The Pulse (7 page)

“Mason?” she asked, sipping the last of the soup out of her mug.

He looked at her warily, as if he was afraid she might try to jump his bones again. “What?”

“Do you know what happened?”

“What happened, when?”

“The attack. The war, I guess. One minute everything was… normal…”

Mason nodded and she paused, allowing herself the luxury of reminiscing for a moment. She had taken it all for granted. Electricity. Running water. Cars. If she could get it all back, she’d be grateful every time she flipped a light switch or turned on a faucet.

“The next thing I know,” she continued, “we were all thrown back to the dark ages. I know it was the Pulse. I mean, an EMP. But I don’t get it, not really. Why doesn’t anything work? Why didn’t generators kick on? Why haven’t they been able to get the power back on like it used to be?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” he murmured.

“Do you even know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Unfortunately.”

Emily looked at him with interest. His tousled hair fell in his face but she resisted the urge to sweep it out of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said. “You just hear… nuclear. And it makes you think—well, when everyone started saying there’d been a nuclear strike against the US, I really expected—something different, I guess.”

“Like what?”

“Explosions. Mushroom clouds. Fallout. Radiation sickness…” She looked into her empty mug and sighed. “But there wasn’t anything like that.”

“No,” Mason agreed. “I imagine they fired just one nuke, right above the center of Kansas. If they shot it up high enough into the atmosphere, there wouldn’t be any explosion or even fallout. Just a big ol’ Pulse, wiping out everything.”

“The generators too, though? I mean, that was everyone’s backup plan for a big power outage.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s how I got out of Rikers. Everything got fried.”

But what about the secret radio?
she wondered.
Why—how does that still work?
“Is it possible some things still work, though?”

She didn’t trust him yet to tell him her secret, but hopefully she could get enough information out of him without making him suspicious.

“Well, old cars, as you know. If they didn’t have computer chips in them, they were okay. And some people prepared for an EMP and put some stuff—walkie-talkies, radios, that sort of thing—into a Faraday cage.”

Her face must have registered her confusion, because Mason explained what he meant.

“Yeah, it protects stuff inside from an EMP. People made them themselves, you know—survivalists, that sort of type.”

“How the hell do you know about this stuff?” she asked. Then it hit her.

Oh God—he’s in the military after all
, she realized.
How else could he know?
She stood up suddenly, stumbling over her feet.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. Of course he didn’t want her to leave. If she left, he’d never find the stolen radio. How could she have been so naïve? She never should have trusted him.

“I—nothing’s wrong,” she lied. “I just—” Her pulse raced as Mason stood up, towering over her.

This is why he didn’t want me to leave. This is why he told me to stay with him.

She felt panicked, her breath closing up as she struggled to wrap her mind around the danger in which she had inadvertently placed herself. Emily took a shaky breath, stepping backward.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his. “Stay with me,” he whispered against her lips.

“No, Mason,” she gasped. His mouth left her panting lips, kissing her neck, running his hands down her arms. “I—I—” All rational thought left her as he pulled her shirt off her, up over her head, and tossed it on the floor. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you,” he said softly, dropping his hand to her breast, running his fingers over her nipple. “I need to make sure you want me.”

She did want him. She’d never desired anyone more in her life… but he terrified her.

What if the very man she had asked to protect her turned out to be the enemy? Even if he wasn’t army, he was a criminal.

So if she shouldn’t be doing this, then why did everything feel so damn good?

Her nipples hardened under his tender caress. He stepped closer, pressing his hard thigh between her legs, forcing them wide, pushing against her throbbing clit through her jeans.

He rubbed her between her legs, running his hands up her inner thighs, stopping briefly—too briefly—to rub her pussy through her clothing.

“I need to know you want me,” he repeated, sliding his hand into her waistband. “Are you wet for me?”

Oh yes.
She could feel the moisture pooling even now, as he slid his thumb across her mound, running his fingers over her wet core.

“I do want you,” she admitted, even though it seemed painfully clear. He rubbed her clit and her pussy clenched in anticipation.

“I know that now,” he said. “So if you really want me… you can see I want you.”

Emily’s knees went weak at his words, and his fingers—oh God, his fingers kept going, building a steady rhythm that had her panting with need.

Suddenly he looked around and said, “I can’t fuck you on a cold, dirty hospital floor. There’s gotta be a proper bed around here.”

“Of course,” she said, nearly wailing as he removed his hand from her jeans. “Down the hall, we can go into a room and use a hospital bed.”

He picked her up, holding her against his chest. She laid her head on his muscular torso, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek. She loved the feel of being held in his arms as he carried her down the corridor, his head swiveling right and left as he searched for an appropriate location to consummate their lust.

“Perfect,” he murmured, carrying her over the threshold into a small private hospital room with what looked like a clean bed. He tossed her on her back so she lay with her legs draped over the side. “Hold on to the rail,” he ordered.

Gripping the cold metal rail, she held fast as he shimmied her jeans off her legs, leaving her naked, the scent of her arousal filling the air.

He tore his own shirt off and she smiled. He was so incredible-looking—

—what if he’s the enemy—

—don’t trust him, this is all a trap—

No! She thrust the thoughts out of her mind. It didn’t matter what he did to her, she’d never reveal her secrets before she was ready, if ever. So what was the harm in having a little much-needed fun first? She could always leave after. But now… now she needed him. All of him.

He buried his face in her pussy and latched on to her clit like he was starving.

Spreading her thighs as wide as they could go, he licked her again and again until she climaxed, the waves of her orgasm washing over her like a dam had broken.

