn and pointed directly at the alien beings. Samantha screamed his name, jerking against the restraints and he swore he saw blood dripping down her arm in a stream.
His vision blurred, went as red as the blood flowing from her wound and he fired. The rapid, rhythmic sound of gunfire was loud, popping in his ears as he shot at first one creature, then the other. The bullets flew off the metal that covered their bodies, ricocheting throughout the room and Russ ducked, trying to avoid getting hit.
They still stood, completely unfazed. Quiet and calculating as they watched him with their blank faces, their unknown eyes. He felt them look at him, though. And he knew they didn't like what they saw.
He really didn't give a crap.
Running up on them, he kicked first one, then the other right in the middle, making them double over. A strange, high-pitched sound pierced the air, slicing through Russ's head and making it throb. He covered his ears as he jumped over the two aliens who fell onto the ground and went to where Samantha lay strapped to the thin bed.
"You're here." Sobs consumed her, tears streaming down her cheeks, her beautiful eyes bloodshot. "I knew you'd be here."
"I gotta get you out of here, baby." Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to her swollen lips. God, he'd missed her. "They've hurt you." Rage boiled inside him and he pushed it down, refused to let it consume him. "I need to cut the restraints off."
She nodded, her dark hair tumbling into her face. He pushed it out of her eyes, off her forehead, his hand shaking. He couldn't believe she was here, in front of him. Alive. Reaching inside his front pocket, he whipped out his handy pocketknife and pushed the tiny button so the blade flicked out. He cut the restraints on her ankles first with a quick flick of his wrist, then cut the rope from her uninjured wrist.
Eyeing the injured arm, his stomach roiled with nausea. It was bad, the skin rubbed raw, the wound deep. Blood still flowed, dark and thick and he swallowed hard, his hand shaking as it neared her wrist.
"Just do it."
Russ glanced up, saw that Samantha watched him, her eyes full of sorrow. "I don't want to hurt you any more than necessary."
"You're here. That's all I need, and I can't even feel my arm anymore." She sent him a wry smile that tore his heart apart.
Scowling, he slid his knife beneath the tight restraint and tugged the blade through the thick rope. It came apart with ease and she gasped, immediately clutching her injured arm to her chest. A fresh gush of tears spilled down her cheeks and he swiped them away with the pad of his thumb.
"Come on, sweetheart. Sit up." He tugged her into a sitting position and she fell forward, almost toppling off the bed. Russ caught her in his arms, holding her close. "Easy."
"I can walk," she argued, but he shushed her, hauling her into his arms.
"I can't wait for you, baby. We gotta bust out of this place." Metal clanking sounded in the distance, and he gritted his jaw. "Before they get us."
Samantha slipped her arms around Russ's neck and buried her face against his shoulder as he clutched her close in his arms. Breathing deep, she inhaled his scent, spice with a hint of sweat and utterly unique.
God. It felt so good to be in his arms. She wanted to fall apart. Cry and cling and never let go. But she needed to remain strong. Her wrist throbbed and her entire arm was sticky with dried blood. She grimaced when he adjusted his hold on her, jostling her injury in the process.
"Sorry," he muttered. He sounded furious. Those damn alien creature things were behind them, she could hear them struggling to stand, the clang of metal ringing loud and she knew Russ was right.
They needed to get out of there.
"Just follow my lead," he whispered close to her ear before he dropped a kiss on it. "Don't question me, don't say a word. I'm going to get you out of here." A pause. "Alive. I promise."
She could only cling to him. He was her lifeline, the one thing that kept her filled with hope and she wasn't about to question his motives or intentions. He would do right by her. She trusted him.
Completely.
Gathering her in his arms, he ran out of the room, his chest heaving with exertion as he exited the hall and entered a small bar. Her eyes widened as she glanced around the familiar spot.
It was the very bar where they'd first met.
Unbelievable. They'd brought her back to the casino. Had the aliens somehow found out she was staying there? But why bring her back? And how had Russ known she was here?
She didn't bother questioning him. Could only thank whoever or whatever that he had the force of mind to find her.
"My truck's out front. I'm shoving you in through the driver's side, and you'll scoot all the way across the seat to let me in. You can't even hesitate. Got it?"
"Got it."
"They don't seem to be following us." He quickly glanced over his shoulder. "Fucking weird."
No protest from her. If they didn't want to follow, she was fine with that.
But he was right. It was really weird.
He ran through the open doors of the casino that led outside and onto the sidewalk. The sky was still faint with light, the clouds low and dark, and she had no idea what time it might be. It appeared ready to storm, and she hoped like crazy the truck was filled with gas and they could get the heck out of here.
She couldn't stand the thought of being in Vegas any longer.
