The Lost Souls Read online

  He couldn’t; he just fucking couldn’t.

  No, he could. He’d surpassed reality; he was inside the realm of all-consuming lust with only one thing on his mind—finishing.

  He surged inside of her, groaning as she clamped tightly around him. He thrust once, twice…

  “Ah…shit,” he groaned, pulling quickly out of her. Rolling off her and out of bed, he sat naked on the floor and faced the wall.

  “Hockey?” Mira whispered.

  He ignored her. What had he done?

  Bringing his knees to his chest, Hockey dropped his head and silently began to cry.

  God, what had he done?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Spring

  With his hands clasped behind his neck, Marko paced the length of the trailer, one foot in front of the other, over and over again. Carrie was sleeping in his bed nook with the blankets pulled up to her nose, snoring loudly. Even sleeping, she was damn noisy and annoying.

  And he was bored to death, feeling like a caged chicken.

  How long had they been trapped in here? Months? Years? Decades?

  He was going crazy.

  Their journey to town had proven useless. Once the snow had finally let up, they’d both made the long trek to Carrie’s hometown. There had been no fuel and even less food to be found, and according to Carrie the next town was over forty miles away.

  And now…

  The small ventures inside the farmhouse weren’t nearly enough to keep him occupied. Christ, if he could safeguard the farmhouse, he would have moved them inside weeks ago. The house had more space, larger rooms to pace, places to hide from Carrie.

  Speaking of Carrie… Marko glanced back at her and grimaced. Her mouth was hanging open now, yet she was still breathing through her nose. Rolling his eyes, he turned away and continued pacing.

  This sucked.

  Why, out of all the people still left in the world, had he gotten stuck with this ridiculous little girl? She was too young to have a decent conversation with, and she was one damn annoying chatterbox. Hell, she wasn’t even attractive.

  Not like Nadya was.

  He stopped pacing and frowned.

  Fuck Nadya.

  No, fuck him for being such a pushover. He shouldn’t have let her wait. He should have married her when he had the chance.

  Marko’s frown deepened. And then what? He would have been married to a woman who didn’t love him. More than likely, she would have ended up in Xan’s bed regardless.

  Xan.

  Fuck Xan.

  The only person in this giant mess who deserved any sort of sympathy was Trinity. Everyone else had dug his or her own holes. Trinity…everybody had been digging hers for her. And it had been Marko who’d thrown her in, covered her in dirt, and spit on her.

  As soon as he found fuel—yeah, right—he was heading out. Then he’d find her. Everyone else could go straight to hell, but he had to make this shit right. He had to…

  He had to piss.

  Shutting himself inside the small bathroom, he jimmied up the window, letting in a waterfall of spring rain. Cursing, he slammed the window closed and grabbed Carrie’s toilet solution, aka her shit bucket. Unzipping, he aimed and relieved himself.

  How long could it keep raining like this?

  Christ, they were already partially flooded. Even if they had gas, they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

  Panic rose in his gut, and he headed for the supply room. At one point it had been his bedroom, but he’d needed the extra space for supplies, and the bed nook served for sleeping purposes.

  Marko counted his pile of logs and then he recounted, trying to calculate how many they’d gone through daily. He had an ax, though, and there was always the furniture in the farmhouse. Shit, there was the farmhouse itself.

  His panic eased, and he turned to the food he’d stockpiled over time. He scanned the boxes of canned goods and bags of dried food. They had enough.

  But how much food was enough when he didn’t know how long they would be stranded there? Despite the area being rural, he had no way of knowing if there were live game in the area.

  And what about the Skins?

  He and Carrie had nothing to do but twiddle their fucking thumbs and wait for some stray Skins to get a whiff of their location and attack.

  His magic could hold off one, maybe two at a time, but three was seriously pushing it. Their speed and reflexes made it nearly impossible to keep a location on them.

  A large group, and they were done for. Skin fodder.

