The World Without a Future (The World Without End) (10 page)

His eyes sparkle. "Some things stretch even my budget."

“This could have saved him,” I say, ignoring his amusement. I feel cold, shocked. Does Dustin’s life mean nothing?

Finn answers the question I hadn’t realized I voiced. “I told you in the Hive. He’s your baggage, Nurrin. I allowed him to come to get you to shut up, and because Collin wouldn’t leave without you. I don’t
care
if he survives.”

“Then why bother giving them to me?” I snap and jerk to my feet

He catches my arm as I stride by him, pulling me around until I’m facing him. I glare at a spot on his chest, refusing to look into his gaze.

One of his hands fists in my hair, tilting my head back until I’m staring at him. I should be spitting mad—but there it is. The same hunger I saw in him when Lee was working on my arm, smoldering in his eyes now. I lick my lips as heat pools between my legs and his gaze heats.

“Do you really want me to apologize for that?” he murmurs, and I feel the brush of his breath against my lips. “Do you expect me to apologize for keeping you alive? Because if you do, you’re a damn fool. And I always thought you were smart, Ren.”

I shake my head, as much as his grip will allow. “You never thought about me at all.”

Something fills his gaze, something more dangerous than lust, and I hold my breath. Then he releases his grip on my hair. Blood rushes through my scalp, tiny pinpricks of pain as he steps away from me. “Go to bed, Nurrin.”

I want to call him on it—the name he uses to distance himself from me, all the secrets, the desire he’s barely keeping leashed. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off, “I swear to god, Ren. You don’t want to do this. Go.”

My mouth closes with a click, and I spin, marching into a bedroom—his—and shutting the door behind me. I pause, hear his footsteps on the other side of the wood, and reach down to lock it.

The door creaks open, and I lift the cross bow as Finn enters. Two steps and
twang
.

He freezes as the quarrel hits right in front of him, buried in the wall.

Finn stares at the quivering fletching for a moment then looks at me. "Something wrong, Nurrin?"

"Where the fuck have you been?" I snarl, finally letting the crossbow drop.

When I emerged from the bedroom this morning, I'd been startled to find the house empty. He left a note, ordering me to stay put. And I'd been happy enough to do so—I searched the house for any information about Finn, but aside from the single framed picture, there was nothing personal about the house.

And the picture told me nothing—just two men walking under some trees, each holding a child’s hand.

When my search yielded nothing, I tried to leave. And found all the doors locked. The bastard had actually locked me
in
the damn house.

He looks around now, taking in the trashed living room. His eyebrows raise a little, and the look he gives me is a mixture of amused irritation. "I had things to do. We came here for a reason, remember?"

"So you locked me in the house? That doesn't strike you as, I don't know,
fucking insane
?"

He shrugs. "It kept you safe and out of trouble. That's all that really matters to me."

"We're in a Haven," I shout. "It's perfectly safe."

He moves then, across the room, crowding into my personal space. I squeak as he leans into me, backing me up into the chair.

"It's Day One, and you’re a first. In a strange Haven with no protection. You know what they do to Firsts, Nurrin. Be pissy. Destroy the house. I don't give a fuck. I won't let you put yourself in danger because you want some fresh air."

It's Day One. I count the days in my head, backing up until I realize he's right. It's my birthday, the day the zombies rose.

He's watching me. "Did you want to be out there, alone?"

Dread tickles my belly, and I have to shake my head.

Being a First—firstborn after the dead came back—came with its own set of issues. Including the cult that sprang up during the change. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memory, painfully aware that he's watching me.

"Can you wake me up next time?" I ask, my voice low. "Take me with you."

I look up and see the sardonic tilt to his lips. "I didn't realize you'd want to be with me," he drawls.

I'm too tired for this—for his games and subtle rebuffs, for the disdain he oozes when he looks at me.

"You know, I don't have time for this," I say, standing. "I don't care if you don't want me here—if you'd rather it was Collin. I came here to get the medicine to help my boyfriend. Medicine you neglected to mention you had. You do whatever you have to do, O'Malley, but don't stop me from doing what I came for."

I turn to walk away then say over my shoulder, "I'm going tomorrow, to get what I need. Help me or stay out of my way. But don't try to stop me."

Finn catches me at my bedroom door. He pulls me to a stop, and I look up at him. I don't know what I expect to see there—disgust, amusement, irritation, hunger. I don't ever know what to expect with him. And that fascinates me.

"It's your birthday, Nurrin."

I flinch, looking away as tears pool in my eyes. That is the last thing I expect to hear. "No. It's Day One."

He pushes my hair from my face, a gesture so gentle it makes my breath stop, and my eyes are wide and confused when I look at him. His gaze is so full I can't decipher what I see there.

If I were very honest, I would admit that I don’t
want
to decipher what I see there. But I am rarely that honest.

"Day One is the day our whole world changed. But it's also the day a girl was born. A girl who deserves to be known for more than just being a first." I gasp, and his hand drops away, leaving a searing heat in its wake. "I see that girl."

"Why are you saying this?" I demand, and I'm not even sure what I'm asking. His gaze heats and he turns away.

"Be ready at nine. I have an appointment."

Fuck. That. I want one answer. One damned answer. I catch him and yank on his arm.

