Chapter 19
Nineteen
“ Q uinn, you have to be there in five minutes,” River yells from the living room.
“I know,” I holler back as I hop on one foot while wiggling on my other black heel. I take a final glance at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet and cringe. The red tailored peacoat and black Mary Jane heels are so not me. But it was a better choice than the bright orange atrocity that the president’s stylist gave me as a second choice.
I enter the living room where River and Noah sit on the couch in knitted sweaters and jeans. I’m instantly jealous. Tonight is supposed to be fun. How much fun can I have walking around in a dress and playing carnival games?
“You look cute and very much like… the president's daughter.” River says, getting to her feet.
Ever since everyone found out who my father is, I've become the butt of River’s and the guys' jokes. They keep the topic light-hearted, but I see their concern festering below the surface, especially River's. At first, I thought it was an unwarranted fear that I'd replace her, but I now realize it isn't the case. She's been gentle when vocalizing her distrust of the Spencer family and dropping reminders of our family and the lessons they taught us. Her loving but cautious support gives me something real to cling to. And it’s been necessary over the past couple of months as I’ve taken my place as the Sanctuary's new favorite daughter.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
A knock comes from the front door. I swing it open and find my brother standing on the other side.
“Never mind. I think Ridge just won the trophy for best dressed presidential child,” River says from behind me.
Ridge gives her a tight smile, one that I’ve seen on my own face before. He’s clearly embarrassed by her compliment. It doesn’t matter that he grew up in the spotlight; political pomp and circumstance isn’t his thing. I think he likes the authority and straightforwardness that come with his military uniform.
But River isn’t wrong. He went all out with a dark gray suit, matching vest, and black tie. Where I feel like a fraud, the look is right for him. And I’m sure many of the men and women in this mountain will agree. After all, the Harvest Festival is supposedly a big deal around here and everyone will be out to impress.
Well, almost everyone.
The soldiers who were sent out to clear the fields and gather the food for winter have to complete their task before they can come home. As new recruits, Ryland, Aiden, and Wes were chosen for the battalion who remain on site twenty-four-seven. For two weeks, they’ve camped outside of the mountain. My nerves have been a wreck since they left. Ridge has assured me more than a dozen times that Afflicted sightings are commonly low, and the only reason the soldiers don’t return nightly is because it’s a waste of resources when operations are around the clock to beat the first freeze of the season. I don’t like it, but I know that the guys will watch out for each other.
Ridge holds his arm out for me and says, “Are you ready to go, little sister?”
I smile at the endearment he's called me over the last couple of months and loop my arm in his.
The four of us climb into a golf cart with Ridge driving. We ride through the streets, and I admire the mixture of fall and winter decorations. The residents have adorned the old-fashioned streetlights with wreaths made from the fallen leaves, and many of their front porches are strung with multicolored lights, but the focal point is the park. The opening in the ceiling allows for the snow covering the peaks of the Fumux Mountains to come indoors. Children drag homemade sleds up a small hill and ride them down. An army of snowmen with carrot noses stand guard over the playground while kids bundled up like puffy marshmallows run from the swings to the slide and back again.
Strings of white lights hang over the marketplace street, and buffet tables featuring seasonal foods line the storefronts. Round tables scatter the walkways where friends and families can talk and enjoy their meal. A live band plays on a stage with people dancing and singing along. It's all magical and reminiscent of the start of the holiday season before the quarantine.
Ridge and I rush from the golf cart to the side of the stage where William and Jacqueline wait for us. Things haven't improved between my father's wife and me, but we've learned how to hide it from those outside of our circle. I approach her and lean in to give her a barely-there kiss on the cheek and turn to my father who pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight.
Things have changed between us. The animosity I once felt for him has faded into the background. I have moments where I get frustrated with him for playing the parent card on me, and I still refuse to address him as Dad . It hasn’t been easy, but I've come to terms with who he is and the way his brain works. We'll never see eye-to-eye on some things, but we're working to move past that.
The band finishes their last song, and the announcer steps onto the stage to introduce the Spencers. We climb the steps of the platform and stand together waving at the people who look to William as their leader. I was expecting for the residents to perceive me with some hostility when they first learned about me, but they have easily accepted me as part of this family.
My father steps to the microphone and addresses the people of the Sanctuary. The crowd cheers as he commends them on a job well done on a bountiful harvest. He praises them for another year where everyone is safe from the disease riddling our continent and concludes with a promise that next year will be as prosperous. Everyone erupts into more cheers.
I exit the stage, relieved to be out of the spotlight. The stress of having so many eyes on me while remembering to smile the entire time is exhausting. I just want to be myself and have fun with River and Noah.
