 
Love & Decay

A Novella Series

Kane's Law

By Rachel Higginson

Copyright@ Rachel Higginson 2013

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To Zach,

This would not exist without you.

Just like so many other things.
Chapter One

682 days after initial infection

Kane

"I'm going with them," I yelled over my shoulder. I'd just finished my shift from last night, but the new patrol was ready to go out and I didn't want them to leave without me. My father stood behind me, in the middle of the hallway where his sick trophies couldn't reach him.

"Why?" he father called back, clearly as perplexed as my mom had been. I'd checked in with her like I did every single morning after a shift. She worried about me even while she knew what we did was a necessity.

My entire body stiffened at his questioning tone. It wasn't abnormal for me to go out on multiple patrols, but I had already put in a double overnight. It wasn't that I didn't understand my dad's confusion- but I did resent having to explain my actions. He could control the rest of the Colony, but I was almost always left to my own devices. I had been appointed second in command since the beginning and I didn't need to be babysat or watched as closely as the others. My father could trust me implicitly. Because unlike his other children, I believed in his methodology and his long term goals. I would always stand at his side. I would always fight for the purpose we both held as close as religion. This was who I was now; the soldier that fought for control again, the leader that kept humanity in line... the son that carried out his father's will because I was an extension of his greater plan.

"They're not alone," I said simply.

"The guys that came in with Miller?" he asked with cold indifference. My father had one weakness- pride. He thought this place was indestructible- he thought we were flawless. And while I agreed that our tactics worked more often than not, I saw a broader big-picture than he did. Pride would leave us vulnerable and open to failure.

And those were not acceptable options.

And besides that my instincts burned inside me like road flares. Those guys we'd captured weren't just lucky to still be alive; their good fortune went well beyond luck. They had skill and knowledge I hadn't seen in outsiders in a long time. That probably meant there were more of them.

And that bothered me.

My father was blinded by pride for a reason. We were practically invincible. We were stronger than the rest... smarter than the rest.

We were the answer to the problem. The solution to the infestation.

Everyone knew that. Whether they risked life and limb to get to us or simply wanted to investigate the rumors of our sanctuary, people flocked here from all over the former US.

Except these guys. And now they wanted to leave?

They hadn't come right out and said that, but it was clear in their anxious behavior and wandering attention spans that they had no intentions of going through our probationary period.

That meant something, or someone, was out there waiting for them. Someone that would probably come looking for them and expect us to let them go.

And I just couldn't wait to meet them. I couldn't wait to see what kind of human being could survive the last two years and still feel that surprising glow of determination and control.

In my experience, the only ones that still felt in control were my father and me. The rest of the population of this dying earth felt far from in control; no, they felt lost, under constant threat and in unrelenting danger. They didn't feel control because they didn't see a solution and they'd lost sight of hope years ago.

And if it wasn't those weak, victimized people looking for protection than it was the other side of the spectrum- men who'd lost any remnants of decency and humanity in an effort to compensate for those things that they couldn't fix or expect. They forced control and authority because it didn't come naturally to them anymore- because they were just as much victims of a deadly apocalypse as the rest of us. They were just too stubborn or dumb to admit it. Either way, when they met us and saw firsthand what we could offer, they gladly handed over their free will and loyalty to be a part of our thriving society.

My father's entire philosophy rested on the fact that we were salvation to a world drowning in the depths of hell. And without that mentality, our power was only as great as our word. People needed to trust us indisputably, they needed to set their hope in us.... they needed to _deify_ us.

Outsiders with their own vision threatened everything we'd worked so hard to build.

And while they couldn't be allowed to go on like they were, I was still curious to see what kind of potential talent they could bring to the table.

"How do you know there's more?" My dad asked with a carefully measured voice. His thoughts had gone in the same direction as mine. He realized the threat now. He wanted to resolve this issue as quickly as I did.

This was why he should never doubt me; I was five steps ahead of him.

"Gut feeling." I turned back around, checking my ammo, checking my guns, checking my knives. I blinked to make sure my contacts were in place. It didn't make sense to be careless in this end of days, not even in our utopia.

"You think there's women with them?" he asked in a low voice.

Women were like currency around here- around everywhere. The aftermath of the infection had wiped out a huge percentage of the female population just because of Darwin's Law- survival of the fittest. We were building a civilization based mostly on men and testosterone and that wouldn't do in the grand scheme of things. We needed the soft feminine touch to balance us out, keep us cultured, keep us from tearing each other apart with our bare hands.

Of course there were other reasons for wanting women around.

"Hard to tell, but I'm ready to find out," I drawled.

"Be careful, Son," he called after me.

"Always." And as an afterthought I said, "Miller's had enough."

"I'll be the judge of that," he spit back as firm and dangerous as ever. Now that was the father I knew; not the one concerned with my safety, but the one who ruled everything and everyone with an iron fist and a cocky surety that would make a man question every single one of his beliefs if they didn't match Matthias Allen's.

I snorted something unintelligible and allowed myself a second of remorse for my stupid little brother's idiotic actions. He should have known better.

He should have at least known not to come back here. It was his own fault. And now there was nothing I could do for him.

I tilted my chin up and walked out the doors into the early morning sky. Electrodes of adrenaline and excitement sparked up and down my back and all over my limbs.

I suppressed the smile that wanted to break free on my face and brought my body into complete submission.

I was going hunting. And something inside my gut told me this would be the most exciting chase of my life so far.

Austen and Creed were already waiting for me. They were some of the younger guys hoping to build a career out of patrols and killing Zombies. And they actually had the stuff to make it.

I chose them this morning to accompany me. They were quiet, capable and had the kind of instincts that would keep them- and me- alive.

They were also disposable.

Not that they knew that. But really, they all were.

Our ranks were filled with hundreds of guys like them. This enemy was easy to kill and regret rarely plagued men trying to protect loved ones or their own skin from a creature that wanted to eat their face. They flooded our boarders with promises of loyalty and tunneled vision that lined up with my father's. They were the perfect kind of soldiers and when they made a mistake and succumbed to the enemy we fought so vigilantly, they were easily replaced.

But they gave their lives willingly. We all wanted the same thing; we all wanted to be free of the Zombie threat. And there wasn't a person alive that wouldn't do exactly what we asked if we promised them that end result. Even if they weren't around to enjoy the results of their effort, they believed that the rest of humanity deserved to be freed from Feeders.

"Let's go," I ordered in a low voice.

I didn't bother to ask them if they were ready. They already better be. I didn't have time to wait around for them or babysit them while they asked for directions. If I chose them then they better be prepared for everything I needed the minute I asked for it.

Was that arrogant?

Hell, yes. But I didn't just accidentally land my spot on the top of the totem pole by being the first born son of Matthias Allen. No, I'd earned this place with a patient ruthlessness and resolved insensitivity that I was proud of.

We marched a path straight into the surrounding forest. Miller and his guests had left an offering of footprints last night in the soft mud. If there were others following them, it seemed most logical that they would try to follow those prints. I couldn't believe they'd left them on accident.

There were plenty of other teams patrolling the woods at this time of day, but I wanted these prints. I wanted to be the one to find the rest of this group.

If they were as proficient as the other two waiting on a trial with my father, the obvious clues might just come in handy.

Last night the two that were currently locked away seemed less than likely to join our ranks; but I would eventually show them how mutually beneficial we could be for each other. We were an ideal place for men of their caliber and talent. And we could offer steady meals and shelter. They would change their minds.

My father planned to put them through probation and then reevaluate their commitment to the Colony.

I agreed with his method. Nobody left on this planet could be completely trusted. Probation was the best way to get to a man's core belief system, to find out just how easily his loyalty was swayed. It was difficult at times to live in a community that took so much work to maintain- but the rewards were staggering, compared to what else this fallen world had to offer.

They would either get in line or my father would deal with them in his usual way.

There really was only one choice. They clearly valued their lives; I had no doubt they would come to the right conclusion.

We walked in stealthy silence through the thick forestry. Only fifteen minutes into our venture, I could hear the distant voices that floated on the wind. From here it was difficult to tell what kind of people they belonged to, but for a moment I thought I heard a child.

I paused mid-stride and gave the signal to the other two young men to proceed quietly and fan out around the voices.

We moved into the dark forest with practiced steps and clear purpose. We'd done this a hundred, maybe a thousand times before. This was a drill to us, as easy as breathing.

My feet faltered only once and that was when we were close enough to fully identify the kind of voices approaching. Although we still couldn't see them, I could hear clearly enough. One man- old enough to be a man, but young enough to still be somewhat ambiguous in years. Middle aged? Or teenager? Somewhere in the middle? It was hard to tell.

And then the other voice.

That's where my footsteps tripped up.

Not a child. A woman. The husky, honeyed, purely feminine voice drifted to my ears with warmth and perfect tones of light, easy amusement. The voice bypassed my brain and hit me directly in the chest, in the joints of my bones, in the male parts of me that absorbed that tone word for delicate word.

I threw up a hand and let out a short, low whistle. Austen and Creed immediately stopped and disappeared into hiding. We would wait for them to come to us. They would walk directly into our trap. We would have the advantage and the experience, while they stumbled through the still-dark forest giving everything away about themselves.

My lips curved and I realized with some shock that I was smiling- something I rarely did. I crouched behind a thick tree and peered around it. I was utterly still and silent while I waited- waited for her.

"Then don't," she was saying. "It's weird talking about my virginity with you, even if it's in the context of saving your immortal soul."

Virginity?

Something so virile, something so purely, primal male burned in my blood, I was embarrassed for myself.

It was just... virgins didn't exist anymore. The ratio of men to women was fatally unfair, but take into account how many of those remaining females were still able to hold onto their innocence? In this godforsaken world? It didn't seem possible.

And if I thought I had been drawn to this girl by just the sound of her voice, the fact that she had somehow managed to hold onto her virtue... had something to protect and gift away... I was not just pulled in, I was lost.

Of course, she could be a hag. Then what? Would it matter what she looked like? Would it matter if she had three teeth and no hair?  
Probably.

But then she stepped into view and all those shallow thoughts disappeared, replaced by a force so strong and consuming, I stumbled forward, catching myself in the damp earth with one hand.

Her companion was saying something about his brother and a man code, but all I could see was the raven haired beauty walking my way. She was breath-taking- even in the dim morning light. The sun made the air around her glow and the edges of her body burn into a hazy obscurity. Her body- lithe, graceful, sensual- moved over the rough forest floor with ease and I felt hypnotized by the sway of her curvy hips.

I hadn't seen beauty in a long time; but looking at her, at this girl that appeared from nowhere and was headed directly to me... it was like seeing something truly beautiful for the first time. She was everything lovely left in this world. She was pure, she was innocent and she was light. She was light to me. It wasn't just the stark difference between the raw attraction I felt for her, it was that she lit up even the sunlight. She somehow burned through the darkness, and not just the dark forest, but the ominous gloom of this world. She transcended the bleak un-living we'd yielded to and reminded me of what life used to be like, what it could be again.

And she was alone.

Well, for the most part.

She was wandering a Zombie-filled forest with one other person and a handgun at her side. Clearly, she wasn't prepared for this world. Clearly, she needed someone to protect her.

I took in the details of her and her partner quickly. Each held a gun, but if they had other weapons, they weren't at hand. The guy was probably related to our prisoners from last night. He was older than anyone else in his group, but mimicked the same dirty blonde hair and rough-barely-maintained facial hair style that the other two had. His features alone gave him away. He also held the same make and model handgun that the two other guys carried. That couldn't be a coincidence. His gate was similar, his tuned-in attentiveness and Yankee accent all showed evidence that he was in some way related to the other prisoners.

That meant the girl was traveling with them but not necessarily related to them. She was about as opposite in looks as could be, the dark to their light. But, now... she was the light to my darkness.

It was a good decision for me to patrol this morning. If Creed or Austen had been out here alone, no doubt they would have wanted to claim her for themselves- potentially even fought over her. And while I couldn't blame them for trying, I would get first pick no matter what. Seniority ruled these lands and I was the superior officer. The only other man that could claim her before me was my father, but he would never do that to my mother.

This girl belonged to me now.

The corners of my mouth turned up again and I couldn't believe my luck.

Once the pair had stepped into our triangle of entrapment I raised my hand and sent Creed the signal with two fingers and a "round-em-up" motion.

I silently stood to my feet, readied my weapon, and waited for the perfect opportunity to step out of hiding.

"Stop moving!" Creed called out sternly. "Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

"Shit," the guy growled. His guns dropped from his hands to the forest floor and I couldn't stop the rush of adrenaline from knowing she was one moment closer to being mine. I took a step forward and signaled Austen to move in behind them. Creed continued to close in on the other side. Once the guns were out of the stranger's hands he lifted them above his head and stared down at the female with an authoritative scowl.

"No way," she growled at him. Her dark haired pony-tail flipped around her neck. She tightened her grip on that small handgun and I felt my chest rumble a growl of approval. I hadn't seen a girl with so much tenacity since before the infection; and thinking about it in the context of where we were now, maybe I'd never seen a girl with so much courage.

