Page 28 of Beast in the Badlands

EMRY

T he air outside the med tent feels cool against my skin, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of pain and fear that hangs within.

I step away from the cacophony—groans, whimpers, and frantic whispers swirling like a storm around me.

It all gets to be too much sometimes. I need this moment of quiet.

I take a deep breath, letting the cold bite of night air fill my lungs. Above me, stars twinkle like scattered diamonds against a backdrop of inky black. I focus on their distant glow, grounding myself in the vastness above, where wars feel far removed.

I sense him before he arrives—Renn’s presence is palpable even without turning around. It’s like an electric pulse in the stillness, pulling at me. He stops just behind me, hesitating for a moment.

“Is this… acceptable?” His voice rumbles softly as he wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling me against him.

I can’t help but laugh at his formality. “Yes,” I murmur, leaning into him with a sigh. His warmth envelops me like a cocoon, and for a brief second, I forget about everything else—the war, the injuries, the bitter stares from those who don’t understand.

But then reality comes crashing back as I scold him gently. “You should be off your legs.”

He huffs softly but doesn’t release his grip on me. We stand there together for what feels like an eternity, gazing up at the stars while shadows dance in the corners of my mind.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “I got in touch with my crew,” he says slowly.

My stomach sinks at the thought of him leaving this place—leaving me behind when things start to look up for us both. The unspoken fear hangs between us like thick fog.

“They’re on their way now.”

“Great. That's great, Renn,” I reply carefully, forcing some semblance of lightness into my tone even though dread creeps into my chest.

But then he surprises me. “Come with me.”

I turn to face him fully; surprise etches itself across my features. “You would have me?”

Renn’s gaze locks onto mine—intense and earnest—as if I’m something sacred rather than just a ragged survivor in a world filled with ash and violence.

“I’ve never needed to have something more in my entire existence,” he confesses, his words heavy with meaning. A Reaper who has never felt satisfied before now—that realization strikes deep within me.

His grip tightens around my waist as if he fears losing this moment too soon. Before I know it, his lips find mine; it’s urgent yet tender as his hands roam over my body—exploring every curve like I'm some treasure he's been yearning to claim.

“Not here,” I whisper breathlessly against his mouth. “People can see us.”

He chuckles darkly against my skin; it vibrates through me with undeniable heat and intensity. “I don’t give two fucks if someone sees me claiming what is mine.”

With that defiant statement hanging in the air between us, he pulls away slightly but not far enough to break our connection before leading me behind a tattered building—a remnant of what once stood tall amid chaos.

There’s something thrilling about hiding away from prying eyes out here in this desolate wasteland where survival hangs by threads—and somehow we’ve found each other amidst it all.

As we press against one another again—breathless and alive—I wonder how long we can keep dancing on this edge between war and desire before reality pulls us apart again.

Renn’s hands waste no time—they’re under my shirt, calloused and urgent, searing my skin like brands. His mouth crashes into mine, teeth clacking. I bite his lip hard enough to draw iron, and he growls, slamming me against the fractured wall. Plaster dust rains down, gritty in my hair.

“That how you want to play?” His claws hook into my waistband, ripping fabric clean off. The night air bites my bare thighs.

I spit blood from my split lip. “You’re sloppy. All rage. No finesse.”

A snarl rips from him. He drags me forward, spins me around, yanking my back against his chest. One hand fists my hair, the other snakes down— rough fingertips skidding through wet heat. “This says otherwise.”

I choke on my own gasp, arching into him. His thumb circles my clit, merciless, as his teeth sink into my shoulder. “ Go ahead ,” he breathes. “Let them hear you.”

“Go to hell?—”

He shoves two fingers inside me. Deep. Sudden. My knees buckle. The groan tears out of me, raw and loud. He laughs, a jagged thing, pumping his hand with a rhythm that steals my balance. “Again. Let the whole damn camp know who you’re screaming for.”

I twist, nails raking his thigh—only to yelp as he lifts me like a doll, slamming me onto a rusted supply crate. My legs splay, the metal biting my ass. He’s between them in a breath, cock heavy and thick in his fist. His red eyes glitter. “Beg.”

“Burn first,” I hiss.

He slams into me.

The stretch is blinding. I cry out into my palm, back arching off the crate, but he pulls my hand down. “Come on.” His hips snap sharp and shallow, grinding that swollen head against a spot that whites out my vision. “Take it. Give in .”

I don’t. I grip his hair instead, yanking his face to mine. He roars, thrusts turning brutal. The crate creaks beneath us.

Hands on my hips, he flips me over, dragging me to the edge. My palms scrape concrete as he drives into me from behind, every slam punching choked gasps from my throat. “There you go,” he rasps, leaning over my back, tongue tracing my spine. “Let them hear their medic come undone.”

I bite my wrist to muffle it.

He tuts, wrenching my arm back. “Nah. Louder .” He hooks an arm under my thigh, lifting my leg higher, angling deeper. The new friction steals my defiance—I’m sobbing now, incoherent, hurtling toward a second climax. His free hand finds my clit, pinching hard. “Beg for it.”

“Fuck y— yes , alright? Please, Renn, oh shit?—!”

The orgasm detonates—my mouth falling open as I lose control. He doesn’t let up, pounding me through the aftershocks until I’m twitching.

“Again.”

“ Renn—! ”

He flips me onto my back, thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up,” he grits, hands crushing my hips. “Mark you mine where they can’t see.”

I claw his shoulders, dragging him closer. His teeth graze my throat, and I feel him throb inside me?—

A guttural groan tears from his chest. Hot pulses flood me as he locks deep, shuddering. For a heartbeat, his grip softens. Lips brush my temple.

Then he smirks down at me, sweat dripping off his brow. “Still think I’ve got no finesse?”

I kick his shin.