"Get in," he commanded as he wrenched open the driver's side door of the truck.
Releasing her hold on him, she scrambled into the truck and slid all the way across to the passenger side. He reached into the back of the truck and grabbed a bag, tossing it toward her before he climbed in. He went for the keys, which were already in place and turned the ignition, the truck roaring to life with ease. Without hesitation he slammed the door, shifted the truck into drive and took off, the tires squealing loudly as they peeled across the street.
She unzipped the bag and reached inside, grabbing an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of leggings that must've belonged to his mother. Thankful for the clothes, she hurriedly put them on.
"Something's up," he said as he glanced in the rearview mirror, neatly dodging an overturned car in the middle of the street with a quick jerk of the steering wheel. "They're not following us."
"Maybe they don't care about me anymore." She nibbled on her lower lip, unsure how to approach the subject. How could she tell him what she overheard those strange beings saying? It made no sense. He'd probably laugh if she confessed all.
"Why? Because you're pregnant with my baby?" He slid her a glance, his eyes full of fire, his sensual mouth quirked in the cutest smirk before his expression turned serious once more.
Her mouth dropped open. "What? H-how did you know?"
"I heard what they said." He pulled onto the freeway, his foot so heavy on the gas pedal her head jerked back against the seat. "Do you think it's true?"
"It can't be true. How could they even know?" She shook her head. It was almost too absurd to believe.
"Maybe they have advanced senses or some such shit." His gaze kept drifting to the rearview mirror, probably looking for a sign of someone following. "They weren't even interested in you once they realized you were pregnant."
She sunk her teeth so deep into her lip she swore she drew blood. "They said they wanted to dispose of me."
"Fuckers," he muttered, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe they are letting us go because they can't use you like they wanted to."
A shiver moved through her at his cryptic words. "Wishful thinking on our parts, I'm sure. Why would they let us go so easily?" She sighed, and stared out the window.
The bleak skies, the abandoned cityscape, the desolateness of it grated on her nerves, and she clutched her knees tight, wincing when her injured arm tweaked with pain. She didn't think she could take this much longer.
"Yeah, probably." One more glance in the rearview mirror. "There's still no sign of them."
She stared at her wounded hands, afraid to look at him. "Would you be upset, Russ? If it turned out that I was---pregnant with your child?"
He remained silent for so long she finally chanced a glance at him. He studied the empty road before them, his grip tight about the steering wheel, his gaze narrowed. "How could I be upset about something like that?"
"I don't know. We hardly know each other. I was stupid enough not to use protection."
"We were both responsible for that."
"True." She didn't know what else to say.
Russ reached out and settled his big hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not upset. Honestly, I don't know what to think," he said, his voice soft and rumbling.
She didn't mind his honesty, really she didn't. So why did tears threaten the corner of her eyes? And why did she want him to say he was happy even though everything around them was falling apart?
"Sweetheart, once we get through---this, and we confirm you're really pregnant with my baby, I'll take care of you. I promise." He stroked her shoulder, filtered his fingers through her hair. "You belong to me..."
"...and you belong to me," she finished for him with a little smile.
"Damn straight. Right now, though, we need to get out of Vegas, and find a safe spot where we can pull over and I can clean up your arm."
"It's okay." She moved it and winced.
"It's not okay but yeah. I'll take a look at it soon. I promise." He shook his head, his lips tight. "I don't like seeing you in so much pain."
"I'm fine. Really I am." She was lying. Her arm hurt like a son of a bitch, and she swore that restraint had cut into her wrist so deep it had felt like her hand was being sliced off.
A shudder overtook her at the thought.
"Liar," he said with a slight chuckle. She appreciated his show of humor during such a bleak moment. She needed it. "It can't be good."
He sounded devastated which she couldn't help but secretly love to hear. He was kind enough, sweet enough to care so much for her. It made a girl feel good.
Even during such a scary, uncertain time.
A flash of light shone high and to the right and she turned, glancing out the passenger side window. But she saw nothing.
"What's wrong?" Her most astute driving partner noticed her reaction.
"Nothing." She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. "I thought I saw some light flash in the sky or something."
"Huh." He peered out through the windshield, focusing on the gray sky above. "I don't see anything."
"I'm sure it was my overactive imagination." She saw it again. Brighter this time and she turned, glancing out the back window and hoping against hope she'd see the reason for the flash of light.
But there was nothing.
"Something's out there, huh." It wasn't a question.
"I think so, Russ," she murmured.
He punched the steering wheel with his fist, a low growl emanating from him. "Fuck. I'm sick of this shit. What are we going to do? Run forever?"
"I don't know." Her voice quivered and she cleared her throat, willing the fear away. "Maybe there really isn't anything out there."