Women today either used their feminine gifts as a barter system or they were easily compliant to orders in an attempt to hold onto their virtue- which rarely worked in this world, but I understood their flawed thinking. This kind of girl, one that fought back, one that believed she had a _chance_... she was truly rare.

"Reagan," her friend warned her.

_Reagan._ Her name was Reagan. The word settled over me like an oath and I took it, swore to it, let it fill me with purpose, conviction and promise.

"Drop your weapons!" Creed shouted when it was clear she wouldn't.

Her lips tilted in amusement and she goaded us, saying, "That sounds like a terrible idea. Why don't you come get them?"

Gladly.

I moved into position and held my breath. My blood burned with anticipation, my body thrumming to life with anxious excitement.

I listened to the guy try to talk reason into her and I felt pride bubble up inside me when she obviously didn't listen. The world had dissolved into dangerous predators and victims, into monsters and innocent fatalities, and I didn't mean simply Feeder vs. Human. Mankind was as guilty as taking a side as the evil creatures that shared our planet. Yet, this girl. _This girl_ stood apart, a different being entirely. Something good yet strong, something virtuous yet spirited. She had captivated me with every part of her and I didn't even know her yet. There was so much to explore, so much more to her to discover.

"Reagan, do you trust me?" I read the lips of her friend as he whispered. He practically begged her to listen to reason and I held still, frozen in place while I waited to see if she would listen.

"Vaughan, your brothers," she beseeched him with wide eyes. I had been right then- he was related to the other guys. The first victory of many more to come with these people.

Vaughan visibly winced and his face shuttered with helplessness. Just when I thought he would bend down to retrieve his gun, he whispered something to Reagan that I couldn't make out from this distance.

Neither moved for a long moment. Reagan's firearm still clenched in her fingers. She looked uncertain for just a moment before one of my men drew their attention when he stepped on a branch. The cracking twig snapped loudly in the tense stillness, accomplishing exactly what we'd planned to. They both whirled around to the direction of the aggressive sound. I took the opportunity given to me. I had a goal and three steps forward took me to her. One arm snaked around her slim waist and the barrel of my gun pressed gently into her temple.

I wouldn't shoot her unless my own life was in danger, but I needed to establish my authority immediately. She didn't fight me, she didn't flail or scream or even prickle with fear. She stood strong in my arms, a separate entity from me, even while I desperately wanted to pull her body against my chest and let her melt into my skin.

Her body was warm and vibrating with life. Her taut muscles- tight from her hard life but not interrupting the subtle curves of her hips, thighs and breasts- flexed beneath my touch. She was feminine perfection: grace, the smallest hints of delicateness and an easy self-presence that hinted she knew exactly who she was and didn't apologize for anything. This world had maybe stripped away her trust and replaced it with paranoia, probably sucked out her refinement and civility only to replace them with the hard will to survive and a ruthless cunning developed over years of living on the road. But she felt elegant in my large, brutish arms, she felt tiny and vulnerable pressed against the sweat of my towering body.

I looked down at her, at the bend of her jaw, the arch of her lovely throat, the sweet fullness of her lips and felt my body harden behind hers, come fully to attention- awaken as if for the first time. She smelled like cool morning, smoky wood and hard work; but on her it was delicious and intoxicating.

She wore a thin, canvas backpack filled with hard metal and gun-barrel shaped items. I knew she carried a small arsenal, but in that moment I was thankful for the separation between us. I would work up to touching her full body with the length of mine. But it had been too long since I'd held a woman flush against me to take that step now- in the presence of others. When we finally connected, we would be alone and she would be willing- not held at gunpoint.

I had lost my soul out of necessity, not because I relished being a monster.

There were certain lines that I would not cross- not even with a gift like this.

Reagan stiffened under my hold and flipped her head so that I got a face full of that luscious dark hair. Without fear or reservation, she tilted her chin in defiance and said to her friend, "I told you the woods were a terrible idea!"

I felt my lips turn into another uncharacteristic smile and almost chuckled at her obstinacy. Even while I found her quick wit and stubborn fearlessness entertaining, I had to disagree with her. The woods had been an excellent idea.

At least in my opinion.
Chapter Two

"Son of a bitch," she hissed her curse. I could only assume she realized just how unescapable her predicament was now with my gun resting on her smooth skin.

Still, the coarse language sat ill with me. This girl, with her virginity and loveliness, shouldn't be cursing. It was an archaic thought, completely outdated, especially in this ugly world that lacked anything moral or civilized. I couldn't help it though, I expected more from her.

"Instead of talking about my mother, why don't you obey the command?" I spoke firmly but softly against her temple. I allowed myself the pleasure of touching my lips to her skin. I let myself have a moment to drink her in, taste her, breathe her. She tensed further beneath me, so with all of my strength I forced my mouth away from her and waited patiently for her to obey.

When she didn't immediately comply, my arm tightened around her waist, flexing and imprisoning her further so she could feel the strength of my body matched against the fragility of hers. Her friend turned around, pulling a gun from his back. He lunged forward with the intent to protect her, but he hadn't yet learned the most important lesson of the day. She wasn't his anymore.

She was mine.

_Vaughan_ had his weapon ready to fire with impressive quickness; the unforgiving barrel faced me in less than three seconds. I wondered for a moment if I had underestimated this stranger's proficiency. Not that it would do him any good now, but he could be an asset in our future.

If he learned to take orders.

If he learned to submit to my authority.

On cue, Creed and Austen stepped from their hiding places and aimed their equally dangerous firearms at the back of Vaughan's head. He felt the threat to his life before a word was spoken; his shoulders tightened with unease. My boys would not miss, and they would not hesitate. I felt confident Vaughan instinctively knew those important pieces of information.

Reagan shook her head and I felt her resolve shift. She wouldn't let her friend be hurt at her expense. Either she was extremely loyal or able to see the uselessness of fighting us- both were valuable assets to add to this girl's plus column. She took a deep breath and I felt her lungs expand under the cage of my forearm. The small movement pressed our bodies closer together and so I breathed in with her, letting her pull me under some kind of spell, fill my chest, wrap around me until there was only us and nothing more.

I should be terrified of my instant response to her, the way she seemed to take hold of my thoughts and control so immediately. But I was an opportunist, I had to be in the wake of the global destruction we survived in, and she was my opportunity- my windfall. To let something like this pass me by would be foolish.

So I took this chance, knowing the payoff would be big. And if I didn't claim her, someone else would.

The safety of her gun clicked into place and she dropped the weapon. Her hands fell to her sides where they hung empty and unsure. Her shoulders sagged immediately. I could feel the defenselessness cover her body like a shroud.

A punch of guilt in the gut surprised me. But I put myself in her shoes and knew without a second's hesitation that I would loathe the powerlessness of not having a weapon. With a gun at my head and danger all around me, I would be just as dejected. I looked down at her confused. I rarely experienced remorse, if at all. And never empathy.

Indecision washed over me. I shouldn't be feeling anything but triumph. I'd not only gotten what I wanted, but there had been no casualties and everything had gone smoothly according to plan. Besides, this girl could easily harm me, or even kill me. And I wanted to appease her? Make her happy?

I did. I could admit that to myself.

I wanted to do anything to erase her disappointment and failure- even at the expense of my own safety. The foreign feelings churned in my stomach. I knew what I had to do, what I needed to do, but I couldn't stop the aggressive feelings of sympathy and concern.

I lifted my eyes just in time to catch her friend watching me carefully. His aim never wavered; if anything, his expression had grown even more determined. Had my thoughts been so transparent? He looked easily ready to kill me.

I took his stance and rigid body as a threat. He could pull the trigger before Creed or Austen had the chance to put him down. Would he risk his own life to save her? How close were they? Were these feelings mutual between them?

White, hot Anger unfurled inside of me and I had just decided to give the signal to Creed to end his life when Reagan spoke again. Her throaty voice drifted over my body like a sedative and I relaxed immediately. "I trust you," she told him.

Jealousy came next while Vaughan stood up and forced his body to stand down. He disarmed his gun and let it hang limply from his finger while I decided whether or not I was still going to kill him. She only trusted him because she knew him, I told myself. She would trust me, too.

She would learn to trust me soon.

Before the day was out.

And that became the most important thing to me. She could be instantly attracted to me, or not; she could feel safe around me, or not. But the most important thing was that she trusted me. Once I earned her faith and conviction, the rest would come naturally.

"There's a good girl," I murmured into her ear, keeping her close for as long as I could justify.

Creed and Austen took care of her friend and I nearly winced again as those pangs of guilt battered me for a second time. I knew I would have to put the cuffs on her too, but I hated the thought of forcing her into discomfort. Not to mention, physically restraining her would no doubt push my efforts to get her to trust me back... way back.

Finally, I convinced my bewitched body to separate from hers. I snagged her small backpack as I stepped away, pulling it easily from her shoulders. I let my fingers trail down her spine, linger on her lower back and imagine what waited for me beneath her thin t-shirt. Smooth, hot skin... a body that would mold to mine, fill my hands and erase the pain and regret from the last two years... a body that would take me to a different plane of existence, rescue me from my grim reality and bring me salvation...

"Touch me again and I will murder you," she promised.

And she was absolutely serious.

Probably, best I listen. Trust, after all, was my end game.

Still, I couldn't stop the amused chuckle that rumbled in my chest. How long had it been since I laughed at something, since I found something actually funny?

Too long.

Her muscles tensed again, but it was different this time. She had been rigid in my arms while my fingers grazed her skin, but that had been fear that stiffened her body. This new tension was born from the urge to punch something. She didn't cower in fear of me, she wanted to fight me.

I tucked my gun into the waistband of my pants and tossed the heavy pack to Creed while Austen finished detaining Vaughan. I grinned at her back, keeping my amusement silent so I didn't incite her wrath again. _Little firecracker._ I couldn't exactly take her warning seriously though, so I reached for her dangling hands and drew them carefully behind her back. I bent them into the right angles while she worked with me compliantly. As soon as the cuffs were clicked into place she began pulling on them, as if she didn't believe I would really confine her. She would rub her wrists raw if she kept that up.

"Walk," I told her simply.

She didn't move and either did her friend. I put my hands on her shoulders, enjoying the way my long fingers and wide palms concealed her delicate shoulders. I let the heat of me sink into her skin and remind her of my strength and control. I gave her the lightest push, encouraging her to walk and warned, "Walk or I'll carry you."

She immediately started moving. Her friend was next to her in a moment. He kept wary eyes on me, watching as though I would throw her down on the forest floor and rape her at any given moment. The asshole saw way too much.

Even though I would never rape a woman, never take from her body if she were reluctant or refusing, I did own her in a physical way now. But I wouldn't steal from her. I would wait for her to give me what I wanted; I would be patient until it was what we both wanted. I would protect her until then, take care of her, earn her grace and her desire. I didn't like his judgment or his unnecessary concern. Rape, sexual assault, whatever a man stole from an unwilling woman was disgustingly cowardly. I was neither a coward nor completely immoral. I was the good guy here.

Reagan and her friend walked close together in front of me. Their handcuffs made them bump and brush against each other with every step. Jealousy burned through me so strong and consuming I thought I would choke on it. I gave Creed a silent command which he followed immediately. He tripped Vaughan without any hesitation, sending the prisoner crashing to the rough ground. He tried to keep his face out of the muddy earth, but with hands tied behind his back, there was little he could do to protect himself from the fall.

Reagan stopped instantly to wait for him. She hunched over and bent her knees at first, trying to figure out a way to help him, no doubt. Her concern for him grated against every nerve ending my body.

Unable to stop myself, I pressed my hand on the center of her back and demanded, "Keep moving."

She listened. She started walking again while Vaughan struggled to his knees. We plodded our way through the forest, toward home. Slowly at first, with her ear turned towards Vaughan. Once she felt satisfied that her friend was safe and standing, she picked up her pace.

Creed and Austen kept Vaughan detained long enough for us to get decently ahead of them, exactly as I wanted it.

"That was on purpose," she accused me. "To separate us."

There was no point in lying to her. "To separate you."

She glanced over at me then. The first time she would see me and so I schooled my features to look casual and careless. I kept my eyes forward as if wary of threats or intent on our destination and let her look her fill. I knew I was good-looking; I didn't need another person to pander to nonexistent insecurities with bullshit. I knew exactly how I looked and precisely how women perceived me.

Even if Reagan didn't trust me yet, I knew how she would see me.

And that it would work to my advantage- that it was Step One in my ultimate plan.

My body vibrated with something powerful while I kept my eyes forward. Her eyes slid to me several times as she split her attention between me and the forest floor. She had to pay attention with her arms bound like that, but I could sense her curiosity and her peeked interest. She didn't try to hide her surprise when her eyes fell on my face or her open admiration as they traveled over my body.

She seemed to stumble through several different thought patterns. Her expressions flickered quickly as they moved with her thoughts until they finally landed on cold indifference. Her eyes narrowed, her lush mouth pursed, her arms stiffened again, pulling every muscle into coiled readiness.

"Where are you taking us?" she asked evenly.

"To town," I answered. This was a test. I wanted to know if she knew there was a town out here, or if she was as unsuspecting as her friends had been. Sure they'd realized they were caught easily enough, but they'd seemed utterly surprised to get caught in the first place.

