Sanctuary (the Affliction Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1

One

T hump. Thump. Thump.

The soles of my shoes hit the firm ground like the beat of a drum, and the dry leaves of the towering trees rattle in the night breeze. In the distance, a terrifying animalistic cry joins the night’s sounds. My racing heart sets the tempo of the eerie symphony resounding throughout the woodlands. I move faster, expanding the space between it and me.

I'm not familiar with this place, and although I don't know where I am, I do know this isn't home. This isn't the trail leading from my house to the lake. I've not climbed these trees and spent hours perched upon their branches. There are no happy memories here. It's vacant of the unconditional love I so vividly remember.

The thick canopy of the forest blocks the moonlight I so desperately need to illuminate my path. Every broken limb and upturned rock pose a threat — hurdles to stumble me and ensure I don't get back up. I quicken my pace to a sprint as ravenous growls accompany the wails. My focus remains on the ground as I fight to keep my footing.

I've been here before.

I'm running in circles.

I'm lost in the dark and alone.

I shouldn't be alone. I'm never alone; we stick together. The six of us are always together.

Something isn't right.

I stop and survey the dense forest. Massive ancient trees are everywhere, closing in on me. Their thick branches intertwine, creating a cage around me. Like a trapped animal, I wait for the hunters to come and claim me. I find an opening to slide through and bound for freedom, determined to not let them capture me.

The limits of my body prevail over my desire to escape. My burning lungs cause me to double over, catching my breath. I brace my hands on my knees, controlling each inhale and exhale until the pain subsides and I'm calm again. Still feeling lightheaded, I stand straight and scan the area, determining my next course of action. Twirling around, I contrive a list of potential exit routes. When I come full circle, the scene before me changes.

The sight rekindling pure fear in me.

Squatting on the snow-covered ground with his back to a tree is Ryland. His head rests on the trunk, and his green eyes stare at the night sky. Hundreds of tiny white snowflakes land in the brown waves of his disheveled shoulder-length hair. The short sleeves of his black T-shirt give a clear view of the tattoo sleeves adorning his arms. One hand clutches the crescent moon pendant hanging from a chain around his neck, and the other loosely holds an empty gun. His slouched posture screams surrender and helpless defeat.

As if they can sense his vulnerability, dozens of Zs emerge from the tree line opposite of me. They stalk Ryland as if he's the answer to their unquenchable hunger for flesh. Their unseeing eyes alight with excitement and their mouths salivate. Long thick strings of saliva hang from their open lips, and their long sharp teeth glisten in the dim light. They calculate their movements as they gather around him and rob him of the chance to escape.

Without a second thought, my hands move to my lower back. I paw around my waistband for my gun, but find it missing. Changing gears, I reach for the hunting knife strapped to my hip. My aim is good enough, and I'm sure I can toss him the knife without causing him harm. My movements will catch the Afflicted's attention, giving me the chance to lure some of them away. Ryland will have a fighting chance.

My hand reaches the hilt of my knife, and I tighten my fingers around it. My muscles coil as I lift my arm to throw.

“Quinn!” The hysterical sound of River's voice stops me.

I spin to find her on the ground with a large Z on top of her with her bow and arrow out of her reach. She thrashes around, holding the face of her attacker away. Dried leaves litter her dark-golden curls, crinkling like the snapping of bones with every movement she makes. Her large gray eyes lock on to me, and I can't help but feel as if I'm looking into my soul when our gazes meet. She is my sister, my best friend, the only family I have here.

Torn, I look over my shoulder at Ryland. I can barely see him as the Zs close in. He's my rock — the one person in this world who I don't feel like I'm burdening when I expose my weaknesses. He treats each of my imperfections with the utmost care, almost like they're precious. He's my shoulder to cry on and a steadfast beacon when I feel like darkness is overcoming me. Ryland has a way of pulling me back into the light and keeping me focused on what matters most. Each of my flaws impeccably complements each of his perfections and vice versa. He's my other half, the man I love, and my source of strength.

River sobs my name again.

I take a step away from Ryland. Nobody I know is as strong and intuitive as him. He'll figure something out , I tell myself half-heartedly.

With a running start, I leap onto the back of the Afflicted pinning River to the ground. Its screeches flood the forest as it shakes and claws at me. I impale my knife into the top of its head, but it is relentless, disregarding my attack and continuing to advance on her. It wants to rip her flesh from her bones. Again, I drive the blade into its head. Thick, purple blood covers my hands, and gray gooey brain matter seeps through the holes I make in its skull. After I stab it several times, the Z falls to the side. I shove it away to free River only to find the space she occupied is empty.