"And maybe there is. Most likely there is. It's probably another one of those mother fucking alien mother ships or whatever and they're gonna suck us up in a beam of light, poke and prod at us with their special tools and then they'll kill us." He laughed and shook his head. "Sounds crazy, right? Sounds like something straight out of a cheesy movie on the science channel, huh. But yeah, it's not. It's our life, take it or leave it."
He sped up, the truck hurtling down the freeway at what felt like lightning speed and Samantha clutched the inside door handle, suddenly scared.
"Slow down, Russ. Please, you're scaring me," she whispered, but he shot her a look and she shut up.
"We need to get away, Sam. I need to outrun them. How else am I going to outrun them?" He sounded panicked, enraged and completely out of control. He'd reached his breaking point, she could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice and she didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to comfort him.
"Russ..." she started, but he cut her off.
"Looks like I really need to outrun them now. Another mother ship just pulled in." He jerked his thumb and gestured behind them. "And they're following us. What do you want me to do?"
Slowly she turned around, saw nothing but bright lights sweeping back and forth, as if in search of them. She couldn't make out the size of the...thing flying above but she could certainly hear it.
And it sounded like a helicopter.
Russ didn't know what to do. Despair filled him, knowing a spacecraft from another world was chasing them down, gaining on them and he couldn't do a blessed thing about it. If he were smart, he'd crash the truck. Just run at full speed toward a tree or building and let them have it. End it right here and now so they wouldn't have to go through whatever form of torture the aliens had in store for them.
He couldn't stand the thought of them hurting Samantha. It filled him with a seething rage just thinking about it.
It also broke his heart.
"Russ." Reaching out, she gripped his thigh tight. "I think it's a helicopter behind us. A helicopter."
He looked at her, saw her wide eyes, full of anxiousness and excitement. If she was right and it really was a helicopter, it meant one thing.
People. There were other people alive.
Rolling down his window, he heard the unmistakable chop of the blades whistling through the air, vibrating the truck. He lessened the pressure on the gas pedal, slowing down and then he heard a man's voice over a megaphone.
"This is the United States Navy, please pull over. We want to help you. Please pull over."
"Oh, my God." Tears streamed down her face and Samantha practically bounced in her seat. "There are people in the helicopter. And they want to help us."
"Should I pull over?" Damn it, he was in the Navy but doubt filled him. What if... What if they were faking them out? What if it was a trick, a ruse to get them to pull over and then they would be captured once more?
"Yes, yes, pull over." She clapped her hands like a little kid and immediately groaned in agony.
He frowned. She really needed to get that injury looked over.
Hitting the brake, he pulled over on the side of the freeway and the helicopter lowered, circling closer and closer until it landed in the middle of the lanes, about fifty feet away from their parked truck. Two men dressed in fatigues and armed within an inch of their lives hopped out of the wide open door of the giant military helicopter.
Relief flooded Russ and he thrust the gear into park, turning to look at Samantha who was already taking off her seat belt. "Should we do this? Abandon everything and go with them?" He wanted, needed her input. This was a major decision, and one they couldn't make lightly.
"Of course we should." She reached for him, her good hand cupping his face and bringing him close so she could give him a soft kiss. "They're one of you, right? We need to be with others, Russ. We can't go this alone forever."
She was right. He knew she was right. Pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, he leaned his forehead against hers. "Ready?"
"Ready." She smiled.
They exited the truck to find the two men approaching, grim expressions on their haggard faces. "You two okay?" one of them yelled over the helicopter's engine.
"She's injured. Badly." Russ gently guided Samantha closer to the men. One of them rushed to her, and she held out her arm for his inspection.
The other man sidled up next to Russ, dipping his head close so they could communicate easier. "Did you find her after..."
"She was with me. We met the night it happened." Russ smoothed his hand over his jaw, weariness settling over him like a blanket. He was suddenly so damn tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. "We've been together ever since."
"Have you seen anyone else?"
Russ shook his head. "Only the other...things."
The man nodded, his mouth thinned into a flat line. "And you got away from them?"
"Yep. Though they're around, we just ditched them a few minutes ago at a casino."
"Vegas was one of the cities hit. They seemed to focus on only major cities. Vegas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle. The list is endless. It's bad."
"Where'd you guys come from?" Russ turned to find the other man leading Samantha to the helicopter. They fell into step behind them.
"Reno. We weren't hit. Finally got communication up a few hours ago, and the power is finally back on though I believe on a temporary basis. It's going to be a long haul." The man paused for a long, heavy moment as they drew closer to the copter. "They believe approximately sixty-five percent of the world's population was hit."
