He moves faster than I expect, his body pushing against mine, holding me captive against the door, his lips hard on mine. I gasp and, with a groan, he sweeps into my mouth, sucking softly on my tongue. Something deep inside me clenches, a hungry yearning.

I whimper, and he shifts, all of his weight bracing me, and the press of him against my belly, hard and impatient, makes me squirm anxiously.

His mouth leaves mine, trailing kisses on my neck. When he bites down on my earlobe, I almost faint.

I make a noise, and he groans, the noise vibrating against my skin. Pulls back and stares at me with hot, hungry eyes.

"Does that answer any of your questions?" he murmurs before be backs away from me, leaving me empty and aching and cold.

It doesn't. It answers nothing. I go into my room, strip, and crawl into his bed alone, with more questions than he will ever answer.

When I wake, the blanket is tucked around me and light is streaming into the room through the safety bars. I can hear Finn moving through the house, and I sit up, reaching for my shirt.

At the end of my bed is a folded pair of leather pants, a corset, and heels. And a small box, with a simple black ribbon on the top. I pick up the note and read it quickly.

Wear the clothes. Collin would want you to have something on your birthday.

F-.

I open the box and stare at my gun.

It's so familiar it looks out of place there, the familiar little gun I've carried for so many years. The gun that Mom carried before me.

The gun I lost in the wide open, protecting Finn.

The wild thought goes through me-when did he get it? Had he had it all along? He must have.

And then, the realization that has taken a long time to set in.

Finn was in my room, while I slept.

Part 2.

The Boy Without a Past.

If the past was what we were meant to see. Then behind, not in front, our eyes would be.

Author Unknown.

The past means nothing-it died the same day the dead rose.

Finn O'Malley.

Chapter 1.

Old Friend.

She's wearing them when she emerges from my bedroom.

Her blonde hair is pulled back, exposing every inch of her face and neck. The pants fit her like a second skin, displaying her lush a.s.s. The black corset is laced up tight, pushing her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s together and up.

For a split second, I can't think about anything but pushing her against the wall and licking every inch of her delicious skin.

Then she pulls out the gun.

I swallow my desire and raise a lazy eyebrow. "Drawing on me again, Nurrin?"

"Where did you get it?" she demands.

"You dropped it during the flat."

I knew what that gun meant to her. She might not see it, but I have watched her for years. Waiting. Hoping like h.e.l.l the urge to f.u.c.k her would go away.

It never did.

But I learned about her-and I knew d.a.m.n well what that gun meant. Her eyes soften a little, and I straighten. "Get your coffee-we're late."

And just like that, the softness is gone, replaced with curiosity.

I hand her a leather jacket and lead the way from the house.

"Where are we going?" She shuts the door of the Porsche to punctuate her question, and I grit my teeth.

"Does it ever occur to you that asking me questions is an exercise in futility?"

She grins, mischievous. "Nope."

A slow smile tilts my lips. Her eyes drop down and get that sleepy, s.e.xy look that never fails to make me a little hard. I jerk the car into motion, and she gets thrown against her seat. I hear her curse.

And hide my grin.

"I don't know, Finn. Your evidence is thin."

Nurrin shifts at my side, and Lissel spares her a brief look. It's killing her to stay quiet, but so far Nurrin has managed to follow my orders.

"So you won't evacuate the Haven?" I ask.

Lissel shakes her head. "It's too much. And the Wide Open is dangerous-we'll take our chances here."

I nod. "Fine."

Nurrin makes a surprised noise, and Lissel smiles, the knowing smile that first intrigued me and now just makes me want to slap her. "You will be here long?" she asks, her hand lingering on my arm.

I glance down at it, at the fingers I've seen on my c.o.c.k while her blonde hair spread across my thighs.

Now I stare at her until two spots of color appear in her cheeks and she pulls away. "No," I answer shortly.

"You have nowhere to go. Haven 8 is gone."

I laugh at that and stand. Nurrin leaps to her feet, twitching with impatience. "Lissel, you know better. I always have somewhere to go."

Nurrin laughs softly, and Lissel's sharp gaze goes to her. "She's a First."

It isn't a question. I straighten slowly and shrug. "So?"

"The Order would be thrilled to hear a First is in the Haven. And so close to Third Day, too."

I move before I think, pin Lissel to the door, my knee braced between her legs, my hand on her throat. Her eyes are amused and angry. Vaguely, I wonder if I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

"Finn," Nurrin hisses. I ignore her-I'm d.a.m.n good at that.

