Wild Lands (Savage Lands Book 2) Read online

  “This is only some of us. Some choose not to live here. We have over a thousand fighters to our cause, but only about a hundred live here. Nothing compared to Povstat in Prague, but every day more join us.” Andris guided me through the bunker.

  “This is what we call the hub or the brains of the operation.” Andris pulled me to a room where Ling sat, motioning us inside. The space was packed with screens, machines, and other equipment I had no clue about. The monitors displayed numbers and letters, maps, and what looked to be bomb materials. “Intel, hacking, coding, buying black market items, researching for missions. This room is the crux and where we plan everything.” Andris pointed to the screens.

  Ling tapped on a keyboard, along with several other people, none of whom even looked up when we entered.

  “Wow.” I didn’t have to know a lot about computers to know this equipment was not only imported, but probably extremely expensive.

  “This way is the training room.” Andris moved quickly, peering into the room. About twenty people worked out on the mats, perfecting moves. It reminded me a lot of my training at HDF, but here they looked more to be self-training, and there didn’t appear to be one lead instructor.

  A huge guy darted for a girl only about five foot two on a mat. In two moves, the girl twisted his arm and flipped him over on his back.

  Damn.

  “Birdie?” Andris called to her. “Come here for a moment.”

  She blew a piece of loose hair from her face as she strolled over, regarding me with annoyance. She looked to be about my age, short, thin, but had a solid frame, with heavily lined light blue eyes and white-blonde hair, which hung to her ass even in a ponytail. She had a nose ring and piercings up each ear. Wearing all black, her entire persona was defensive and challenging. Ready to fight you, as if she had spent her life proving she wasn’t weak, and being a pretty girl didn’t make her a target.

  Something I understood. It didn’t make me like her, though.

  “Birdie, Brexley.” He introduced us. The fastest forced smile slipped on and off her lips like water.

  “Hi.” She placed her palms on her hips, then tilted her head. “Wait… Brexley as in the Brexley Kovacs?”

  “One and the same,” I replied dryly.

  “She’ll be staying here, and I thought you two could room together.” He seemed to ignore the tension between us. “She could follow your schedule.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, already shaking her head. “Oh, hell no. I finally have a single room.”

  “Birdie.” His tone was filled with the warning I remembered so well from my childhood.

  “You know I don’t get along with people.” She glowered at him. “I’m not roommate material.”

  “Neither am I.” I stared her down.

  “I think you two have far more in common than you think.” He patted our arms. “Brexley, will you be okay? I have a few things to deal with.”

  “Sure,” I replied. Birdie and I continued to glare at each other.

  “Okay, I’ll check in with you later.” He rubbed my arm before strolling off.

  Birdie crossed her arms, sizing me up. “Guess I thought you’d be… I don’t know… more. The illusive Brexley Kovacs seems a bit of a letdown.” She shrugged. “What kind of name is Brexley anyway?”

  “What kind of name is Birdie?”

  “It’s not my real name, but it fits me.” She took a step closer, testing me. “While people are busy cooing about how cute and small I am, wanting to stroke my feathers, I swoop in and kick their ass. Want me to show you?” She gave me a pointed look before swiveling back to the mats, shoving a guy out of her way.

  I changed my mind. I think I liked her.

  An hour later, sweat dripped down my back as I reached over and grabbed a cup of water. I had jumped into training, peeling off my top layers, leaving me just in pants and a tank.

  It felt good to work out at that level of intensity. It had been a while. And Andris had made sure everyone here drilled at a high level, even more seriously than HDF. They were not fooling around.

  “You already done, X?” Birdie bounced on the mat, her face dripping with sweat. Somehow her eyeliner still held in place, but her hair stuck to her face. She had taken to calling me “X” for some reason. The fae believed names held power and intimacy, and it had leaked into our generation. Plus, it would have been stupid to link your real name to a radical group. I doubted anyone here used their given name.

  “Not at all.” I wiped my forehead. My muscles burned with fatigue, and I loved it. Birdie was small, but damn, the girl could fight. I knew she was fae, which made her faster and stronger, but I did my best to keep up.