She took a deep breath and nodded. She'd heard of us. Whether they'd been coming here directly, or run into Miller during his pathetic escape attempt, she'd heard of us.

Interesting.

"You look... well-fed," she all but accused me.

I hid my shock at her willingness to talk. Maybe this would be easier than I thought. She seemed... difficult. Not just because she let off this independent-woman vibe, but because so far, she'd challenged me at every opportunity. Conversation was good though and I gave her answers easily. These were building blocks to my end game.

Besides there was no reason to lie to her. I held _her_ in captivity- _I_ had the power, _I_ had the authority.

"I am," I confirmed.

"How?" she demanded. "How are you well-fed?"

We exited the forest and onto the edge of the school grounds. The town was surrounded by thick woodland and we'd always been isolated from larger civilization. One highway split the town down the middle and then smaller streets connected Main Street to the quaint neighborhoods that branched out from the central hub. This was small town living at its finest.

Reagan drank in every single sight that stretched out in front of her. She took it all in with highly intelligent eyes, intent on memorizing every finer detail. No doubt, she was mapping out an escape plan, something I couldn't let her get away with.

Hoping to jostle her attention, I said, "We eat our prisoners."

It worked. She jumped at my words and then her brows snapped down over her dark eyes. She let my words bounce around in her head, trying to decide if I was serious or not. I hid another grin while she struggled to feel fear or confusion.

"Don't worry, darlin'," Creed called out from behind us. He sounded like an ignorant hillbilly with his thick drawl and I wanted to turn around and shoot him in the gut- let him bleed out all over the football field he once set all his useless high school hopes and dreams on. How would that be for irony? "I never heard not one of Kane's prisoners complain!"

I wanted to groan at his ignorance and how he'd so easily set me back miles with Reagan. He'd back-fired my plan and made her more uncomfortable than ever.

Although, it was true. Just because I hadn't felt the desire to bring a girl home to share my house with, didn't mean there hadn't been plenty to fill space and warm my bed in the meantime. I'd just always tired of them before- handed them over to other, greedier men.

"Oh, god," Reagan groaned and her face paled at the insinuation that her precious virtue was in danger.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably but didn't try to explain. An apology would only weaken my image of authority and to open that particular discussion would tarnish any hope I had that she could trust me.

At least she could be sure we didn't actually eat our prisoners.

We fell into uneasy silence as we marched across the still wet grass. The early morning sun was warming, but not fast enough to dry the dew scattered across the fresh spring grass. I breathed in the clean air and felt more alive than I had in two long years.

I'd always loved this town and this field more than anything else. Growing up, I'd had my time in the spotlight as a football star; I'd paid my dues as the responsible, mostly good son of one of the town's most respected families and dated enough of the girls to earn an only-slightly tarnished reputation.

When civilization fell, my father had been the most prepared and most qualified man to step up and take charge. In a way, I'd always been prepared to step up with him. He'd raised us right, teaching us the important necessities that went into surviving in a time without anything, instilling in us the values and basic instincts that would keep us alive during a future when you could trust no one. He made sure we were competitive enough to want to always be the best and have the best.

Falling in line with his goals and expectations had been easy for me. Partly, because I'd always been that son to him, and also because I could see it was the only way. He was going to keep us alive- keep a lot of people alive. If I listened and helped him carry this thing out we could save a huge portion of the remaining humanity.

What I didn't realize would accompany my obedience and loyalty though, was loneliness. While I held such a strong position of authority and command, I couldn't allow myself to get close to anyone else. Other soldiers would seek to exploit a friendship with me or manipulate me in order to fulfill their greed and selfish desires. My siblings had turned out to be more than disappointments and any real relationship with them had been severed back at the beginning. And women, while enjoyable for a time, tended to drive me crazy after a while.

However, I'd never felt like this about any of the girls that came before today. There had always been physical or personality flaws that kept me from growing too attached. For a night, my bed would be full and my mind too busy to dwell on the suffocating loneliness, but in the morning I would send them away and return to the solitary lifestyle that both haunted me and comforted me.

While I hated the stillness and complete silence of my house whenever I spent too much time there, I also knew it was the safest way to live. There wasn't a woman cooking or bathing, but if an intruder even entered my property I would know. I didn't have friends to talk about the pressures of our job or discuss another fatality, but I also didn't have someone who would spill my secrets or use me to get further in ranks. I separated myself for a reason and while it was a double-edged sword, the solitude suited me.

Until now.

Until I found the perfect companion to complement me and my life.

Once we reached the entrance to the former high school, I took out my keys and prepared to let the prisoners in. This was always the hardest part for outsiders. _My father and his trophies._ It unnerved everybody and terrified most. There wasn't an easy way to explain his fixation with mounting his prizes or why we let them live to being with. This was one of the few things we disagreed on; but he wouldn't listen to my opinion, so I had given up trying to convince him he was capable of having a bad idea.

I was anxious to see how Reagan would react to the inside. My gut told me she would recoil from them- from me. She would find them absolutely revolting and her opinion of my father's wall-art would affect her opinion of me.

But it was unavoidable. There was nothing I could do about what waited for us inside the school building except prove to her I was at least different in that way. There wouldn't be Zombies pinned to the walls once we got home.

Home- _our home_.

It sounded right. It sounded good.

Warmth spread through my limbs, a fire igniting in my lower belly. I turned to Reagan to warn her, to prepare her for what could be traumatizing but someone called my name from across the front lawn. I whipped around to decimate one of the other patrols with words or fists, I wasn't sure yet.

Three men walked over to me with grins plastered on their stupid faces. No doubt, they'd seen the new female and thought they had a chance to earn ownership. They were newer men, not as young as Creed and Austen but originally outsiders. Right now I could burn the entire lot of them. Between Creed's stupid comments and the hungry looks in their eyes, I could happily set them all on fire and watch them turn to ash.

"So there were more of them?" Dennis shot a pointed look at Reagan and waited for me to confirm. He was a sniveling little shit that always took the morning patrols because he was afraid of the dark and the Feeders that waited for him then. He'd earned his spot on the patrol and my father trusted him to lead every once in a while, but I didn't. He wasn't known for his thoughtful consideration when it came to women either, another reason to get rid of him.

"There were more," I confirmed. "I'm taking them in now to deal with them."

"Just the two, then?" Dennis asked with another leering glance over my shoulder.

I allowed myself to follow his gaze then, just to make sure she was still there and hadn't been magically absorbed into Dennis's strong, mystical realm of sick perverts. She was whispering to Vaughan, their heads bent in intense discussion.

This made me more furious than anything.

Goddamnit.

"She's spoken for, so get your goddamn eyes off her." I took a step forward and with as much calm as I could keep, pointed a finger at his chest. His eyes widened in surprise as I was sure everyone's did.

"Hey, Kane," Dennis started immediately. His eyes remained huge and he held up his hands as if to calm me down. "I didn't mean anything. I just wanted to know where you found 'em. She's yours, I get that. Nobody's trying to take her."

I backed off a step. His assurances didn't calm me down and I felt the bite of fury still thrumming through my body; but I would let him believe I could control this possessive need to keep that girl. I brushed my hands over my pockets in an attempt to appear relaxed and shot him a cocky smile.

"Damn right, she's mine. You think I'd pass up a body like that?"

Dennis cleared his throat and the rest of the guys shifted uneasily. "You'd have to be cra- uh, er, blind to let that go."

It pissed me off more that he felt the need to censor the word "crazy" than it would have if he would have just said it, but trying to avoid the stereotype all together, I let it slide.

"Get back to patrols," I commanded. "I've got to wrap this up."

"Yes, sir," the men answered in unison.

I turned around without acknowledging them again and opened the doors to the school. Reagan and Vaughan walked through immediately, without being prompted.

"Careful of the walls," I warned. I tensed, waiting for her to notice the Zombie-lined hallways. I passed the door off to Austen who let it slam shut once we'd all entered the building.

Reagan took her time adjusting to the dim light, but I felt her awareness ratchet higher and higher. I watched her face flinch and cringe as she took in the horrifying scene in stages. Disbelief, refusal to believe, disgust, horror, surprise sympathy, hatred, and then finally revulsion in every way, shape and form.

In an effort to ignore the disappointment I felt with her feelings, I ordered Vaughan sent in with the other prisoners. "Take him in with the others. I'm taking her to my father." I needed to officially claim her before someone else put in a request. I wanted to cut this off before it ever began. I couldn't imagine having to make a trial out of this and lose her for however long. I wanted her with me, in my house, in my bed as soon as I could- which meant today.

I grabbed Reagan's arm and tried to pull her down the hall after me. I could have explained to her where we were going or why she had to be separated from her friends, but plain and simple I didn't want to. I just wanted her to obey.

She struggled against me so I tightened my grip. She continued to fight me, and I hated that she was making this difficult for no reason. If she would just submit, then there wouldn't have to be a struggle between us. Knowing that she was mostly concerned for her friends, I stopped trying to make her go against her will and leaned down so I could whisper in her ear, "He will be a hell of a lot safer if you come easily."

And that was true. She would be safer and he would be safer. I whispered for the same reason. If Creed or Austen picked up even a hint of what I was saying, they would gladly treat those prisoners with less respect than they deserved. The soldiers in my father's army were mostly good men, if not a little bit sadistic from the circumstances surrounding us; but mostly loyal and determined to keep the Colony safe. But for whatever reason, they also seemed inclined to be a little... extreme. They tended to be ticking time bombs of rage, letting any small thing set them off. They also tended to be a little bit twisted. They never minded killing and I wondered sometimes if it mattered what they were killing, or if they could find pleasure no matter the species or circumstances. I tried not to linger over the idea that there could be a correlation between the kind of guys that flocked to protect my father and his town and the special type of psychotic sociopaths that worshiped him. It would only lead me down a bad path.

"Reagan," her friend called after her. "I love you!"

"I love you, too," she shouted back.

_Liars._ Both of them. I could tell from the first moment I saw them together they didn't love each other. I held back a snort of irritation. What was she trying to prove?

More than likely her declaration of love was an attempt to keep her from being bedded by one of us or protect one of the other guys in her group, one that she might truly have feelings for.

That thought reawakened the dragon of furious jealousy in side of me and I decided I would pay closer attention to her and those prisoners when we walked back through.

I felt her still communicating with the prisoners, but steeled my emotions and let her. I wouldn't gain any trust by carting her around like I was a caveman. She had to willingly enter into a relationship with me- she had to walk into this with eyes wide-open. I didn't want her to have Stockholm Syndrome. I wanted her feelings to be real.

And if I let her have enough time, they would be.

Eventually, she turned around and followed me down the hallway. She stayed in the middle of the hall and kept glancing back and forth from one side to the other, as if the Feeders could jump out at any moment and make her lunch.

I had resigned myself to silence when she blurted, "They don't smell."

I looked down at her and realized I was still grasping her arm in my hand. It was almost painful to let her go, but I didn't like the aggressive tones of possession pumping through my blood. It was one thing to want this girl in my life, to assume a future with her, but my concept of her belonging to me had become almost primitive. I'd only known her for a few minutes and already assumed she would be mine before the day was out.

I blamed my take-what-I-want lifestyle. Before the infection, this mentality had been attributed to professional athletes whenever a case of rape was brought against them. They were used to getting what they wanted, and the word "no" was perceived as more of a suggestion than anything. In their privileged, celebrated lives, they could choose to accept it or not.

I was that person now. Treating Reagan with respect in every way was hard and foreign, but only because I hadn't been expected to treat anyone or anything with respect for over two years- save for my parents. The girls that had traveled through my life had been more than willing and the rest of the Colony did whatever I said.

I enjoyed my position of authority, but I did not like this piece of me. I was once a decent human being. And while the definition of "decent" had evolved or de-evolved in our case, my treatment of women didn't have to. I was a southern gentleman after all. I would respect this girl. I would regard her boundaries.

I released my grip on her arm and immediately she stumbled. I frowned at her body, wanting to reach for her again, but determined to keep my distance. She regained her balance and I forced my mind elsewhere.

"We've learned that if they don't eat human flesh, they don't emit that noxious smell." I stifled a shudder at how my father had discovered that particular fact. He had a team of "scientists" dissecting, experimenting and discovering all kinds of pieces and parts of Feeders. "Scientists" was a loose term we used to describe the old farmers that were given the task to figure out how Zombies ticked. Men, too old to patrol, but needed something to do; men that had spent their lives breeding pigs and cattle, who knew the ins and outs of how their livestock thrived or died and what animals needed to survive. They were experts in their fields, and now their proficiency was being transferred to a new kind of animal.

I had nothing to do with that side of our operation, though. I found the entire thing disgusting; necessary but revolting.

"But why would you keep them like this? It's cruel!" She hissed out her words, angry and disgusted.

I couldn't help but be shocked by her indignity, "Are you siding with the Feeders?"

"No!" She shifted on her feet and shot me a sidelong glance, revealing her tell. She did feel bad for them! How... intriguing. "But it's unnecessary. Why would you make them live through this? They're starving and emaciated."

"They only eat human flesh," I reminded her. "What would you suggest we feed them?"