  Blowing out a breath, Marko ran his fingers through his hair. Greasy. He needed to bathe. Bringing in the rainwater, heating it, and then lugging the dirty water back outside seemed like a lot of work that he really didn’t feel like doing.

  He left the supply room and glanced toward Carrie. She was still sleeping, the blankets pulled up to her nose, still snoring. Blowing out a frustrated breath, Marko turned away and resumed pacing. This time, something stopped him dead in his tracks.

  It started off small, just a tickle of a feeling beneath his skin, but as he stood there it continued to grow and grow until his entire body was humming with sensation.

  “Magic,” he breathed.

  Excitement flooded his belly and he spun around, jogging for the door. After thrusting it open, he jumped down the two steps and into the pouring rain, his bare feet sinking instantly into the flooded muddy ground. He turned his head wildly—left, right, and left again—looking for the source of the power he’d sensed.

  Shielding his eyes from the rain, his clothing and body already drenched, he squinted, trying to find whatever was causing the pull inside him. But there was nothing. The farmhouse, the acres of land surrounding it, the forest beyond—

  His eyes wide, Marko fell to his knees in the muddy water. It looked like the sun. No, it was more beautiful than the sun. Bright white light was shimmering and radiating, crystallizing the air around it, as it hurtled from the sky at record speed, heading straight for him.

  He tried to move, tried to twist his legs, tried to reach for the trailer in hopes of grabbing hold of something to pull himself up off the ground, but it was as if he’d been cemented to the earth.

  As the ball of power hurtled closer, Marko turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut. He was just about to begin listing off his sins and begging for forgiveness when—

  His breath left him in a painful whoosh and he was screaming, clawing at his chest, ripping open his shirt, certain his skin was melting off his bones. But when he looked, there was just a slight glow from beneath the surface of his skin. Then suddenly, the pain began to ease until only a slight burn from the bloody scratches over his heart remained, along with a dull ache in his chest.

  Marko took a deep breath and tried to calm his quivering body when, out of nowhere, his vision tunneled and everything around him—the trailer, the farmhouse, and the forest beyond—turned a shade of white so bright it blinded him. His vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, the colors blended, expanded, and slowly dissolved, revealing…

  Faces and places unknown to him overtook his sight. Lifetime after lifetime bombarded him—memories, thoughts, feelings, anger and pain, births and deaths, happiness and love.

  The visions continued to change, more people and more places, over and over again, he felt life and love and death until the timeline soon became one he recognized and—

  Flash. He was watching Trinity from across the camp. He was aching for her, his entire body felt afire as the need to be inside her grew to unbearable levels. If he didn’t touch her soon, if he didn’t make her his, he was sure he would die an agonizing death.

  Flash. “You are not his anymore, Trin,” Xan said, his voice rough as his body retreated and then returned. Marko gasped as foreign sensations of pleasure burst forth and exploded within him.

  “Do you know what this means?” Xan asked, his tone and body language fiercely possessive. “You’re mine, Trinity. Mine.�
��

  “Oh God,” Marko groaned, still clutching his head. He fell onto his side in the mud.

  He was turning into a monster. His skin was literally ripping apart, he could feel his organs shifting, growing, as he watched in horror as scales erupted over his body. He felt the god-awful pain from his skull splitting and reforming as horns pushed their way through his head and fangs dropped from his gums.

  The pain was suddenly gone, and he was…

  Jesus, he was inside Trinity again, watching her writhing beneath him with pure ecstasy on her face, magic radiating from within them, surrounding them, making them one. He’d never felt fuller, stronger, more complete than he did in that moment. It was everything, she was everything.

  And then his heart was breaking as the dragon took flight. He was alone again and his chest ached with the loss. Desolate, heartbroken, sick with misery, he lay down on his bed and prayed to the gods that he would never wake up again.

  Then Marko’s thoughts grew even more jumbled, more confused and indecipherable. He was hungry, he was tired, and he wanted to fly, but he hurt. Why did he hurt? His insides were burning, and his massive body was heaving as an icy cold ripped through his scales, through his skin, plunging deep inside of him.