  “Have to say, you’re better than I thought.” She moved back on the mat, making room for me. “Especially for a human.”

  “Thanks,” I replied dryly. “You too.”

  She smirked.

  “What are you anyway?”

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask?” We started circling each other.

  “Do I look like I care?” I shrugged.

  “Well, you look like one of those girls raised with perfect social etiquette. A cloth napkin in her lap and separate play shoes.”

  All fucking true.

  “I was never really good at being that girl.” I stepped sideways, keeping the same distance away from her as we learned each other’s weaknesses. “And you look like someone who doesn’t give a shit about etiquette or what’s rude.”

  She snorted. “I’m the lowest fairy you can get and still be considered fae.”

  “Parents?”

  “Strung out on fae-cocaine. The only thing they cared about was their next hit or beating me when they couldn’t get it. I left when I was about ten and never looked back.” We orbited each other, her strikes for me fast, but I dodged everyone. “Since I already know about your tragic orphan tale, I say sharing time is over. Not that anyone here would feel a bit sorry for you. You had food and a warm bed, which is a hell of a lot more than most of us.” She darted in, her fist clipping my hip as I swiveled out of the way. Her lids narrowed, her jaw rolling. She tried again as I dropped to the ground, kicking up. My heel smacked her in the gut, flinging her back, thumping her hard to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror.

  I moved faster than she expected. “You don’t move like a human.”

  The other trainees stopped, their eyes on us, and their mouths dropped open in shock, then darted to me in bewilderment. The response had me thinking this had never happened to Birdie. She was clearly used to being the one who dropped people.

  She bounded up quickly, her expression straining with fury. She moved in, her anger blinding her to the obviousness of her move. I leaped out of the way, my elbow ramming into her shoulder blade, my other hand striking her chin as I spun. She didn’t fall, but heaved a grunt from her chest, whipping around to face me.

  Murmurs and movement surrounded us as figures encircled us, their full attention on our fight. My focus drifted for a second, and she leaped for me, her fist cracking across my cheek. I stumbled back. Fire scorched up my face, the side of my mouth split. A trickle of liquid rolled down my chin.

  Touching it, my fingers came away red.

  Oh, hell no.

  Diving for her, my hand struck fast, colliding with her kidneys, forcing her to bend over, a cry breaking from her lips.

  “Damn, no one has ever taken Birdie down,” a man commented. “Five hundred forint on the new girl.”

  “Six hundred on Birdie.”

  Bets hurled around us, but their voices were distant, my focus on her. She was scrappy. Someone who grew up fighting dirty. I had been trained properly, but my time in the Games proved I could be as filthy.

  Sweeping her leg, her boot sank into the back of my knee, my face slamming into the mat with a crack. I would feel the pain later, but adrenaline shoved it aside as Birdie jumped on me.

  The crowd cheered and yelled, stirring intensity in the room.

  Blood
gushed from my nose, my insides festering with anger as her punch came down on the back of my neck. With a violent flip, I rolled and tossed her off. Birdie tried to bounce up, but I grabbed and flipped her before springing on her, pinning her. My arm curved back, ready to deliver the final strike.

  Her eyes blazed with resentment, blood drizzling across her chin. You could tell she was not used to being the loser.

  She growled at me and would have come again, but an older woman stepped into the room and clapped. The room burst with commotion.

  “All right. That’s enough,” the woman said. “Chow time!”

  Begrudgingly, figures begin to step away. I let my attention wander.

  Stupid rookie mistake.

  Crack!

  Birdie’s knuckles plowed into the side of my jaw, hurling me back onto the mat, agony exploding in my brain as I grappled for air. Tumbling onto the ground, I clutched my face, bracing for her to come after me again. But she just laid there. Both of us were flat on our backs, wheezing and bleeding. And I was seriously contemplating throwing up. But sick as I was, I loved it.

  A half cough, half laugh rattled from my lungs. I was too exhausted to move.