She's gone, vanished into thin air.

I look around for her, but another movement in my peripheral vision distracts me — Ryland. A gut-wrenching scream permeates the air. He's being held down by a Z who latches its razor-sharp teeth onto the top of his shoulder. Pure dread courses through me, and I charge forward to save him. I grip my knife tighter only to find it's transformed into the gun I was searching for earlier. I rush to his aid but come to a screeching halt when his voice reaches me.

“Kill me, Quinn. Please kill me,” he begs, fighting against the pain of the bite, and his tears shimmer in the moonlight as they slide down his cheeks.

My heart swells in my chest to the point of excruciating pain, and I shake my head. I can't do it. Even though I know it's impossible to save him, I can't take his life.

“Please kill me. Make it stop,” he cries.

He pleads for mercy that only I can give him. I can end his suffering and save him from becoming the thing he despises most. I can release him from the raging battle we face every day and ensure our loved ones are safe when he becomes one of the Afflicted. With shaking hands, I aim my gun at his head. Everything about this feels wrong. I'm going to rip from my world the person I love with every cell of my being, and I'm doing it all in the name of mercy.

His gaze holds mine, and I'm lost in the green brilliance of his eyes. Strength, compassion, and a feverish love rage inside of him. He's the brightest light in my dark world, and I can't snuff it out.

I can't.

“If you love me, you will let me go, Quinn,” he whispers through his pain.

There's no limit to what I'd do for him. None.

I pull the trigger.

I bolt straight up, and my hands clamp over my mouth to stifle a scream. My body shivers while beads of sweat trail down my face and my heart pounds against my chest, trying to break free of my body. I rest my head on top of my knees and take a moment to come to terms with the images I conjured in my sleep.

“It was just a dream. It was just a dream,” I whisper to myself.

Every time I close my eyes, my subconscious runs rampant, plagued with two tenacious desires. One is my need to keep everyone I love safe from harm. Common sense tells me it's an impossible feat, but it doesn't stop me from trying. Two, somewhere in my mind, I'm battling to come to terms with a reality Ryland has already lived through. He once had to make the choice to kill one of his best friends. He knows what it’s like to hear the pleas of someone you love begging for you to end their life. Ryland pulled the trigger and now lives every day with the weight of knowing his friend died at his hands. I'm terrified there will come a time when I'll have to face the same decision.

I'd rather die than kill any of the people I care about.

With shaking hands, I pick up the solar-powered lantern resting on the floor by my side. The soft white glow covers the sleeping forms on the ground around me. No more than a few feet away, Wes lies on his back with his straight black hair standing on its ends. An arm drapes over his eyes, and his breathing is steady and deep. Across from me, Noah encircles River in his arms. They're tangled together as if it's crucial that every inch of their bodies is touching each other. In a world like ours, maybe it is a necessity. The only sign of Ryland and Aiden are their backpacks propped against the wall. They're on security detail somewhere in the building we’ve claimed as our shelter for the evening.

Tonight, we've found refuge from the Afflicted in a university library. It elated me when we came across the abandoned campus in what's now the-middle-of-nowhere along the northeastern and southeastern regions of Stern. Along with bookstores, these are my favorite places to hide out. A thick coating of dust blankets the interior of the turn-of-the-century, red-brick building, and the musty smell of old wood and paper permeates the air. There are countless rows of wooden shelves, jam-packed with books, making it the perfect hideaway.

I wander down one of the long aisles labeled “History.” The heavy soles of my combat boots drumming against the hardwood floors, disturbing the tranquil space. Reading the titles on the spines of the books, I pray one jumps out at me as useful.

Everybody has a moment when they think to themselves is this even relevant to real life? In my adult life, I've yet to run into a situation where I'm in desperate need to determine if the angles of a triangle are acute or not. It turns out Zs care little for literature. Although a tidy bedroom is pleasant to look at, nobody pays any mind if I made my bed this morning, or at least they wouldn't if I had a bed. Everything vital to my survival wasn't taught to me in school and isn't knowledge I acquired by doing ordinary chores. No, the reason I'm still alive is that I know how to wield a gun and hit a moving target in the head. I haven't starved to death because my family taught me how to live off of the land and grow my own food. However, there's one academic lesson that ranks as useful—research papers.

I understand it may sound ridiculous, who in their right mind is going to buckle-down and compile a ton of facts while under attack by Zs?