"Don't feed them anything! But don't leave them like this either. Shoot them. Kill them. Help solve the problem!"

She had a point, but so did my father. This was a difficult argument. To defeat our enemy, we had to know them. But it wasn't a pretty business, no matter how I dressed it up.

So I tried to flip her argument, "In one breath you share compassion for them and in another you suggest genocide."

She shook her head, adamant to make her point. "It's not that. It's disgust for a creature that should not exist. It's revulsion for humans who should know better."

Righteous anger burned in my throat. She had no right to judge me. I was a part of something greater than her meager existence. We were creating civilization again- we were ensuring that humanity could thrive again, rule this planet again. "You're revolted by this?" I demanded.

"Aren't you?" She shot back.

That was enough to silence me, because at times I _was_ revolted by this- completely sickened by what my father and his minions did. But what could I do? This was a necessary evil. My life had filled until it was brimming with necessary evils and it was something Reagan would have to learn and come to accept.

I stopped walking and she immediately turned to me. I looked down at her, drinking in her features in the flickering lantern light. I watched as the soft light wavered over her face, blurring her edges and creating a halo around her body.

She didn't understand my motives or my behavior, but she would. My conduct with her was less than ideal, but it was necessary. And that's what my life had dwindled down to- a series of ugly but essential decisions. I didn't like the Zombies in the hallway, and I didn't like handcuffing a woman and practically throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her back to my cave. But what choice did I have?

The Feeders had taken almost everything else from me, so the decisions I could control were what I lived for... even if that made me seem like a bad guy. Deep down, I knew that my choices and actions were for the _good_ of humanity, that my choice to keep Reagan was for her _own_ _good_. If I had to prove that to her one day at a time for the rest of my life, I would. But I was the good guy here. She just didn't know it yet.

"My dad is going to ask you a lot of questions," I told her. "It's better if you answer... all of them. And if you answer them truthfully." I wouldn't let my father hurt her, but if she made this easy, I wouldn't have to step in either. This could go smoothly if she let it.

Her big, dark eyes narrowed on me, revealing her contempt. Her words bit at me with the acid she poured into them. "Is this how you treat everyone that stumbles on your settlement? You handcuff them and order them around? Are you going to let us go at some point? Or enslave us? Or eat us, like you said?"

I didn't bother explaining to her that we usually treated outsiders much worse. I hadn't even bothered to strip search her, although it was my right if I wanted to. But I would be lying if I said I didn't love seeing her fire come roaring back to life. I suppressed my smile and ignored the hatred and bitterness radiating off her skin like a supernatural power.

"We don't actually eat people," I deflected. "And we don't have slaves." Not in the true sense of the word. Everyone who worked here wanted to be here.

'So then why am I handcuffed?" Her words were a growl, her body so tight I thought maybe she could snap it in half if she bent at the wrong angle.

But all I saw was _challenge_.

And that excited me more than anything had in my whole life.

"It's temporary," I assured her. She didn't believe me so I continued, "We're taking precautions. You could have been bitten. You could bring the virus to us."

"We didn't even know this was here," she ground out. She was lying. She'd proven earlier that she knew there was a town here. I let her have this one though, memorizing her face in the middle of her lie, how her eyes flicked downward, how her shoulder bounced up reactively, how she pulled in the corner of her bottom lip. These were her tells and I would know now when she lied to me again. "You found us," she reminded me, "not the other way around."

"And can you imagine what that is like for us day in and day out?" At least this part was true. I wouldn't lie to her. I would be better in this aspect and justify my actions. "People wandering through? Potentially carrying a virus or stumbling upon us and hoping to relieve us of our food and guns? We have a permanent settlement here, we have to protect it."

Her entire body quieted at my argument. I made sense and she knew it. "You don't need to treat us like prisoners. You didn't need to separate us."

"Was that your boyfriend you were with?" I demanded. I knew that it wasn't, but this was another test. The very words started the low simmer of envy through my body. And even if I knew that Vaughan wasn't hers, either of the other prisoners could be. She was protecting one of them by pretending something with Vaughan, and that idea, the notion that she would shelter someone else from _me_ enraged me like nothing else. When she didn't respond I explained the situation clearly for her, "His brothers showed up late last night, sneaking around our camp. They had my little brother with them- my rebellious, tenacious, disobedient little brother with them. And then we find you and your... boyfriend this morning. You're obviously in the same traveling party. You obviously knew they went ahead of you last night."

She flinched at my accusations, but tried to hide her guilt with a deflecting question, "How did you know they were brothers?"

I let her have this, knowing my points had silenced the bulk of her ire. "It's fairly obvious by their looks." I rolled my eyes, more at my efforts not to call her out on all of her lies than anything else. "And even if it wasn't, they carry the same gun. I made an observant guess." She didn't respond. She pressed her lips together and looked up at me with a helpless furrow in her feminine brows. I sighed and explained, hoping to ease the tension between us, "I'm not trying to be the bad guy. But I will protect what's mine." What I didn't say out loud though, was that it was her now- she was mine.

And I would protect her even from herself.

She met my steady gaze and promised, "Me too."

I nodded slowly, understanding her loyalty. But I also knew that she would transfer those adamant feelings to me soon. "Do not leave my side," I told her. "Do you understand?" She didn't reply and I felt an urgency to force her to agree with me. I could protect her, I would keep her safe. If she ran from me, what waited for her in the rest of the Colony was unthinkable. And I would be forced to murder anyone that so much as looked at her. "I will say this once for your benefit and I will not say it again. This camp is low on women. But we have an abundance of men. And we do not share our women. Once you belong to a man... he keeps you. You might not like me, but what is inside that room is worse. Stay by my side."

She still didn't respond, but I saw understanding dawn in her expression. And then defiance. That goddamn rebellious spirit reared up and she tilted her chin as if to say "screw you." Hot fury matched her stubborn attitude and I had the strongest urge to grab her arms and shake her until she promised me obedience. I swallowed down the curdling frustration and clenched my fists at my sides. I wouldn't let her shake me; I wouldn't let her make me lose my control. I wasn't the guy that threw tantrums when he didn't get what he wanted. I waited. I was patient. And I would be those things with her- most of all I would be them _for_ her.

Still, just to hammer in the point, I warned, "Just tell me that you at least understand what could happen to you. At least make me feel somewhat confident about taking you in there."

Dangerous emotions flashed across her face and her biceps flexed with the effort to do me physical harm. Finally she said, "Why should you feel confident when I can't even feel my fingers anymore?"

That was it. I couldn't keep my cool with her unreasonableness. I turned around and yanked open the door, eager to take my frustration out on something. I held the door for her, swallowing against the frustration boiling in my throat. I could feel my dangerous temper rising to scalding levels, but there was this undercurrent of excitement that rippled and shook my usually steady core. My feelings were habitually expectable, and even if I felt the extremes of the spectrum- whether intense joy or blind fury- I could count on them to stay with me a while. With Reagan though... there was this bewildering unpredictability that moved through me. I never knew what she would say next or how I would react. I couldn't seem to feel one thing around her; instead a torrent of inconsistent emotions flashed like strobe lights in my body, making my head spin until I felt dizzy and off-balance.

So even though I wanted to be furious with her, when she walked by me, I teased her instead, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I followed her into the room my father used as his courtroom. The normal grouping of people occupied the seats on the tiered levels, men who were under the impression my father listened to their opinions, his grouping of trusted ex-framers/scientists and two men on probation that were making a play to join patrols full-time. There were a few women scattered around the room, either because their men had dragged them along or because they had an issue to discuss with my father. My parents held court at the front of the room where they would stay for another hour and a half before moving on to other duties. My mother visibly relaxed when our eyes met and I was warmed by her concern for me. I glanced around the room in search of Miller, but my father must still be holding him in the back.

That was bad news for Miller.

If only he would listen to me- then my father would stop punishing him. Miller and my sister Tyler had a place in our Colony, but both refused to play by the rules. My father had been somewhat of a tyrant before the infection, now.... They just needed to listen, or they were both going to end up seriously hurt.

While Reagan walked ahead of me, I paused at the circulation desk to talk to Lyle. I had him note the additional two prisoners and mark them in the log book. I made sure he noted that the female would stay with me. Once the notation was clearly marked to my satisfaction, I started to ask him if my father had decided what he would do with the other prisoners when the man himself called my attention.

"Kane?" he demanded. He hated being left in the dark, and Reagan standing in the center of the room had to be confusing for him. He would put a bullet through my foot if I made him wait too much longer. "Who is this?"

I played this as casually as I could. My father would pick up on my interest immediately. This was the first time I had ever brought a girl in front of him. For him, this would be equal to me standing on one of the rooftops in the center of town and shouting out my intentions for mating Reagan- that's how serious this was. But, my father was not without enemies, and by proxy, I also had a collection of men who would easily slit my throat if they could get away with it. Or maybe I was paranoid... it didn't matter though. These assumptions, whether real or fabricated, were necessary to keep me alert and alive. I needed to keep Reagan close without giving anyone a reason to target her or assume I now had a weakness.

"More wanderers in the woods," I answered levelly. "We found them close to the edge of the forest."

"Any connection to last night?" My father asked.

"Yes." That was all I needed to say.

Understanding lit my father's gray eyes and I felt the moment clarity hit him. This was my girl. The girl I'd been waiting for. The girl I had started to believe didn't exist.

He watched Reagan in the perceptive way he had, the one in which he could take in a person, see them entirely, know their strengths, weaknesses, fears and hopes. In a moment, he could instinctually know whether to trust a person or wait for them to betray you.

I was a little surprised when he didn't confirm my pick. He seemed to hesitate with her, like he couldn't decide whether to hate her or accept her into our Colony. It made me nervous. Experience told me I'd made the wrong decision if my father didn't approve; but instinct and desire made me stick to my decision.

This girl was right.

She was right for me.

Suddenly my dad called for my brother. "Samson, go get Miller." Samson- one of my father's henchmen- immediately obeyed and an uncertain ping of nervousness hit me in the gut. Was he going to overrule my decision? This was _my_ choice. He wouldn't tell me "no." But if he did... then what? "Make introductions, Son," he commanded.

I decided to take that as a good sign. I looked down at Reagan and realized she had never formally introduced herself. In an effort to make her more comfortable, even though I knew I wasn't scoring points with my father, I said, "We came straight here. I don't even know her name."

"Think she'll be as difficult as those boys last night?" he laughed easily. The prisoners last night refused to give us their names, and I could feel a test in his words. The question was... was he testing me or her?

"She'll tell us," I promised. "She just got done explaining to me that she's not our enemy. If she's not an enemy, then she's our friend. And a friend wouldn't withhold a simple detail like that."

I could tell by her face I would pay for that mischief later.

I couldn't wait.

"Reagan," she answered evenly. "My name is Reagan Willow."

Reagan Willow.

Reagan Willow.

Reagan... Willow...

The name sounded poetic in my head, beautiful, enchanting and for some reason untouchable.

"Reagan." I let the name roll of my tongue, loving the taste of it as I said it aloud for the first time. "This is my father, Matthias Allen and my mother, Linley."

Reagan held my parent's steady gazes but didn't reply with polite manners or any other way. I bit back a smile as I watched her defy Matthias Allen with silent resolve. She had no idea who she was pissing off or the horrible repercussions she could bring down on herself. Still, she was fascinating to observe. Like a storm on the horizon- you could see the danger, the destruction that played with the skyline; it hadn't touched you yet, hadn't invaded your world but it was coming. You knew the storm was headed for you, waiting until the moment it would absorb you into its wild, torrential jungle and make a mark on your life.

I should be pissed she was treating my mother with so much disrespect.

But I couldn't take my eyes off her. I couldn't wait to see what she did next.

Finally my father broke the silence first- not something he was known for- and asked, "Where are you headed, Reagan Willow?"

"South. Past Mexico," she answered.

Lies. I could see her tell, sense her half-truths. The corner of her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth and her shoulder bounced once with the cadence of her words.

The room reacted exactly like it should have, with amused disbelief. Nobody went past Mexico. Not since the infection had taken over and spread like wildfire through that region.

My mother seemed concerned, which meant she'd picked up on my decision for Reagan. She grew attached quickly. She was probably already plotting a church wedding with our limited resources. "You're not serious?"

"I'm very serious," she confirmed.

But my mother wouldn't let it go, "What could possibly be down there that could draw you into Mexico?" I could almost hear my mother's next thought out loud, she was _that_ doting- _Or away from Kane_.

"We started out following a lead. But that was two years ago. I guess... it's just a direction to go," she explained.

Now that, I believed.

"A foolish direction to go," my father taunted. "Mexico has been overrun by Feeders. You wouldn't make it past the border."

She nodded but didn't respond verbally although I watched her body shiver with the effort to keep her mouth shut. I wanted to smile again.

"Are there more of you?" My mother asked.

Reagan shook her head and her ponytail wobbled. "Just the four of us."

"One girl for all those boys," My father sneered. Oh yeah, he hated her or at the very least didn't trust her. And now he was trying to make a point.

Reagan immediately reacted. Her entire body tensed and readied itself for a fight. Her arms stiffened, her thighs lowered so she was bent over her knees. Her eyes flashed furious heat and her lips pressed into a grim line.

