They gave me a disgusting drink that left my stomach strangely full and yet empty. When I didn’t throw up—I think they were concerned that I might—they took me to a shower room and left me to the task.
I’d heard of Guilder City. It wasn’t so far from my former home, and I recalled my uncle mentioning it a time or two. I wish I’d paid more attention now. Still, that was several years ago, and a lot could happen in that time.
The doctor who tended me possessed the kind of boyish good looks that bordered on beauty. He was politely kind in his treatment of me, perhaps in deference to my new owner. The nurse had called him Doctor Carter. It could have been his first name or surname. Who knew the usual way to address a doctor in this post-war world.
Was he even a doctor? It wasn’t as if there were medical schools anymore. He looked to be in his twenties, and would have been a child when the collapse occurred.
Not that any of this mattered. He’d seemed competent enough, and that was the length and breadth of my interest.
As I’d stood on that desolate rooftop, I’d known I was out of options. Finding the new community wasn’t complete chaos was a bonus.
Stripping from my filthy clothes, I got under the spray. The water was hot, and I felt human again as I watched the grime disappear down the drain hole. I scrubbed myself in the apple scented gel, got a good dollop in my hair, and scrubbed at that as well. While I washed, I didn’t need to think about what would happen next.
Three days… how had I survived three days?
How would I survive what came next? I wanted to shut down the fears, but my thoughts would not be contained. They were restless, instantly shifting to worry about Nora and Adam. Were they here? They must be. Carter had said my former community would be treated fairly. This medical facility was far beyond anything I’d seen since the war. They would have the medication Adam needed, I was sure.
I tried valiantly to force blank into my mind between these pockets of worry, and to not let myself drift into a dangerous, painful zone, but it was a fruitless endeavor.
Jodi.
A physical pain settled in my gut, the wound, too raw to touch, and yet my mind honed in on it regardless. I stood motionless beneath the spray, dazed by the enormity of my situation. It didn’t seem real that this was happening and that Jodi was gone from my life. This new path that opened up before me was unexpected and frightening. It wasn’t what I wanted—it wasn’t fair. Nothing ever was.
I wouldn’t allow fear to consume me. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. I had to focus on surviving and be strong.
Jodi would be fine; she was so fucking tough. She wouldn’t do anything foolish. We could bide our time until we got an understanding of this community and how it all worked. We were survivors, and we did what we had to do today so that we were still here tomorrow.
I could still remember vividly the day my uncle introduced her to me as my personal bodyguard after the previous one tried to rape me. My uncle thought Jodi the safer option because she was a woman. In some ways, she was—no one touched me again. But he also underestimated the way that we would bond.
That was his first mistake. Jodi had kept me safe, and I’d hero-worshiped her long before we’d fled. And after… she had demonstrated herself worthy of my respect and adoration a thousand times over.
She won’t do anything stupid. Nothing was more final than death, we could bide our time, and both flee once again.
The water pelted me as I shied away from the burgeoning conclusion.
Yeah, Jodi was going to do something very stupid.
I took a deep breath as my tears mingled with the water rushing over my body. Another deep breath and I willed myself to let it go. I finished the shower under automation until my skin turned pink and a little wrinkly. Flipping the shower off, I rubbed myself dry.
They had given me some clean clothes: ugly grey fatigue pants, a black T-shirt, and my old black boots. The pants and the top were too large, not that I cared. The thin plastic comb was a kind gesture, and I ran it through my hair before placing it back on the chair.
After, I simply waited, stalling, yet not ready to open the door. What had I done? What was I going to do?
Not thinking about it was the only answer I had. This was out of my hands now and beyond my limited control. The community of Sanctuary had been an escape that had lasted longer than any of us could have hoped, and I was grateful for that time.
Bracing myself, I opened the door, surprised that no one was standing waiting on the other side.
A nurse approached, smiling as she noticed me. A mark of ownership was visible at her temple, yet she appeared happy, even relaxed. Could this place be so terrible when an owned woman was comfortable enough to smile? “Oh my goodness! You look so different without all that dirt.”
I winced and wished the dirt back as she ushered me toward the foyer, where she said, “Doctor Carter is waiting.”
Doctor Carter was indeed waiting. Only he wasn’t alone.
I came to an abrupt stop since my new owner was standing no more than three paces away. Blaine. I presumed that was his name after Carter mentioned it. He had his back to me as he stood talking to Carter… Carter, who did a double-take on noticing me.
Whatever they had been conversing about—I suspected it might have been me—was forgotten in the wake of Carter’s riveted interest. As was inevitable, the man who now owned me turned around.
His gaze was steady. Nothing flickered, no surprise, or anything else for that matter, just a dark, endless look that rooted me to the spot and stopped and started my heart like someone had cranked up electrodes. He looked like some futuristic god of war. Even as poetically dramatic as that sounded, I couldn’t retract the notion. His face held a carnal beauty surrounded by dark, disheveled hair that fell to his collar. There was bruising along his jawline, his right cheekbone, and his left eye was turning black—the evidence of his lifestyle. If his face looked this bad, I wondered about the rest.
The fatigues were gone, but he was still dressed all in black with a long, full-length duster and a personal arsenal in evidence. He radiated vitality, both from his size and some inner presence that stated he was someone to be reckoned with. It hardly seemed possible that this was the same man I’d met on the rooftop and had winded with a blow.
His lips twitched; I wondered if he was replaying that same event. His smile faded as quickly as it arrived, his expression turned to stone, and his lips formed a line.
“Not quite what I was expecting,” he said in a deep, rough voice—maybe it wasn’t the blow after all.
CHAPTER SIX
Blaine
I’D KNOWN SHE was going to be trouble. But as I studied the scrubbed-up version of my acquisition, I realized it was a different kind of trouble to the one I’d first anticipated. Take me back to the rooftop, and this time I’d leave her there.
“Well, if anyone can—” Carter left the sentence hanging. Dickhead.
He was still staring at Ava—if that really was her name—and all he was missing was the slack jaw. I drew a measured breath and willed myself not to react, which was hard considering she must have always gotten some kind of reaction. Even the drab, oversized clothing only seemed to emphasize her slender frame and beauty. Carter muttered something about needing to take samples for his genetics research. The words barely registered. My lips tugged up as I recalled her planting her tiny fist in my windpipe. She looked like she couldn’t survive a strong wind, let alone three days outside.