A lone person walking across the far end of the park catches my eye. I freeze in place and blink several times, but sure enough, it’s Ryland. He strolls toward me with his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. The hem of his white T-shirt hangs out from the bottom of his black pullover sweater and his hair is in disarray.
I break into a run, throwing myself into his arms as soon as he’s within reach.
“God, I've missed you,” he says, his voice muffled in my hair as he lifts me off the ground in a tight hug.
“I missed you too. So much, Ry.”
Taking his face into my hands, I kiss him. Every emotion I held in while he was away pours from my mouth to his. I hated not seeing him every day, but more than that, I was scared. The last thing I wanted was for him to venture outside of these walls. It didn’t matter that he had an entire army with him. It’s never been enough to stop the Afflicted. Many know how to fend for themselves, but that’s not all it takes. We were lucky to find this place, but luck has its limits, and every time we push it, we take a step closer to running out. Thankfully, this wasn’t the end of his.
My feet return to the ground as our lips reluctantly separate. I run my thumb over his pink cheeks and say, “You got a little sun.”
“I did. It was nice being out in the open, but it would have been better if I got to come home to you every night.”
“You're here now,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “When did you get back?”
He rubs his eyes like a child trying to stay awake. “About an hour ago.”
“Let's get you something to eat.” I pull him toward the market street.
We walk to the market street where I help him pile a variety of food onto two plates. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth while I sit across from him watching him chew every bite. The duration between each of his bites becomes longer until he pulls his attention from his plates. “I haven’t eaten since this morning. We busted ass to get everything done so we could be back in time for the festival.”
“Sounds like it was a good trade,” I say with a chuckle, dabbing a napkin against a drop of food by his mouth.
He clasps his fingers around my hand and kisses my knuckles. “It was. I’d have done anything at that point to come home to you. And I have some good news I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
Good news, it’s almost become a foreign concept to me outside of surviving. Hey, good news, the Zs didn’t eat us. That’s a worry I no longer have.
“What's that?” I ask.
“They promoted me to sergeant.”
“Sergeant Shaw. It has a nice ring to it.” My eyebrows knit together. “But a promotion usually means more work.”
He runs his thumb over his ring on my finger. “I was reluctant to take it until I found out it would require me to change my schedule.”
“Really?”
“It's an early shift, but I'll be home at night.”
I jump from my seat and into his lap. “That's amazing!”
“I mean, if you're not excited about the change, I can ask them to put me back on nights,” he teases.
Tilting my head side to side, I pretend to weigh my options. “It will definitely cut into my time sitting at home alone watching television. But it would be nice to have someone else make popcorn, and I suppose I could make room for you on the couch.”
“The couch?” His eyes have a playfully sexy glint to them.
I bite my lip and toy with the threads in his sweater. “My bed?” I look at him from under my lashes. “I could make room for you in my bed.”
His hand trails from my lower back over my hip to the hem of my short dress. I shudder at the slight movement of his fingers stroking my thigh. “I like your bed... a lot.”
“I like you in my bed, a lot,” I say, brushing my lips over his.
“Quinnten.” My head snaps up at the sound of William's voice. His face is a blank slate. It’s the same expression I’ve seen him use for members of his Cabinet. He never shows his emotions, never lets them know if their advice pleases him or not. I get the feeling he does it to keep an upper hand. One never knows if he is upset or pleased with you. It’s an unnerving feeling.
“May I have a word with you for a moment?” he says.
“Of course.” Keeping my expression as neutral as his, I stand and say, “William, this is Ryland. Ryland, my father, President Spencer.”
Ryland stands and extends his hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”
“You as well, Ryland,” he says with a firm shake.
“If you'll excuse us for a moment, I need a word with Quinnten.” William takes me by the elbow and leads me to the far edge of the market. He does a quick sweep of the area before turning to me. “It's not very becoming of the president's daughter to show public displays of affection.”
My jaw drops and I blink several times before closing it. William may control what goes on inside this mountain, but this… He doesn’t even have the right to share his disapproval as my father. Even if he didn’t miss out on my entire life, I’m a woman, not a child.
“I'm sorry I haven't seen my boyfriend in two weeks and got a little carried away,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“I don’t care. That boy is below your status. You will act accordingly,” he says with a deadpan stare.
The ridiculousness of his statement makes me laugh. “That man is my boyfriend, and he's been in my life longer than you or my newfound status, William.”
The vein running along his temple pulses, thumping at a million miles an hour. I’ve spent almost every day with him for months, and I know he is irritated. “I forbid you to see him,” he says through clenched teeth.
