Page 219 of Rage

Chapter Three

LENORA

How could someone so stunning be such a pain in my ass? I’m a sociopath? Well, she isn’t totally off, but it’s what has kept me alive! Maybe one day, she’ll appreciate it when it keeps her ass safe. Speaking of her ass, I can’t help but picture how lovely it fits in her jeans. Why are the pretty ones always a problem?

Her wild mane of dark curls and soft body makes her look like an Amazonian come to life. Just imagining her with a weapon at my side, fighting for our people, has my mind cloudy with thoughts of more. It has been years since I have felt a genuine passion for anyone. Before I can relive the last time someone touched me, I squash the memory in my mind. I flatten it until it’s paper thin and store it in a box of horrors I don’t have time for.

“Her name is Davey, and she seems pretty nice. Maybe too nice?” Jones says, breaking me from my reverie about the beautiful doctor who will now be a part of our lives.

Davey.

Jones did her job to suss her out and determine if we were harboring a sympathizer. No matter how stunning, I can’t risk my people. I’d slice her slender throat myself if I needed to.

According to Jones, it was just her and a teenage brother together for a while. How they survived, I’ll never know, but now, she’s under my watch. So she follows my rules, whether it goes against her precious empathy or not.

“Thanks, Jones.” Antonia walks up to us, leaving Davey sitting on the dusty ground, staring into the endless night with a blank expression. I know the look. We all do. It’s the mask we all wear when we hide our deepest traumas and swallow our grief to survive this hellhole.

“So? We have about an hour's walk left. We can take her out now if she raises any flags. It’s far enough away that if someone finds her body, any Beasts wouldn’t track it back to the compound.” Is it sociopathic to plan a murder twenty feet from the target? No. This is the greater good. I can’t afford to live in a world of whimsy where Beasts may be redeemable or where we have time to question before we kill. I shake out the silly notion she planted into my head. Antonia is right. We have a choice to make as a group, but they will leave me with the decision because they trust me. It’s how we function. It’s how we survive.

“Jones said she didn’t get sympathizer vibes. I don’t either, but she was protecting a brother with no other women, so I think she lived in a bubble for the past three years.”

“We need medical staff at the compound. I think the pros outweigh the cons. She can integrate over time and be helpful to us all.” Jones may be young, but she is tactical and intelligent.

“Agreed,” Antonia chimes in.

“Agreed,” I say to both of them.

An hour later, the sun is almost on the horizon and we have precious little time to get back indoors.

“You all live here?” Davey asks, mesmerized by the size of our compound.

“Yeah. It used to be a summer camp, so we luckily had lodges and beds, but we are a little cramped. We’ve been here for three years, and our growth out-paces our building upgrades, but we’re working on it,” I answer.

Jones and Antonia head off to get some sleep, and I motion for Davey to follow me.

“You’re with me until we can figure something else out.” I shoot over my shoulder as I walk up to my cabin. It’s a small cabin towards the back of the compound. Originally, we think it functioned as the sleeping quarters for the director of the camp because it’s a one bedroom log cabin with a tiny kitchenette and a simple indoor bathroom.

As I catch her eyes over my shoulder, I trace her line of sight to my knife. Either that, or she’s staring blatantly at my ass, which is nothing to write home about.

“Eyes up here, doc,” I say with a smirk and turn just as her face bursts with red and she averts those big brown eyes of hers. Adorable.

After settling in, we both take quick showers with what little water my tank has. Conservation is key, and she has way more hair and body than I do.

Don’t think about that hair and body soaking wet, you pervert.

“Thanks for letting me borrow some clothes. I didn’t have much in our cave, anyway. It’s surreal to be indoors again. I was almost used to roughing it.” She laughs. There is no way she was used to roughing it.

Her skin is glowing, and errant drops of water trail down from her damp hair to caress her shoulders. But that’s not what has me gaping like an imbecile at her. My pajamas are usually just shorts and a tank top. On my petite frame, it works perfectlyfine to cover everything up, but all the clothes do for her is stress her impossibly long legs and dark nipples, which pebble beneath the fabric.

Oh, I am in fucking trouble. There is no way. How can someone possibly look like this during an apocalypse? Is this a test? Some kind of cosmic retribution for all my kills? That a supple goddess just happens to be in my hunting path and will soon be in my bed? Not mine to touch, but mine to protect?

My eyes roam her body without a care for her comfort. I know I shouldn’t be so overt, but the length of the shorts barely grazes the tops of her thighs. I wonder if she’s wearing panties. When my eyes finish their perusal and make their way back to her face, she’s three shades darker with wide eyes.

“Come. Sit.”

On my face.

Don’t say that.

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