"No kidding." Russ shook his head, disbelief filling him. It was awful, terrible, but he couldn't help but feel lucky.
He was alive. And so was Samantha.
Quite possibly, so was their baby.
They climbed into the helicopter but when Russ went to sit in the seat opposite her, Samantha called his name, reaching for him. He went to her, bending close so she could whisper in his ear.
"I want you with me. I don't want you sitting anywhere else but beside me." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I need you, Russ."
Hell, how could he resist that? He settled in next to her, watched with quiet horror as a medic came forward with an extensive first aid kit and went to work on cleaning her wrist. It was a horrible wound, the gash deep and still oozing blood. She flinched every time the medic swabbed it with a disinfectant, hiding her face against Russ's chest and dampening his sweatshirt with her tears.
He slipped an arm around her slender shoulders and held her as close as he could. He hated to see her suffer, but it was necessary to get her to heal.
And she would heal. Safely.
Hopefully.
Once the medic left, Russ let her in on everything he learned and she listened with rapt attention, her eyes filling with tears when he was finished. Drawing her close for another hug, he tried to soothe her, smoothing his hands up and down her back, letting her get it all out.
"My family. They're in Los Angeles," she sobbed, sniffing loudly. "And my friends. Everything's gone."
"I've got you," he reassured her, squeezing her close. "And as long as you're with me, nothing is going to happen to you."
She gazed up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears, cheeks blotchy and red. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight. "Do you mean it?"
He brushed the stray tendrils of hair away from her forehead, then leaned in and kissed her temple. A wave of possessiveness washed over him, so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. "I promise, baby. You're stuck with me."
Samantha smiled even through her tears. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Six months later
Samantha stood at the window, gazing out at the city lights spread before her. Feeling wistful, she sighed, pressing her hand against the cool glass of the windowpane. It was June. It should've been hot in Reno this time of year but the seasons had been mangled for some reason.
It was blamed on the Others, as everyone referred to them. Their thorough decimation of the planet had left things in complete turmoil, including the weather. Not much made sense anymore but the cities and small towns that were left were slowly working on restructuring. And they were also preparing to do battle once again with the Others.
She frowned, couldn't stand the thought of going into battle once again. Russ had already left once, but he'd come back. If he didn't come back after this round when she needed him most...
"Hey." He appeared from behind, wrapping his arms around her. "How's my baby?" His big hands splayed across her distended stomach, caressing her gently. Her skin tingled, and a shiver moved through her.
How she loved it when he touched her so possessively. She never thought she'd be the sort of woman who would like a man to take over so completely but Russ owned her, body and soul.
"He's fine." They were having a boy. She wanted to name him Russell so badly but Russ wouldn't hear of it. "He's kicked a lot today."
"Restless like his daddy." He pulled her close. "Come to bed with me, baby."
"I'm not tired," she teased, giggling when he nuzzled against her neck with his nose.
"I'm not talking about going to sleep." His hands moved up to cup her breasts, fingers splaying. "I want you," he whispered close to her ear.
She leaned into him, turning her head so she could press a kiss to his jaw. He slipped his hands beneath her loose shirt, gliding them over her growing belly until they settled upon her braless breasts. "Mmm, I want you too."
"Then let's go to bed." He cupped her again and seemed to test the weight of her breasts in his palms. "You've gotten bigger."
"And I'm sure you approve?" Her breasts had grown---her entire body blossomed as she'd progressed with her pregnancy. And Russ seemed to revel in her abundant curves.
"Always. You can do no wrong, not with a body like this." He slowly withdrew from her and hooked her hand in his, leading her to the bed. She followed willingly, let him strip her completely naked before she settled into bed and watched as he removed his clothes.
When he joined her, he hauled her close, kissing her until she was breathless. "I'm going to miss you when I'm gone," he murmured once he broke away.
She rested her hand against his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. "Promise me you'll come back."
"Of course I'll come back." He leaned in for another kiss but she held him off, her hand still against his chest.
"Swear it. I need you to come home, Russ." She gazed into his eyes, her tone serious, her heart heavy. "I don't want you to leave, but I know you have to do what's best."
"This is my last mission, I swear it." The Others had come back to Earth, taking over the ravaged remains of New York City this time and Russ was going in with a team in two days' time to do battle. Last time he left, he had gone to Chicago and fought them there.
Luckily enough, they'd won. But the Others were strong and getting stronger.
Unfortunately for the Others, so were the Americans. And the other countries who fought against them too.
The world was rebuilding itself but it was going to take years to get back to what it once was, if ever.
"Our baby will be born soon. I can't---go this alone. I don't want to do this without you." They'd grown so close, were so in love with each other she couldn't imagine her life without him. They'd married four months ago, so sure of their love it didn't matter they'd only known each other a short time. They just...knew.