She was seconds from attempted murder of my father. I could see it all over her deliciously flushed face.

I prepared to fly after her, to keep her from first degree murder. But the moment my muscles went hard next to her, she seemed to come back to herself. I stayed tight, just in case this was some kind of trick of hers, but secretly I reveled in the synchronization of our bodies. She could read mine as easily as I could read hers. That meant something.

It had to.

Just then Samson walked back from the interrogation rooms- reorganized old practice rooms- shoving my little brother in front of him. Samson looked smug as hell and Miller looked... Miller looked like he should have never gotten caught last night.

Typical.

I glanced down to say something to Reagan, something reassuring about my father and his attitude towards her, but the pained look in her eyes suggested I keep my damn mouth shut.

I glanced back at Miller, trying to see what she saw in him- the way her new eyes took in our situation and perceived us. Good or bad.

But Miller was in terrible shape. And even though I knew my home would be the best place for her, she just didn't seem to buy it. Her face had paled, her muscles falling slack in disbelief. She was disgusted with what she saw.

And that could easily translate into her being disgusted with me.

Which was no good.

I needed to get her out of here. I needed to show her she was safe with me, that nothing like this would ever happened to her.

Just as long as she cooperated.
Chapter Three

My father's eyes lit up with depraved anticipation as he took in my little brother. There were a few things about Matthias that I didn't understand- his utter hatred and disgust with Miller was one of them. But it wasn't my place to question. I tried to convince Miller to play along, to follow orders and fly under the radar. But the kid just liked to push buttons.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," my father called out when Miller stood before us, beaten to a bloody pulp.

I stilled next to Reagan. I hated that she had to see this, see how dysfunctional my family could be at times. If I could hide this part of my life from her, I would- she would never see the darker side of the Allen family. But it was too late now, and so I just had to hope Miller kept his shit together and didn't make this worse for everybody.

"Hi, father," Miller called out, sounding like he'd swallowed a sock. It was starting already. I could feel the tension rolling off my little brother like radioactive waves. He bristled like a porcupine when prodded and by his beaten, black and blue face, he had been well and poked.

My father either didn't notice, or didn't care. He grew instantly serious and demanded, "Have you learned your lesson, Son?"

Miller's head bobbed up and down like a cartoon. "Yes, Sir," he said with pretend conviction.

My father played along, "And what did you learn?"

"Not to get caught, Sir." I almost smiled at Miller's candidness. That was a lesson I had wanted him to learn years ago.

The room erupted into disapproval. Half these men would stone Miller if my father would allow it. He was constantly causing trouble, constantly bringing down my father's wrath. The people despised Miller for it. They were too loyal to my father to appreciate someone with a different opinion. But most of all, my father could be a cruel and unpredictable man when set off. _Miller often set him off._ This concerned the people because Miller was frequently not the only person punished for his transgressions.

While the men and women shouted their disapproval behind me, I felt the slightest wince fall from Reagan's lips. She felt sorry for my brother- which was to be expected.

There were many things I could say to her, excuses I could make, but this was the very worst place to try to have _that_ conversation with her. Besides, her eyes were on my father in this moment and now my father's eyes were on her.

Matthias let the room settle down while he studied Reagan carefully. Finally, when he could be heard over the din, he said, "We're a community, Reagan. Do you understand that? We take care of each other. We protect our own from the dangers of this fallen world. And we haven't lost anyone yet, even while our numbers continue to grow. This was once a tiny, insignificant little nothing town. But now look at us." He threw his hands around the room and smiled at her, "Flourishing. We are flourishing, even in this uncertain time of disease and death. People all over hear of our prosperity and safety. They flock to us, Reagan. They come in droves."

Most of that was true and I hoped Reagan believed him. The only fact that was a little distorted was that we'd never lost anyone. Although, I knew my father truly believed his words. It was a little convenient for him that those that we had lost were not exactly considered tragedies by his standards. And since he was the one that set the criteria, we were not exactly in a position to argue with him.

"I've never heard of you," Reagan told him flippantly.

I gripped her arm before I could think through my actions. Couldn't she see what happened to someone who defied my father? Didn't she understand that what happened to Miller could easily happen to her?

I would protect her as much as I could, but even I could be overruled. Even I could be stopped.

My father sounded sadistic when he answered her. I cringed as his acidic words fell from his callous mouth, "You never heard of us until today. Now... now you've heard of us. Now you've seen what we can do. Now you understand."

"That is true," Reagan admitted. I relaxed a little and softened my grip. I sucked in a slow breath and waited for her to say more- whether good or bad, this girl had me on the edge of a cliff with anxiety for her next words.

Matthias turned his attention to Miller, "You met her last night, Miller. I know you brought the other two back with you. But how many more were with her?"

"There was another guy," Miller said.

I cringed, knowing this would not end well for Miller. The answer came too easily, too compliantly. He was lying.

And my father could see that, "Just one other guy?"

Miller grunted a sigh of frustration, but it was contrived. "I told you last night and I will tell you again this morning. I wasn't runnin' away. I was goin' for a walk. And then I ran into these guys. They made me bring them back in here. They forced me to! But it was only her and another guy that stayed behind. They kept talking about a contingency plan. And I guess it meant they would come after them if they never showed back up."

His story made sense at least and he hadn't changed even one detail since last night. He was getting better at this, but I could see the lies too easily.

And I had no doubt my father could as well.

"Give us the story, Reagan," my father ordered.

She twitched, but just barely. Matthias couldn't see it from where he sat, but I felt her body next to mine, sensed her beyond her physical reaction.

"Like I said," she shrugged casually. "We didn't know you were here. We ran into Miller by accident."

"Then why send the scouting party ahead?" My mother asked seriously.

"To see if it was safe. We had never heard of you. And in our travels we've run into a lot of bad guys. Even you guys handcuffed us and dragged us through this interrogation. The last settlement we were at stole our guns and ammo and syphoned our gas. We don't trust people. We were trying to be cautious."

I felt two things in that moment. I knew she was telling the truth, at least in this part, and my body warmed and heated as I felt this real part of her reveal before me. And then, the burning destruction that singed each one of my nerve endings. I knew she'd been living a hard life before today and I loathed that she'd been taken advantage of. It was amazing, in fact, that they hadn't taken advantage of her in other ways.

But she would never be in danger of that happening to her again.

Not as long as she was with me.

"You've never heard of us?" My father was incredulous but sincere. "When's the last time you've been around people outside of your own party?"

She sounded more confident when she said, "Not since the settlement where everything was stolen from us. Weeks ago- states ago. We haven't been around other people since. We've been avoiding settlements and other people ever since."

"Do you know why our country fell, Reagan?" This was my father's standard test for each and every newcomer. He had to evaluate their reaction, see how they absorbed his doctrine. I couldn't stifle the shiver of expectation that rippled down my spine. I could hardly wait to see how she would take this, how her opinion would change, evolve, soften. She shook her head, so my father continued, "Our government imploded, plain and simple. With all our troops scattered around the globe and then more than half of all the government officials infected with the virus within days of the outbreak, there was no one left to organize us- to rally us. They failed us, Reagan. When we needed them the most, they couldn't give us a cure, or a solution or protection. They just... dissolved. And they left their citizens in dire straits. They left us to die. Our people need a stronger system; they need someone who can keep them from falling prey to these animals, who can offer them hope for the future."

Reagan stood unmoved next to me and raised one skeptical eyebrow, "And that person is you?"

I couldn't say I was surprised by her reaction, although I was more than a little disappointed.

"Kane, give our guest a tour of the town." My father's order was rife with irritation, but I appreciated his patience with her. He was giving her another chance, something he very, very rarely did. But this was for me- for my obedience and dedication.

"Yes, Sir," I answered loyally.

I pulled on her forearm, where my hand had never lifted. I opened the door for her and nearly winced when she immediately cringed at the sounds greeting her. I wanted to scoop her up and sprint from here, so she wouldn't have to listen to this anymore, so she could escape this horror as quickly as possible. But that wouldn't be doing her any favors.

The Colony was her permanent home now, she needed to get used to this; she needed to become accustomed to our way of life.

My father cut through my thoughts, calling out to us before the door could close, "And when you're finished, Kane, set her up where you see fit. Miss Reagan Willow is going to be staying with us for a while."

I stopped the smile of victory that wanted to break free across my face. This day had been strange; I couldn't remember ever wanting to smile this much. But now I had my father's approval, although I was a little surprised he'd given it. I had to assume he saw the same fire and life in her that I did. Maybe he wasn't so opposed to different ways of thinking after all. Or maybe I'd earned enough respect in his eyes for him to want to give me something, even if he didn't understand why I wanted it. Either way, Reagan would be staying.

With me.

I led her down the hallway, anxious to take her home. I knew she would see her friends when we passed, so when she asked, "Can I speak to them?" I wasn't surprised.

"No," I told her. They were part of her old life, and that was over now. I was her future, this town was her future. She didn't need to speak with those people ever again.

When we stepped outside, she flinched against the bright sun and I paused to wait for her to adjust to the mid-morning light. I watched her carefully, just in case this was a trick, but she seemed genuinely blinded for a moment- and that was a feeling I could relate to. Her shoulders sagged and her arms twitched uncomfortably.

My father approved, I had complete control of her now. Given all that, the handcuffs seemed a little extreme.

I turned her around and let my fingers trail down her forearms. Her skin was so perfect, so utterly untainted. She didn't seem to fit into the same world I lived in. She was a puzzle piece from a different jigsaw, but I would make her fit in here. I would find a place for her.

I unlocked her handcuffs and slipped them into my back pocket. Her hands fell to her side and as the blood slowly returned to her fingertips she wiggled them until they moved a little more steadily.

She whirled around and pinned me with a glare, "If you hurt them, I will kill you."

I felt that annoying need to smile again, so I deflected with some sarcastic humor, "So many threats." I lifted my gaze from her wiggling fingers and fell into the dark brown depths of her rich, enchanting eyes. In that moment there was a transfer of power so affecting I felt my knees buckle. She held it all, she'd taken it from me... stolen it. I knew that I was a possessive person, plagued by the need to control, the overwhelming desire to govern everything around me. But now, in this infinite minute while Reagan held me in her gaze, it was her that possessed me. And not the other way around.

When I came back to myself, regained some of my scattered senses and shook off the perplexity of this girl, I felt the immediate need to raise my defenses and protect what was left of me. "If you hurt me, I will kill them," I told her. She blanched at my threat but even I didn't understand everything it encompassed. Hurt me how? Physically, of course. Emotionally? Did she hold that power? Yes. She did. And if she could wound me deeper than the skin, than how strong was her reign over me. I'd known her a few hours.

I'd spoken with her barely at all.

This couldn't be healthy.

But I hadn't been healthy for years now. I could be honest with myself about that. And instead of her feeding the sickness that coiled around my bones and sunk into my nerves and veins, she seemed to soothe those dark pieces of me, heal the damaged, suffocating parts that I wanted to pretend didn't exist.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked- sounding truly scared for the first time today.

My jaw clenched in frustration and I swallowed back a biting remark. I was experiencing something real and authentic between us and she cowered in fear of me? Didn't she understand what it meant for us to meet each other? Didn't she understand that both of our lives had collided into this necessary moment in time and now our paths were drastically altered? Couldn't she see what I offered her? How much I would give up to keep her safe? To keep her with me?

I stalked past her, too angry to give her a calm answer. "You need to stay by my side," I threw over my shoulder. With her I knew I needed to hammer in the point, so I added, "At all times."

She hurried to catch up with me and her immediate obedience soothed some of my furious edges.

I led her through town, knowing the sight of a functioning society would be a shock to her. But I hoped it also quieted some of her fears. This place was not just better than the road, it was better than anything else out there. We weren't the society we'd left behind before the infection, but we managed. And lived like kings compared to the rest of the world. She'd be a fool not to see that.

I noticed her gawking at the rooftop guards. "If you try to run, Reagan, they will shoot you." She needed to understand our settlement and what we expected of her. Although, I left out what my father would do to her if they didn't shoot her, if they caught her instead and my father had time to pass judgment on her. She would view the hallway trophy cases in an entirely different light then. I decided one scary revelation at a time.

"The threat against my friends was clear enough, Kane."

I liked that. "We have men everywhere, all over the town and all over the surrounding forests. We live in relative peace and quiet here because we exterminate the threat of Zombies before they ever reach us. Our people live in houses and participate in civilized society. My father is reclaiming this country for us. Every day we clear more land, claim more property for humanity."

She seemed to absorb that information and let it roll around her head. Finally she asked, "Do you use currency?"

"We trade work for necessities," I told her. "Work earns you credits, credits buy you whatever you need or want. The more you work, the more you have. The same goes for housing. The job you choose determines the kind of housing you own. It determines your status in the community. It decides how much influence you have in meetings."

Reagan fell silent then, no doubt contemplating our society. I offered the obligatory greeting to everyone we came into contact with but didn't offer to introduce Reagan. A bizarre kind of greed had settled over me and I hated the idea of sharing her with anyone- even random citizens on the street. I knew they would never take her from me. I had the second highest level of respect in our community- maybe third, if you counted my mother. But, still, some quiet whisper of instinct urged me to keep her tucked close to my side, keep an ever watchful eye on this impulsive girl.