“You don't get to make that call,” I snap. “But for fun, why don’t you enlighten me—what's your issue with the man you just met?”
He runs his hand over his face and looks at everything but me. “I don't want to have this discussion with you right now. I’m asking you to please mind yourself while you are out in public. Pretend for a moment you have an ounce of self-control.”
This isn’t a battle I want to have with him right now. Every second we stand here going back and forth is less time with Ryland.
“I got it,” I say, turning on my heels and walking away.
I return to Ryland at the table, standing beside it where I left him. With his eyes on my father, he asks, “What was that all about?”
The night is just starting, and I don’t want it going downhill for us. I refuse to let William weasel his way into our time together.
“He's being an ass,” I reply, holding my hand out. “Will you dance with me?”
He laces his fingers with mine. “If that will make you happy, then of course.”
“It will.”
We zigzag our way through the dancing crowd as the band plays an upbeat classical song. It’s not my first pick for dance music, but it’s jovial and everyone seems to be having fun.
Ryland comes to a stop in front of me, and his head tilts back as he laughs. I move around him to see what has him in hysterics. Everyone has cleared a section of the floor and standing in the center are two familiar faces. Aiden and Wes are in the middle of what looks like a heated dance-off. Both of their faces are serious, but their dance moves are horrendous. They try to outdo one another to gain approval from the onlookers, hamming it up with some spins and kicks.
Ryland pulls me to stand in front of him while keeping a protective hand on my waist. On the other side of the circle, I spot Noah and River pointing and laughing at our friends. My body relaxes, and I lean back into Ryland. He rests his chin on the top of my head. We're all here—happy, safe, and celebrating. It's everything I’ve ever wanted for these five people I love so dearly.
I can deal fine with life if we're all okay. Nothing else matters to me. I can maneuver through the complicated situation with my father and deal with an erratic work schedule. All of that is a small price for a sense of peace.
The song ends, and River walks into the center of the circle acting as the referee. She lifts each man's arm and allows the people to vote by their applause. Aiden jumps up and down obnoxiously laughing at Wes as they deem him the victor.
The band changes the tempo, slowing to an acoustic version of a song that once played continuously on the radio. Ryland turns me around and pulls me close. He takes one of my hands into his and holds it to his chest. We move in a slow sway to the song.
He looks down at me, and I up at him. It doesn't happen very often, but once in a great while, I get this feeling like I'm looking at him for the very first time. I notice all the dark marks sporadically peppering his face. The way his pink lower lip pouts out, and his green eyes look like the sea on a cloudy day. I’m mesmerized by him all over again.
Running my fingertips along the bags under his eyes, I say, “You look exhausted. You didn't sleep well when you were away.”
One side of his mouth pulls with a smile. “I never sleep well when I'm away from you.”
“You should go home and sleep.”
“Is my dancing that bad?” He raises an eyebrow.
“No. I like dancing with you, but I hate seeing you so tired. You can hardly keep your eyes open. Let me take you home and tuck you into bed.”
“Only if you promise to stay with me.”
“Of course. Where else would I go?”
Ryland and I stroll away from the festival in a direction I've never gone before. The guys live on the opposite end of the facility. With our conflicting schedules and other responsibilities, I haven't had the chance to explore where he lives. His neighborhood is in the far corner, tucked away from everything. The buildings are a dim gray, blending in with their surroundings and not well lit. He opens the door to a multi-story housing complex. We pass the staircase, and he hits the call button, opening the chrome doors to the elevator.
On the top floor, we walk down a long hallway lined with dark wood doors and silver numbers nailed to them. When we reach the very end, Ryland opens the last door. The décor in his apartment is simple with whites, blacks, and grays. The furniture is fashioned in sleek lines made to be more functional than decorative.
I remove my jacket, draping it on the back of the couch. For months, I’ve imagined the apartment that Ryland and Aiden share. In my mind, it’s reflective of their personalities. I had envisioned a bachelor pad of sorts and not this plain, practical space. However, there's one feature between the living room and kitchen that grabs my attention—a balcony framed by thick gray curtains.
“Is it real?” I ask over my shoulder, turning the handle on the door.
Ryland leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes follow me like he's captivated by even my smallest movement. “It looks out over the street,” he says.
I step onto the tiny, railed ledge and look below. It's more like a fire escape than a balcony, but it gives character to his home. The street below is vacant and lit by the orange glow of streetlamps. It's a strange sight; an urban neighborhood built into the belly of a mountain.
The temperature of the Sanctuary’s common areas is made to mimic the outside world, giving the occupants the sense of the changing seasons. Tonight, the chilly breeze typical of a fall night is so convincing that I run my hands up and down my arms. Ryland steps behind me, pressing his front to my back and encompassing me in his arms. He moves my hair away from the side of my neck and kisses the sensitive area below my ear.
