Chapter 5

What is he doing? His lips were on hers. Shocking. Not entirely unpleasant.

Wrong. The punishment for allowing it would hurt. Yet how could she stop him? He was bigger than she recalled. His eyes so cold.

Yet his touch thus far was almost gentle. His words were anything but.

And the kiss.

Why did he kiss her? Why did she allow it?

She shoved her bound hands at him and broke free. "Kissing is forbidden."

That brought a lazy smile to his lips. "Which is what made that all the more fun."

She frowned and, at the same time, couldn't stop staring at him. Most definitely a him but of a kind she'd never imagined. It was why she'd fainted the first time she saw him.

At the Academy, the rare glimpses of boys - kept in separate buildings - showed them built on the same lines as women but without breasts. Their faces were smooth. The strict diet kept them slender. They wore the same uniforms.

The man before her shattered that image. Tall. Much taller than her. Thick and wide as well. His hair was slightly messy and short, his jaw covered in more hair. And that scowl. All of that combined with the fact she'd spent hours in a sweltering truck with an aching head meant she fainted the first time she saw him and woke up as some woman dumped her on a bed. A woman with dark skin and a burr in her voice as she said, "You're a pretty thing."

For some reason those words frightened.

Laura fought. Screamed. Struggled against a woman who never once faltered as she subdued and tied her, tethering her to a wall before muffling her. But the worse part of the ordeal? The woman left and Laura sat there in a strange place, knowing she was in trouble.

So much trouble. The truck had never made it to the Incubaii Dome. The Wasteland Rats had taken her prisoner. To do what? The stories she'd heard all made them out to be horrifying savages who liked to eat the flesh of dome dwellers. Was he tasting her mouth to see if she was ready to be eaten?

"I am a citizen of the Enclave and a Madre. You may not touch me in such a manner."

"You might be a citizen," he drawled, "but as a Madre you'd better get used to being touched, or did no one explain your new duties to you?"

Her lips pursed. "I won't listen to the claims of a Wasteland Rat."

"You should be nicer to the man who holds your life in his hands."

Looking at his brutish features, she shivered instead. As if pleading would sway him. "What will you do with me?"

"Depends on your worth."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if someone will pay for you, then that's the best scenario."

She blinked. "Pay for me? As in sell?" The concept itself didn't shock too much. She assumed some kind of payment occurred at a few levels. When a child arrived at the Creche and left for the Academy or other places, someone had to cover the cost. That was normal. But stealing someone for sale?

"What else would you suggest I do with you?"

"Release me." For some reason her suggestion brought a smile. A twitch of his lips that mocked.

"Release you and yet you've only just arrived. And it's night. No one ever leaves at night. Unless they're looking to die. Are you trying to die, Laura?" he asked. He remained much too close to the bed.

Whose bed?

And more important, would he kiss her again? For some reason the very idea made her breathless.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I told you, underground."

"Where underground?" How far was she from the safety of a dome? Was the air she breathed contaminated?

"You don't need to know where. I will say we're far from your Creche in case you were wondering."

"You weren't lying. We're in the Wasteland." More a statement than query. The very mention of it aloud made her heart race. "Which is impossible. Nothing can survive for long outside the domes." It was why the guards who went outside wore full-body suits to minimize exposure.

"Is that what they're teaching these days?" Axel shook his head. "Hate to break it to you, but it is possible to live outside those bubbles you call home. Has been for a while now if you've got the right kind of genes."

"Deviant genes." She couldn't help the sneer. Those who didn't get the wasting sickness weren't considered normal. The toxic dust left its mark.

"Deviant by whose standards?" The smile he offered had a level of wickedness in it that caused a flutter.

"I've seen images. Extra limbs. Grotesque features. Sickly and wild. Little better than animals."

He arched a brow. "It seems someone put some effort into convincing you of that. Do tell me more about myself. I'd love to hear it."

She heard the cool mockery in his tone. Even worse, she looked at him and everything she'd been taught about Deviants didn't seem to apply. "You're not a Deviant."

"Finally, something intelligent comes out of your mouth," he exclaimed. "For a second there, I was thinking I might have to kiss you again and hope some of my intelligence rubbed off."