When we neared my house, she asked, "What's top of the food chain?"

"I don't know what you mean." I looked down at her and couldn't help but smile. We were almost home.

"Best job, what is it? Who gets the best house? The most food? The most votes?" Her eyes were inquisitive but her jawline still hard. I wanted to ease her agitation, take away some of her apprehension.

Confidently, I said, "My father."

That didn't make her happy. "And then?" she pressed.

"Soldiers." I wondered if that would make her feel more protected. "Anyone who patrols gets the best of everything. We risk our lives to keep peace."

"Well, that's what I want to be then." Her rich brown eyes were intent with her decision. She was serious.

Ridiculous but serious.

She'd been given too much freedom, kept too loosely. She was an asset here, a precious commodity. We didn't need her to be a disposable soldier, we had plenty of them. I needed her in my home, keeping my house, making my meals and warming my bed. Was that sexist? Sure. Fine, absolutely. But we all had our strengths. I played to mine every single day. Risked my life to give people like her safety and security. Now, specifically, I would do those things for _her_. She had a different role to play.

But her part was invaluable in my life. Absolutely vital now that I found her.

"You can't be a soldier, Reagan. Only our men fill those rolls."

"And then women remain co-dependent on their protection and abundant supplies? I forgot that you own your women here; they are as much property as they are people, right?" Her tone was biting, ripping into me with her sharp teeth and unforgiving tongue.

"It doesn't have to be that way," I assured her. But what I didn't say was that the co-dependency went both ways. She would be reliant on me to provide for her, to keep her safe. And I would be bound to her because of the way she brought light into my life, stroked my soul with her grace and warmth, slowed the demons that hunted my mind, nipping at my ankles with their forked tongues, licking my back with the burning whip of their claws. She took all of that away and brought me peace. In the first moment I saw her that was true. We were far beyond a one-sided relationship. I needed her as much as she would need me.

More so.

We'd stopped in front of my house and I was anxious to show her inside. I was proud of my place. As unforgiving and ugly as this world could be, this was my home- the only sanctuary I could truly be myself.

She wasn't ready to let this go though. "But it is," she argued with me. "This is your house. I'm your ration?"

I turned toward her, needing her to see the truth in my words. "Prize," I promised her. "You're my prize."

Tears welled in her eyes and for some reason that made me feel like the worst kind of bastard. "You're crazy if you think I would ever go along with this."

Crazy.

I _hated_ that word.

It should make me angry, furious with her... But instead I felt oddly vulnerable. My chest ached unexplainably, my gut twisted and worst of all my confidence failed me. I had to look away from her piercing gaze. She saw too much of me.

I reached for her hand, not trusting my voice to explain. I tugged her up the neat walkway and the idyllic little stairs. I unlocked my door and led her inside the home I'd carefully built.

Of course, it had been here since the beginning of the infection, but ever since it had been given to me I'd worked hard to make it my own.

I watched Reagan take in my space with an excitement that was new to me. I studied her eyes as they grew big with wonder and her lips as they relaxed for the first time all day. Her shoulders lost their tension and her fingers stopped wiggling. She liked my home. I could feel it; I could see it in her face.

A quiet, unfamiliar feeling unfurled inside my chest. The emotion grew slowly, spreading out through my legs and arms, wrapping around my heart and lungs and sliding up my throat and to my head, making me feel dizzy with the increasing intensity of the moment.

Hope.

Reagan's reaction had made me feel hope.

And then a cold kind of panic flashed in her bright eyes and I immediately sought to erase it. "It will be easier for you if you stop fighting this," I promised her, hoping to draw out those feelings of belonging she'd felt only moments ago.

She whirled on me. "I'm not sleeping with you."

Not yet, I thought.

"Nobody said you had to. You can stop believing I'm a monster, Reagan. I'm not." _Please stop thinking I'm a monster. Please see something that nobody else sees._ The desperation in my own thoughts shocked me and then Reagan's next words nearly shattered me.

"Then let me go," she demanded levelly.

Didn't she know that I couldn't? I was in too deep. "I won't do that."

"Wont?" She raised one eyebrow and pinned me with a disbelieving glare.  
"I won't let you go," I confessed. I still felt the sting of her hatred and it made me open up in ways I usually guarded myself from. Truth fell from my lips before I could stop myself, "You're perfect for me. And you're mine now. I won't lose you."

She shook her head, her lush, dark hair bounced around her shoulders. "You don't even know me. I'm a raging bitch."

I shrugged. That was part of her appeal. I loved her spunk, her feistiness.

"I would make a terrible wife... uh, partner, um, possession. I won't ever be submissive; I won't ever _not_ fight you."

But that's what I was counting on. "You're jumping to conclusions." I smirked at her. I needed her boldness, her defiance. She would keep me entertained, keep me from growing bored. She was my ultimate challenge. "Don't you want to get settled before you warn me off?"

"No. I want you out of my life today."

"Not happening. This is the best thing that could have happened to you. Stop looking at this like a tragedy and recognize your good fortune." I was starting to lose my patience. I wanted her to accept her situation and then fight me. She could argue and sass but after she realized she was staying with me. Permanently.

"And my friends?" she demanded.

What I wanted to do was scream at her to forget her friends! Instead, I said, "Will be safe and taken care of as long as you remember your place."

She made a laughing sound that didn't sound amused. "And if I don't?"

That made me angrier than anything else. All of my good humor drained from my body. "Don't find out."

We stared at each other for only a moment, while the intensity and fierce emotions rushed around us in a hypnotizing pull. A knock on my door ripped us from our mutual stupor and I left the depth of her eyes as if it were a different realm entirely. I sighed, frustrated with the intruder's timing, but left Reagan to recover from our interaction.

I knew I was getting to her. I could feel her resolve fading into the promise of a new life with me.

I peered through the blurred glass pane into the distorted profile of my sister on the other side.

Tyler.

What did she want?

I pulled the door open and stared her down through the screen door. She stared back, as ever, unafraid of my position here or my reputation. She was a force of her own. Reckless, impetuous, hotheaded, spoiled and unfeeling.

The list could go on, but I had the unsettling feeling she could read my thoughts as she stared up at me. Her expression was nothing but cold indifference and boredom. If anyone could go against my father and win, it was my little sister.

But she never would.

Not head to head anyway.

She would rip his heart out when she abandoned his idea of utopia though. He trusted her to get her shit together before she did something stupid, like leave this Colony with notions of living out there on her own- or worse, with Miller. But I knew better.

My sister was minutes from bolting. I could see it in her flighty eyes, in her jumpiness, in the way her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was paying attention to her.

She was as good as gone.

"Tyler," I sighed. "What do you want?"

"Just stopped by to meet your new pet." She sounded like her old self- the one that was cheer captain of our high school and organized her junior prom all on her own. Something was most definitely up with her.

I leaned into the door, not entirely sure I wanted to share this time with Reagan. I understood Tyler's curiosity, but these first few moments were vital to establishing a relationship with Reagan. I felt reluctant to give those up.

"She's not a pet," I said.

"Really?" Tyler laughed but there was no humor in it. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. Here we go... "Let's see, you went hunting in the forest this morning and then returned with a creature that you're keeping locked in your house. If she's not a pet, then what is she?"

I breathed out a foul curse and narrowed my own eyes until I could feel my contacts push into my eyelids. I hated these damned things, but glasses weren't exactly practical when hunting Zombies. I could tell the day was winding down though and the intense urge to remove them and replace them with my glasses plagued me. Using that additional frustration, I growled, "Get off your high horse, Ty."

She didn't even pause to take me seriously. "First, get out of my way." She yanked the screen door open and all but bowled me over in her attempt to get inside. "Alright, Kane, introduce me to my new sister-in-law."

I sighed again, but followed Tyler over. "Tyler, this is Reagan. Reagan, this is my little sister, Tyler."

"Well, little as in two years younger. But he loves to hold that over me. How old are you?" She didn't even give Reagan a moment to process all this new information. This was exactly what I was afraid of.

"Um, uh, twenty." She glanced from me to Tyler uncertainly.

"Yay!" Tyler squealed in that fake way again. "We're just a year apart then!"

"Yay," Reagan drawled.

I allowed myself a small smile.

But Tyler wasn't finished, "Big brother, be a good host and get us something to drink."

I contemplated telling her to get her own drink, but Reagan seemed comfortable around Tyler and I wondered if maybe it wasn't such a bad thing Tyler stopped by. Girls were good at... empathizing with each other. Maybe they could start a friendship and the transition for Reagan wouldn't be so hard. My sister might be on her way out, but she would never be so stupid to take something of mine. I understood her sympathy for Miller, even if I didn't feel any. But Reagan was different- she was actually mine. Tyler would respect that.

On my way to the kitchen around the corner, I asked over my shoulder, "Did you have anything to do with Miller's stupid little stunt last night, Ty?"

She laughed hysterically- unknowingly giving herself away- and explained, "Uh, did you see Miller this morning? Dad beat the shit out of him. I am not about to be part of his crazy antics. He's just doing it for attention."

It was stupid to lie to me, but it was like she couldn't help herself. And probably it was smarter not to tell me the truth, I would just tell our father. They didn't want to play by the rules. They didn't want to believe that this was the best place for them- the safest. But my siblings had always been entitled and immature. They couldn't see the big picture so they fought the small one. What I did was for their good. What my father did was for their survival. One day they would get that... although it would probably be too late for them.

"Right, attention. Seems like there's better ways to get dad's approval." I went along with it. I always went along with it.

"Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you Golden Boy?"

Her comment rubbed my nerves raw, but I didn't bother giving her a reply. I walked into the kitchen and started banging around for beverages. Listening intently to the girls in the living room, I went about getting them drinks. I couldn't hear anything though- which meant they were whispering.

Immediately alarm bells started ringing in my head. There could be ten different reasons why they were sharing secrets. The least offensive was that Tyler was asking about the outside world, gaging her chances of survival with Reagan's intimate knowledge of what's out there. The worst... the worst meant my sister was a dirty, filthy traitor.

I grabbed two Cokes and joined the girls in the living room, hoping to catch them in something nefarious. Instead, I found my sister in her insensitive glory telling Reagan how plain she was. My sister could be such a catty bitch. Good grief.

"Tyler," I barked. I shoved the Cokes at the girls and glared at my little sister. As if I didn't have enough on my plate, she had to pull stunts like this?

She better not drag Reagan into her mess of a life. When her rebellious little tornado finally landed, I didn't want Reagan anywhere near the fallout. My father would likely skin Tyler alive.

She glared right back, letting me know exactly how much she blamed me for all her drama. I rolled my eyes and looked suggestively at the front door.

Taking the hint she announced, "Well, I'm off!" She finished her Coke in one long pull and I shook my head at her terrible manners. "I'm on dinner duty," she said. "Besides, I'm sure you want time to get to know your new... plaything."

I watched her retreating form and then gave into the gnawing guilt that had been my constant companion for a while now. Usually I could ignore the churning in the lower part of my gut. But something about this morning demanded more of my attention than other days. "Tyler," I called out. "Check on Miller, make sure he's alright."

"Why don't you?"

"If I show him I care right now, he'll think it's Ok to behave this way. We both know, that under no circumstances can he be allowed to leave this place. He would die by himself; he would die in less than a day." That was as much for her benefit as it was for his.

"What if he wasn't by himself?" She sounded so casual, so... normal. She was good at that. And if I wasn't her brother, I would never know when she was lying and when she told the truth.

"You'd die too, Ty." More honesty. She would. She needed to know that.

"And you care, Kane?" she laughed callously.

I held back an impatient sigh. She should know this. I opened my mouth to say something along those lines, but resigned myself to, "I care. Just make sure he's alright."

"Whatevs," Tyler shrugged. She was apparently set on trying every last one of my nerves.

"You have a very interesting family," Reagan said after the slamming screen door had stopped ringing through our ears.

"You don't have any family left?" I changed the subject, anxious to know more about her.

"Not anymore," she hissed at me- like it was my fault her family had succumbed to the high death count of recent years.

I saw through her. In this moment, she wasn't grieving for family gone, she was afraid. She lashed out because she didn't have a certain future and the parts that she could rely on were new and a little scary. So instead, I promised, "Reagan, I know how to keep you safe. This will be a good life for you."

Not missing a beat, she argued, "Against my will. You'll keep me safe against my will. And you'll give me the life you think is good... against my will. Honestly, I don't even understand how I got here."

I squinted, perplexed. "We found you in the woods this morning."

"No, I know how I got here this morning. But I mean, to this place. To you keeping me under lock and key just like Tyler said, like a pet. Why do you think this is acceptable behavior?" Her eyes had darkened to almost black gem stones. She was furious, vibrating with hatred and helplessness.

