Chapter 6

Scout

Orion sets two places on either side of the island, then returns to stirring the chili. I've already asked a bunch of times if I can help, but he says my job is to sit and relax and let my knees rest up.

So, all I can do is stare at him in awe. He's a big growly mountain man and he cooks. Real food, with a bunch of ingredients, which smell incredible when they're mixed together. The sight of him, half-naked, stirring that big shiny pot is something I know I'll never forget.

Who is this man who lives deep in the wilderness, with this unbelievably well-stocked kitchen?

I savor the final drops of my soda, trying not to slurp with the straw. It's the first one I've had since elementary school, and every sip was pure magic.

"Want another?"

"Huh?" I'd been fixating on his buns flexing beneath his jeans, and when he turns, I'm slow to lift my gaze. In fact, I seem to be staring at his cock. Again.

He tips his head to the side, lips curling at the edges. "Another soda?"

"Oh, no, I'm good," I say, even though I feel like I could drink a whole store full of them.

His face goes stern. "Scout."

And just like that, I want to obey him. Not because I'm scared of him, but because I sense he knows exactly what I need.

"Could I please have a cola?" I say in a quiet voice.

His smile turns into a grin, and in another moment, the cola is in front of me, dark and sinful and delicious.

He brings over the steaming pan of chili and ladles out two big bowlfuls. Then he sits down opposite, positioning himself carefully so he doesn't bump against my grazed knees. Having him so close is doing all kinds of things to my body. I feel tingly and kinda overwhelmed, like part of me wants to go hide in the bathroom, but the other part just wants more and more.

"Thank you, so much," I say.

"Don't thank me till you've tasted it," he says and digs in.

I blow on a forkful, put it in my mouth, and my tastebuds explode. "Wow," I murmur. It's all I can say as I eat one dreamy mouthful after another.

I sense Orion's eyes on me the whole time. "Not too spicy?" he asks. "Enough salt?"

"It's just perfect," I assure him.

When I'm halfway through the plate, I slow down. He must think I eat like a beast. "I'm sorry. I guess I've been hungry for a long time."

His thick dark eyebrows tug together. "You don't just mean today, do you?"

I get a clutching feeling in my chest, and I shake my head. The truth is, I'm always hungry. There's never enough food at home. Our crops don't grow so well in the land dad picked out for us. All we eat is meat and gnarly potatoes.

Anger flashes across Orion's handsome features. He pushes his empty plate aside and fixes me with a serious look.

"Now, are you gonna tell me what you were doing out here, all alone in the wilderness?"

My breath catches. My family has always been all about secrets. Not sharing information with outsiders. People who might want to destroy our way of life.

But Orion's dark eyes are gazing into mine like he's not gonna quit until I tell him. In the past couple of hours this stranger has shown me more care and respect than my parents have shown me my whole life.

"I'm on a mission," I tell him.

"A mission," he echoes, looking at me in that fixated way of his.

And I tell him everything.

Well, most of it.

How my dad's gotten crazier and crazier over the years, and my mom's not strong enough to protect us. How he took me out of school and made us move to the forest and live this pitiful lifestyle, while we all wait for the Final Fiasco.

I'm so embarrassed for Orion to hear these things about me. I know from long experience how mad it all sounds. The kids at school seemed repulsed by my weirdness, and now I worry he will be, too.

The only thing I haven't mentioned is that dad is planning to broker my virginity. That's one humiliation I'm not willing to share.

When I'm finally done, my cheeks are burning and I can't look at him.

A long silence rings out.

All those mean words flood into my mind:

Weirdo. Freak. Loser.

I can't stand for him to see me that way.

I wanted him to take my virginity, but now it's much more than that: I'm starting to care about him. And the thought of him rejecting me is like a punch in the guts.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," I mumble, jumping down from the stool.

But I've forgotten about my knees, how stiff the band aids have made them, and I stumble. A silly little cry escapes my lips and I brace myself to hit the deck.

Quickly—quicker than humanly possible—Orion is right there, catching me up in his huge arms.

"Steady, little one," he says in his deep growly voice. "You hurt yourself?" His eyes are so full of kindness, I almost tear up again.

Sheesh, I swear I haven't cried in ten years. You can probably imagine the kinds of things my dad says about weak little crybabies. They're the first ones who'll be devoured in the Final Fiasco, in case you're wondering.

"No," I mumble. "I'm good. Just over-tired."

"You poor thing," he says in a low voice. "How could they have abandoned you like this? You should've been treated like a queen. A precious jewel."

I stop breathing. "That's not how my family sees me," I choke out at last.

A muscle in his jaw flexes. "That's their loss," he mutters. "But I promise you, you'll never be abandoned again."

He pulls me closer and I go with it, relaxing against his big, naked body. When I close my eyes, somethingsweeps through me. A feeling of something opening that's been closed tight for too long. I want to wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle my face against his pecs.

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

"Mmm…" I say.

"Let me show you where the bathroom is."

Is it silly that I'm disappointed when he releases me?

He guides me along the hallway to the bathroom, then closes the door softly behind me.

The bathroom is as high spec as the rest of the rest of the house, all luxurious and sparkling. I swear my family's entire bunker could fit inside it. Heck, if they moved in here permanently, it would be a gigantic life upgrade. Everything is just so nice, from the stack of fluffy white towels beside the sink, to the delicious smelling soaps?—

Whoa…

I freeze in front of the softly lit mirror above the sink.

I haven't really seen my reflection in years.

Before dad dragged me off like a sacrificial cow to be rejected by my suitor, I peered at myself in the only mirror that my family owns—a filthy, cracked hand mirror. But I couldn't see a whole lot in the speckled surface.

I've grown up. The puppy fat has gone from my cheeks, and my eyes seem less rounded, while my lips have gotten fuller. An adult woman stares back at me.

A woman who looks like she's been sleeping in a bush. My hair is all matted, and there are smears of dirt on my face.

Oh man, I probably smell bad, too. Not something I've had to worry about in a long time, since no one showers a ton in the prepper world. But here, in this beautiful house, with this man who smells incredible…

Yes… he smells like fresh pine forests and spring air just after a rainfall, mingled with something spicy and primal. I only just realized, but I've been smelling him subconsciously all this time.

Whereas I probably smell like sweat and dirt and animal pelts.

God, this is embarrassing.

I wash up as best I can, then I slip out of the bathroom. I'll just go do the dishes, then I'll ask if it's okay if I take a shower.

But when I get back to the kitchen, Orion's not there.

The dirty dishes have disappeared though. Maybe he went to relax in the living room?

I try to remember the way as I pass through the corridors of his vast house. My brain is really not working well right now. Talk about system overload.

After a couple of wrong turns, the low blue lighting glows from the living room, like it's beckoning to me. My heart lifts as I step into the lovely room. There's no sign of Orion, but a splashing, tinkling sound draws me across the cream-colored area rug to the edge of the mezzanine. I peer over the rail.

And I gasp at the sight that greets my eyes.