Collector: City In Embers Part 18

My reaction, natural or not, appalled me.

The need to cover myself pushed me to my feet. My clothes were still damp, but I tugged them on anyway. I was restless, requiring my legs to move. Sleep was not going to welcome me back now. Instead, I headed outside for some air. There was a tree next to the cabin with a lookout plank. He could guard from below, and I would watch from above. As long as we didn't run into each other, I didn't care.

My feet and arms protested the climb, but my mind was set. I reached the top and collapsed on the wood. The moon forced its way through the dense clouds, casting an eerie glow on the sound, not too far away. The water lapped delicately. It was soothing. I reclined into the trunk of the tree and listened to the sea play and the trees talk to each other.

SEVENTEEN.

Ryker found me asleep, curled in a ball the next morning. My eyebrows furrowed when his head popped above the plank. I was about to tell him to leave me alone, when he spoke. "You'll want to see this." His voice sounded direct and unemotional. He disappeared down the ladder.

I sat for a few moments debating if I should follow. My curiosity finally got the better of me, but I moved slowly. I throbbed as if I had put myself through a spin cycle, but I kept the soreness to myself. When I reached the porch, he stood, silently offering me my bag. I s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hands, slipping the strap over my head. Peering inside, I saw he placed the contents that had survived the fall back inside. Seeing Daniel's book calmed my irate mood. It was waterlogged, but it was still with me.

"All our supplies are gone." He rolled his jaw. Tension crept over us.

"Great," I exhaled. "What did you want me to see?"

He flicked his head high, his glower still hard on me.

I glanced up. Hanging from the rain gutter was a bird feeder. The object inside caught my attention. Sprig was sprawled on his back sound asleep. His legs stuck up the side of the clear casing because his frame was too big to fit in the narrow feeder. Birdseed stuck to his lips and fur.

"Sprig!" I tapped at the case.

He lifted his head, looking around dazed. "Is not home right now. Please leave a message." He mumbled and fell back to sleep.

"Get him. We need to go," Ryker said.

"And I need food," I mumbled. "Guess we all want things we can't have, huh?" The moment the words came from my mouth, I realized they could be taken another way. I flinched and glanced away from him. I could sense his anger coiling, winding inside, ready to spring.

He whipped away from me and took off down the porch steps. "We'll head to the shelter. We need supplies anyway," he declared, like he was doing me the biggest favor in the world. His pace didn't ease as he strode into the forest, not waiting for any sort of agreement or acknowledgment from me.

"Come on, Sprig." I lifted the top of the bird feeder and pulled him out, tucking the sleepy monkey into my bag.

"Why is it damp in here? And Pam smells like seaweed," Sprig hollered.

"You don't wanna know," I muttered and followed Ryker.

Ryker and I said nothing as we traveled out of the woods and through the city to the shelter. I hoped we wouldn't have to go back to town so soon. We were trying to limit our visits to only when absolutely necessary, especially after the DMG's attack yesterday.

"This is such bulls.h.i.+t," Ryker grumbled. His mood was stormier than the dark clouds building above our heads. "If I had my powers, I could f.u.c.kin' steal what we need without anyone even knowing I was there. In and out. Done."

The mess and resident tents full of people were much too dangerous for us to stay in-rows and rows of cots and sleeping bags with no protection. But our self-imposed rule did allow us to get a quick breakfast and sometimes basic supplies and medicine-if Marcello and his men hadn't gotten to them first.

"Yeah, yeah. Life would be rainbows and unicorns if it weren't for me." My mood wasn't much better. We were doing everything in our power to avoid the topic of last night. To me, the faster we both forgot the better. He sent a glower my way. "Sorry. Maybe for you, instead of unicorns and rainbows, I should say pillaging villages and getting drunk off mead."

"Mead?" He shook his head. "You actually think I'm a Viking, don't you?"

"You look and act like one."

"And you're an a.s.shole," a voice came from my bag. "Isn't it the main criterion for a Viking?" I swatted at my messenger bag, shus.h.i.+ng Sprig. Anyone close by would find it rather odd my tote talked.

Ryker ignored the voice in my bag. "I lived for a very short time in the Netherlands but long after the Vikings inhabited the area."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Close enough."

He could deny it all he wanted, but his genes had to be directly linked to the Norwegians. He was the archetype of what the History Channel portrayed as a Viking. He looked like an actor ready to step onto a movie set.

"Get some food, human. Then let's get out of here."

We were back to "human" again. Fine, two could play that game.

"Yes, master fae." I bowed my head subserviently, my expression tight and full of mockery. His scowl deepened, curving between his eyebrows. He snarled but didn't say anything. For some reason, his irritation only pleased me.

