The Pulse (4 page)

And then he passed out.

Emily fell asleep
next to Mason, on the floor by his hospital bed, so exhausted that even thinking about the radio hidden in her backpack wasn’t enough to keep her awake.

The following morning he was still out cold, his breath coming in shallow pants.

No, oh no.
She couldn’t believe she’d let him fall asleep with that head injury… What if Mason never woke up? It shouldn’t matter to her, she knew. Thousands had died in the past year. What was one more? But there was something about him.

He terrified and excited her at the same time. That was just stupid—if she learned anything in the military camp it was that she had to see to her own needs first. And what she needed was to get the hell out of New York City.

If she didn’t, her body would be piled high amongst the corpses and burned like the others.

She tried, without luck, to revive Mason all morning. She even risked starting an IV and giving him one of the few remaining bags of IV fluid.

Nothing worked. If it was his time, she supposed, it was his time and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Please, Mason
, she thought.
Wake up.

Mason
opened his eyes, his throat feeling raw and dry.

“Oh thank God,” Emily said, throwing her arms around him.

“Wh-what happened?”

“How do you feel?” She hovered above him, her fingers on his neck to check his pulse. She put her hand on his forehead. “How’s your head?”

Sitting up carefully, he took stock of how he felt. “I’m okay. I feel better. Fine, actually.”

She looked at him skeptically. “On a scale of one to ten, how’s your pain level?”

“Three. All that sleep did me good, I think.” He grinned at her. Now that he felt better, he could see her in a new light.

She still looked scared, tired… but beautiful. Man, she was beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice wary.

Oh hell. He didn’t want to make her uneasy. God knows what she’d been through at the hands of men. He wasn’t going to be one of those.

“I’d never hurt you, Emily.”

“I know,” she said, but she still seemed uneasy. “I’m just—I’m so glad you’re alive. I was worried.”

“I’m harder to kill than you’d think,” he mused. “Man, I’m starving.”

“I bet you are,” Emily said, smiling now. “Let me get you some broth. I found a can of veggies in the kitchen in the basement while you were sleeping, and I boiled it into a soup to make it last longer. Trick I learned at the camp.”

“I don’t want broth,” he said, standing up, testing his legs. “I need meat.”

“We don’t have any.”

He looked at her. Now that he stood she appeared even tinier to him. She barely came up to his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re a good nurse. I’m lucky I found you.”

Emily blushed. Reaching out, he cupped her face. She stiffened then.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re not like—” She didn’t finish her thought. He dipped his head down to hers and kissed her soft cheek.

She took a step back.

“Show me where the kitchen is. I need to hunt us some rats.”

Emily couldn’t stop
looking at Mason, at his huge body, his large hands, and his beautiful face. His hair was thick and brown and shaggy, but she noticed when she cleaned his scalp wound that he didn’t have lice—practically a miracle considering his living conditions. His blue eyes seemed to see right through to her core whenever he looked in her direction.

What if he knows about the radio?

Impossible. He definitely wasn’t from Grand Central, she believed him on that. But the men at the camp were going to be looking for her, if they weren’t already. She had to get out of the city.

She wished she could go alone, but she knew both her limits and the reality of her situation. Traveling alone was asking for trouble, and she’d had about all the trouble she could handle lately.

If Mason went with her, she’d be protected. She’d have a better chance of making it out of Manhattan with him. So she needed to keep him by her side, no matter what. The thought of a man’s touch after the past months living on the Tracks scared her, but it was the only way.

Sitting next to him, watching the glow in the wastebasket fire he had set to cook their rat meat, she felt a twinge of excitement lining her fear. She could do worse, that was for sure. But why had he been in prison?

What if he was a rapist, or a murderer?

Stop thinking about that
, she chided herself. She watched as he licked his fingers clean, polishing off the last of the rat. It had actually tasted quite good. Like barbeque.

Seeing his tongue flick out of his mouth made her imagine him doing other things with his tongue. Her pussy got wet at the thought, and she remembered the chaste kiss he’d given her earlier that day.

They were sitting on a hospital blanket laid out on the cold tile floor, like a strange nighttime picnic. Emily touched Mason’s arm tentatively.

He turned to her, the fire reflecting in his eyes. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

He pulled her to him them, kissing her, his lips pressing against hers with a tenderness that melted her fears. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Which made her want him all the more. Not being forced, being able to choose… It felt nice. “I know. I want to.”

He held her tightly in his strong arms. She could feel his heart beating, steady and slow beneath her palm. He reached up and tentatively caressed her breast, rubbing his palm over her skin, cupping her, as if he were testing the weight of her breasts in his hands.

She arched toward him, needing to feel more contact. His thumb grazed her nipple and she bit back a moan of delight, pressing her breasts into his hands, imploring him with her eyes to continue.

Mason kissed her neck, his breath hot on her cool skin, and she gasped as his mouth trailed lower, placing soft kisses over her shoulders and down to her breasts. When his tongue gently lapped at her nipple, she couldn’t hold back her desire any longer.

“Yes, Mason,” she whispered.

He complied with her unspoken wish and pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, flicking her nipple with his tongue until it became a tight bud that peaked. As he suckled her he reached up and gently pinched her other nipple, tweaking it in time with his mouth on the other side.

She breathed in and let her head loll back, luxuriating in the sensation after having been untouched by gentle hands in so long.

Mason reached down to her fly and unbuttoned it. She let him, feeling the undeniable inevitability of it all. She was his, and that was good.