I lean into him and tilt my head to the side, giving him better access. “Is this anything like you pictured it would be?” I ask.
“I didn't have any expectations of this place,” he says before licking the skin above my pulse and sending heat racing down my body. “I don't think far beyond you, Quinn.”
I turn in his arms and press my back to the balcony railing. A gleam from around his neck draws me to his necklace. I pull it out from the neckline of his shirt and stare at the crescent moon that belonged to Dylan. “You had a purpose… dreams before we met. It's okay to think about you and what you want.”
“You. I always want you,” he declares as his hand covers mine and holds it over his heart. “My dreams were rewritten to include you.”
Using the necklace to pull him closer, I bring his lips to mine. “I want you too. Always.”
I take my time kissing him, memorizing everything about him—the way the short hairs on the back of his head tickle my palm, the smell of his cologne mixed with soap, and the taste of him as we explore one another's mouths. To forget any minute detail would be a shame.
His lips trail over my jaw and down my neck, turning the ache between my thighs into an almost unbearable throb.
I cup his cheeks, bringing his gaze to mine. “I’m ready, Ry. I’ve been ready for a very long time.”
He doesn’t ask what I mean. The last few months have been focused on finding safety and then stealing tiny fractions of time. But the desire for more with one another was constantly in the background. Not anymore.
He grasps my hand and leads me into a small bedroom containing a four-drawer dresser and a full-size bed. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms crossed. The light from a small lamp on the bedside table casts his face in shadows, and his eyes twinkle with the anticipation of what’s to come.
My heart thumps in my chest as I remove my heels before unzipping the back of my dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor. There is no shame, no desire to hide myself from him. Tonight, I’m fully his and I feel beautiful as his gaze trails down my body, soaking in my black lace bra and matching panties. The tiny tick at the corner of his mouth tells me that he likes what he sees.
I step forward, closing the distance between us. My hands slide underneath his sweater. His skin is warm under my palms as I run them over his taut abdomen. Reaching behind his head, he pulls his sweater off, giving me full reign. My fingertips skim over the hourglass inked along his sternum and follow it up to the swirls that curl over his pecs and across his shoulders. Every inked design over his defined muscles is breathtaking.
“I’ll never get enough of you, Ryland,” I whisper, brushing my lips over his collarbone.
He tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs, tilting my head back. His eyes search mine for a moment, looking deeply at me like he can see even my darkest secrets. “Same, Quinn. Fucking never.”
His lips come down on mine, and I open for him, his tongue skating alongside mine. The taste of him makes me lightheaded. He’s sweet, yet masculine and a thousand percent Ryland.
I thread my fingers through his belt loops and pull him with me toward the bed. We manage to steal more kisses as we both work to undress him. He kicks off his shoes and socks while I make quick work of the button of his jeans. I slide my hands inside, gliding them over his hips. A smile spreads across my face when I meet bare skin. He still doesn’t bother with underwear.
He yanks down his pants, leaving every inch of him exposed. The corded muscles of his arms, the smooth skin covering his abs, and his powerful thighs. I brush my thumb over one of the red roses on his hips. The details of each petal are amazing, like they are floating just above his skin. I trace the outline, and he sucks in a breath, his cock jerking.
I reach to wrap my hand around him, but he stops me saying, “Don’t. I’m hanging on by a thread as it is. I want to lose myself inside of you, love.”
He pulls me against him, and his lips find mine. The skin of his stomach presses to mine, sending butterflies loose inside of me. He nips at my shoulder while his hands work to loosen the clasp of my bra. It slides down my arms, landing at our feet. Ryland takes a step back and slowly looks me over.
The lust darkening his stare emboldens me. I hook my thumbs in the lace at my hips and ease it down. There is no room to be bashful as I fully bare myself to him. I want this too much.
“I’ve spent nights in my bed fantasizing about this moment,” I say, preparing to toss my panties to the side.
Ryland stops me, taking the delicate fabric from my grip. He brings it to his nose and inhales. “Show me what you do when you think about me buried inside of you.”
Without looking away from him, I lean back on the bed. My legs fall open as my hand slides down my stomach. I slip my middle fingers through my center, dragging the wetness found there to my clit. My eyes flutter shut as I rub myself the way I like—unhurried, but firm.
His fingertips ghost over the top of my thigh, and with a voice raspy with need, he says, “Eyes on me when you’re touching your pussy, Quinn.”