I let him walk in front of me, a gratified smile curling my mouth. It quickly fell as I watched him stride to the tent. His a.s.s was so taut and full it would drag anyone's focus to it. It looked like every time he flexed his foot to step, it was standing up waving "Hi! I'm Ryker's a.s.s." His muscular broad shoulders and narrow waist seemed to demand attention also, but it was large hands dangling at his sides that captured my full focus, the hands that had brushed across my skin, leaving quivers in their wake. Fingers that dug into my skin, pulling me into him. Hot and ready.

A flush burned along my neck to my cheeks. Revolting, Zoey. I shook my head, clearing the memory. I folded my arms over my chest, looking away. My sour mood turned bitter and acrid in my gut.

"Now you stay quiet." I poked at the side of the carrier. "We don't need any ma.s.s hysteria because you can't keep your trap shut."

"Wow. Someone's cranky today. You part Viking too?"

We stepped into the tent. Hundreds of people milled around in line and at tables. The odors of eggs and oatmeal wafted to my nose, and my stomach rumbled in response. The last things I ate were some green beans and baked beans.

The wait in line was agony. Ryker remained on high alert, constantly examining everybody entering or exiting the tent. My empty stomach and the wish to be away from him turned the delay into a test of my will. So many times in my mind I had myself running for the door, escaping from my prison warden. Sprig was being so good at being silent, I was positive he had fallen asleep, which would be fine till he started snoring.

"Hey." Ryker pushed a tray into my hands, gathering my attention to him. He sighed deeply when he tried a second time for me to take the item. His patience with me was nil today. The way we were going, we needn't fear outsiders. We would take each other out.

Wanting to control portions and keep order, men and women with hairnets served us. Slops of runny eggs, soup-like oatmeal, and slices of stale toast were divided among the ma.s.ses, running amuck on our trays.

My lids blinked innocently, my expression turning extra pitiable. "Ma'am, I'm with child..." It was somewhat true. Sprig acted like a baby. "I was hoping to get extra toast. You know, to calm my stomach." I gently rubbed my belly. Again, I wasn't lying. I did feel sick to my stomach. But this was entirely due to the night before.

The tall, big-boned lady peered at Ryker, then back to me and nodded. Now I truly felt ill. Her expression softened as she looked at him and leaned closer to me, dropping two more slices of toast on my plate. "Of course, dear. I remember going through the same thing with my first. I was sicker than a dog." She squeezed my hand and winked. It was coming, I saw it. The unsolicited advice others seemed almost possessed to give new mothers. "What helped me were saltine crackers, honey, and watermelon. Also acupuncture."

The smile on my lips was forced higher. "Thank you." Yeah, I'd get right on it, especially the acupuncture. I almost snorted at the thought of going to a spa right now, as if Seattle wasn't in a major catastrophe. Sure, a spa sounded nice.

Ryker grabbed the platter from my hands as I went to get our coffee. He liked his strong and black, but I missed Starbucks. There were no caramel flavoring or whipped cream options in purgatory. I grabbed several packs of powdered milk and sugar. Nothing was going to make this c.r.a.ppy coffee better, but it was caffeine, and I craved it.

I held the styrofoam cups and followed Ryker to a table. He picked one alongside the wall facing the entries with no one behind us. My training didn't like leaving myself vulnerable either, so we sat side by side, both ready to act if need be. It was also easier to keep the bag between us, hiding me feeding Sprig.

Ryker set the food on the table, letting me crawl in first. I kept my bag strapped across my chest in case we needed to run, but I settled the sack on the bench, freeing me of the extra weight. The table dipped when Ryker sat, b.u.mping my side higher. He was as far from fat as you could get, but his muscle ma.s.s was solid and heavy.

He stared at his breakfast, tugging at his plastic cutlery, and his shoulders sagged an inch. A frown puckered his forehead. My gaze followed, and I knew instantly what was troubling him. His food was touching. Actually, his portions went beyond touching; they were in a full make-out session. The oatmeal swam precariously around his eggs.

Examining my plate of food, it was clear my oatmeal and eggs were a little less venturous. The extra toast the woman gave me kept the portions divided. There was some interaction, but not like his.

I breathed deeply and slid my tray to him while grabbing his. The deep indention across his forehead eased at the switching of trays. He grabbed his fork and began eating. He munched quietly on his segregated breakfast. Movements b.u.mped my leg as Sprig stirred next to me. I s.n.a.t.c.hed a piece of toast and stuffed it into the opening.

"What? No b.u.t.ter? What kind of establishment is this? This tastes like cardboard." The piece of bread shot from my bag and landed in my lap.

"I swear, Sprig, if you get us caught," I mumbled harshly at my bag.

"All I am asking for is a little b.u.t.ter and honey," he squealed back. "It's not like I am asking for nectar pancakes with boar sausage... oh, and sweet b.u.t.termilk." A dreamlike sigh came from him.