I stare at Lissel, letting a dangerous smile play on my lips. "If word spreads that she's a First, my life will become messy. You know I don't like messy."

Her eyes narrow, and I shake her a little. "Don't push this, Lissel. I don't want to kill you."

Blue eyes widen and behind me I hear Nurrin gasp. "Go to the car," I snap. For a long moment, she hesitates, and I almost yell at her. Then the door opens, snicks softly closed.

I release Lissel abruptly, and she stumbles. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" I snarl. She stares at me unrepentant, and I turn away, disgusted.

"Don't play games with me. I'll kill you and be done with them."

If there is any response, I don't hear it above the door I slam shut behind me.

Nurrin is watching me, her eyes full of accusations and questions. I shift, feeling the gears of the Porsche grinding, and grit my teeth. Turn sharply. Nurrin yelps as she tumbles toward me. For a heartbeat, her skin is pressed against me, her scent all around me.

I shrug her off, and she retreats to her side of the car. "Can you drive like a sane person?" she grumbles.

"Can you put a seat belt on?"

"Where are we going?"

The endless f.u.c.king questions. I think I could handle all of the reasons why f.u.c.king Ren is the worst idea in a long line of bad ideas-if it weren't for the endless f.u.c.king questions. I ignore her, steering the Porsche through the quiet streets of Haven.

I like 18. Always have. Maybe because I visited here, before the rising. Before the walls and the guns and the decay. I shut down that line of thought-it doesn't do any good to think of that time. It's over. It's been over for twenty years.

Shady trees shiver in the breeze floating off the ocean. A few women are cl.u.s.tered in a shop, bartering.

There are no children wandering Haven 18. Sometimes, there is such a lack of them, I start thinking the plague took them as well.

It's not true-our children are hidden deep in the Haven, behind every wall and defense we can manage, protected by the best guards, with three ways of escape in the event of a breach.

Not that it saved the children of Haven 8. Not that it will save them here.

But the defense measures make nervous mothers happy while their fathers Walk the walls.

Idiots. The idiots shouldn't breed if they're going to risk themselves like that-although, I don't see much point in it at all. Not in this world.

Although-f.u.c.king is fun. Maybe that is the point.

"Finn?"

Her voice is sharp and sweet and fills the confines of the car. I'm already surrounded by her scent and thinking of s.e.x and all of it makes me want to pull over, drag her onto my lap, and sink into her until she's screaming.

I slide a look at her-she looks irritated. Whatever she sees in my eyes makes her pale, lick her lips. I wonder if she's thinking of the kiss.

I wonder how long I can make myself wait before I kiss her again.

"f.u.c.k," I growl, jerking my eyes forward again.

The car grumbles under me, and I turn sharply. She curses and I smirk-I love hearing her curse. One of the best things about her is that she curses so d.a.m.n well.

"Stop doing that," she grumbles. I ease the car to a stop in front of a small house and kill the engine.

"Wait here," I order, stepping out of the car. There's maybe a twenty-five percent chance she'll listen to me.

Her door slams shut behind me, and I throw her a glare. "Don't waste your breath," she mutters as she comes along side me. In her heels, she's as tall as I am. And gorgeous, all s.e.x and leather. I catch her arm. "Same rules, Nurrin. Mouth shut and do what I tell you."

"Who are we seeing?"

I start walking again, striding up to the little house. I can smell the oil and paint, pungent and mixing with the zombie repellent that soaks the haven.

Jesse grins when he opens the door. I nod briefly, stepping past him. I see the flash of curiosity in his eyes a heartbeat before he stifles it. His attention swivels back to me, professional and doing his d.a.m.ned best to ignore the impatient, curious girl radiating s.e.x.

I wonder if I can kill him for looking at her.

Would be a ha.s.sle-finding a good mechanic in the western havens is never easy. But if she says anything to encourage the interest in his eyes, I'll break his f.u.c.king neck.

The thought amuses me, and a smile twitches my lip. "Sit down, Nurrin."

Jesse's eyes widen, and I shift, slightly. Shielding her. He's never had ties to the Order, but trusting Ren's safety to anyone but Collin is impossible. h.e.l.l, trusting Collin with her is hard.

"The Porsche looks like s.h.i.t. What did you do to it?" Jesse ask, breaking the tension.

At the table, Ren laughs. I don't turn to her, don't drink in the smile that's curving her kissable lips. "The Wide Open didn't agree with it. Can you get it cleaned up?"