They belonged together.
"You won't do this without me, I promise." He kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, his hands blazing a trail of heat all over her body. She wound herself around him, her belly getting in the way, but she wouldn't let it stop her.
She needed to show him how she felt. How much he meant to her.
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked as he slipped his hand between her legs.
"You're the one getting me all hot and bothered and now you ask?" She spread her legs wider, giving him better access.
"I just don't want to hurt you or the baby." He was working her up into a fever pitch.
"You'll hurt me more if you don't get inside me and soon," she said on a gasp.
Slowly he pushed inside her, and she whimpered when he settled deep. On his knees before her, he thrust carefully, not laying on top of her with her belly in the way.
They'd become rather creative in the last month or so. They'd have to get even more creative as she grew bigger in the coming months.
"I love you, Samantha," he murmured, his voice rough as his rhythm increased. "I'm not going to last long, baby. You feel so damn good."
She smiled and arched beneath him, crying out. She was so close. Unbelievably close and she wanted to come with him. "I love you too."
They came together in a rush of heat and shivering, sweaty bodies, clinging to each other when it was all over. She rested her head on his chest, eyes closed and breathing slow and even as she tried to calm her racing heart.
"I'm only gone for a month, if that," he said quietly, picking up her hand and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed each of her knuckles, his lips lingering on her skin. "And when I come back, you'll have the baby."
"Not that fast. It'll be a couple more months before Junior makes his appearance in the world." She smiled and he bent down and kissed her again, as if he couldn't help himself. "Do you think everything's going to be okay?"
His brows lowered as he watched her. "What do you mean?"
"Bringing a baby into this crazy world, it's kind of...messed up. People give me strange looks sometimes. I've even been approached by strangers, asking why I would have a baby now."
"Do you tell them it's none of their damn business?"
Oh, he sounded furious. And when she looked up at him, his expression was fierce, eyes blazing with heat. He was so protective, and she loved that about him. "I say it in a much more polite manner."
"Good for you. I'd tell them all to fuck off." The disgust in his voice was clear.
"So you don't think it's a mistake?"
"Hell, no. Sam, look at me." He tucked two fingers under her chin and lifted her face, staring deep into her eyes. "This was meant to be. Our finding each other, our baby, all of it. Don't ever doubt it."
She blinked, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, in his gaze. "Okay."
"I was thinking..." The words faded, and he cleared his throat. "I was thinking maybe you should name him Brent. After your father."
"Oh, Russ." She hugged him close, tears threatening. "I love that."
"I thought you would."
Samantha pulled away from him. "Brent Russell Weaver."
He grimaced. "Really? The Russell bit? Don't saddle him with that."
"He'll be strong like his daddy."
"I've never liked my name."
"It's a wonderful name." She smiled. "I want him to be named after the two most important men in my life." Rearing up, she kissed him. "I love you, Russ."
"I love you too, baby," he murmured against her lips. "More than you'll ever know."
About the Author
After leaving the working world to become a stay at home mom, Karen Erickson realized she needed to get crackin' and pursue her lifelong dream of being a published writer. A busy mother of three, she fits her precious writing time in between chasing her children, taking care of her wonderful husband and pretending she has a maid. She lives in California.
You can visit Karen at her website www.karenerickson.com, her blog karenerickson.blogspot.com or her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/karenericksonwritesromance.
Look for these titles by Karen Erickson
Now Available:
Spontaneous
Fortune's Deception
Fortune's Chance
Fortune's Promise
Jessie's Girl
Forbidden
Tangled
Under My Umbrella
My Favorite Mistake
Baby Don't Lose My Number
Notorious
Simple Twist of Fate
Coming Soon:
Worth the Scandal
The World after the End of the World will never be the same again...
Reaper
© 2011 Mina Carter
Sanctuary. Clichéd name, but the sentiment was still the same. Ten years after the end of the world, ex-soldier Mason and a small group of humans defend their fortified town against creatures of myth and legend made real. But with dwindling game to hunt and a lycan pack in the area looking for an easy meal, just surviving is getting harder every day.
Andy has a few screws loose, and she knows it. She's been on the road since the bombs fell and changed humanity forever. Driven by inhuman instincts she tracks the newly and soon-to-be dead and dispatches their souls to the afterlife. Sometimes they go quietly, most put up a fight. She doesn't care either way. Her ambition in life is to find her next hit of coffee and one day, maybe, sleep in a real bed again.
Then Andy's instincts bring her to Sanctuary and its enigmatic leader, Mason, and even the world after the end of the world will never be the same again...
