Page 8 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

It takes him a few minutes to recover, longer than I expect based on our experience yesterday evening. He lies limply, sucking in air as his body visibly relaxes, softens.

I stay where I am since his eyes are still moving all over me.

But I’m really out of breath, and my thighs are tired, and I want to wash off his semen and put my gown back on.

So finally I climb off him and then off the bed. I clean up and grab my gown, pulling it over my head.

He’s watching me as I push my hair out of my face.

“What?” I ask, immediately self-conscious.

“Those thighs got some hardcore endurance, girl.”

I giggle, from both surprise and pleasure. “I’ve done a lot of yoga in my life.”

“Yoga, huh?” He’s not smiling, but he’s not quite as un smiling as normal, if that makes sense. “Good to know.”

“Shit,” I say, rolling my hips.

“What? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. Just need to pee again now.”

He nods toward the small room with the nonfunctioning toilet and shower. “You can use the pot in there, or you can go down to the tent.”

I make a face.

“Those are your choices.”

“I know,” I tell him with a frown, forgetting I’m supposed to always make him happy. “But that doesn’t mean they’re good choices. I’d rather use the tent, but it’s dark, and I don’t want to go outside by myself.”

“No way in hell you’re goin’ out in the dark by yourself.” He’s hefting himself up, tucking his cock back in his underwear. “Don’t you even think ’bout doin’ that. Not ever.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

It looks like he’s planning to go down with me, which is a huge relief. This is confirmed when he grabs his jeans from the floor and tugs them on.

“You frozen or somethin’?” He gives me a confused glance. “We goin’ down or not?”

“Oh. Sorry.” I grab a thin sweater that’s as long as a bathrobe and tie it closed over my gown. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He still looks confused.

“For taking me down instead of making me use the pot.”

There’s maybe—maybe—a quick flicker of his lips in the semblance of a momentary smile. “Nothin’ to make a deal about.” He pauses before he adds, “I gotta go too.”

The next day follows in a similar way. Levi goes to the river first thing. I don’t even ask to join him. Then there’s breakfast. The morning meeting. And then everyone disperses for the day’s duties.

I hang out with Jen as she does laundry in the morning, and she shows me how to use the washboard. I practice on a few pieces of Levi’s clothes from the hamper upstairs.

But by lunch, the laundry is done, and I’ve got nothing to do. Levi is gone like he was yesterday, so I return to our room and read until I fall asleep.

Levi comes back earlier than yesterday. He doesn’t ask, but I offer to give him another foot rub, and he’s quick to agree. Like before, he falls asleep before I’m done, and he gets to nap for an hour and a half before I wake him for dinner.

Dinner is fine except the guy on kitchen shift—that greasy guy named Sick—is way too friendly with me. I’ve already clocked that he’s one of those smarmy, insincere climbers, quick to flatter and ingratiate himself with those in higher positions he believes can give him an advantage.

No one seems to like him all that much, but he’s tolerated for the most part. Levi basically ignores him, a fact I can see frustrates Sick to no end.

I try to ignore him too as I prepare Levi’s plate, but I can’t help but think he’s really stupid. Even if he’s only trying to ingratiate himself with me rather than flirting, he has no business being friendly with Boss’s woman.

I assume he thinks getting in good with me will give him a leg up in the hierarchy, but it’s a ridiculous strategy.

I’ve been Levi’s woman exactly two and a half days. I have no influence on anything that matters.

As I sit next to Levi during dinner, I mull over it, finally giving up trying to figure Sick out.

When everyone is done, I pick up Levi’s dishes, leaving mine for tonight’s kitchen staff to clear, and carry them into the kitchen.

Sick is still there. Still grinning fatuously and being obnoxious.

I studiously ignore him as I soap up, rinse, and dry Levi’s plate, glass, and utensils before starting to return them to the cabinet where they’re stored.

Carlotta, a friendly woman in her forties, comes in pushing the cart of dirty dishes from the tables. I step out of her way instinctively.

I know… I’m absolutely sure that Sick was not there when I started to back up, but he’s there when I complete the two steps out of the way.

Sick is there, right where I’m backing, and both his hands cup my ass.

Not for long, but I felt it.

See, that’s the thing about slimy hierarchy climbers. Their mask always drops eventually to briefly reveal the grasping, selfish schemer beneath the unassuming facade.

With an outraged gasp, I jerk away from him, darting him a quick glare. I bump into the dish cart, almost sending it falling before Carlotta and I get it steady again.

No one else seemed to notice even though the kitchen is in full view of the dining room. But I’m going to have to tell Levi.

It will cause a fuss. Sick will get in trouble. I hate the idea of being at the center of that conflict. It honestly makes me cringe.

But Levi will be mad as hell if I don’t tell him one of the guys disrespected me, and that matters a lot more to my future.

I’m stewing over the incident and silently cursing Sick for putting me in this position as I place the dishes in the cabinet.

Then I give him a wide berth as I return to take my seat.

As soon as I sit down, Levi stands up. He doesn’t say anything, so everyone is watching as he walks casually toward the kitchen to where Sick is standing, listening to conversation instead of helping Carlotta with the dishes.

His expression changes as Levi approaches. A calculating pleasure, as if he’s pleased he’s finally getting Boss’s attention and he’s plotting how to make the most of the opportunity.

Without a word or a flicker of his bland expression, Levi pulls his arm back and swings it forward into a hard punch, right on the side of Sick’s face.

The blow is both unexpected and seriously forceful. It knocks Sick to the floor. He’s sprawled out at Levi’s feet, whimpering slightly and holding his face with both hands.

The entire dining room falls silent.

Levi turns away from Sick, making it clear he doesn’t matter in even the slightest way. “That’s the only warning anyone gets,” he announces to the room at large. “Keep your hands off her, or you’re gone.”

It’s quite clear to me and everyone else that “gone” doesn’t mean being kicked out of base.

My skin is blazing hot. I stare down at my hands. I don’t like being the center of attention, and I don’t like conflict of any kind, particularly one centered on me.

But beyond that is something else. Something I never imagined about myself.

I’m pleased. Relieved and appreciative and pleased .

That Levi took care of me that way.