Page 25 of Beast in the Badlands
As dawn creeps through the broken windows, spilling light into our small sanctuary, hope flares inside me alongside that fire—a certainty igniting against all odds: we’ll escape this place together.
CHAPTER 20
EMRY
Morning light filters through the shattered windows, casting patterns across the floor of the med bay. I stretch and glance over at Renn. He’s still laying down, dark hair tousled, lips slightly parted, but not asleep. Last night lingers in my mind—his presence beside me, an unexpected comfort in this place that feels so lost.
As I prepare to check his legs, a shift in the air catches my attention. Things feel different after last night. Different… but not bad. It’s as if something between us has transformed, settled into a new rhythm.
I sit beside him and gently unwrap the bandages from his legs. The swelling has gone down significantly. I press my fingers against the skin around the wounds, assessing their healing progress.
“Looks like you might regain full use if you stay off them,” I say, trying to keep my tone professional despite the warmth pooling in my chest.
Renn cracks open one eye and smirks at me. “I’m not good at staying off anything.”
I roll my eyes but can’t suppress a smile.
“Your legs might argue otherwise,” I reply, my hands lingering on his skin longer than necessary as I reapply fresh bandages.
The air thickens around us; an electric tension hangs between our breaths. When I finally meet his gaze, something inside me shifts again.
“This isn’t just temporary anymore, is it?” My voice barely breaks the silence, heavy with questions left unasked.
He shakes his head slowly. “Not for me.”
That simple truth pulls me closer; it ignites a spark that drives away all hesitation. I lean in until our foreheads touch, feeling the warmth radiating from him—the connection that pulls at every nerve ending inside me.
And then, without thinking further about consequences or fear of loss, I close the distance between us and kiss him.
It’s slow—careful—as if we’re both savoring this moment we’ve danced around for so long. His lips are warm and soft against mine, hesitant yet hungry for something deeper than words could convey.
Every unspoken feeling pours into that kiss—everything we haven’t said hangs between us like a promise waiting to unfold. My heart races as time stretches out around us; nothing else matters but this moment shared beneath flickering lights and collapsing walls.
I pull back slightly to gauge his reaction; his eyes glimmer with an intensity that steals my breath away—a silent understanding blossoming where uncertainty once thrived.
“Then let’s not waste what time we’ve got.”
The words escape my lips, a whisper that feels charged with all the urgency I’ve kept at bay.
A possessive growl rumbles from Renn as he pulls me back to him, the sound reverberating deep within me. It shoots straightbetween my legs, igniting something primal and wild. My heart races.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, he grabs my waist, effortlessly shifting me atop him on the cot. The sudden intimacy takes my breath away—his erection presses against me, heat pooling in my panties.
“Renn… you’re injured,” I protest, breathless and half-worried.
He scoffs, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “If you think a few scratches will keep me away from you, you’re dead wrong.”
I want to argue further, but before I can finish my thought—“It’s a bit more than just—oh!”—he kisses down my neck, trailing warm lips over my collarbone and chest. My body responds instinctively; he grinds me against him with a delicious intensity that sends waves of heat coursing through me.
Desire overwhelms caution. I melt into him, lost in this moment where nothing else exists but the two of us.
Renn’s hands slide up my ribs. His fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt, yanking it over my head before I can protest. Morning light glints off the sweat-slicked planes of his chest. “You talk too much,” he rasps, teeth grazing my collarbone.
I arch into him on instinct, heat pooling low as his tongue flicks over my nipple. “Says the—ah—walking concussion risk.” My fingers tangle in his hair, torn between pushing him back and holding him there.
He nips the curve of my breast, sharp enough to sting. “Still breathing, aren’t I?” His palm slides down my stomach, hooking under the waistband of my pants. “You’re the one shaking.”
“Adrenaline,” I lie, gasping as he grinds me against the hard line of his cock. The cot creaks beneath us, protesting every shift.
