The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity #2.5)(24)

Crossing the room, he dropped down to his knees between Mira’s spread legs. Leaning forward, he palmed the mattress, using one hand to keep his body upright while he used the other to take hold of himself.

“Yes,” Mira whispered frantically. Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of Hockey’s hair, pulling his head down while she arched her back, bringing him face-to-face with her breasts. His heart began to pound erratically, sweat beaded on his brow, and he began stroking himself faster.

“Inside me,” Mira cried out, pushing her hips upward, rubbing herself intimately against him.

“Inside me,” she repeated. “Inside me…inside me.”

He couldn’t; he just f*cking 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, f*ck 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 f*cking 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.