"I don't," I swore to her. And I knew that it wasn't acceptable behavior- at least in the world we used to live in. "I know it's not alright to behave like this. But I also know it's been eighteen months since a girl that has even remotely peeked my interest has stumbled upon our encampment and she died three days later because she was too dehydrated and starved to come back from that. Her body shut down and we watched her die in our medical facilities. Since then it's been a steady stream of mostly men. Or women that won't work for me." And all that was true. Even the girls that had been part of the town before we'd started accepting outsiders hadn't worked. They'd just been some version of the same kind of girl. I wanted someone unique, someone both beautiful and smart, both hard-working and feminine, someone that I could discover but that also remained a mystery. It wasn't just about not finding any girl- there had been plenty and I'd passed them all onto someone else. It was about her. It was about me wanting her.

"That doesn't mean I'm the last of a dying breed." She slammed her arms across her chest and met my gaze straight on.

"No," I assured her. "But it means you are a rare and precious commodity. A woman is a status symbol in this community."

"So you're lazy?" Her teeth ground together and I had the strongest urge to lay my palm along her jaw and run my thumb across her plump lower lip. She was getting worked up for nothing. "Go find another woman! Go find someone who's actually interested in you. You can't just kidnap people."

Red flashed across my vision. That was an unfair accusation and I did not appreciate having my work-ethic questioned. "I'm not lazy," I argued with her. "I'm an opportunist. You should look at this from my perspective. If you were in the same position as me and the perfect man walked across your path, I doubt you would be so quick to let them go."

"I'm not perfect," she answered quickly.

"Perfect for me," I told her. And I meant it.

"You're delusional."

This time I didn't get angry at her name-calling. I understood her fear and I forced myself to be patient. She would understand in time. It would only take a little time. "I'm your future, Reagan. The sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you will be able to move forward."

I left her gaping at me to padlock the front door. I dropped the keys back into my pocket and felt comfort at the heavy weight in my pocket. I felt even more ease with Reagan taking up so much space in my house. Not physical space, but metaphysical, philosophical, spiritual space.

And that's what she didn't understand.

I was a kidnapper to her.

But she was my redemption.
Chapter Four

I finished checking the upstairs and assured myself I'd gone over the downstairs three times. But there was this uneasy feeling sitting in my chest, winding me up in funny ways. I looked over at Reagan and tried to believe she wouldn't just disappear into thin air- that she was real, that she was mine.

The feeling of impending loss didn't leave, though.

And I hated her for a moment. I hated that she made me care about her so deeply after only one day. I hated that I suddenly couldn't imagine going back to the lonely, solitary existence I'd enjoyed before she walked into my life. And I hated that every time I looked at her a swelling ache ignited in my chest and consumed me in a fire of lust, longing and something stronger.

I wanted her.

I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to talk to her for hours and hours.

I wanted to make her breakfast... lunch... dinner.

I wanted to do the dishes side by side.

I wanted to whisper "goodnight" and stretch out beside her in the early dawn and croak "good morning."

I wanted her smile focused on me.

I wanted her laughter to fill my home.

I wanted her hand in mine.

Her body underneath me.

And most of all her soul.

I wanted her everything.

She looked up at me, a hesitant glance in which her eyes were uncertain and her brow furrowed with confusion. I didn't have those things I wanted tonight, but the press of her lips and her mystified silence told me I could have them one day.

She'd been perfect today. She hadn't meant to be- in fact, I thought she might have meant to be the opposite. But still, it was like she was created specifically for me and this place.

She'd seen the process for which most people come into our Colony. She'd been furious with our methods. Her cheeks had heated, her petite body shook with self-righteous indignation and the only thought I could process through my foggy brain was how badly I wanted to take that passion and kiss her until it was focused solely on me. She was utterly breath-taking.

I could watch her for hours.

There'd been moments between us all day. She hated me. I told myself this was a normal reaction and that I would change her opinion. But she wasn't quiet about her feelings. And while I wished she felt differently, I looked forward to the time when she was as vocal about the good stuff too.

Eventually, I needed to speak with my father. I took her to the laundry room and put her to work. She needed time away from me to appreciate what I could do for her, how I could help her live. And I needed to check my instincts about her and run this by Matthias.

I'd left her for a little bit with an easy chore and women I trusted to keep an eye on her. I sought out my father and checked on Miller- although I tried to keep myself at an emotional distance.

Miller was as stubborn as all hell. And my father had been uncharacteristically lenient with him. They were together in my father's office. He'd been forcing Miller to sit there through his daily business. It wasn't the worst punishment he could have doled out, but Miller had trouble sitting still. Plus, it hadn't helped that his hands were still cuffed behind his back and he was oozing blood from various places all over his body.

"I'm surprised you picked her," my father had said immediately. He wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"Why is that?" I drawled casually, forcing myself to disguise my disappointment.

"She's..." He couldn't seem to find the right word while he stared down at his calloused hands. After long moments of pensive silence, in which I waited with my breath caught in my lungs, he looked up at me and said, "Untamed. Kane, she's wild."

I forced my body into submission so I wouldn't react to his words meant as insults. I knew those things about her. They were part of the unavoidable force that drew me to her. "She's been on her own." My words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

My father offered me a consoling smile and said, "I understand the appeal, Son. But is she really the kind of girl you settle down with? She's the one you want to claim?"

I hesitated for only a moment. "Yes."

My father sat back in his chair and looked at my brother. "What do you think, Miller? Has Kane met his match or can he break this one like all the others?"

"She's not a horse," Miller mumbled through a swollen mouth, but then his sometimes-wiser-beyond-his-years eyes met mine and he gave me a one shouldered shrug. "I don't think you're her type."

For some reason Miller's opinion started the fire of bitterness and rage faster than even my father's comments. "What do you know? You can't even go for a walk without getting beat up."

"Screw you," he lisped.

I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth, made it push against the back of my top teeth- a soothing habit I had since I was little. I shoved my hands into my pockets and focused on all of Miller's already inflicted injuries. He didn't need me to hurt him more.

Although, I could. Easily.

"Kane, are you getting upset at something Miller said?" my father sounded so incredulous, shame flushed through me, hot and acidic. "What does he know about women?" He snorted and shook his head at me. "It doesn't matter what her _type_ is, you're the man that picked her. So, she's a challenge? I think that's part of her appeal. Am I right?" I answered with shallow nod. "Then there's nothing else to discuss. I'm not thrilled with the idea of you choosing someone before they've been fully probated here. But I understand your urgency with wanting your stamp on her. I'm not going to deny you something you so clearly want." He made her sound like a patch of lawn I wanted to pee on. But I understood his point. "Be careful with her. That's my only advice. She seems like a headache to me, but I want you happy, Son."

"It's her then," I assured him. "She's what makes me happy."

"And what does she think of it here?" he asked as if he already knew.

"She's adjusting." And because I couldn't lie to my father, I said, "She doesn't like the Feeders in the hallway. She thinks we're inhumane."

My father rolled his eyes and sagged his whole upper body on his desk, exaggerating his exasperation. "Of course she does. Same kind of woman as your mother."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked on a grin.

My father shot me a pointed look. "Doesn't have to be. Just be prepared to fight for every inch of that woman."

"That's the plan," I confirmed. Suddenly my hands felt empty without her in them. My arms felt useless if she wasn't filling them. And we'd barely touched. What would it be like when she finally gave me permission to have her body? What would it be like when I finally got to take what was mine?

Bliss.

It would have to be. Incomparable, undisputed bliss.

"Then take the rest of the day off," my father answered. "Let her get acclimated. Show her around. But I want you at dinner. Your mother would like to spend more time with her."

Miller made an indignant sound in his throat but this time it was easier to ignore him. My father smiled at me, and I chose to ignore the reserve settled in his eyes. He had given me permission. That was all I needed.

And suddenly I'd been desperate to get back to her.

Dinner had been a kind of religious experience for me. She continued to reveal these layers of herself that I found practically intoxicating. I just... I just couldn't get enough. And even while she'd pushed my father further away, she'd done nothing but captivate every part of me.

I'd also seen her relax some.

My dad had helped with that when he asked, "So, Reagan, what do you think of our little community?" I'd held my breath waiting for her answer, but it hadn't come. My father prompted her by saying, "It can be overwhelming at first, I realize this. Especially since you've been by yourself for so long."

Her body had stiffened in that angry way of hers and she'd shot back with, "I haven't been by myself. I'm by myself right now, while you keep my friends locked up at gun point." And then she flinched forward when I assumed my sister kicked her under the table. I'd been at the receiving end of that pointed toe a time or two before.

I couldn't always count on Tyler, but she tended to come through when I needed her most.

Tyler spoke up then, saving us all from whatever else Reagan wanted to complain about. "Speaking of, I better get them dinner."

Reagan seemed to relax at those words and I felt my hatred for those bastards renewed. What she really needed to do was forget them completely.

_In time_ , I promised myself.

After Tyler had flounced off, my father went back to pushing Reagan. I didn't understand his game plan, but my respect for her was surpassed into something like awed fascination.

"Kane says you don't approve of our wall decorations." Matthias regarded her over the dinner table and waited patiently for her to walk into his verbal trap. She wasn't the first person to have issue with my father's ostentation, but unlike all the times before, I was very anxious to see how she would answer.

"They should be shot," she said simply but firmly. "They're disgusting reminders of the peril we're in; it's cruel and dangerous for you and your people."

"My people know better than to get near them. A small child would know better than to get near them. And what is so cruel about their treatment? Their minds and souls have vanished. The only thing they are capable of living for is their addiction to human flesh. Even in their wasted states where they can't hold their own body weight up without the help of those steel bars, sill they reach and hunger for flesh. It has consumed them until they are less than human, less than even animal, until they are a species of terrifying creatures all their own."

She didn't miss a beat, "So put them out of their misery! They were once humans. They were once someone's father or mother, son or daughter. They were brothers and sisters and neighbors and bosses and employees. They had purpose in life, they had happiness and love. You are degrading them and decimating their memory! And their mind might be dead, but what about their soul? Their hearts still beat, their blood still pumps. How can you judge someone's soul when they are technically still alive?"

Her speech met silence. She'd stunned my father. And my mother's eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

I realized then why my father felt hesitant to accept her. She could be his opposite.

Easily.

My father's success had been partly born from in instinctive ability to survive and help others survive. But the other part, the part that had spread the word about The Colony and drawn outsiders in, was his unquestionable charisma. Sure, if you were on the wrong side of his good will, you suffered at his hand. But generally speaking, he could pull in any audience and spin words and tales until they were emptying their pockets in the name of a greater good that he gave to them. He was incredibly talented at collecting followers.

And Reagan had that same spark. She spoke with true conviction that demanded a response. She felt compassion in ways that no one else would ever consider. And she forced you to believe with her, to take her words and adapt them as your own beliefs.

No wonder my father kept pushing her- he saw her as an enemy.

But he had nothing to worry about. She would be with me, stay by my side and not rock his carefully constructed boat. She'd help him build his civilization. She'd work for him, not against him.

She caught me staring at her, my emotions, feelings and hopes for our future visible all over my unguarded face. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and I resisted the urge to rub my contacts into place.

Luckily my father broke the spelled silence with sarcasm, "Well, hells bells ya'll! I do believe we have a free thinker on our hands."

"Matthias," my mother chided him.

He ignored her, "Kane, you are one lucky man, Son." I met his gaze a little reluctantly, but was pleasantly surprised to see him beaming with pride. "Best to hold on to her, break that spirit as quick as you can."

Miller made that disgruntled sound in the back of his throat again, but I was too focused on the girl next to me to mind. I put a gentle hand on Reagan's shoulder, like I was calming a frightened animal and let my fingers rub along her shoulder blade to the nape of her neck. I absorbed the heat of her body into my fingertips, relished in the touch of her body beneath my hand.

In my most honest voice, I said, "I'm not interested in a broken woman, Father. I like Reagan's spirit. I'm drawn to her spunk and defiance. She's like the life that's missing in this dead world, the fight that has depleted and rusted away. I would never take that away from her."

She looked up at me, surprised and unsure, but I did my best to comfort her with an easy smile. She got a little lost staring up at me. Her brow furrowed over those dark eyes and her mouth wasn't quite sure whether to smile or frown. Instead, she pressed her lips together to take the decision away from them completely.

We had a moment. This was another one of our infinite minutes, when time became irrelevant and we just watched each other, trying to fit the other one into our individual lives. She worked to make me the villain and I desired to make her my fearless heroine. We weren't quite in sync yet, but we would be. She couldn't deny the something between us, even if her something didn't have a name yet.

Mine had only just developed into something substantial and tangible.

My something had become _future_. Reagan was my future- in every sense of the word.

"How cavalier," I heard my father tease. "My son, the gentleman."

I'd been too lost to respond though. Was I a gentleman? I didn't really know. It's not like I'd been accused of that before. _Insane. Heartless. Cruel. Monster_. Those were the words I'd heard lately to describe me.

So why did gentleman feel right? More right than any of those truer descriptors?

It was Reagan. She was the reason, the difference.

And now that she stood watching herself in the bathroom mirror, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. _So lovely._

I watched her brush her teeth as if it were normal for us. And then she took care of her hair and face and I wanted to help her. I wanted to take the washcloth and press it against her skin, I wanted to trail it down her throat, wash away the dirt of the day and help her feel as beautiful as she looked.