I am.

Thorough research is going to save the lives of the people I love. Or at least, I hope it is.

For over three months, I've been obsessed with solving the riddles printed on the bright flyers I've found posted in major cities throughout Stern. Rumor has it that the cryptic messages lead to a group called the Sanctuary and their utopian haven.

Since the initial outbreak of the Z virus, Stern has seen not only a rapid decline in humans, but fundamental morals. People trade other humans for a single can of food, selling them into slavery. They leave the elderly and children alone in the wild as bait to deflect the Zs from their communities. The most despicable acts have now become commonplace. Supposedly, the Sanctuary is a thriving society amid all this chaos and finding it is critical for our survival.

Searching for a zombie-free hideaway wasn't part of my original game plan, at least not for everyone in the group I travel with. River and our four male companions should have crossed the land crossing into Oscuros. It was the boys’ best chance of returning to Giran, their home continent. I hoped River would find her way to Bogati, the continent her parents were on when Stern quarantined itself from the rest of the world. I even blackmailed River's boyfriend into forging their friend Dylan’s Giran passport into looking like it belonged to River. The guards approved them to enter Oscuros and leave behind this decaying continent. And I walked away with my mission completed. Or so I thought

When Noah, Aiden, Wes, and Ryland came into our lives, I was determined to keep my distance. My primary focus was returning River and myself to our family alive, and I didn't need anyone convoluting that. Inch by inch, the boys wiggled their way in, and I risked my life for them just as I would for her. They returned my uncontrollable affections, especially Ryland. That day three months ago when I walked away from the border crossing, he came after me, causing a chain reaction. It was comparable to the butterfly effect—the cause-and-effect theory stating that the mere flutter of a butterfly's wing can start a hurricane. When Ryland left the group to follow me, everyone else took his lead and left the safety found in Oscuros behind. Now it's for all of us that I'm racking my brain to figure out the hidden messages on the Sanctuary's flyers.

The riddles are cryptic, but I have two specific topics I'm always on the hunt for—the green general and a bloody battle that left the water near it red. They're both broad subjects, but I think I might know the area that we need to find. I just need to confirm it before I lead everyone on a wild chase.

A book catches my attention. I place the lantern on the shelf and flip through the pages, hoping to run into another piece of the puzzle. I strain to see in the dim light as I whisper the words aloud. The information on the pages isn't providing me with anything new, but it doesn't deter me from my quest. I know what I'm trying to find is inside one of these books; all I need to do is to locate it.

A small yelp escapes me as a pair of strong tattooed arms wraps around my waist, and warm breath brushes against my neck followed by the soft press of lips. I sigh and lean into the familiar embrace, doing my best to ignore the colony of butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

“What are you doing?” Ryland asks before nipping at my earlobe with his teeth.

“I couldn't sleep,” I say.

“Nightmares again?”

I give a quick nod. “I thought I might as well do something productive, so I'm going to skim through a couple of books.”

“You're absolutely adorable when you're obsessed,” Ryland says, sliding his hands under the hem of my shirt and across my abdomen. The cold metal from his ring sends a shiver through my body. My skin rises in goosebumps, and I press my thighs together to dull my growing desire.

“I want to make sure we're on the right path.”

He takes the book from my hands and tosses it to the floor with a loud thud. “Quit second-guessing yourself, love. We're on the right path, and you should be sleeping. You have the next watch.”

I wish I had an ounce of the confidence he has in me. I believe he would blindly follow me anywhere, which is crazy since he's the king of planning ahead. Not that I'm incompetent, I've narrowed down the region I believe the Sanctuary is in. The hints lead me to believe the community is nestled within the Fumux Mountains. The only problem is locating exactly where they are within the range that runs from the northeast region to the southern. I can’t feel the certainty Ryland does until I figure that out.

He doesn't give me time to get lost in my thoughts. Turning me around, he presses my back to a bookshelf. He places a hand next to my head to steady himself and uses the other to tuck a strand of my light-brown hair behind my ear. I soak him in, starting with the necklace hanging from his neck. I reach up and examine the reminder of his friend before moving to the V-neck of his T-shirt. The ornate design of the tattoos etched beneath each of his collarbones calls to me and I trace the spirals with the tip of my finger. As he watches me, one side of his lips pulls into a lopsided smile, creating the deepest dimples on his cheeks. By the time I make it to his bright green eyes, my head tilts back against the shelf. Even after six months of seeing him every single day, Ryland can still take my breath away.

“What if I'm wrong?” I ask.