Annoyance twisted her lips. "Just because you're not deformed doesn't mean you're not affected."

"Out here, we call it an improvement. Anything that helps us survive."

"Is that how you justify stealing? I should have known upon seeing you that you were a marauder." Even the cloistered sawrs heard the stories of the brazen raiders.

"So what if I am?" He didn't bother to deny it. "I have need. My crew has need."

"That doesn't make your theft acceptable." She didn't hide the disapproval.

It brought him back to the edge of the bed, but rather than stare down at her, he crouched. "We do what we must to survive. Something you'd understand if you didn't live in a bubble."

"I wish I was inside one right now. I don't know how you do it." She couldn't help but shudder. "It's horrible out here."

He blinked at her. "Out here? How would you even know? You've been awake all of an hour maybe."

"And in that time, I've been attacked, bound, and threatened."

"Then you should feel right at home because, the way I understand it, your precious Creche does worse to its people than we do."

"Only if someone doesn't follow the rules." Rules she had no choice but to follow. It wasn't easy to forget the pain when a person got caught breaking them.

He snorted. "Fuck the rules."

"The rules maintain order." Or so those above her claimed.

"There's order and there's being bloody prisoners."

His comparison resembled her own thoughts at times. Yet she didn't admit it. Couldn't. Treason also had its own punishment. "Does a marauder even follow any rules?"

"Just one. It's all about me." He said it smugly.

Laura canted her head. "That seems rather selfish."

"It's how we survive in the Wasteland. Every man, or woman, for themself."

"You're not here alone. What about the woman who accosted me?" A female utterly fierce and beautiful. She was dressed unlike anything Laura had ever imagined with tight pants and a loose blouse tucked into them.

"Ah yes, Vera. She was quite offended by your lack of interest in her attributes."

"I wasn't about to admire her rope-tying skills."

He stared at her. "Oh, she'll be most miffed you didn't even notice."

"I noticed she was strong and could tie a knot."

His lips twitched. "And you didn't notice anything else? Like her lovely skin? Her rounded figure?"

As he complimented this Vera who'd attacked her, Laura scowled. "You seem overly fond of your companion." Making it obvious he fraternized. Perhaps even fornicated. Who knew what a wild marauder outside a dome would do? All kinds of depraved things she'd wager.

Look at how he'd kissed her.

Her gaze went to his mouth.

"Vera and I will never be that kind of friend. She doesn't find my type appealing."

His words only served to ensure she stared even more at him. Odd how he kept drawing her gaze. So different and covered in hair, he should have been ugly, yet she found him addictive to watch.

Which meant she had to force her gaze away every time she found herself doing it.

She tugged at the rope, yanking at her hands, unable to pull them apart. "Untie me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like it." Hotly spoken as she twisted her wrists and got nowhere.

"And here I was gonna say you looked especially tempting."

He edged closer, rising on his haunches, and her heart raced. She stared at him, afraid to blink as she whispered, "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Kiss me again."

"Why not?"

"It's forbidden."

He edged closer. "Don't preach Creche rules to me. Here, I make the rules."

Somehow, he also made Laura forget her own. She fought the temptation to let him kiss her again.

"I don't want you to kiss me."

"Are you sure about that?" His gaze, partially shuttered, dropped to look at her mouth.

Her lips parted. "I don't know what you're doing. I feel very strange."

She swayed.

He recoiled with a frown. "Are you ill?

The query brought some semblance of normal back, but she remained a little dizzy. "My head still hurts from when the guard hit me."

Her hand went to her temple and the throbbing purple mark.

His fingers lifted, and she winced as he palpated the spot. "You have a good lump."

"I already knew that before you poked it."

"How long did you lose consciousness after?"

Her nose crinkled. "I don't know. A while. I woke up in the truck a few times. Thought I'd be sick. Then fell asleep again. The last time I woke, the engine was off, and I heard nothing until you opened the back."

"A concussion. You need to have it checked out."

She shook her head. "No." She winced as pain rocketed through her head.

"Yes," he insisted. She expected him to leave, yet he pulled out a communicator and spoke into it, showing he had access to some dome amenities. Probably stolen. "Oliander, could I have you come up here and check on our guest."

"Give me a few minutes to grab my things."