He moves faster than I expect, his body pushing against mine, holding me captive against the door, his lips hard on mine. I gasp and, with a groan, he sweeps into my mouth, sucking softly on my tongue. Something deep inside me clenches, a hungry yearning.

I whimper, and he shifts, all of his weight bracing me, and the press of him against my belly, hard and impatient, makes me squirm anxiously.

His mouth leaves mine, trailing kisses on my neck. When he bites down on my earlobe, I almost faint.

I make a noise, and he groans, the noise vibrating against my skin. Pulls back and stares at me with hot, hungry eyes.

"Does that answer any of your questions?" he murmurs before be backs away from me, leaving me empty and aching and cold.

It doesn't. It answers nothing. I go into my room, strip, and crawl into his bed alone, with more questions than he will ever answer.

When I wake, the blanket is tucked around me and light is streaming into the room through the safety bars. I can hear Finn moving through the house, and I sit up, reaching for my shirt.

At the end of my bed is a folded pair of leather pants, a corset, and heels. And a small box, with a simple black ribbon on the top. I pick up the note and read it quickly.

Wear the clothes. Collin would want you to have something on your birthday.

F-

I open the box and stare at my gun.

It's so familiar it looks out of place there, the familiar little gun I've carried for so many years. The gun that Mom carried before me.

The gun I lost in the wide open, protecting Finn.

The wild thought goes through me—when did he get it? Had he had it all along? He must have.

And then, the realization that has taken a long time to set in.

Finn was in my room, while I slept.

*

If the past was what we were meant to see. Then behind, not in front, our eyes would be.

Author Unknown

**

The past means nothing—it died the same day the dead rose.

Finn O’Malley

She's wearing them when she emerges from my bedroom.

Her blonde hair is pulled back, exposing every inch of her face and neck. The pants fit her like a second skin, displaying her lush ass. The black corset is laced up tight, pushing her small breasts together and up.

For a split second, I can't think about anything but pushing her against the wall and licking every inch of her delicious skin.

Then she pulls out the gun.

I swallow my desire and raise a lazy eyebrow. "Drawing on me again, Nurrin?"

"Where did you get it?" she demands.

"You dropped it during the flat."

I knew what that gun meant to her. She might not see it, but I have watched her for years. Waiting. Hoping like hell the urge to fuck her would go away.

It never did.

But I learned about her—and I knew damn well what that gun meant. Her eyes soften a little, and I straighten. "Get your coffee—we're late."

And just like that, the softness is gone, replaced with curiosity.

I hand her a leather jacket and lead the way from the house.

"Where are we going?" She shuts the door of the Porsche to punctuate her question, and I grit my teeth.

"Does it ever occur to you that asking me questions is an exercise in futility?"

She grins, mischievous. "Nope."

A slow smile tilts my lips. Her eyes drop down and get that sleepy, sexy look that never fails to make me a little hard. I jerk the car into motion, and she gets thrown against her seat. I hear her curse.

And hide my grin.

"I don't know, Finn. Your evidence is thin."

Nurrin shifts at my side, and Lissel spares her a brief look. It's killing her to stay quiet, but so far Nurrin has managed to follow my orders.

"So you won't evacuate the Haven?" I ask.

Lissel shakes her head. "It's too much. And the Wide Open is dangerous—we'll take our chances here."

I nod. "Fine."

Nurrin makes a surprised noise, and Lissel smiles, the knowing smile that first intrigued me and now just makes me want to slap her. "You will be here long?" she asks, her hand lingering on my arm.

I glance down at it, at the fingers I've seen on my cock while her blonde hair spread across my thighs.

Now I stare at her until two spots of color appear in her cheeks and she pulls away. "No," I answer shortly.

"You have nowhere to go. Haven 8 is gone."

I laugh at that and stand. Nurrin leaps to her feet, twitching with impatience. "Lissel, you know better. I always have
somewhere
to go."

Nurrin laughs softly, and Lissel's sharp gaze goes to her. "She's a First."

It isn't a question. I straighten slowly and shrug. "So?"

"The Order would be thrilled to hear a First is in the Haven. And so close to Third Day, too."

I move before I think, pin Lissel to the door, my knee braced between her legs, my hand on her throat. Her eyes are amused and angry. Vaguely, I wonder if I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

"Finn," Nurrin hisses. I ignore her—I'm damn good at that.

I stare at Lissel, letting a dangerous smile play on my lips. "If word spreads that she's a First, my life will become messy. You
know
I don't like messy."

Her eyes narrow, and I shake her a little. "Don't push this, Lissel. I don't want to kill you."

Blue eyes widen and behind me I hear Nurrin gasp. "Go to the car," I snap. For a long moment, she hesitates, and I almost yell at her. Then the door opens, snicks softly closed.

I release Lissel abruptly, and she stumbles. "What the hell are you doing?" I snarl. She stares at me unrepentant, and I turn away, disgusted.

"Don't play games with me. I'll kill you and be done with them."

If there is any response, I don’t hear it above the door I slam shut behind me.

Nurrin is watching me, her eyes full of accusations and questions. I shift, feeling the gears of the Porsche grinding, and grit my teeth. Turn sharply. Nurrin yelps as she tumbles toward me. For a heartbeat, her skin is pressed against me, her scent all around me.