“Take off your jeans,” he said. “But… only if you want to.”

She obeyed quickly. It had been a long time since she had made love—too long. The experiences she had since their world had turned upside down didn’t even come close to counting.

But this, this was something she wanted. Needed.

Naked before him, Emily pressed herself against his long, hard body, still clad in his cargo pants. A thick brush of curls covered her pussy where she used to regularly wax it bare, and she hadn’t shaved her legs in almost a year. Would he be turned off?

Then the look of unadulterated desire she felt when she looked at Mason blew any self-consciousness right out of her mind.

He reached between her legs and ran one long finger along her slick folds. Gasping, she clutched his shoulders, steadying herself. He dipped his finger inside her, making a “‘come hither” gesture that perfectly hit her G-spot, and she swooned against him, moaning.

It felt incredible. He lifted her, one hand still buried in her cunt, and she gasped as the movement rocked her hard against his fingers. He laid her on the cot, moving apart her knees with his large hands.

He dipped his head between her thighs, spreading her labia with his hand until her clit, swollen already with anticipation, lay vulnerable and open to his mouth. He sucked her bud, laving it with his merciless tongue, licking her folds once more before capturing her clit again into his hot mouth.

She cried out at the sensation, running her fingers through his shaggy hair, scratching her fingernails over his broad shoulders as he flicked her clitoris over and over again. She exploded into her climax, crying out, gasping for breath, moaning his name into the dark night.

He looked up at her, her moisture still glossing his lips, and grinned. “You’re delicious,” he said, and he licked her clit again.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, the sensation of his tongue on her already overstimulated clit making her crazy with lust.

She halfheartedly tried to push his head away but he grabbed her wrist and held it still against her heaving belly as he continued to suck her clit. He kept going even as she slammed her thighs against his ears, bringing her to a second body-shaking orgasm.

Her body racked with spasms as the muscles contracted again and again.

“Fuck me, Mason. I need you in me, now,” she gasped.

“No, Emily,” he said gently. “Not just yet.” He picked her up from the blanket, her body boneless and satiated.

“I want to return the favor. Please.” She got to her knees, still shaking from the aftershock of her orgasm.

She reached her hands up to his cargo pants tentatively, asking permission with her eyes. She could tell he was hard, even through the pants. He made quick work of dropping them and she smiled, licking her lips.

His cock sprung out, heavy and thick in her palm, so hard it was almost purple. A bead of pre-come clung to the tip of his slit like a tiny jewel.

She took his length in her hand, cupping his balls with her other, loving how vulnerable he had made himself to her, loving the feeling of power it gave her to make him groan like that, even on her knees.

Emily opened her mouth and took the head of his cock in her mouth, rolling her tongue around and around until he groaned and grabbed her head, running his fingers through her hair, urging her to take more of him in her mouth.

She swallowed, cautiously, working his cock into her throat, tasting the musky saltiness of his skin.

She licked the slit, sucking out another bead of the delicious pre-come, and ran her tongue up and down the side of his shaft before drawing him into her mouth once more.

“Emily,” he moaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.

The feel of his hands on her head sent shivers of desire rushing through her and she sucked hard, until she could feel him stiffen in her mouth even more.

He climaxed, ejaculating down her throat, holding her head in place as she swallowed every last drop.

Finally she took her mouth off of him, breathless, and licked her lips.

Mason lay down next to her, wrapping his large arms around her, pulling her close.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too. Thank you.”

She almost said, “It’s my job,” but that wasn’t true anymore. What would she do if he wouldn’t help her? She’d go it alone, like always. Before the Pulse she’d been fully capable of taking care of herself. Surely that independent woman was still somewhere deep inside her. “Mason, I have to tell you something.”

He propped himself up on one arm and looked at her. “Shoot.”

“I need to get out of New York City. And I want you to come with me. There’s safety in numbers.” Especially when one of those numbers was a huge man.

He shook his head. “I have a pretty sweet setup—an apartment with a fireplace, plenty of ammo, and another stash of breeding rats I’m hoping the army hasn’t found yet.”

Emily tried to swallow back her disappointment. “I see.”

“I can’t leave, Emily,” he said. “I’m a convict, remember? If I start trying to travel around, I’ll be at risk of being found out. And shot.”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I should never have asked you to come with me. I’ll go alone, it’ll be fine.”

She turned her face so he wouldn’t see the tears of disappointment filling her eyes. Damn it, why should she cry over his refusal? She had to leave with or without his help so she may as well suck it up.

“Why leave at all?” he asked.

“I can’t go back to the camp, I can’t!” she said, panic starting to seep into her voice.

“Shh,” he said, caressing her back like she was a scared animal. “It’s okay, you don’t ever have to go back.”

“They’ll find me, they’ll take me, I know it.”

“Why would they go through the trouble of finding you in particular? You’re another mouth to feed. They won’t care if you don’t want to stay. Why would they?”

“I know something. A big secret. And—I stole something. So, yeah, they’re gonna look for me. I can’t stay in the city.”

“I wouldn’t worry
about stealing something,” Mason said, even as he saw the fear in her eyes. “Everyone’s a thief now, it seems. Those who aren’t, are dead.”

“No, I stole something important.”

Mason looked at her.
A gun
, he thought. Guns were worth a lot now, especially if she filched some ammo as well. He looked at her with renewed respect. That girl had guts to steal something so important.