She cocked her head. "Who is that?"

"Our doctor."

She noted the use of the word "our." "How many people are here exactly?"

"Too many." A short answer without really saying anything, which only further displayed how good he was at being evasive.

He moved from the bed and went to the door, exiting, leaving her wondering at the dichotomy of him. A marauder who intimidated and frightened yet hadn't actually done anything to hurt her.

It made no sense.

She heard a murmur of voices before Axel returned. Behind him was a tall, slender man, his chin long and pointed, his head covered in tight blond curls, his ears showing points where they peeked through. Yet it was the third arm that caught her attention most of all slightly below the left arm, and shorter than the other two.

She shrank. "Don't touch me."

"I won't hurt you." The three-armed Deviant approached.

"If you infect me, they won't take me back," she huffed.

The Deviant paused, and Axel shoved in front of him, his expression twisted in anger. "How dare you. Oliander is here to help you."

"I don't need his help." She glared at the man Axel had called doctor.

"You have a concussion," snapped Axel.

"I'm fine."

"If I may?" Oliander held up a hand. "You needn't fear me, Laura. I assure you, what I have cannot be transmitted."

"You have the Deviant gene."

He nodded. "But it's not contagious. You're either born with it or not. Simple contact won't cause harm."

"So you claim."

Axel sighed and rubbed his face. "Are you seriously that stupid?"

As she looked at him, her lips pressed tight. "The Academy told us - "

"A load of shit. Did it ever occur to you that maybe they're wrong?" Axel growled.

"Don't yell at the girl. She doesn't know any better. None of those in the domes do," Oliander said softly.

She heard the pity in his words. She didn't understand it. And she was scared. Alone. It caused her head to throb something fierce, enough she clutched it, and Oliander recoiled just the slightest bit. Axel, however, held his ground, and his nostrils flared.

"Either you let Oliander examine you nicely, or I will pin you down to do it. You decide."

"Fine." She closed her eyes, not only to ignore the Deviant about to touch her but also to help quell the throbbing in her head. It had intensified, as if something pulsed inside unable to escape.

Gentle fingers palpated the bruise. Cold digits. She tried not to shudder.

The doctor murmured aloud, "He hit her hard. There is extensive tissue bruising under the skin. No blood, though. Her head hurts."

As if he could know. He probably guessed.

"She shows signs of drugs in her system."

That surprised her.

"What kind?" Axel asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd need a sample to see if I could parse it out. But if I were to guess, something to make her docile for the trip," Oliander said.

"That's docile?" There was a wry humor in the statement Axel tossed.

It almost made her smile. "I told you I was fine."

"A few days to heal or I can - " Oliander went to reach for her, but Axel shook his head.

"Don't. Let her have a reminder of how her precious Creche people treat her."

A good thing he'd not seen the scars on her back. It made her wonder how marauders treated each other.

"Very well. I'll leave. But if she starts showing signs of distress, vomiting, trouble seeing - "

"I will fetch you immediately. Thank you, Oliander."

The strange three-armed doctor left and once he did Axel turned to her with a scowl.

"I'm only going to say this once. How you treated Oliander is not acceptable. This is my house. My rules. And those rules say you will address us with respect. Even those you think are beneath you."

Her lips flattened at the rebuke. She didn't reply.

"Finally, she knows to keep her mouth shut. About time."

The fact he wanted her quiet brought out obstinacy in her. "How did you become a marauder?"

There were stories bandied around about them. Fierce, mutated humans who'd inhaled so much toxic dust they went crazy and killed everything they came across. Yet Axel appeared perfectly in control of himself.

"Looking for my life story?"

"Yes." Because, according to everything she knew, he shouldn't exist.

"I'm afraid that's classified. I want to know more about you. Why were you in that truck?"

"They were moving me."

"Obviously. Why were they moving you?"

"A better question is, how did you know about the truck? It wasn't scheduled."

"Luck, I guess." He smiled.

She had a feeling he lied. "What will you do with me?"

"You tell me. You seem to have this preconceived notion about me. What's next on my list of dastardly deeds? I've already kidnapped you. Had you tied to my bed. Why, a proper marauder would have to ravish you next if he was to keep on script."