I look up at him through hooded eyes. He bites his lip while lazily stroking his hard cock. The primal need radiating from him surges through me. I’m drunk on its power, hungry for more. I love knowing I’m the one making him feel this way.
“I want your hands on me, Ryland.” I prop myself up until I can reach the hand moving up and down his shaft. He releases himself and allows me to guide him to the apex of my legs. A hiss slips from his lips as he feels how wet I am for him.
He crawls onto the bed, trailing kisses over my thighs and stomach. He lavishes my breasts with adoringly deep kisses, teeth grazing my sensitive nipples. When he sucks, my back arches and I moan his name. It’s a plea for more. So much more.
Ryland doesn’t disappoint. He licks the valley between my breasts before starting his way down my body. He kisses my ribs and drags his teeth over my hips, taking his time to touch as much of my skin as he can. Anticipation sizzles through me when his palms flatten on the inside of my thighs.
“So fucking pretty,” he whispers, spreading my legs wider.
I lift my head, watching as he drags his tongue through my pussy. Every cell in my body comes to life, desperate for him to do it again. No one should be this addicting, yet here I am, hooked. I want his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I’d happily drown in him if I could stay in this sweet haze forever.
My fingers slip through his hair, holding him to me as my hips raise to meet his wicked tongue. He sucks my clit, and my abdomen tightens, coiling with the pleasure building inside of me. I forget to breathe as splashes of colors appear behind my closed eyes. The sensation rattling my body is intense. I swear I’m going to disperse into millions of shards of bright neon lights and vanish from this world. The only thing anchoring me to this world is Ryland.
I sink into the mattress, slowly returning to myself. The languid lap of his tongue sends a shudder through me. I yank on his hair, but he continues to lick like he refuses to leave a drop of my release behind. He worships me with pure reverence until he is satisfied.
He sits up and runs the back of his hand over his glistening lips. A new jolt of desire awakens at seeing him like this. His hair standing on end, his lips pink from kissing and sucking, and his cock is so hard.
“I want more,” I confess.
He wraps an arm around my waist, taking me with him to the top of the bed. My head relaxes on the pillows, and I spread my legs, inviting him to come closer. I sigh when he eases his full weight on top of me. Warm skin on skin and the pounding of his heart against mine. I can’t tell whose heartbeat belongs to who.
He reaches between us. The head of his cock slides through my center. He pays extra attention when he reaches the top, rubbing against my clit. He holds my gaze with his as he slips back down and nudges my entrance. Just the thought of him being inside of me, sharing the same space fuels my want. I bend my knees and lift my hips, rocking onto him.
He raises onto his elbow and brushes the hair away from my face. “Relax. I’m in no rush. Let me ease myself in.”
“I want more of you,” I say, desperation laced in my words.
The head of his cock enters me, and he stills, giving me time to adjust before slipping in farther. Sweat beads his forehead and his face scrunches in concentration. My heart swells at how gentle he’s being. My well-being is always at the forefront of his mind, even in a moment like this.
His pelvis kisses mine and I gasp at the fullness.
“Are you all right?” he asks, kissing my forehead.
I interlock my fingers with his and nod. “Yes. More.”
He pulls out and rocks back in, setting a slow pace. The feeling of him stretching me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. The slight pain is overshadowed by the sensation of him moving in and out of my body. Every stroke brings me closer to reaching the kind of bliss that can only be found with his body.
He lifts my leg, wrapping it around his hip. The deeper angle has his eyes closing and he hums. He thrusts into me faster and harder, and I moan in pleasure.
“There are those sweet sounds I love to hear,” he says, kissing my jaw. “I need you to come for me one more time. I want this pussy gripping me when I come inside of it.”
“Yes, Ryland.”
His fingers move to my clit where he expertly works me closer to another orgasm. My body tenses, tighter and tighter.
“That’s it. You feel so good. Let go and give us both what we want,” he says through gritted teeth as he bucks harder into me.
“Ryland,” I cry as I tumble over the edge, losing myself to absolute bliss.
He buries his face in my neck, my name a whisper from his lips. His body shakes as he pumps into me, filling me with his cum.
We go limp, his body draped on top of mine. I comb my fingers through his damp waves as I kiss the top of his head.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He lifts his head with his forehead wrinkled. “For what?”
“For loving me so much.”
He kisses my forehead, rolls off me, and tucks me into the crook of his arm. “I’ve told you before—loving you is what I do best.” He dips his chin to look down at me. “And I know you love me just as much.”
“I do, Ry.”
The two of us have come so far. In the beginning, we were adamantly opposed to opening our hearts to another person, fearful of having more people to care about and potentially lose. We fought so hard to hold steadfast, and yet, love overcame. We overcame.