The only black mark on the whole evening was when I offered her clothes to sleep in. She declined, although I wasn't sure I expected her to accept. Still, the strong current of paranoia reminded me she was a fighter and she wasn't finished fighting with me.

My guard might have started to drop, but that was all I needed to remember her friends locked away tonight.

As if to confirm my thoughts, she said, "You cannot possibly expect me to give up my freedom so easily and accept this... this imprisonment, can you?"

I grinned at her and shook my head. "I guess not." And that was the truth. I slid past her into the bathroom and pulled out my own toothbrush. "Wait for me?" I asked her, feeling achingly exposed.

She shrugged like she didn't have a choice, but she did. I had just given her one. I felt warmed immediately by her choice to stay with me.

And then I felt hot- scorching- while she watched me get ready from her perch on the useless toilet seat lid. Her gaze never left my body. She stared, enthralled with my mouth while I brushed and then my chest when I tugged off my t-shirt. Her eyes raked over me. My body reacted in every way to her while she stared at me. I couldn't stop myself from wanting her in that moment.

If only to pull her inside the bathroom with me. Push her against the sink. Grip her thighs and lift her up, only to set her down on the edge of the ceramic countertop. All I wanted was to step inside the cradle of her thighs and plunder her mouth with mine. Claim her in every way.

I shook my head at the same time she did- both of us snapping out of a lust-induced haze.

I went for my contacts then, desperate to get them out and give my poor dry eyes some relief. I set them in their little containers and slid on my glasses. They were cumbersome and awkward at times, but I preferred them over my contacts. Contacts were not a permanent solution. I was lucky I'd had enough to last me this long. I was more worried about breaking my glasses.

Not that I was entirely blind without my visual aids, but it was decently bad- bad enough to know that without something to bring the world around me into clarity I would live the rest of my life with one giant migraine.

Reagan had broken out into a blinding smile, so I had to ask, "What?"

"The glasses," she laughed softly. "They're just not very intimidating."

I held out my hand to her and disguised my shock when she actually took it. I pulled her to standing and confessed, "I'm not trying to intimidate you, Reagan."

She didn't answer me but I felt her believe me. I saw it in her trusting expression, felt it in the way her dainty fingers wrapped around mine. My chest swelled and I felt like pounding it with pride.

At one of the guest bedrooms, I stopped and told her, "You can stay here until you're... until you're more comfortable with being around me."

She nodded and seemed to relax even more. "Thank you," she answered sweetly.

I walked her inside and motioned for her to sit down on the bed. I hated this next part, especially because we seemed to have just made progress; but I wasn't foolish enough to think this was unnecessary. I pulled the handcuffs from my back pocket and she flinched and then tensed to rigid uncertainty. My inflated chest collapsed immediately. I had just been the hero, but now I was back to being the villain.

Still, it couldn't be helped.

She would learn.

This wouldn't be necessary one day soon.

With huge eyes she asked, "Can I at least keep my hands in front of me? If they're behind my back you'll have to cut them off by morning."

I shook my head but only because I didn't want her to catch me laughing at her sense of humor. I gestured toward the head of the bed and she slowly moved into position.

"You won't try anything?" she asked a little desperately.

"Not a thing," I swore- and I meant it. "Not tonight."

"Swear it to me. Swear to me that if I put my hands above my head you won't touch." Her eyes were flooded with uncertain tears and her hands shook as she held them in front of her, reluctant to submit.

She had to learn to trust me. And at least in this, I wouldn't disappoint her.

I had no interest touching her until she absolutely wanted me to.

"Reagan, I swear to you that I won't touch you tonight unless you give me permission."

She rolled her eyes but raised her hands anyway. I drew close to her and enjoyed the heat that radiated from her body, the pliancy of her body beneath mine, the way I could just drop another half an inch and press the length of my body against hers. But I stayed true to my word and didn't touch her except for her wrists.

"Would you like a blanket?" I asked while she wiggled around trying to get comfortable. I decided I would offer to massage her wrists in the morning. They would be sore, and I honestly hated the idea of her suffering.

"No, thank you," she answered simply.

"What about your shoes?" I asked. "I could take them off for you."

She flinched again and those same alarm bells sounded out inside my head. She shook her head, trying to play it off. "Uh, no, thanks." I raised my eyebrows at her and waited for her explanation. "It's just that I've slept with my shoes on for two straight years. I know you say this town is safe, but I need to see it for myself. I won't be able to sleep if I don't have them on. At least not yet."

That could be true.

But she could easily be trying to pacify me so I didn't see a deeper meaning.

And then she sucked in the corner of her bottom lip and I had my answer.

I decided to let her think I believed her words at face value. If she relaxed some but was also planning something, maybe she would give herself away.

I walked over to the door, but needed to reassure her that she was doing the right thing by staying here. "Reagan, I know this isn't ideal for you, but you are for me. I mean, you are ideal for me. I think you should give this, us, a chance. Your friends would have a chance, too, then." I didn't wait around to hear her argue with me or shoot down the idea completely. I turned off the lights and left her alone to think about what I said.

I locked her door from the outside and all but whistled a happy tune on the way to my own bedroom.

This felt right. This felt good.

I couldn't fall asleep though. As calm as I felt and as positive as I was that this, Reagan, was my future... I couldn't silence my frantic thoughts. All I could focus on was losing her. My mind fixated on the pinpoint possibility of her escaping and I obsessed over every minute detail of my house and how I had left her.

When her bed creaked loud enough for me to hear the sound all the way down the hall, I didn't even feel surprised. She would fight this- I knew she would. That was who she was and one of the reasons I felt so attracted to her.

Still disappointment and frustration washed over me like a bucket of ice water. When the creaking didn't stop and the clear sounds of a window opening and the steel bars being shaken permeated the sleepy night, I couldn't lie still any longer. My skin prickled with the effort not to lash out at something- hit something, destroy something. My glasses were still on- I hadn't even bothered to take them off.

I knew this moment was coming.

So why did I feel this so acutely?

But it was like everything with her. I felt more. I thought more. I wanted more.

I jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hallway. I fumbled with the lock a little bit, but eventually got the damned thing off. Drawing my gun, to intimidate the hell out of her, I burst into the room ready to tackle her to the ground, but she was nowhere. I panicked at the sight of the empty space. My vision tunneled to the open window and all I could see were those goddamn bars and how they had been useless when I really needed them. Forget the Zombie threat. I didn't need to keep something out; I needed to keep the most important thing in.

"No," I heard myself utter that desperate sound and I flew to the window to see if I could talk reason into her. A string of vile curses left my mouth and I swore to myself I wouldn't strangle her once I tracked her down. But she wasn't down there, she wasn't anywhere. I lowered my gun and reached for the bar, promising myself it had been strong enough to keep her in here.

Confusion replaced my blind anger and I didn't understand how she'd squeezed through the bars. It was impossible and they were still firmly in place.

That meant she was still in the house, still with me.

Joy and relief replaced everything else and just as I was getting ready to stand and tear apart the room until I found her, the tip of a very large knife jabbed itself into bare skin, hovering right over my kidneys, and I couldn't move without cutting open the flesh.

"Don't move," she hissed at me. _Smart bitch._ "Unless, of course, you want me to take some of your vital organs with me on my way to Mexico?"

That debilitating rage was back and this time I wasn't sure I could talk myself out of punishing her. She needed to learn a lesson.

"Put the safety on your gun," she ordered. I was too angry to move, too furious to respond verbally. The tip of her knife cut through my flesh and I felt the strong bite of burning pain and then the hot, sticky gush of blood down my hip. I finally listened. She wasn't joking. "Throw it back on the bed," she demanded.

I'd be lying if I didn't find even this side of her sexy as hell.

Damn, this girl had me so twisted in knots.

"You won't even make it out of town," I told her when I'd finally found the ability to speak again. "And if you try, by the time you make it back to me I will be beyond pissed. For your own sake, knock this off. Give up, Reagan. Be smart."

Please be smart.

Please don't leave me.

She laughed cruelly at me and I had never hated anyone more than I hated her in that moment. "Kane," she cackled. "If I don't make it out of this town, I hope for my own sake you are pissed off and put me out of my misery."

Somehow I found the strength to hide the heights of my fury and taunted her instead. "Now, now, Reagan, don't say things you don't mean."

Her knife imbedded deeper into my skin and I stifled a pained wince. The blade felt like the surface of the sun so deep in my side. I wanted to rip it out and then inflict the same kind of pain on her, make her writhe, make her scream. And then I wanted to kiss her, bruise her lips until she cried out my name, use her body until she forgot her own.

I tossed the gun onto the bed behind me and swallowed back my agony- both physical and emotional.

She clicked the handcuffs onto my wrists without any opposition from me- but truthfully, I could barely move through the pain in my side. My arms felt dead against my weakened body and my vision was starting to blur along the edges. I was handcuffed to the window before I could even think through her actions.

She jumped back from me, taking her searing knife and I felt my vision go black before I forced my eyes open and my attention on her.

I glared over my shoulder at her while she teased me. I drank her in one more time until I'd memorized every feature on her lovely face and curve of her sensual body; I murdered her slowly with my eyes- cut to her pieces, put her back together. I couldn't decide what to do about her, my body and my mind were at war with their reactions.

"Thanks for the gun," she teased.

I sucked in a stuttering breath and warned her, "Reagan, I will find you. I will hunt you down until you're mine again."

She rolled her eyes and snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Do not hold your breath for that one."

"Good advice," I agreed. "Now let me give you some. Don't ever stay too long in any town because I will find you. Don't tell anyone your real name from here on out, or I will find you. And..." I paused to steady my breathing, to gain control of my wavering voice. "Don't ever, ever think you will be safe from me- because there is no place in this world I would not go for you."

"Now that's just crazy," she laughed at me. "You just sit tight and I'm sure some other, unsuspecting girl will pop up and you can hold her prisoner for the rest of her life."

I lost my mind then- I finally succumbed to the insanity that had been threatening me for two years now. "I don't think you're getting it..."

But she cut me off and I swear my vision drowned in blackness, right along with my wicked soul.

With her hand in the air she said, "I don't really want to get it. I just want to go." And then she disappeared through the door, locking me in with a final click.

The moment she was gone, I came unhinged. I fought against the steel bars as if for my life. Inhuman growls poured from my mouth, saliva dripped from my chin and my entire body was coated with sticky sweat. Blood gushed from the wound in my side and the pain of that injury permeated every blood cell until it was what fueled my rage.

I thought I caught a glimpse of her running the street in front of my house, but it was hard to tell. And now my vision had begun to blur and my head felt too light- like I was floating away. A ringing in my ear seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Damn it, the blood loss.

How long until someone found me? Until I could be released to go hunt her.

Sirens sounded somewhere, only I couldn't tell if they were in my head or in the world outside of my crazed mind. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes, but with so much blood gone, it was harder than ever.

The sounds of Feeders slavering and drooling could be heard somewhere, but where? In my dreams? Were they haunting me now?

Confusion overwhelmed me, warring with my wrath and panic.

But the worst of all was the darkness, the consuming shadow that pulled me under before I was ready.

I knew I would fall to it, any second now.

And so I made a vow- a vow to find that woman and remind her who she belongs to. She shouldn't have left me.

But I would make her pay.

And then I would make sure she never left me again.

She was mine. She belonged to me.

I would find her and remind her. And she would never leave me again. I would make sure of it.

I would never stop searching for her, never stop looking.

And why would I? Not when she could breathe life back into my existence with just her presence.

Not when she could so wholly redeem me.

Thank you for being a part of Season One and Reagan's journey! This is an extra for your enjoyment!

Look for Season Two, Episode One of Love and Decay coming Friday, February 14th, 2014

About the Author

Rachel Higginson was born and raised in Nebraska, but spent her college years traveling the world. She married her high school sweetheart and spends her days raising their growing family. She is obsessed with bad reality TV and any and all Young Adult Fiction.

Look for more from Rachel in 2013.

Love and Decay is taking a two month break and will begin again in February, 2014.

Other books by Rachel to be released in 2013 are The Relentless Warrior, the sixth book in The Star-Crossed Series and The Fall, the second book in the Siren Series.

Other Books Out Now by Rachel Higginson:

Love and Decay, Episode One

Love and Decay, Episode Two

Love and Decay, Episode Three

Love and Decay, Episode Four

Love and Decay, Episode Five

Love and Decay, Episode Six

Love and Decay, Episode Seven

Love and Decay, Episode Eight

Love and Decay, Episode Nine

Love and Decay, Episode Ten

Love and Decay, Episode Eleven

Love and Decay, Episode Twelve

Love and Decay, Boy Meets Girl- Hendrix's POV of Episode One

Reckless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 1)

Hopeless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 2)

Fearless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 3)

Endless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 4)

The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 5)

Starbright (The Starbright Series, Book 1)

Sunburst (The Starbright Series, Book2)

The Rush (The Siren Series, Book 1)

Bet in the Dark (An NA Contemporary Romance)

Striking (A Co-Authored Stand-Alone Contemporary NA)

Follow Rachel on her blog at:

www.rachelhigginson.com

Or on Twitter:

@mywritesdntbite

Or on her Facebook pages:

Rachel Higginson

Or

Reckless Magic