Enjoy the following excerpt for Reaper:
Ten years, three months and four days. That was how long it had been since the worst day of Andy's life. Of course, since that date coincided with the Apocalypse---Doomsday, Armageddon or whatever you wanted to call it---it had been a pretty shitty day the world over.
Things hadn't got much better. She settled her backpack more securely on her shoulders and studied the road ahead. She'd walked these roads since that day, always on the move, never stopping for more than a night or two. She'd tried to in the beginning, but she was just too different to hide amongst humanity for long.
She trudged along the road, the tightening in her calf muscles telling her she was heading up an incline. She wouldn't have known otherwise, after a while everything looked the same. Dust and fuck-all else leading into foothills and mountains in the distance. Apart from yesterday...yesterday she'd passed a tree. It had provided hours of entertainment.
Reaching the top of the incline something new caught her eye. Pausing to rest her booted foot on the bumper of an abandoned car, she shielded her eyes and squinted. Despite her dark glasses the bright sun foiled her vision, making the dark smudge on the horizon dance and waver.
She growled under her breath. Why the hell couldn't she have gotten useful abilities like some other paranormals? The ability to change form and run like a Lycan, or the night vision of a Vampire...either would have been useful. At least, far more useful than what she did have, dangled on the end of a chain at the disposal of fate, chasing silver threads only she could see. It sucked, big time.
Of course, most people would tell her to look on the upside---she couldn't die. Would've helped if she'd known that before she'd tried to commit suicide. Three times. That had been the year after the war. She'd been way unstable back then. Mind you, when you were forced to kill your family, friends---hell, everyone you knew, then it was bound to knock a few cogs loose upstairs. Since then she'd come to terms with what she was, somewhat, and just did her job.
The smudge on the horizon resolved itself into a plume of smoke. Five silver lines, the sort only she could see, flickered and lit up in the corner of her vision. They headed off straight towards the smoke.
She sighed. Another job. No rest for the wicked.
The small black mark on the horizon grew larger and larger as she walked. Eventually it became a small town. Andy studied it as she trudged closer. Most humans lived in places like these. Towns fortified against any sort of attack---be that attacks from other humans looking for supplies, or attacks from any of the paranormal types.
This one had particularly good defenses. The person who'd put them together had really known what they were doing. She passed an outer redoubt of steel and iron barricades, nodding at the stony-faced guard stationed at the lookout post.
The silver lines she was following didn't lead into the town. Instead they branched off to the right. Like a good little puppy she followed them. The skin between her shoulder blades itched as she walked. Within seconds more armed figures appeared on the main wall, silent and watching. She was impressed. These people were on the ball.
Turning the corner she found what she was looking for. A funeral pyre smoldered away, billowing black smoke high into the air. The wind changed direction for a second. Wrinkling her nose she tried to breathe through her mouth. Humans smelt bad enough when cremated, but Ghouls were even worse.
She didn't need to count the bodies on the pyre. Five silver lines fed straight into what she was looking for. Five souls, the ones belonging to the remains on the pyre, stood waiting for her. Standing in a nice little line, ready and waiting for her to reap them.
Used to the drill Andy took a deep breath, and let her spirit slip into the Shade. The layer between life and the afterlife, it was where the souls waited for a Reaper to come along and send them into the afterlife.
The world changed hue, painted in shades of black and grey. There was no color here, no life to speak of, and the truly alive couldn't enter this place. She looked over her shoulder at the figures on the wall watching her. To them she would appear to be looking at the pyre. She could step bodily into the Shade if she had to, but figured that would freak them out too much if she just disappeared.
As it was, they wouldn't see her reach around and under her pack, drawing the twin sickles sheathed there with practiced movements. A good thing, because she didn't fancy being hit with enough lead to drop a rhino. She'd only had this jacket a couple of weeks, and the last thing it needed was ventilation.
One woman with a job to do. One gorgeous hacker with a plan. One apocalypse. Any questions?
Brighid's Cross
© 2011 Cate Morgan
Aika Lareto is a descendent of St. Brighid in her incarnation of all things fire and warfare in a time when heroes were revered as gods. In 2025, this means Aika is hunted by all things demon and government. All she wants is to get on with her work as guardian of the dregs scraping out a fringe existence in London's blitzed underground---the lost, forgotten and the just plain ignored.
Declan Pryce is the hacker who finds her first. Quite a feat, considering current ruling government conglomerate Dreamtech has issued a bounty on Aika's head for her ability to bypass their security systems.
When she escapes Dreamtech's net, the vote is unanimous---Aika is a liability in need of immediate resolution---dead or alive is entirely her choice.