  Her head fell in my direction, and I turned to look at her. A smile curved over her mouth, and then laughter burst from her too. We stared up at the ceiling, laughing like insane people.

  I could feel the curious looks, but it only made us laugh more.

  My uncle was right; we seemed to have more in common than I thought.

  We both got a buzz from fighting, even if our asses were the ones to get tossed.

  Ten minutes later, I was following Birdie to a table in the canteen. A bowl of stew and bread in one hand and hot Alföldi kamillavirágzat, a wild chamomile tea known for its medicinal purposes, in the other. The way my face ached, I was ready to drink the whole pot.

  “Did the little birdie get her wings clipped?” A guy with chiseled cheekbones and tattoos covering his neck, arms, and hands smirked, then shoveled a huge spoonful of stew into his mouth. His dark eyes glinted at her. His black hair was shaved on the sides and long on top, which he had knotted up. He appeared to be of Asian descent.

  “Shut the fuck up, Maddox,” Birdie snarled, plopping down on a bench across from him. “I could still take you.”

  He scoffed but kept shoveling in more stew.

  “Guys, X.” She motioned to me. “X, this is Maddox, Wesley, Zuz, and Scorpion.” She gestured around the group, but her attention was already on her food.

  “Hey.” I nodded, sitting at the end of the bench next to her. They all looked to be around my age, and extremely beautiful, fit, and so different from the group in HDF. There the boys were always shaved, all of us clean and changed for dinner, boots polished. Our dinners were steaks and gourmet food. Here they were brash, wild, and untamed. Dirty, tattooed, scruffy, with ripped and worn clothes. They scarfed down watery stew like it would disappear.

  I scanned the assembly, my gaze landing on the guy sitting across from me, a strange feeling twisting in my gut, a tap at the back of my neck causing me to peer at him through my lashes.

  Scorpion blatantly stared at me, his look penetrating, his face blank. His hazel eyes were so intense, I felt uncomfortable staring at him for long. They held a power, a feeling of death, like he would just slit my throat right here. He reminded me of Warwick. His look was severe, with tattoos covering every bit of visible skin below his head. His longer brown hair was tied back in a messy knot, and he wore thick rings, piercings in his brow. He had on a tattered T-shirt and ripped cargo pants with boots, like he didn’t give a fuck and only put on these items because he was forced to. Even sitting, I could tell he was at least six feet with broad shoulders.

  “Wow.” The other female at the table, Zuz, spoke, yanking my attention to her. Her expression was twisted like she smelled something bad. Tall, lean, fit, and stunning, her dark blonde hair hung in a braid down her back, showing off her porcelain skin, full lips, and pert nose. She had a large gap between her front teeth, but on her, it worked. “So, you do exist. The infamous Brexley Kovacs,” she said in a thick Polish accent, her meaning clear.

  “Not a fan, I’m gathering.” I took a bite of my bland stew then stared back at her, not in the least intimidated by her haughty tone, trying to ignore the feel of Scorpion’s eyes still on me.

  “I’ve just heard so much about you, and…”

  “Expected more,” I replied, lifting an eyebrow. I heard Birdie snort under her breath. “Good thing I don’t give a shit about what you think.” Bitch, please. I made it through Halálház; you do not scare me.

  Wesley choked on his soup. “Damn, Zuz, someone who doesn’t fear you.”

  She snarled at him, his brown eyes meeting mine with a cheeky grin and a wink. Wesley was handsome, but the most understated of the guys. His dark brown hair was short, and he had no visible tattoos. His energy was lighter and playful. You could see he was the “charmer” of the group.

  “Let me say, I was impressed with your moves in there.” His lips hitched up. “I have never seen anyone challenge Birdie like you did.”

  “It was a one-time thing.” Birdie sounded defensive. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

  Wesley and Maddox laughed, shaking their heads.

  “Sure.” Wesley patted her arm.

  “I’m up for a repeat tomorrow if you need me to kick your ass again.” Please say no, please say no.

