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As for the unusual nymphs that remained nymphs—those that never bit—no one could explain it. Elaine remembered nothing from her life as one. Just as no one knew why I was the only woman with the evolving DNA to evade the virus. But it was my DNA that carried the cure. The cure for nymphs, if we could find them. I’d found Elaine.
Her palm slid up Michio’s arm, fingers stroking his bicep. A tingle of tension pricked across my jaw.
When he shifted his arm away, she bumped his thigh with her hip and licked her lips. Creepy as hell, considering we’d seen her with claws and squirming mouthparts. Wasn’t hard to imagine her with fangs, stabbing his neck. Or me with a knife, stabbing her neck.
Though she was cured, she still had a lot to learn.
I removed a blade from my arm sheath. “How many humans are left on this planet?”
She knew enough to guess. We spent many nights calculating our survival rate.
She shifted her weight, rocking that curvy hip against Michio. “A hundred million?”
Ten percent of the human population survived the initial outbreak. We guessed a quarter of that remained human.
I tilted my head. “And how many are men?”
She glared, her brown eyes sparking. “All of them.”
Except her and me. I rolled the dagger’s hilt between my fingers. “Then I’m not being unreasonable when I tell you to keep your hands”—and those fucking hips—“off three of the hundred million.”
Michio’s lips twitched. Oh, this was just making his day. Two women fighting over him? Every man’s dream, right?
Elaine’s mouth pinched in a straight line. “Your three guardians.”
Who else? Her sarcasm sat heavy in my chest as my husband’s dying words floated to the surface. Trust mind, body, and soul. Your guardians.
I turned my head and met three sets of eyes—Jesse, Roark, Michio—and returned to Elaine. “Yes, my guardians.”
Her delicate fingers flexed on Michio’s arm, and she waved her free hand in Jesse’s direction. “But you’re not even sleeping with him.”
Heat surged through my blood. Seriously, this woman had no clue.
“Careful, Elaine.” Jesse’s gaze fixed on me as he leaned against a tree, whetting an arrow.
I aimed the blade at the porch post an inch from her shoulder and nailed it with a thunk.
She screeched, stumbling back. Good grief, it was just a warning. But if she touched him again, she’d need more than my doctor to reattach her fingers.
Michio collected the blade and closed the distance between us in three strides. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes didn't waver from mine as he kissed my lips then the soreness on my palm. My doctor, guardian of body. Our trust in each other was the anchor for our plan.
As soon as we set foot outside our little isolated refuge in the mountains, we would become outnumbered by men and aphids. Some of us would get hurt. Or worse. But I couldn’t spend the rest of my life sitting here while there were women out there trapped in mutated bodies. Not when I could cure them. And I had Michio, a medical doctor with a lethal skill in martial arts, at my back.
I gave him another kiss on the lips. “Since Elaine’s at full health, we can head out soon.”
She gasped. “For good?”
I softened my voice. “For now.”
She crossed her arms, lowered them, and crossed them again. “I’m coming with you.”
Michio rubbed his head. “No, you’re not.”
She hadn’t been off this mountain since the virus hit. She couldn’t fight, refused to learn how to use a blade or a bow. Hell, she couldn’t even shoot a gun. She wouldn’t last a week out there. Hauling around a woman in a lawless world full of men was dangerous, and protecting her would risk all of us.
Her face paled. “What if I need a doctor?”
I bit my tongue, fighting the need to tell her to find her own fucking doctor. I relaxed my hands and met her eyes. “You’ll stay with the Lakota Indians.”
Jesse’s brethren scouted the lower hills. They healed me after my husband died. They would take care of Elaine.
She fidgeted with the tie on her breeches. “While you’re off hunting and curing nymphs, what will I do?”
“You’ll bloody stay alive.” Roark walked toward the tree line, apparently done with this conversation.
“And make babies,” I added, cringing inwardly.
Michio stroked his jaw, eyebrows gathering. “Humanity’s future.”
God help us. Two women were not enough to repopulate the world, especially since I refused to take on that particular role. We were doomed to extinction or at the very least, a fucked-up gene pool.
But if we found and healed hundreds of nymphs? Thousands? If we hurried, if we left the cured women protected by good men, the future of humanity had a fighting chance.
And I intended to fight to the wretched, bloody end.
That night, I woke to the crackle of wood in the fireplace. Toasty and inviting, the amber glow warmed my skin and tempted me back to sleep. I let my forehead fall forward against Roark’s shoulder, senses dimming, until Michio’s soft lips grazed the top of my spine.
