Chapter 18
18
Knowing one shouldn’t be doing something was not the same as not doing it. Vargr was well aware of this because here he was chasing after a wounded ghoul guard, leaving behind Cyn and the others to kill off the last stinker.
Something pale lashed at him from the side.
He shoved his long blade into the stinker, nailing part of it to the floor with his boot then cutting it in half. The shreds squealed and flopped, but he sprinted onward. Up ahead was no lighter except for a lopsided rectangle in the right-hand wall. What were those? Parallelograms? He’d dredged that up from his ancient geometry lessons.
If Cyn needed him, he was really going to hate himself.
If he lived.
As he drew nearer, the rectangle of light grew larger, and the legs of the guard were clearly squirming as he climbed up inside.
A shaft it was, then, angling up. With a ladder by the wall.
The problem was, he thought he recognized the guard. Those brain cells tasked with storing images of people who’d been family, friends, celebrities, and whatever else his brain thought worthy, were creaking into motion. Who the fuck was this guy? His face was partly ruined, he’d been dragging a leg. He had to know who this was.
Two lagging stinkers had launched at Vargr from the ceiling of this tunnel, and after killing those he was far behind.
Once he made sure nothing waited in ambush, he quietly climbed the metal ladder and peered up to the shaft with his pistol drawn, poking the large muzzle forward while he sighted along. The boots of the guard were vanishing higher. Pretty certain the man was being dragged, judging by the way his legs moved, Vargr took a deep breath, then hoisted himself inside. He folded his wings as flat as they’d go and crawled.
A blood trail made the shaft slippery, but it zagged upward in tiers that had a few flatter spots. Where it ended, the light beyond showed it intersected with a wider shaft going straight up.
At the end of the zagging shaft, he paused again.
Bad move to go out there.
Danger, Will Robinson. Least they’d remade that show before the invasion. So many series he’d never binge watch ever again. If anything made him sad about the demise of humankind, it was that.
If he was shot sticking his head out… At least nobody would know how dumb he’d been.
Vargr stuck his head out into the bigger shaft and twisted his head about to look upward.
Elevator shaft, and the elevator was up there, stuck forever on whatever floor that might be.
Two stinkers were slowly dragging the wounded and almost-dead ghoul guard into the gap between the box of the elevator and the wall of the shaft. He frowned. Surely there was not enough room?
If he shot the stinkers they’d come down on his head or fall a very long way. Ditto for that guard.
While he was thinking, the stinkers had kept on dragging.
Screams erupted, confirming the guard was still alive, and that his body didn’t fit too well in that gap.
Blood streamed down the wall. They were stripping flesh off him as they pulled him through like a cheese grater grating a human.
“Crap,” he whispered.
He raised his pistol but hesitated too long over his worry he’d only get himself dead for no particular reason. The man and his spidery Eiffel Tower-legged captors vanished from view. Cyn would be pleased he wasn’t dead.
So was he.
A few small pieces of guard slid past.
“God fuckin’ dammit. Lucky, I haven’t had breakfast yet.” He withdrew into the zagging shaft, wiped his mouth and holstered the gun, then began the journey back to camp.
Along the way he collected Tom, a foot-soldier sent to find him. By the time they reached where Toother guarded the tunnel, he’d been brought up to speed and knew that Rutger and Tom, but particularly Rutger, had cleaned up Cyn after the battle.
He was jogging by then, and he left Tom behind.
Fuck. He should’ve known. Rutger had been making eyes at her. Not that she or he would do anything, he felt that bone-deep—it was a tenet of their existence.
Still.
The beaster had partly stripped her and washed her off.
He leaped through the wall hole, skipped and jumped over the chaos of cars and rubble, then burst into the office where the waterfall flooded the floor.
Found them both. With Cyn in a new pair of tentacle-decorated leggings that accentuated every sweeping curve of her long limbs. He wondered if Rutger had seen the tattoo on her butt.
His glare made the larger beaster shrug and step backward, palms-out, while keeping his eye on Vargr.
“Just looking after her for you, man. The Lure had her, and she was covered in blood and bits of ghoul guard.”
“Huh.” He walked to her, sloshing through water, to where she perched cutely on a desk in the middle of the pool.
It was only when he drew near that he realized they had her arms trapped at her back. Releasing her could come with negatives. He’d had to tie her down to fuck her that first time the Lure had her in thrall.
Her ass wriggled as if she were a puppy seeing its owner—and that was a vision he would cherish. He took her hips, massaging her with his thumbs, distressed to know he’d been remiss in his duties. Slowly he leaned in and put his forehead to hers, angled his head so he could kiss her, soft and sure.
“Get out of here, Rutger.”
“Done. Though we need to talk, later.”
The beaster, or god monster as they called him, made loud progress as he slogged and jumped through the debris. Deliberate probably, so Vargr would know they were alone.
If the Lure had her, why’d she look almost normal? Her eyes were clear, though Cyn was not as wild as he remembered. Gentler. Less ready to snark at him.
“Was it the coming of night, girl? Did it fade the Lure?”
She nodded then wriggled her shoulders and whined as if she wanted to hug him. Not speaking yet? That was the Lure. Again, he hesitated. Surely letting her go would be unwise? His cock rode between her legs, pulsing at the feel of her, at the promise of being buried in her, and the leggings were in the way.
“These, are fucking coming off.”
“Mmm.” She bit his neck and hung on with those little teeth of hers, sending heat shimmying through him, down his spine, all the way down to his balls.
Grinding his cock into her made her teeth release from his neck, and her head fell back. The black leather collar he’d put on her slid on her skin. He never thought about those much, but yeah, he adored that mark of his ownership. She shuddered, her eyelashes fluttering, her mouth parting in a quiet moan.
He reached down and clawed his hand into the cloth at her waist. Tearing her leggings off was probably not the best way to do this. Finding new clothes might be difficult. His throat closed in, then he managed to say the words that needed saying.
“I’m going to fuck you on this desk and then… once you can talk, you will tell me what that bastard Rutger did to you.”
With one hand on her back to stop her falling and the other at the waistband, he dragged the leggings past her butt and rolled them to her knees, but that made opening her legs enough impossible. He let out a growl of exasperation. Should’ve torn a fucking hole in the crotch after all.
On the other hand… He pulled her forward and lowered her so she lay flat on her back on the desktop, then tipped her legs up with her knees held high. It exposed her cunt, perfectly. Excellent fucking position.
His wings unfolded in recognition of his slightly unhinged state.
Undoing the zip on his pants took one second.
Feeling her slit and slipping two fingers inside to check her readiness took a few more.
Her pussy was so wet, swollen, and rosy pink that he had to hold his breath and stare.
“Fuck.”
She squirmed again, moaning, breath hitching as he finger-fucked her a few times. “Enticing little bitch.”
Cock in hand, he watched her face, the bite of her lip and her sweet fascination as he lined up and began to squeeze inside her. With her legs together it was tighter than he remembered. So incredibly soft, hot, and slippery. The perfect foil for his hardness.
Then, as he shoved, pushing into her cunt and fucking her with the first full-length thrust, her eyes widened, and she sat up as much as she could.
“Wait!”
Words. She spoke. He eyed her, still buried in her, grunted a query.
“You don’t need to.”
He almost choked. “What the fuck?”
Need? He had enough need to do this to her for the next hour, over and over, in every goddamned hole. If only an enemy attack wasn’t a worry.
He shut his eyes and be damned if her cunt didn’t squeeze in on him again. Vargr swore a curse that trailed off into a strangled groan.
When he opened his eyes, he caught a smirk disappearing off her face.