Ronan (Mate’s Mark #1)

Chapter 30

Cameron

“Wake up,” Ronan murmurs in my ear, nuzzling the shell with his nose.

“There’s nothing left inside me,” I groan, pushing my face into the mattress as he chuckles, nipping at my earlobe. “You’ve drained me of all fluids, and I can feel myself withering away like a dried flower. If you aren’t careful, I will become a husk of a man.”

Ronan hadn’t been lying when he said he’d go until he was done .

For hours, he stayed locked inside me, milking me until I was drained and crying, and oh, so satisfied. Uncomfortably full of him, but somehow still aching for more.

Scratches and bites cover my body, hickeys and marks trailing up and down my shoulders and spine. Each one was given with a low claim of, “ Mine ,” growled along with it. I’ve never in my life simultaneously been so content and exhausted, wrung out like a sponge.

Kisses press against the nape of my neck, his arms wrapping around my front and hugging me tight. This touch is gentle and full of love, but not urgent. It’s sweet, and comfortable, and just as intimate as the desperate ones from last night. “I know you want to sleep, but we need to leave.”

Body aching, I spin to face him. My ass is deliciously sore, limbs exhausted, and the mattress is still damp beneath us. When I was limp in his arms and Ronan’s monster was finally satisfied, he’d slid out of me as we fell asleep.

The ensuing waterfall was impressive, but we were too drained to care.

My eyes flit open, and the contented face that stares back at me is the one I know by heart. His fangs have returned to the tiny little teefers I love so much, and his irises are a rich brown once again.

“Hey, you,” I whisper, and his smile is everything as he hugs me against him. “What time is it?” I ask through a yawn.

“Right before sunrise. There are things we need to take care of before we leave, and a quick scan of the supplies wouldn’t hurt. I’m sure there’s plenty of useful stuff here.”

“There you go with that organization kink.” He smiles again before it slips from his face, his expression turning serious.

“Thank you for last night,” he whispers, and I know he doesn’t mean anything sexual. His eyes that held such turbulent fear yesterday are now calm with a sweet, desperate gratitude.

I stared into the face of his monstrous side and didn’t look away.

“Has that ever happened before? The shifting? ”

“Not to me,” he says, fingers mindlessly raking through my hair. “Bloodlust is something all Anunians are capable of, but even with the number of battles I have seen in my life, it’s never happened to me.” His grip tightens as he draws my head against his chest. “Nothing in my life was ever worth fighting for until now. Just the thought of their hands on you, though…” He trails off, a hint of his fury returning

Smiling, I smash my face into his skin. “It was pretty badass. If you could figure out how to harness those claws, we wouldn’t need to bother carrying a knife. It’s something to consider if you want to be an overachiever.”

He scoffs and reaches around my body to tap my naked butt. “Get up.”

“Already told you, there’s no ‘up’ left in the tank.” We both grin as I sit up and stretch, finding Boomerang curled up next to the cot. Ronan let her out of the van on our way to the tent last night, thoughtful even in his frenzy.

“Hey, girl,” I say as I reach to pet her. “Sorry you missed out on the excitement, but you were safer hiding.”

Naked except for our shoes, we walk through the camp and collect clothes from the van. The ground is saturated from the rain that poured until late in the night, washing away the blood that had covered these grounds.

“Do we need to do anything about… them?” Bodies—and body parts—are strewn across the dirt, and I try not to look at them as Ronan grimaces.

“I’ll burn the bodies so there are no questions surrounding their deaths.”

Unseeing eyes stare back at me from a head beside the cage I was locked inside, and I shiver as I consider his solution. “Will the military come looking for them? ”

“Probably.”

“Don’t you think they’d become suspicious of another strange fire after Commander Bravis?”

Ronan pulls his lip between his teeth thoughtfully, and a slow, reluctant nod dips his head. “I hadn’t considered that. If they connected it to us, they could track us here.”

“You’re a bit of a pyro.” He ignores me, much to my disappointment, so I continue with my thoughts. “Fire could also lead them to believe there are still a bunch of dangerous rebels and make them scout the area harder.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he grumbles, “I will admit that it was perhaps not the best plan.” He pauses, letting his eyes drift over the carnage until he locks on to a headless body, staring at the patch on its chest. “At dinner, Kek let it slip that they were from Ljómur.”

My brows shoot up as he looks at me again. “The mystery base?”

He nods. “If they were not permanently stationed there, they had at least been there and been assigned missions on its behalf. I wasn’t able to get anything else out of them without drawing suspicion, though.”

“Maybe there’s information in their stuff?”

“Maybe,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Whatever they’re doing at this base is beyond top-secret, or else I would’ve known about it. Something tells me there aren’t going to be notebooks sitting around with scribbles about what they’re up to.”

“Yeah, that’s probably fair, but it doesn’t hurt to look.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees, sighing as he presses a kiss to my temple. “I suppose I should’ve let one of them live so we could try and get more information. ”

“Nah,” I whisper, laying my head against his shoulder as I slide my hand into his, surveying the destruction in front of us. “They deserved this.”