"Is that your plan?" Her heart raced with a combination of fear and curiosity that oddly twisted into excitement.

"No. I don't force women."

"You kissed me."

"And you let me."

She blinked. "Because I didn't expect it, or I would have said no."

"Are you a virgin?"

"A what?"

"Someone who's never lain with someone sexually."

Her breath whooshed. "That's forbidden."

"So yes." He groaned and looked at the ceiling.

"Are you?"

"Am I what? A virgin?" He looked at her with a crooked smile. "What do you think?"

She couldn't. Heat enflamed her senses. She looked away. "You're perverted."

"Only in a good way, I promise. And you are a prude."

"Nothing wrong with being chaste."

"Except you don't do it by choice."

"Says who?" She glared at him. "I have no need to be touched by another."

"In that you're wrong. All humans need touch."

"Touching is - "

"Forbidden. So you keep saying. Have you ever wondered why?"

She wondered at his strange interest in the rules she followed. This wasn't the kind of questioning she expected at all. "The rules against fraternization are to protect us from obscene acts."

He uttered a low whistle. "The brainwashing is strong in you." He shook his head. "And to think they'd have you believe we're the monsters. Makes you wonder what would happen if the truth got out."

"What truth?"

One side of his mouth lifted. "That the only difference between me and you is the freedom I have."

"I'm free."

He arched a brow. "You were locked in the back of a truck."

"For my safety."

"After being knocked unconscious." He gestured to her bruise.

"At least they didn't have me tied." She gave her arms a wrench. "Let me go."

"You think a mere rope is what binds you?" His expression mocked.

"There is nothing wrong with living a righteous life."

"A life dictated by others." He sneered. "How does it feel to have no choice?"

The query stung, and she could think of no retort. Because she knew how it felt, but it wasn't something she wanted to admit to him.

She changed the subject. "Are you the leader of the marauders?"

"No, I am not, no matter what they say," he muttered.

"What are you then?"

"Must I have a title?"

"No. I just wondered if there were ranks."

"You want me to have a rank? Then let's make it Wasteland Duke."

The preposterous title had her shaking her head. "You can't call yourself a duke. You're not Enclave."

"So what? Here's the thing in the Wastelands; we don't care about the Enclave and their dynasties. Which means if I want to be a duke, a king, or even the elusive emperor, I can be."

"Declaring it doesn't make it valid or true."

"According to who? A bunch of pompous elites in their sanitized cities, making up foolish rules to keep the masses separated. Worried if they find out there is life outside the dome, they'll lose their hold." Axel finished on a sneer.

She, on the other hand, didn't quite follow. "The rules keep us safe."

"The rules are what imprison you." Said on a disgusted sigh.

"Better a dome dweller than a marauder!" she huffed, tired of his insults.

"I'm not a marauder. Just a man." Said so softly she almost missed it.

"Are there many of you?" She got the impression from the hum of noise outside the room that there might be more than the couple she'd seen.

"Why do you ask? Spying for your masters?"

The very idea seemed too absurd. To her surprise, she laughed. "Do I seem like a spy?"

Although it was a good question. She'd never suspected Wendy was a plant to ensure the sawrs were behaving as they should. More than a few of them got punished for breaking Creche rules thanks to her reports.

"I think it's very interesting that you were the only thing in that truck."

"What did you expect?"

Rather than reply, he asked a different question. "Where were you going?"

No point in hiding it. Perhaps she could convince him to deliver her still. "The Incubaii Dome for reassignment."

"Which one?"

"What do you mean which one?" Her brow wrinkled. "There is only the one."

"Wrong. How many Creches do you think there are?"

"That's a stupid question. There is only one of everything."

"Not even close. The Emerald demesne boasts five Creches at last count and three Incubaii locations."

She blinked. "That's not possible."

"Yet it's the truth."

And it made sense. She'd often wondered how so many children filled the Academy. "How do you know all this?"

"Because I choose to learn and seek out rather than just listen."

Her lips flattened. "How was I to know I was being lied to?" She felt sick even saying it aloud. No one struck her down. Not yet.

"All the Enclave does is lie." He shook his head. "You said you were being relocated. Why?"

Laura rolled her shoulders. "I wasn't told why, simply that my circumstances had changed."