No choice, really. She'll take death over disloyalty every time. Declan has a plan that doesn't include falling for an impossible woman in an impossible situation. She has plans of her own that don't leave room for a love life.
If they're incredibly lucky, it just might work.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Brighid's Cross:
Declan Pryce had not gotten a full day's sleep since a bomb exploded his parents out of existence in the Seven-Year War. So it came as no surprise when nightmares plagued his sleep once again, entangling him in scratchy army blankets and discarded him, spent, onto the shabby rug. He stared into the lowering dark of early evening, sweat plastering hair into his eyes.
When his breathing slowed sufficiently for feeling to return to his limbs, he disentangled himself from the twisted bedding and heaved himself onto the edge of the narrow bed. His shaking hand knocked a water bottle from the bedside table as he reached for it, issuing a muted thud on the area rug. He retrieved it with a murmured curse, experiencing instant relief when the lukewarm liquid settled his stomach.
Knowing sleep would not return, he slouched across his small illegal loft to the bank of computers humming like a beehive in the mellow quiet. A folding table against the wall offered a makeshift kitchenette in the form of an expensive coffee maker and cheap microwave.
"Hello, darlings." He slid into his worn chair that shrieked like a banshee if he leaned too far back and flipped on the coffee maker. Despite the audible protests of the seat's bearings, it fit him like a comfortable pair of jeans.
His three monitors awakened at the sound of his voice, the machines activating their program sequences. He decided to run through CCTV clips captured by his patch into its outmoded system first. A few he saved for later examination---most he discarded. His coffee maker dispensed fresh, strong brew into a plain black ceramic cup as a new string of grainy images began its run. Halfway through he stopped the video stream and restarted it, not certain of what he'd seen. It took three repeated viewings, at slower speeds and narrowly focused pixilation, to confirm with his eyes what his brain did not believe. He replayed it again, coffee cooling with fragrant accusation.
A figure in dark clothes strode down a street in what was not quite the vice district, flickering in the vivid dancing lights of enticements. His or her gait was one of purpose, belied by a hint of absentmindedness only the truly unconcerned could manage. She, he could see now---walked against the crowd, skirting revelers and the human race as a whole. He leaned closer.
She passed an alley and was obviously spooked by what she sensed there, because she inexplicably disappeared.
Quickly, without conscious volition, he re-engaged the link to this particular feed and searched nearby cameras for video from different angles. He was annoyed to find facial-recognition programs could not gather sufficient info to identify the walker.
Finally he found her again, beneath the overhang on a far corner. For a fleeting instant she looked nearly full on into the camera, a sardonic smile twitching the corners of her mouth. He took a snapshot and followed her progress, camera to camera, until she disappeared into the Burnout Zone, where no satellite feed would ever reach again. He exhaled, printed the shot and stuffed his coffee into the microwave. While he waited for it to reheat, he cleared a space on his corkboard and hung the photo among the wild detritus of false hopes and starts. When the microwave dinged he retrieved his coffee and sat back to consider the odd light in her eyes while his mind raced with possibilities.
Had he actually found one? One of the angels or demons who had begun walking the earth during the war? Or was she one of the others, still human, yet more? Demi-human, he called them, for lack of a better term. Part human, part...something else, biding their time until the Horsemen rode. Signs of the approaching apocalypse had been lining up for years, but hardly anyone was paying attention.
He was inclined to believe the latter. There was something ancient in her eyes, a weary but determined set to her closed-off face. He wore the same expression whenever he looked in a mirror.
The Burnout Zone. No one ever went there that didn't have to. The old bridge was little more than a heap of rubble, its tunnels shelter for a black market of shady business dealings and their dealers, a fringe society of the hopeless and not-entirely-there. He'd gone there once or twice, but it was not an experience he cared to repeat. He frequented his own brand of underground establishments with their unique collection of conspiracy theorists, where the food was better and hygiene more of a priority. Nor had the contents of his pockets ever wandered off in pursuit of their own adventures.
One of his other monitors flashed a black-and-red warning at him, buzzing a computer version of a genteel cough to attract his attention. He spun his chair and tapped a few keys to access the new information.
This one wasn't from one of his regular channels, rather a back channel he'd rarely seen triggered. It was, in fact, a new bounty activated by someone handled as The Agent.
One guess who the target was.
Once again his coffee was left to cool, abandoned, as his chair spun gently in place.
Declan was perfectly accustomed to being ignored. It tended to be a point of pride in his business. The organizations from which he skimmed information didn't even know they should be looking for him, this anonymous cortex phantom who plucked innocuous facts and tidbits from their stores the way the tooth fairy plucked teeth from beneath pillows without the owner ever waking up.
Now, however, it proved to be something of a problem.