“Then you're wrong, and we'll figure it out.”

“What if this is a wild goose chase and we run out of food and ammo?”

He lowers his lips to mine, leaving the slightest sliver of space. “And what if I told you that you're overthinking this, and you should let me help you get your mind off it for a bit?”

“I'd think you're terrible for putting this mission in jeopardy for your personal gain,” I answer sarcastically.

“You're right, I'm absolutely terrible,” he says, sweeping his lips over mine.

He's unrelenting, and I'm addicted to the taste of his lips. They are sweet like candy or soda. And like caffeine, I crave them throughout my day. I've memorized the way he kisses. It’s like a perfectly-choreographed dance. Two soft drawn-out pecks before he sucks on my bottom lip, signaling he wants more. My tongue brushes against his, and my stomach tightens as thousands of little bubbles burst inside of me. No matter how many times he kisses me, it never seems to be enough. The touch of his lips has become a vital part of my existence that I never want to live without again.

As if they have a mind of their own, my fingers lace into the soft waves at the back of his neck. I pull him closer and trail my mouth down to the exposed skin above the collar of his shirt, nipping at the delicate bone.

“Quinn,” he says, his voice is gritty and deep—my favorite sound.

My hand slides between us and I run it along the plane of his abdomen. Each hard ridge flexes beneath the cotton as I make my way to the hem of his shirt. I ease my fingers beneath and play along the trail of hair below his navel. “It’s been a minute since we had a moment to ourselves,” I say.

“It’s been twenty-three days. And I hardly count that quick groping session in a shed ‘a moment to ourselves.’”

I smile, impressed that he has been counting the days. I figured it had been about three weeks, but everything seems to run together at this point. We walk during the daylight and hide away at night. Most of the time, we don’t find a secure building like this one. The six of us huddled together in a ditch on the side of the road—while two keep watch at a time—makes it impossible to take our relationship further in a physical sense.

My fingertips dance over the button of his jeans. “We should do something about that now.”

“I feel like you have a thing for abandoned libraries,” he says with a quirked eyebrow, hinting at one of the last times we had an entire night to ourselves.

“No.” I pop the button open. “I just have a thing for you.”

His head tilts back and a drawn-out fuck slips through his lips as my fingers wrap around him. I glide my palm down his hard shaft, loving how soft and warm he feels. I haven’t felt him inside of me, but damn, I want that so badly. He has become the sole player in my fantasies. Whenever I have the chance to relax and let my mind wander, it is his hands, his mouth, his cock I imagine.

I slide my thumb over the tip of him and we both moan as I find the beads of pre-cum there. He rocks his hips pumping into every slow stroke of my hand. I grip his hip, feeling the flex of his back and abs. He is so responsive, each inch of him lost in my touch. I’ve taken lives, fired the deathblow, but none of that makes me feel as powerful as this. I can give or deny Ryland his pleasure.

His fingers grip the back of my shirt pulling me closer as his mouth grazes my jaw, traveling to my neck. “Fuck, Quinn. That feels so good.”

“I can make it feel better,” I say, sliding down between him and the bookshelf.

When I’m on my knees, I glance up at him. He braces his hand on a shelf and runs the other down the side of my face. Brushing his thumb along my bottom lip, he says, “If only you knew how many times I’ve dreamt of your mouth on me.”

I lower his zipper and pull his cock out. My breath hitches. It’s the first time I’ve really gotten to look at him. I’ve touched him before, but it did nothing to prepare me for seeing him in the flesh. And as expected, he doesn’t disappoint. My fingers come short of fully wrapping around him and his length is impressive . My mouth waters as I study his cock, and my thighs clench to subside the growing ache between them.

My lust takes control, eager to taste him. I kiss his thumb and move so my lips ghost over the tip of his cock. “Then let me make it a reality, Ryland.”

In a world like ours, dreams don’t come true. Even the smallest desires are tainted by what we sacrifice to give into them. But this… it’s pure—something he wants, and what I’ve wanted to give to him for weeks. It’s a tiny piece of heaven in the throes of hell.

His fingers slide to the back of my head, grasping my ponytail as he guides me to him. I hum my approval as he slips between my lips.

“Fuck, Quinn,” he moans, watching as he slowly disappears into my mouth.

I can’t take my eyes off of him. The way his eyes darken with need, and his lips part with a sharp breath, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him unraveling. I want to pull him apart thread by thread, until he is completely undone. And when he is nothing but a mess at my feet, I will enjoy every second of putting him together again.