"Shut up." Ryker hit the bag, resulting in a high-pitched yelp. A few heads spun in our direction. My face burned with chagrin.

"Sorry." I patted my chest. "Indigestion." When everyone finally turned away from us, I glared at my handbag. "You better behave, or we will not get you any more honey bars." It was an empty threat, and we all knew it. Still, it was a threat, which might make him be good.

I grabbed a caddy with b.u.t.ter and spread it thickly over the toast. "Here."

"No honey?"

"I've seen you eat. b.u.t.ter I can clean; honey I can't."

"Eat it and be grateful," Ryker commanded.

Jeez. It was like we jumped into some alternative universe. Was this what Ryker and I would be like as parents? I immediately squashed the thought and focused on my breakfast.

My fork dove into the lukewarm eggs. Food was food. And hot food-or semi hot-was even better. But d.a.m.n. They did make sure no flavor made its way into the ingredients.

Whatever expression Ryker saw on my face, it compelled him to reach out, clutching a box full of salt and pepper packets and pushed them to me. Salt. Yes. My hands tore eagerly into the small packages and doused my food. I loved salt. Potato chips, popcorn. I liked it all. Even more than sweet, salty items were my vice.

When I finally put the coffee to my lips, I almost spat it out. I knew it would be bad, but this was disgusting. The acidic flavor gagged me. "This is awful." Still, I held the cup, about to take another drink. My body's need for caffeine dominated my taste buds.

Ryker took the coffee from my hands. He dug into the caddy, grabbing a package of honey, and poured the thick liquid into my cup. He then stirred it and handed it back to me. "It won't be like your foo-foo coffee you're used to, but it should be more tolerable."

Taking another sip, I nodded in agreement as the sweet substance slid down my throat. "Still c.r.a.ppy coffee, but thank you."

His head turned to me, our eyes connecting. "You're welcome."

In that moment, the angry tension between us receded. A truce or maybe understanding took up the s.p.a.ce instead. We would not talk about the night before or act like it ever happened, pus.h.i.+ng it to the far reaches of our minds. Being mad at each other wouldn't help us. We needed to be somewhat cordial. We had to be a team.

"She gets honey, but I don't?" A quiet but pa.s.sionate whisper came from between us.

"You are not eating honey in my bag," I said into my cup, taking another swig.

Ryker huffed and grabbed several plastic packets of honey and shoved them in with Sprig.

A gleeful monkey chirped in response.

"Ryker," I exclaimed, glaring at him with disbelief. "I told him no."

"It'll shut him up." He shrugged. "It's only honey. What's it really going to hurt?"

Again, the surrealness of the moment sank in. A smile slowly curled my mouth. "If we're not consistent with him, he's not going to learn." I used my best "mother" voice. "He needs rules, and you cannot undermine me when I tell him no."

Ryker eyes widened slightly before he got my joke. He snorted, looking back at his plate. "Guess we know who the fun parent is."

I laughed-an actual belly laugh. It was the first time since Daniel's and Lexie's deaths.

It felt good.

Ryker was on watch as I looted the storage unit. I tried to keep it to only things we needed or might be able to trade. If I was supposed to feel guilty, I didn't. Not really. I felt more shame than when I was younger, but this was survival. Times were different now. When events like this happened, you survived any way you could.

A tap on the door told me to hurry. I glared at the door, even though he couldn't see me.

"Here, you'll need these." Sprig threw a box at me.

"These are condoms," I whispered hoa.r.s.ely at him.

His eyebrows wiggled. "I felt the tension earlier. I say fight it until you need those."

"Ugh, Sprig." I tossed the box back at him, nicking him in the head. A chuckle came from him as he leaped to another shelf.

"And I said candles, not condoms."

"Same difference."

"Really?"

He winked. "Both burn vigorously all night long."

"I'm seriously gonna be sick."

A double knock shook the door, quickly followed by another. "s.h.i.+t." It meant someone was coming straight for us.

"What are you doing? No one is allowed back here." A man's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Really? This isn't where you can smoke?" Ryker's tone was sarcastic.

"No. You need to go." The man's voice held a note of fear. Ryker was intimidating, and this man was probably thinking he was a troublemaker. And he'd be right. Ryker emanated danger and violence. He looked like someone who could snap at the simplest thing and beat the ever-loving c.r.a.p out of you. Again, this a.s.sessment would be correct.

"No. I really don't," Ryker responded, sounding bored.

I knew better.

"Sprig." I pointed to my bag. He stuck his tongue at me.

"I am going to call security if you don't leave the premises," the man spoke with false authority.

Ryker emitted a deep laugh. "Those rent-a-cops? Please do."

I had to stop this from escalating.