"Excuse me? Sir? Do you know where I can find this woman?" A rack of metal necklaces with homespun pendants swayed as yet another dreg skirted his outstretched arm. "I mean, ma'am. Miss? Sorry."
"They think you're private security."
Declan turned eagerly at this fresh evidence of his own existence. He was beginning to wonder. "I'm not. Do you know who she is?" He proffered his hand comp hopefully, the grainy image flickering in the orange light of an overhead oil lantern.
The man behind the counter didn't bother to look up from the chrome headlamp shell he was industriously wiping clean as he shook his thinning blonde head. If anything, he increased his efforts. "Sorry."
Anger seeped into Declan's voice, after a long struggle with his patience. "You didn't even look."
"Don't have to. Doesn't matter."
"Why the hell not?" And immediately regretted language and tone when he saw the white collar paired with the black shirt.
The priest set the part down with extraordinary long-fingered hands and infinite care. "Look around you. What do you see?"
Declan shrugged. "I don't know. Dregs, I suppose."
The smile on the other man's face was bittersweet. "These people you call dregs have been run to ground, given up on by nearly everyone. The Burnout Zone is the only haven they have left."
"Point being?"
"Point being, no one here gives up anyone else. It may be the only rule we've got, but it's ours."
"Stop messing about with the Obi Wan Kenobi act, will you?" Declan ground out in deliberate tones meant for the slow of thinking. "It's important I find her before someone else does."
The priest nodded and went back to his polishing. "I shouldn't worry about it. She'll see them coming."
Two could play it that way. "If you're so keen on shielding her, shouldn't someone tell her there's a bounty on her head?"
He stopped polishing, opting to stare instead. "What? No, impossible."
Declan wordlessly offered his hand comp once more. This time, to his immense relief, the priest took it.
After a good long look, he handed it back, looking at Declan with new eyes. "You truly mean her no harm?"
"Quite the opposite."
"Well, I suppose if you're lying, she'll be the first to know." He pointed with his chin since his hands were occupied. "The Tree and Flame. Follow the dinner crowd, you can't miss it."
Declan gave the man's collar a pointed look. "Aren't you supposed to discourage people going into pubs?"
A wise chuckle. "Far be it from me to deny anyone in this day and age a decent hot meal."
"Thank you."
The Tree and Flame wasn't what he expected. Its long tables and benches were crowded with patrons, though where these people had obtained the money he couldn't guess. They had no access to the electronic currency that replaced the now defunct paper and coin during the war, had no or non-working birth chips embedded beneath their skin. The dregs of society, hence the name.
An old man sat on a stool behind the bar knitting while a bartender hauled a stew pot of potatoes from the kitchen and dumped them with a muted rumble into a bin. It took him a moment, as she scraped the peel from a poor defenseless tuber as though it had done her personal injury, to recognize her.
Dark hair---auburn, he could see now in the fiery light of the hearth---in stark contrast to blushing ivory skin, braided neatly and bound in a knot at the back of her head. Not conventionally pretty, by any stretch of the imagination, but she did possess an interesting contrast of characteristics that pigeonholed her into the young, freshly attractive category. High cheekbones in an otherwise round face, lush curves and long torso on a figure uncompromisingly short. There was something about the way she stood beneath the sheathed sword mounted on the wall behind her that made him want to take inventory of all vital organs, so he would know if any turned up missing later.
In that moment her gaze found his in the dim room, the hearth fire threw shadows across the low ceiling of carved, thick-twining tree roots, and the entire place went dark.
Neon Chaos
Karen Erickson
A one-night stand turns into a partnership for survival...
Party girl Samantha Sanders is celebrating her thirtieth birthday in style---a road trip to Las Vegas for a long weekend with her girlfriends. Staying in the swankiest hotel on the strip, she's naked and in bed with the sexiest guy she's ever laid eyes on when the clock strikes twelve. Who knew the world would really end December 21, 2012? Those Mayans, they weren't lyin'...
Russ Weaver is above all else a soldier. Looking for a little fun before spending Christmas with his crazy family, a weekend on leave in Vegas unexpectedly turns into his newest mission------protecting the sweet, scared woman he happens to be in bed with when the world as they know it is over.
Wandering throughout the virtually abandoned streets of Vegas, the fine city has turned into a war zone. Their only hope to get out alive is to stick together---and fight those who wish to cease their endeavors. Permanently.
Warning: It's not all doom and gloom. A sexy man who's a fierce protector, a sassy woman with fortitude of steel, these two stick together through it all. Watch the sparks fly---true love does endure. I promise.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Neon Chaos
Copyright © 2011 by Karen Erickson
ISBN: 978-1-60928-629-3
Edited by Bethany Morgan
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2011
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