Her body spasmed as he hoisted himself over her, straightening her out on the bed so their bodies touched.

His weight felt so right, so good, as he held himself up a bit on his elbows, staring into her eyes. Mason kissed her then, and she tasted herself on his lips. The taste of her own pussy drove her wild with need and she circled her hips up against his cock.

She could feel the hard, throbbing length of him as he kept her pinned beneath him. A tiny drip of pre-come dripped down her inner thigh and she moaned.

“Please, Mason, fuck me. I need you in me.”

Mason hovered over
her, doubt suddenly clouding his mind. Was this right? He was taking advantage of her. But her moans, her writhing beneath him—he groaned, his cock millimeters from her moist cunt.

“You want this?” he asked, one last time.

“God yes,” she whimpered, and he thrust himself inside her. Her pussy clenched around him and he had to struggle to go slowly, to ease into her, opening her to him.

She felt so good… too good. He slowed even more, pulling out to the head of his cock, and slid into her again, feeling the wet heat surround him.

How could he let this girl leave?

Staring down into her beautiful brown eyes, he knew if he let her go he’d never forgive himself. What happened to his sister Stephanie might happen to Emily, and then what?

He shook his head, pushing the thought of Stephanie out of his mind. He wanted to focus completely on Emily now.

He slid his hands beneath her ass, massaging the warm flesh as he gripped her ass cheeks hard, pulling her up, tilting her pelvis so he pounded into her in a way that made her face flush as she gasped.

“You like that?”

“Don’t stop, Mason, don’t stop,” she begged, clutching his shoulders as he kept up the pace. Her body stiffened and then relaxed in his arms, her pussy clenching his cock spasmodically as she climaxed.

Grunting, he pulled out of her. He was going to come soon too, and he wanted to see her mouth on his cock before he did.

Straddling her head, Mason pressed his cock against her lips. She opened her mouth hungrily, sucking his cock past her lips as if she could read his mind.

“Swallow it all, Emily,” he said, holding her head still with his hands as he fucked her mouth. She murmured her agreement eagerly and the vibration of her throat made him come, crying out with desire as she sucked every last drop from him.

He carefully extricated himself from her mouth and lay next to her on the narrow bed, still breathing heavily. He hadn’t had sex in a long time. Too long—and he’d never had sex that good.

There was something about Emily that turned him on in a way no other woman had. “It’s been so long for me,” he said, barely aware he’d spoken aloud.

“Because you were in prison,” she said softly.

Mason sighed. She deserved the truth—if she knew the truth, she could make a decision as to whether or not she wanted him around like she thought she did. If he didn’t tell her why he’d been in prison, it was as bad as lying to her. She had to know.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I know you won’t hurt me, Mason,” she whispered.

“No,” he agreed. “I won’t ever hurt you.”

“So tell me.”

Sighing, he looked up at the cracked white ceiling. “I was at Rikers waiting to be sentenced. They were gonna ship me upstate.”

“For what?”

“Murder.”

She stifled a gasp. “But—but, you were innocent, right? You didn’t do it?”

“No,” he admitted. “I did it.”

“Was it—a crime of passion?”

He wondered if she thought a crime of passion was more forgivable. After all, some people could understand the idea of snapping, temporary insanity—but it was still murder. He had to tell her what really happened. She deserved the truth.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But either way it doesn’t change the outcome.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me, if not now, then—at some point in the future?”

He laughed, but she looked dead serious. “I don’t go around killing people for fun, you know. I’m not a serial killer or something.”

“Can you promise me—can you swear to God you’ll never kill anyone again?”

Mason thought about it. His first instinct was to say yes, he promised—but he never made a promise he couldn’t keep, and if anyone ever tried to hurt Emily, he’d kill them. Simple as that. So no, he couldn’t promise.

He shook his head. “There are reasons for killing, Emily. I’m sure that doesn’t make sense to a girl like you, but… there are reasons to kill.”

Emily lay as
still as she could in the bed next to Mason. She couldn’t believe what she had just learned. He was an actual murderer?

It was worse—way worse—than she could have imagined. How could she trust him with her safety now? But then, how could she not?

He wasn’t with the military, but he could be a different type of danger. A very real danger to her well-being.

She was all alone with an escaped murderer—an escaped murderer who made her come harder than she’d ever come before.

The sex had been phenomenal. She’d almost forgotten what it could be like, when she got so thoroughly turned on. It felt amazing. But what about Mason’s victim… the woman he killed. Did she have amazing sex with him too? Did he promise her that he’d never hurt her?

She shivered, and Mason wrapped his huge arm around her, hugging her to him for warmth. But it wasn’t the chill in the air that made her cold.

It was fear.

Grand Central, OCC

COLONEL LANCHE

IN THE
Operations Control Center at Grand Central, Colonel Lanche stepped forward until he stood only an inch from Private Pearce’s face. “Are you telling me the radio is gone?”

Pearce winced. “Missing, yes sir.”

“I
said
,” he spat, “are you telling me our only communication with the outside world is
gone
?”

Pearce blanched, a tiny drop of Lanche’s spittle sitting on his cheek. Lanche stayed in his face, daring him to wipe the spit away. Pearce wisely didn’t budge.

Not that Lanche wanted communication with the outside world. Here, in Grand Central, he reigned supreme.

He had an army of eager young soldiers to do whatever he said. He had a harem of willing sluts to fuck. He had plenty to eat, since he always gave himself a double ration and he always ate first.