“And you’ll have doomed every one of them to a painful death.”
Lowering his hand, Atticus stared into the flame, seemingly thoughtful for a moment. “It’s not that I want that for any woman. But are we supposed to remain celibate for the rest of our lives? Fuck the animals we hunt, like filthy marauders?”
Titus couldn’t answer that. The frustration chipped away at him every day, so much that he feared that he might eventually crack. The insatiable appetite of an Alpha could prove dangerous for a female, if he didn’t reign it in. Hardened skin was all that kept the beast inside of him from ripping through and taking what it craved.
“We should go tonight. Before the rain hits. We’ve got plenty of venison to trade.”
“So I stand out in the pouring rain, while you stow away with a woman for an hour.”
“First, it won’t take an hour. Not if I take the redhead tonight. Second, you’re going to partake, my friend. Or, God help me, I will take a knife to your throat myself.”
Titus groaned into another bite of meat, hiding his appreciation for the savory flavor against his tongue.
Licking the grease from his fingers, Atticus tossed the scarce remains of his dinner into the flames and pulled his knees up. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Is it an audience you’re looking for? I’m certain the girl’s father would add a nice rush of adrenaline to your fucking.”
“It’s Senna. The feisty one. She made me swear to bring you.”
A shiver wound down Titus’s spine at the thought of the beautiful female. Feisty was right. She had a mouth to match the dangerous curves she flaunted, and Titus had found himself staring a number of times, when he shouldn’t have.
Was a bit of a surprise that she’d gone out of her way to request him, if he was being honest. Titus had never really been much for conversation, and the surly expression, which was as naturally a part of him as the scars all over his body, seemed to do a fine job keeping others at a distance. Which suited Titus just fine. People weren’t his thing. It was Atticus who did much of the talking and negotiating, and Titus who frequently stood off to the side, looking like a rabid wolf in case things turned squirrely.
“She insists on having you.”
“Some women enjoy torment, I guess.”
Touching her would be enough to satisfy the craving inside of him. He wouldn’t have to do anything more, impossible as it might seem to stop himself. It was the feel of soft skin he longed for, the tickle of hair across his face, the scent of a woman that twisted his stomach.
It’d be nice to fuck something more than the palm of his hand, too.
“I go with you … we leave within the hour. No cuddling, or sweet talking them.”
A grin stretched across Atticus’s face. “Is that what you think I’m doing with the time?” he asked, pushing to his feet. “Hard to talk with my face buried in a wet cunt.”
Brilliant oranges and pinks sketched the sky, where the sun hung on the edge of the horizon. The hive was a good six-mile hike, and the two preferred to travel by night most times. After all, with their numbers slowly on the rise after having suffered a major hit with the collapse of Calico, Legion still patrolled the area.
Their resentment seemed to have grown, as well as their forces. Having lost their beloved Founding Father, the soldiers had taken it upon themselves to hunt down Alphas and mutations roaming about the Deadlands. An initiative, as Titus understood, set in place by the clergymen who had since ran the moderately-sized community like some kind of religious commune. Ruling under the harsh and merciless doctrines of their God, they believed Alphas to be as evil as the Ragers and mutations that decimated the world.
So much for keeping the peace, as Wren had urged them to do, the day before they set out for the other community.
As far east as they’d set up camp, it was unlikely that Titus and Atticus would run into the officers, but traveling at night seemed to be the safest bet, anyway. Titus had grown tired of bloodshed and fighting. He longed for a peaceful and quiet second half to his life, living as a man free to wander wherever he wanted.
The road to the hive was nothing more than a worn-down path flanked by endless dirt and cacti, and the familiar shapes of burnt orange mesas in the distance to guide them. The pack of dried meat in the bag strapped across his body was less than his usual offerings, which would undoubtedly reveal his intentions behind the visit.
As darkness settled over the landscape, flickering fires of the hive up ahead cast a glow visible from the mile they had left to walk. A moment later, a blaze ignited, swallowing up one of the tents, and the sounds of distant screams carried on the air.
Taking cover behind a cluster of rocks off the path, Titus pulled his binoculars from a separate satchel to that carrying the meat and directed them on the pyre.
Beyond the lens, men scrambled about. Children huddled in their mother’s embraces. A flock of motorcycles at the perimeter of the hive gave reason for the unrest he was witnessing.
“Marauders,” he said aloud.
“How many?”
“A couple dozen, from what I can see.”
In the long absence of Legion soldiers, packs of rogues, like these, had doubled. They sought out hives, in search of women and supplies, pillaging and plundering in a wake of violence. Armed to the teeth, the band of mostly men would wipe out the small hive in a matter of minutes. They didn’t stand a chance. Neither did Legion officers, most of the time.
“Fuck.” Atticus huffed, and shoved to his feet. “Abort mission.”
Frowning, Titus lowered the binoculars and twisted to face him. “Walk away?”
“Do you have a sudden craving for hot lead in your ass? You don’t bring knives to a gunfight.”
It was true, Titus had no desire to engage, particularly with the likes of marauders, who were known to be lawless and brutal. “They’re our source of trade. There’s no other hive for miles.”
“Then, we’ll pick up and move to where there’s another hive. Simple.” He’d already begun walking in the other direction, as if to prove his point.
“You’ve fucked the very women they intend to violate.” Titus’s words brought Atticus to a halt.
“That is a shame. But it’s the nature of this world. To take. Why interfere?”
“Because you dragged my ass here, and I’m not going to stand by and let some goat-fucking pricks destroy our means of trade. Go back, if you want.” Stuffing the binoculars away, Titus strode through the dark, his muscles tight, fists flexing at his sides. Strange, the way the body rose to the occasion, even if fighting was the last thing he yearned for right then.
Hives tended to keep to themselves, as they didn’t trust outsiders, for the very reason that drew Titus closer when he’d have preferred to turn away, as well. They traded with other hives for supplies, but it just so happened, Atticus saved one of the daughters from a band of Ragers who would’ve dragged her to a nest, while she was out picking juniper berries. His valor won him the trust of the girl’s father, and their hive, in turn, became a means of keeping the Alphas well-stocked through the winter.
Sticking to the shadows, Titus approached one of the tents, opposite where the bikes sat unoccupied. The screams reminded him of those he’d often heard through the vents in Calico. Cries of fear and torment. He peeked around the canvas and found one marauder slipping a rope over the neck of a man who lay on the ground, the other end affixed to the back of his bike. At the man’s feet, a second rope had been secured around his ankles, the end of that one attached to a different bike. Both riders revved the engine, drowning the screams of an older woman who reached out for what Titus presumed to be her husband. Not a second later, the man’s head flew from the rest of his body, and the woman collapsed to the ground.