"What happened?"

"What makes you think anything did?" she retorted, not about to tell him about Horatio and the strange shadow beast he created.

"Because you don't suddenly get reassigned at your age."

He knew more than she would have imagined.

"Did it occur to you that perhaps I'm being promoted?"

"Becoming a Madre is not an improvement. What position did you hold in the Creche?"

"Sawr."

His lip curled. "The lowest of low. Which means you must have been excited to be given the white robes of a Madre."

Again, she rolled her shoulders. "I liked my home. I asked if I could stay."

"Given what they do to Madres, you should have begged harder." The claim emerged harshly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He eyed her. "Nothing."

She took offense. This wasn't the first time he implied being a Madre was a bad thing. "It is an honor to work toward the creation of future generations to serve the city."

For some reason this narrowed his gaze. He eyed her in a way that had her tucking her legs tighter. "The indoctrination is incredible. Do you know what they expect of you once you arrive at the Incubaii Dome?"

"No. But I'm sure they will teach me."

"They'll teach you all right," he muttered. He turned away from her. "You really know nothing."

"I don't know what you expected. I was a sawr whose only task was to mind and clean up after children."

"In the Wastelands, parents mind their own children."

"Parents?"

"Not a concept I'm willing to explain tonight." He nudged off his boots and stripped his shirt, leaving him clad in a sleeveless undergarment that molded to his upper body. It proved enough to distract.

"Why are you so lumpy? Is it the deviant gene malforming you?"

He gaped at her then down at himself. "Lumpy? I am the fittest man in my crew."

Her brow furrowed. "But your stomach. It has lines." And his arms bulged unnaturally thick.

His lips twitched. "It's called muscle. Surely you've seen someone fit before."

"None of the sawrs in my Creche look like you." The women tended to have soft bodies.

The remark caused him to stare at her. For a good long moment. "Just how secluded are you? Have you ever seen a naked man?" His hands went to his belt.

She shook her head. "There are no men in the Creche. The few that visit are kept to the Visitors Pavilion under close watch." She'd seen the boys that were in her charge, of course, with the worms between their legs that were most notable for urinating when exposed to the air.

He pulled the belt free of the loops and tossed it onto the papers he had strewn on the boxes. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven, I think." Hard to remember when there was no birthday to count. She only knew she turned eighteen when the Academy turned her over to the Creche, and she kept count of the seasons.

"You look younger."

"How old are you?" she couldn't help but ask

"Early thirties."

"You look older," she blurted out.

Only one side of his mouth quirked. "Gee, thanks."

Her cheeks heated, and she almost spoke out of turn again. She managed to hold back the words that would have admitted he looked very nice.

Although nice seemed too tame of a word. Looking at him did something strange to her body. Heating and shivering. Fear most likely being the culprit.

He extinguished the light, and she suddenly could see nothing until her eyes adjusted. It wasn't seeing him but feeling the bed shift that let her know where he'd gone.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked.

"Going to bed."

"I'm using this one."

"I know. I'm hoping you're not the type to kick in her sleep."

The implication had her exclaiming, "I can't sleep with you."

"Then don't. But I plan to get a few hours."

She stared, the darkness not complete, the windows in this room showing some light glowing from outside. He formed a shape atop the blankets, resting on his back, hands lying atop his chest.

"You can't stay here." The Creche had strict rules about fraternizing. No sharing of beds being at the top of the list.

"I am, so you might as well lie down on your half of the bed and deal with it."

"You're taking more than half of the space."

He opened a single eye, and she tried not to react, as it held a hint of a yellow glow. "I'm bigger than you. Seems kind of obvious. You can always snuggle if you find it too tight."

Press herself against him? She huddled against the wall instead, jolting awake once or twice when she felt herself falling over. Only her tether kept her upright.

Sometime in the night, the rope disappeared, and she woke, face nestled onto something warm but hard, her hands, still bound together, lying atop something that lifted and fell. Her leg splayed over someone else's.

Her eyes opened with a jolt, and she realized she stared at a chest covered with only a tight chemise. With lumps.

Muscles.

His muscles!

She threw herself backwards and cracked her head on the wall. Amidst the ringing pain, she heard him drawl, "Morning."