  Flash. His small feminine hands flew to his chest. “Gerik!” he cried. “Gerik!” But Gerik was gone, everyone was gone, they’d all left him and he’d never felt more empty than he did in that moment.

  Then the visions stopped and Marko blinked through the rain at his familiar surroundings. The trailer, the farmhouse, everything was exactly the same.

  Everything was exactly as he’d left it.

  Everything except for him.

  He’d seen it all, every last person who’d shared that damn soul throughout the centuries, going all the way back to the very beginning of time. He’d lived a thousand lives within a matter of minutes—the happiness, the sadness, all of it, every last emotion that made a person human.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  How had this happened?

  How had he become the ungrateful recipient of Gerik and Trinity’s soul?

  And now, his body was on fucking fire. His chest felt like bursting, not from pain but from a feeling that could only be described as full.

  Too full.

  It was too much.

  He needed…

  He needed something…

  Someone…

  Scrambling to his feet, Marko grasped hold of the trailer door and yanked it open. The door had barely shut behind him when he began undressing.

  Naked, he stood over Carrie, his chest heaving, and his body was hard, rock hard, throbbing with a singleminded need. Yanking the blanket off her body, he climbed over her, shoving up her shirt, baring her breasts, groaning as he watched the soft skin pebble with gooseflesh in his wake.

  She stirred, stretching as she moved. “Marko?” she murmured sleepily.

  Ignoring her, he took one breast between his teeth and sucked it inside his mouth. His hand slid down her back, inside her sweatpants, and cupped her backside.

  “Marko!” she squeaked, her body going rigid.

  Releasing her breast, he reared up over her. Straddling her hips, he bent his head and crushed his mouth to hers.

  “Mmmph!” she protested, trying to pull away.

  Feeling frantic, he moved his hand from her backside to between her legs, where he grazed one finger lightly over her. Gasping against his mouth, she stopped pushing at him, stopped fighting his kisses, and shivered rather violently.

  He continued to kiss her and touch her, groping her in earnest now. Whether Carrie actively participated or not, he had to fuck her.

  Right now.

  Shit. Right this second.

  “Marko!” she cried out, turning away from him, trying to avoid his mouth. “Wait, please…”

  Marko grabbed hold of her hair, keeping her still, and forcefully took back her mouth. Gripping her right knee, he wrenched her legs apart and jammed his hips between her thighs, subsequently pinning her perfectly beneath him. Reaching between them, he dipped back inside her pants.

  She shoved at him, whimpering as she tried hard to push him away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. He had her head and body pinned in place as he eased his fingers in and out, in and out, working up momentum and rhythm and…

  When he couldn’t take one more second, when his dick was throbbing angrily and his head was spinning with need, he took his hand back long enough to quickly shove her pants down and maneuver himself between her legs.

  “Marko!” she screamed, shoving at his chest. “Please don’t! I’ve never done this before!”

  He could not stop.

  He just couldn’t…

  He needed this, he needed someone, something…

  He needed her.

  “Wait!” she cried, trying to wiggle away from him. “Please!”

  He could not stop. If he stopped, he would lose his fucking mind.

  “NO!” she yelled, violently wriggling her hips back and forth, making it almost impossible to keep a good grip on her.

  He just wanted…

  He needed…

  He didn’t even know what he wanted or needed.

  He just plain wanted and needed.

  Tears poured down Carrie’s cheeks. “Please…”

  He ignored her in favor of his burning body. The throbbing in his chest worsened, he felt he was near exploding and knew he had to, he absolutely had to be inside of her.

  He had to, he had to, he fucking had to…

  “I’m scared, Marko,” she cried out. “Please don’t. Please…ahhh…owww…”

  Her body gave way and allowed him several inches inside.

  Yes, oh fucking God, yes.

  He needed this.

  Marko’s cock pulsed excitedly, desperate to sink full hilt. Digging his fingertips into her skin, he pushed harder. “Da,” he breathed. “Fată…bună…”

  He pushed again.

