“Crap.Cyn? Cyn?”
The light spread into a blaze that blinded, and she saw the weakness in him.
A twist, a duck, then run.
The sun beckoned. The beautiful, beautiful light.
She wrenched away, rolled, scrambled to her feet, and ran.
6
Vargr caughther before she made five strides. It wasn’t difficult, he just launched and flew, scooped her off her feet. Keeping hold of her was more difficult. Cyn wriggled and kicked, struck at him, and she was stronger than a human, more slippery. He lost her again, caught her, then dragged her back to his pack and pretty much sat on her while he searched for and found the black collar and cuffs. He’d not used them for years.
No one else wandered free. They’d had some use, early on. Lucky he’d not given them to the minders at the tribe. He didn’t have leg shackles because he’d usually made them walk. With Cyn that would’ve been impossible.
“Damn you!” He ended up carrying her to the stairs, over his shoulder and with her legs trapped under his arm, otherwise she kicked.
Searing pain tore at his back.Fuck!And apparently, she bit.
Cursing, he lowered her to the floor, belly-down, then threaded his pants belt through her teeth and around her head, buckled it at the back. She growled at him while yanking at the wrist-cuffs where they bound her hands at her back. Least those held. If they hadn’t, this’d be a full-on wrestling match.
Those red motes were doing acha-chain her irises.
“If that doesn’t stop you, I’ll be finding duct tape,” he threatened, using the buckle to pull her head up so he could see her face. It was doubtful she understood.
The Lure had her full force. He sure hoped she was worth this and set off down the twisting stairs.
Of course she was. She’d been immune to the Lure for a day, so all he had to do was figure out how that had happened. She must have nanites in her. Hopefully the others would agree with that logic. The healing was unusual, though he’d heard of at least one beaster like her in that respect, a foot-soldier from the Worshippers called Rutger: a horned one, an immense man-beast. Rutger thought humans had forfeited their chance to be the rulers of this world.
He could not currently argue with that.
Vargr kept trudging downward, past the first landing, then the second. One more to go to reach the level the footbridge was on. Then he should wait for dark, and jog across. Flying across with this wriggly girl in his arms would probably get them both killed.
Then what? When he brought her to the tribe, lure-addled, what would happen? The thought of some beaster rutting with her just because he liked the looks of her ass…
His mood darkened.
On the third floor down, he shoved open a battered, red metal door, leaving a dent in it, then staggered through into a corridor that led to a large room of generators, pumps, cranes, and shit.
It was as dark as any other part of the scrapers where the sun didn’t shine, and the lights had gone out. His eyes adapted quickly, letting him see with the blue-tinged vision he was used to. None of them understood how their eyes did this. There was zero light in rooms like this.
He’d find somewhere to hole up until night. Explore for a door going out to that footbridge.
Probably nobody had been through here for five years. Except the rats, cockroaches, and insects. They didn’t scare him. Anything that wanted to bite him would break a tooth, except for apparently this female over his shoulder.
He reached a wider open space that plunged another story. To go further he’d have to descend a ladder, a narrow metal ladder that looked made for skinny dudes, not him with his wings and massive legs and chest. Crates and metal containers sat in rows below, some stacks reaching as high as where he stood. Forklifts sat idle, as did a ceiling device with chains and straps dangling—a lifting and transporting device which must’ve helped shuffle the containers.
The world was full of such sites. You could take anything and much of it had little value.
Food, clothing, water, weapons, medicine, books, anything that helped you survive, those were the essentials. Pretty vases, fancy headphones, coats for your puppy dog, gym equipment, TVs—those were generally useless.
The world had shifted on its axis, and now it favored the strong, the brave, and anyone who had the sense to keep away from Ghoul Lords.
Vargr sighed. Use this ladder? Hell, no.
“Fuck. Settled then.” He took a tighter grip on Cyn then leaped onto the guard railing and launched, flapping to maintain some lift but also gliding, aiming for a clear space.
Cyn chose not to struggle until he’d almost reached the concrete floor, then she bucked and spilled from his arms. He landed with her ankle in his fist and her dangling beneath him. Landed carefully, so he didn’t brain her.
