2 #3
“Why her? She’s not special!” Vega shouts jealously, as though she would want to leave with two big strangers just to be liked more and chosen first.
“Why?” I ask, because none of this makes sense. Vega’s right, I’m just some girl; I’m not too pretty or smart. I’ve only talked to a handful of people in my entire life, and only read the few dozen books on the shelves left by the previous cabin owner.
“We want a woman,” Wolf says succinctly, his stare suddenly warm and invasive. My legs wobble like Mama’s canned blackberry jam.
“You shouldn’t be forced to breed by your stepfather,” Ranger spits out, baring straight white teeth that glow in the dim room. He’s bigger even than Wolf and seems to grow in the small space. “It’s corrupt. He’s your father figure. You need other men. And we need a woman.”
“We?” Mama echoes faintly, “Both of you?”
“Oh, hell no, not my baby girl!” Papa shouts and rushes forward, only for Wolf to swing his gun in a quick arc, cracking Papa across the cheek. He falls to the floor with a wet wail, clutching his bloody nose. Vega screams and rushes to his side. Mama doesn’t stir.
“Did he ever touch you?” Wolf asks, barely above a whisper, his gaze hard on Papa, but I know his words are for me. I shake my head, and his shoulders ease a fraction.
“Yes. Both of us. Better chance of a baby that way. We’ve got a community. It’s safe. You’ll be taken care of, Nova.” A zing races up my back and over my shoulders as Ranger says my name for the first time. It’s too hot in here. My panties suddenly cling to me. This is crazy.
“You’re coming with us.” Wolf stares at me.
His lips are a pale pink, the upper one puffier than it has any right to be.
His lashes are embarrassingly long and pretty.
A dichotomy next to the fine white lines of scars I can see along one cheekbone.
He speaks as if I don’t have a choice, and it makes me want to collapse in his arms.
Stiffness I didn’t know I carried between my shoulder blades loosens, and the fear of Papa deciding to fuck me on a whim evaporates.
I look beyond the two men at the darkness outside. Moonlight catches on the even fall of rain, flickering as clouds pass. Should I be more fearful of the unknown?
“Now?” I whisper as Papa shouts and Vega tries to calm him down.
Ranger looks down at them pitilessly and nods. He growls at Papa, “You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in you.”
I spin and hug Mama once. The embrace is tight and final.
“Do you have anything you want to bring?”
Wolf asks me, slightly softer but still firm and decisive.
I look around the room and down at my pallet with its folded quilt that some stranger made years ago for someone else.
The dresser with its few items of old clothing.
I think of my worn boots full of water out back.
“No. Nothing.”
Ranger rifles through the coats hanging off wall hooks near the door and pulls out Papa’s huge hooded poncho he scavenged from an old military surplus store.
He beckons me forward, and I step face to face with him as he pulls the heavy-duty garment onto me and settles the hood in place.
His gloved hand pushes my braid back, brushing my skin.
I let out a stupid little whiny noise, and he pauses, staring down into my pale face.
He studies me. Brown eyes and thick brows, straight nose, narrow little mouth that seems taller than it is wide. Nothing special.
He’s so damn big. Taller than me by more than a foot and muscles as big as my head.
Then he drops his stare to my socked feet, and I squeal as he scoops me up against his chest.
Wolf stays back to keep an eye on my family as Ranger carries me out to the horses, practically tossing me onto the gray’s back.
I scramble into place, hugging the beast until my thighs burn, the pommel and horn located in an uncomfortable place.
My feet dangle; there’s nowhere to put them.
“Where are—?” Before I can finish asking my questions, Ranger grabs the seat behind me and sticks his booted foot in the stirrup and launches his huge form behind me.
I’m instantly warmed. I try not to fall against him, but he just wraps a big arm around my waist and hauls me back.
No amount of useless wiggling works against his hold, so I still, panting.
My thighs are on his. My bottom is tight against his groin.
His arm stays locked around my waist, his free arm curling around me to grab the reins.
I screech when he does a little kick and makes a clicking sound, and we begin moving. The gun hanging from his side taps against me. The motion of the horse is a rolling rock, almost like sitting atop the waves of the ocean.
A few minutes later, I hear the clopping of Wolf’s horse joining us.
The poncho covers me completely; even my feet are hidden under its shelter.
I’m wet, covered completely with ceaselessly falling droplets, but dry and warm at the same time.
I’m wet. My hips rocking in unison with Ranger’s.
I’m wet. My head tilts back, resting on his chest like a pillow.
I blink, trying to watch what path we take, what direction we go.
But I’m moving at the fastest pace of my life, covering ground I’ve never covered.
My eyes close.