  Ahhh…a little more than halfway now.

  “Please stop, Marko,” she sobbed. “Please…it hurts.”

  Lifting his hips ever so slightly, he tensed and readied, then thrust his hips forward, sinking deep inside her. Crying out, Carrie’s hands flew to his shoulders.

  She was tight, so damn tight he could feel everything, even her heartbeat.

  And wet…Jesus, she was wet, sloppy wet even, and still viselike tight.

  Marko took her, fucked her as hard as he wanted, even harder, and when she cried harder, he fucked her faster. He closed his eyes and just fucked her, relishing the tight clamp of her pussy, how hard, and how large, heavy, and full he felt inside her, the slap of his balls against her, the sweaty slickness of their bodies rubbing against each other, her hiccupping breathy gasps with every thrust of his cock.

  And he was almost there. He was so close, and he needed this. He needed it bad.

  Gritting his teeth, he slammed into her. Her pained cries and pleading whimpers as she clung to him, her nails digging deep into the skin on his shoulders, only spurred him on toward…something.

  He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew was he had to get there. He had to get there.

  His body stiffened, and he came hard. As he spilled himself inside her, it felt less like coming and more like he was releasing...his goddamn soul.

  Magic poured from Marko’s palms, bright white light, until his hands were cocooned inside it. The air in the trailer grew thick with power; they were both breathing it in, and it was sinking inside their skin. Carrie’s blue eyes had turned white, and her pale skin was glossy, glittering with magic.

  The aching fullness in his chest began to recede and scents exploded around them: sweet-smelling flowers, ripe pine, and sun-kissed grass—nature in its purest form.

  Beneath him, Carrie’s body went taut and her eyelids began to flutter wildly.

  “Oh my God,” she cried out. Her fingernails dug deeper into his skin as her back arched off the bed. “Oh…my�
�God.”

  In a cacophony of grunts, groans, and cries, grinding their bodies against each other, they finished together in an explosion of bright white light.

  Out of breath, his body still twitching from his release, Marko rolled off her and placed his hand over his heaving chest.

  “Shit,” he breathed out, wheezing through his next few breaths. “Shit.”

  As his heartbeat began to slow, so did his thought process, allowing him to once again think clearly, his perception no longer muddled with need, desperation, and magic.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Slowly, he turned his head and looked beside him. Carrie was lying very still, staring at the ceiling above them. Oh, Jesus.

  “Carrie?” he whispered.

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Carrie,” he repeated, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He looked her over, taking in her puffy, tear-streaked face, her pale skin covered with tiny bruises from his hands and mouth, her legs still cocked in the position he’d left them, her—

  Oh no.

  Her thighs and the mattress beneath her were covered in blood. The euphoric, exhausted feeling that always accompanied an orgasm was instantly replaced with a panicky sort of nausea.

  What the fuck had he just done?

  What the fuck…

  What the fuck…

  Marko just kept staring, feeling his gut rising, until he broke out into a cold sweat. Lurching up, rolling over her out of bed, he barely made to his knees before his stomach emptied.

  What had he done?

  What had happened? What the fuck had he done? And why had he done it? Jesus, he wasn’t any better than the Skins, taking what didn’t belong to them, only to satisfy an unnatural hunger born from death and despair.

  He was a monster.

  Pushing himself up off the floor, he got to his feet and staggered across the trailer. He all but fell inside the storage room. Shutting the door behind him, he collapsed to the floor.

  How could he face Carrie after what he’d just done?

  He deserved to rot.

  Choking through a sob, Marko dropped his face in his hands and cried.

  • • •

  Carrie was convinced Marko had lost his mind, much like her brother had. It was a male thing, she decided, an ego thing. The control over their lives had been brutally stripped from them, leaving them helpless to the dangers of the world around them. Both of them had become desperate to regain some form of control, and because of it, they’d both tried to take from her. To take away what little control she had left.