“Got any ideas to get rid of the evidence?”

“We could bury their bodies in the desert. No one would ever find them.”

Ronan’s eyes get wide as he pulls back and stares down at me. “You want me to dig eight graves?”

“I was thinking a single mass grave, but you do you, babycakes. We did discuss me sitting around with a cold drink while I watched you do manual labor with no shirt.”

“I suppose we did,” he says with a chuckle, then stares past me at the minefield of corpses. “That could work. If I load them in one of their vehicles and drive somewhere far, trackers wouldn’t come across the bodies. They weren’t high-ranking enough for the military to throw resources at their recovery.”

The dark rings under his eyes are more pronounced this morning, and I wrap my arms around his middle, knowing his body is as depleted as mine after our marathon last night. “While you do that, I’ll scout the camp and keep an eye out for any paperwork that might tell us something. Any supplies worth taking can go into the van, and I will destroy evidence of the violence.”

Ronan pulls his head back to frown at me. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“I was alone for a long time, Ro. ”

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a kiss on my temple and pushing his nose into my hair, hugging me against him. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

An hour later, I am, in fact, alone again.

While Ronan collected the bodies, I busied myself inside the common area tents. Three vehicles sat parked near our van—the sedan they were driving when they found us, an industrial sized van, and a small utility truck.

He chose to drive the truck, and opened the gas tank door to remove its tracker. The tiny circular device was stuck onto the van, with the plan to replace it once he returns from this trip. The truck will never show evidence of leaving this location, and he won’t lead them anywhere near the grave.

Once that was handled, Ronan tackled the bloodier side of our cleanup. He unceremoniously tossed the first corpse in the bed of the truck with a smile that was a little too gleeful, then dusted his hands and went back for more.

I pretended not to notice the way he spiked one head like a volleyball.

It was an impressive shot, though.

A cringe twisted his face as he carried Khuth’s body from his tent, and he asked me to leave the mess inside to him.

My agreement was a blatant lie. I’m far too curious to let that statement slide. As soon as the truck drove into the distance, I darted straight into the tent, which is where I now stand, eyes wide.

I retch, loudly, and lift my arm to cover my mouth as I stare at the scene. Crimson stains cover almost every surface, the coppery scent so strong it makes me dizzy. It looks like someone took a spray bottle of blood and started spritzing the bed and blankets, then decided to take the lid off and sling it.

Furniture has been jostled or knocked over, and personal items are scattered. Half a pair of handcuffs hangs from the bent cot frame, while the other lies open on the ground with the key still inside the lock.

Signs of Ronan’s rage are everywhere.

A knot forms in my throat, and I force a rough swallow as I try not to think about what was happening before he put a stop to it. Stomach churning, I get to work, stripping the bloody sheets and blankets from the bed.

They form a heap beside the fire pit as I frown at the smoking ashes. Last night’s rain extinguished the flames, but I stack dry logs in the circle, splashing gasoline over the wood before I strike the match.

Something tells me I’m going to be burning a lot.

Once a healthy fire climbs into the morning sky, I toss the evidence into the flames. Sheets and pillows, a rug and clothes that the dying man wallowed over, and a small side table that’s smeared in blood. They pop and crack in the final protests any of these monsters will ever make.

The broken handcuffs won’t burn, so I detach the cuff from the cot and shove both into a bag of things we’ll have to bring with us and dump later.

Khuth’s tent looks bare when I’m done, so I scavenge the other sleeping quarters. Grabbing a spare sheet from one, an extra pillow from another, and a blanket from a third, I piece the room together. Blood stains the dirt in a few spots, so I pour a few bowls of water over the top and call it good.

Near the cage, there’s less to clean up since the rain washed away most of the evidence. Random weapons are strewn about, so I gather them in case Ronan wants to add to his collection. Once I’m satisfied that the signs of the massacre are gone, I examine the camp as though I’m arriving for the first time. It looks as though they just picked up and left one morning, with nothing here to suggest the brutality of their last night on this planet.

Satisfied, I head to the common areas to scavenge with Boomerang at my side. Shelf stable, ready to eat foods are an automatic grab, and I whoop when I find an entire crate of military MREs. There isn’t much else here worth taking, although I collect more soap, shampoo, and toothpaste from the shower house.

My nosiness gets the best of me, and I poke through the few personal items that belonged to the soldiers. A few pieces of jewelry magically slip into my pocket, as does a fistful of coins.

Dirt squares show where more tents recently stood, the dead earth telling me they’d been there for some time. If our timing had been off by a few days in either direction, the outcome of this adventure would’ve been very different.

Just as I’m about to turn around, I notice a tent near the tree line, far offset from the others. Against the forest, it’s nearly invisible.

Boomerang comes trotting over when I tap my leg with a quiet whistle, and together we walk over to investigate. The grass is healthier over here, telling me there wasn’t much foot traffic to this tent.

I push the flap aside and peek into the dim interior.

“Oh, fuck.”