They were accosted along the way by curious Worshippers who wanted to shake their hands and say hi, or express sadness over the dead and the unusual attack. The ghoul guards had been quiet for years, and certainly none had ventured this low. If there were over a thousand beasters at this camp, he figured about three hundred were here now. The rest would be out patrolling, hunting down fresh food and supplies, mapping, arranging fuel and electricity where possible, same as his own tribe.
They stopped near the edge at a bright pink tent with its open flap aimed toward the view. With dawn coming in a few hours, this would be flooded by light. He cringed internally.
“Willow.” Locke bowed and swept his arm in an arc. “Behold our biotechie. She takes no nonsense, so be nice to her or we boot you over the edge.” His grin said he lied.
“Hi there.” Inside the tent a young woman in red jeans and a storm-gray shirt slumped comfortably on an upholstered chair.
Her neon-blue hair teased at her shoulders and weaved about in Medusa-like snakiness. Her arms lay on the rests, and a small, varnished table before her was stacked with cards, a collapsed telescope, and a cup of something that steamed. Around her eyes and hands, the blue ran in veins. She had that slightly fragile, elegant aura he’d noticed in some biotechies. They were quality porcelain while he and most beasters were stoneware.
“Tea?” she asked, gesturing at a teapot set on the floor canvas the tent was pegged to. “And pull up a chair.” There was only one, to her right. “I hear you want to have your blood checked, girl. I was out looking at your arrival, but it was crowded. This is my space. Some of us like making a little home. My tent is it.”
Crowded?He agreed though. A hundred and a few more people were that. Five years ago, that would’ve been thought crazy.
“I’m Vargr. Nice tent and view. This is Cyn.” He stood to one side of the opening to let Cyn go past.
There was something about being in one place that made you want to construct a permanent abode. For him, standing at the edge of Mercantor was enough: peering out at the adjacent quarter, with your feet knowingthis building herewas where one belonged.
“I am looking for that.” Cyn boldly picked up and set down the other upholstered seat then sat. “I need to know what I am.I need to convince everyone I’m like you and not some creature sent by the Ghoul Lords.”
“That’s… more history than they told me. Why ever would anyone think you’re from the Top?”
“Because I am.” Smiling, she shifted in the chair. “I fell from the sky into Vargr’s arms. After I escaped from the Ghoul Lords.”
“Shit.” Her gaze flicked to him, lines tightening around her eyes. “Really?”
“She’s safe. We’re bondmated. Unusual pedigree but safe. I know she has nanites like us beasters, just we are searching for what sort, why she has them. Anything that helps us figure out what happened above.”
And he was hoping it’d lead to some sort of redemption. A way to kill the GLs. A way to find his sister, even though every day that passed chiseled away at his hopes.
“You know.” Willow paused a moment, assessing them both. They’d shocked her, but the truth would’ve come out, even if the only other people at that meeting to decide Cyn’s fate had been Orm and Rutger. One dead, the other wanted into Cyn’s pants, which seemed a damn good clue he liked her.
For all he knew, Tom or one of the others carried a written request from Boaz.
“Okay. I can try. If you’ve nanomachines in you, Cyn, I can see those. Your eyes tell me it’s likely even if red is unique. I do health checks too. Sometimes I can even fix a problem. Some cancers. Liver disease. Infections. It’s been quite the trip learning what I can do, these past years.”
For a few moments, her unfocused gaze fell past them. He knew that look. Most beasters wondered about their changing bodies. The whys could haunt you.
However… Only one seat? He grinned and figured now was a good time for some skin on skin. He stooped and picked up Cyn, with one arm slid under her butt, then sat down himself,and rearranged her so she faced Willow. Her protests were spluttered and many, but so far, he lived. This was promising.
Willow only lifted her brows and smiled. “Don’t mind me. I get how it is.”
“Uhhh. How what is?” Cyn tried to lever his hand off her thigh but he jiggled his leg.
Bondmating, of course.
Willow was right. He was being driven by more than the normal desires, but what did it matter when he had a lapful of female?
“Sit. Stay. Behave.” Fuck that felt good to say. If she protested, he’d do what Rutger had once suggested she needed and upend her over his knee. Spank her.
That, he might not live through, but it’d be awesome.
“Vargr you are not my daddy or whatever.”
Daddy? Well that’d made Willow’s eyebrows climb even higher and her blue eyes dance.
“Shhh. I like having you on my lap. Admit it, so do you. Talk to Willow.”
This was like sticking his fingers in a bear trap and hoping the mechanism wasn’t working on this day, when it had definitely worked yesterday. The thrill was giving him a hard-on—that and her sitting on his dick.