  The guys howled as Birdie turned to me, her lids narrowing. “First, you didn’t kick my ass. If I recall, I knocked you on yours.”

  “After she pinned you!” Wesley exclaimed.

  “So?” she retaliated, her voice rising. “There is no timeout when you’re on the mat. Just like when you are out there, you take any opportunity you can.”

  “I think Birdie can take her, no problem.” Zuz grinned acerbically at me.

  Their banter bounced back and forth, but it hazed into white noise as my awareness of Scorpion grew stronger. He hadn’t spoken a word. He had barely moved, but I couldn’t get over the heavy sensation coating my skin. The urge to look up like he was calling to me stirred me in my seat. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, but I felt overly aware of him. My leg bobbed with uneasy energy.

  “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” I muttered, getting up, not even looking or waiting for a response as I darted out of the canteen. People moved around me, staring openly, probably having heard the rumors I was here. I shoved past them, locking myself in a stall.

  Leaning back against it, I dropped my head in my hands, breathing deeply.

  “This is what you call me being free of you? Miss me already, princess?” My body reacted instantly to his voice, pissing me off.

  Fuck.

  I lifted my head to see Warwick sitting on the top of the toilet, his lips twisted with arrogance.

  “No, you just come to mind when I think of shit.” I folded my arms.

  A ghost of a grin hinted on his mouth. His eyes on me shattered the feeling that Scorpion had left me with a moment before. Even in my mind, Warwick was a force I could not guard myself against. He took over. Controlled me. Demanded my attention.

  Climbing off the toilet, his piercing gaze moved over my face. I inhaled, pinning myself to the door, feeling the heat of his tall frame collide against mine.

  “Leave you alone for an hour, and you’ve already been in a fight?” He lifted his hand, his knuckles trailing down the cut on my mouth, along the pulsing bruise on my jawline.

  Inhaling, I waited for pain, but none came, only the zing of his touch, igniting me from the inside out.

  “How do I feel you? It’s like you are really here.” My voice was barely above a whisper, my throat struggling to swallow. I craved more of his touch. His full lips hovered only centimeters from mine.

  “Fuck if I know,” he rumbled, stepping in closer, his breath seeping down my neck. Every muscle, the texture of his clothes, his loose hair tickling my cheek. It felt real. “But I will f
ind someone who can break it. End this.”

  My eyes darted to his, my chin pulling from his grasp, repelling the harshness of his words.

  “Yeah. That would be good.” I moved in the tiny space, trying to get away from him, my back to him. “The sooner, the better.”

  His hands clamped down on my arms, flipping me around. He shoved me back into the divider wall, his body taking up far more than the space in the stall.

  His thumb brushed over my cuts and bruises, stopping on my mouth. “Love to see how the other person looks.” His eyes glinted with heat and what looked like pride. His finger dragged down my lips, parting them. Desire raged through my body, my mouth wanting to nip his thumb. He huffed as if he could feel my need, moving in closer.

  Bam.

  The main door to the bathroom slammed open, causing me to jump, breaking the link. Warwick vanished in an instant.

  “Hey?” Birdie’s voice echoed off the tile. “You hiding in the bathroom? Don’t take Zuz personally.”

  “I’m not hiding.” I opened the door, stepping out, going to the sink.

  At least not from what you think I am.

  “Well, I was going to head back to the room.” She thumbed behind her. Awkward. Stiff. “If you wanted to go with me.”

  I had the feeling she didn’t have a lot of girlfriends or even close friends. Every word sounded foreign and forced.

  “Sure.”

  “Let me state again: I think this is an awful idea, like the worst. I don’t mesh with people. My last roommate would concur.”

  “They moved out?” I followed her out of the restroom.

  “No.” Birdie glanced over her shoulder. “She’s dead.”

  O-kay then.

  As we turned down the hall, something I couldn’t even name had me looking back toward the canteen.

  Leaning against the wall, his arms folded, Scorpion stared at me.

  Like cobwebs interlacing the space between us and wrapping around some deep instinct in me, a shiver ran down my spine.