He glides along my tongue, leaving a trail of salt and smooth warmth. I love the way he tastes and feels. I’m already addicted and wanting more. My hand and mouth work together to set a smooth rhythm, gliding over him in long strokes. Moving my free hand around his hip, I grip his ass. The tense muscles there prove he’s holding back, and it’s the last thing I want. I take him in as far as I can and suck.

He tilts his head back and rocks a little deeper. “I’m so close. I don’t want to come yet, but your mouth feels so good.”

“That’s what I want. I need to taste you,” I say, dragging my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Fuck, you are such a good girl.”

His praise has me sucking him deep. His hips jerk forward and his hold on my hair grows tighter. He hits the back of my throat, and I continue to let him take his pleasure while I breathe through it. His cock throbs in my hand before my mouth is flooded with his release.

He whispers a string of profanity before his eyes lock with mine. I slowly pull back, making sure not to leave a drop of him behind, and swallow. He pinches my chin and tugs until I rise to my feet. His lips meet mine in a deep kiss that sets me on fire again. I cling to his shoulder to keep upright as the ache between my legs grows stronger.

“I want you, Ry,” I say against his mouth.

His hand slips down my ass, his fingers easing between my legs and rubbing me through the wet material. I don’t feel an ounce of shame. Why would I when this is his doing?

“Your pussy is soaked for me,” he says, slipping his fingers inside the leg of my shorts and gliding them along the seam of me.

I moan as he toys with me, struggling to find my words. “There are offices upstairs.”

“Are you tempting me to fuck you?”

“More like begging.”

His fingertip rubs against my clit, causing my legs to tremble. I grip the front of his shirt as a desperate whimper slips through my lips.

“Let me hear you beg for it, love,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Please, Ry. Please fuck me.”

The noise that rumbles in his chest has almost the same effect on me as his skilled touch. His middle finger slides inside of me while his thumb takes over those lazy circles on my clit. I can’t hold back when he adds a little more pressure, touching me just the way I like.

“Please,” I beg one more time as my body surrenders to him. I ride his hand, taking my pleasure from it until every muscle in my body goes limp.

Catching my breath, I watch as he pulls his hand away and brings his fingers to his mouth. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he sucks them clean. “You’re so fucking tempting. But shift change is soon, and you’re up next, love.”

“We can make it fast,” I say, knowing it’s a shit offer. Ryland doesn’t do half-assed. No doubt, he has our first time planned out from the foreplay to the number of orgasms. But I can’t help that I still want him and would gladly take a quick fuck even if it is our first time.

He shakes his head and chuckles. “You're kidding yourself if you think the moment I get you naked, it will just be a ten-minute encounter. Trust me when I tell you, I'll need all night.”

My round cheeks burn red at his implication. He's always had the upper hand on me with sexual innuendos, but I'm a fast learner. My comebacks have leveled-up since he came into my life. “You sound awfully sure of yourself, Shaw. I'd wager you don't last more than ten minutes, start to end.”

He's terrible at keeping a straight face during our playful banter, and the slightest smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. He lowers his voice and presses his lips to my ear saying, “See, that would hold weight if we were just talking just about the sex, but I have so much more planned for you.” His fingers trail down the side of my neck. “I'm going to take my time undressing you, touching you, and savoring the taste of you. The first time will be slow and gentle, and you might be right, I probably won't last more than ten minutes, but I'll make it up to you the second and third time that night.”

I swallow a gulp of air, fighting to be a worthy opponent in our battle of the sexes, but my mind draws a blank. I knew he had it planned out, but to hear him say it, only makes me want it more, which will not be tonight.

With a sigh, I say, “I'm dying a virgin.”

“I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing to make up. I wanted to do that for you… for me.”

“And I want to reciprocate. For me . Trust me when I say you won't die a virgin.”

“Is that an oath?”

He meets my gaze and says, “It is.”

“Your last oath didn’t hold up too well.”

“I’d say it went extremely well. Everyone is alive.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses the side of my head. “I swear you'll get more of me because I’m sure as shit taking all of you.”

I smile against his chest. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good.” He tilts my head back and says, “I love you, Quinnten Ellery.”

He drives me crazy with his boyish charm, overprotectiveness, and need to always have control. But he also challenges me and makes me feel safe when we are anything but. I don't know what tomorrow has in store for us, but I'll fight to the death for him.

Taking a deep breath, I let the familiar smell of him wash over me and utter the only certainty I have in my chaotic life, “I love you too, Ryland.”