Shoshanna Evers - The Pulse

Too bad she’d have to go it alone. She wished she could force Mason to come with her, make him see how much better off they’d be if they could get out of the city.

How ironic, that she snuggled in the arms of a man who’d escaped from prison, when not long ago the thought would have terrified her. It still terrified her a bit. She wanted to know what he’d been doing time for.

No—she was better off not knowing.

She wished she could erase the past few days from her memory. If she never met him she’d never know what she would have to leave behind.

Emily would have to just move forward and be strong. The first time she’d tried to make it without help, the army had picked her up after only a short time. The FEMA camp, meant to be a shelter, had quickly become a prison.

How long would it take them to find her this time, especially now that the army had a reason to come get her?

It wouldn’t take them long. She had been a sitting target, waiting, paralyzed by her fear. She could see that now. Crossing paths with Mason had awakened in her the strength to be a nurse again, and in doing so she’d snapped out of her frightened stupor. Mason, despite needing her help when he first arrived at Roosevelt, had the skills to make it on his own. He survived an actual confrontation with the soldiers, even. He didn’t get taken, or killed.

If only he still had his gun. When the EMP had hit, anyone who had a gun, legally or otherwise—and in New York City very few people had a legal firearm, since they were banned—had to give it up.

Homes were searched and guns were seized as property of the United States Army, or more specifically, the band of soldiers led by Colonel Lanche.

But when only the soldiers had guns, no one could protect themselves against them. With martial law in effect, if any man tried to use a gun for protection, that gun got confiscated.

And more often than not, the man got shot, or beaten and left for dead, like Mason did, to save ammo.

Without guns, people had no ability to hunt. Emily liked to imagine that somewhere in the country people had their old rifles and were hunting deer and eating comfortably through the winter… but who knew?

There weren’t many deer in the city, that’s for sure. Either way, no hunting meant even more reliance on the military—they controlled the rations. They even guarded Central Park, the one place in the city where they grew food, so no one could get in.

If Emily had a gun, she would have a chance at freedom, at getting away. But, no use crying over spilt milk. Mason’s gun was gone.

He stirred, his eyes opening. Smiling, Emily looked into his blue eyes. “Good morning,” she said.

“ ’Morning.” Mason sat up, looking around. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I think I slept better than I have since the power went out,” she said truthfully. “I felt safe last night for the first time in over a year.”

He nodded and pulled on a shirt. The air had a chill to it, one of those spring mornings when they’d normally still have heat on. Their fire died in the night.

Emily knew she should go soon, but she didn’t want to leave the security of his arms. This was ridiculous, she barely knew him. He was a stranger—a dangerous stranger, at that. A criminal.

She had to know. “Why were you in prison, Mason?”

Mason bristled at her words. He stood up, stretching. She looked up at him, waiting.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said finally.

“I know, you said that already. But how can I trust you if I don’t know anything about you?”

“You probably shouldn’t trust me,” he said. “Only trust yourself. It’s the only way to make it in this world.”

“Well, I may be independent, but I’m smart too,” she said. “Smart enough to know that I need help. I need your help.”

Mason shook his head. “You should eat before you go. Wait here, I’ll round something up.”

Mason had toget away from her—away from those searching eyes and that soft brown hair. He could barely take care of himself, he couldn’t take care of her too.

But sending her off on her own was akin to a suicide mission.

He’d forget her soon enough, he had to. It was the only way.

Slipping down the stairway to the kitchen, Mason looked halfheartedly for some rats, but they were all in hiding. Maybe he’d find some forgotten cans of food hidden in the bowels of the hospital kitchen. Anything would do.

What if she got hurt? What if she ended up curled in a little ball, hiding behind a hospital bed again?

No, that wouldn’t happen. Emily had obviously been through some sort of shock when he first found her, but something about taking care of him when he needed help shook her back to her senses. The strong woman who saved his life would never end up hiding again. Which meant she’d go off without fear of the very real dangers that surrounded them. She could get hurt, whether she knew it or not.

Damn it. He couldn’t let her go off on her own. She’d have to stay with him, at his place.

But what would that mean? Asking her to shack up with him would mean promising to take care of her, to provide for her. He couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility, not for a woman he barely even knew.

That woman saved your life , he thought. Fuck. How could he not take her in?

Her femininity also presented a problem. Why couldn’t he have found a man instead of a beautiful woman? He definitely didn’t want her to feel coerced to have sex. Especially since Emily extricated herself from a situation where, if the rumors were true, she might’ve been forced to have sex to survive in the military camp.

The thought of her being made to prostitute herself turned his blood to fire as the anger rushed through him.

He would not have her thinking she had to sleep with him to be safe. Mason wanted her, of course. How could he not? He was a red-blooded man. And Emily was beautiful.

Really beautiful.

Images of her sucking him off filled his mind and he could feel his cock twitch in his pants. Just the thought of her got him hard.

But if she slept with him, it would be because she felt like that’s what she had to do to survive, and he couldn’t live with himself if that was the case. She had to understand that he wasn’t going to fuck her, not against her will—and not if she was only “willing” because she wanted to get him to protect her.

He had to figure out why she’d thrown herself at him. He was glad he hadn’t slept with her last night, as much as he wanted to… wanted her .

Remembering the way her slick pussy tasted, Mason groaned as his cock raised, rubbing against the rough fabric of his cargo pants. He wanted to taste her again.

Maybe… if she got wet for him, maybe he could take that to mean she really did want him. Not to pay her way, so to speak, but because she desired him the way he found himself desiring her.

He imagined running his fingers along her pussy, sticking his finger inside her cunt, discovering for himself how much she truly wanted him to fuck her.

His erection throbbed. Shaking his head, he continued his search through the hospital kitchen. Mason flung open a back cabinet and nearly whooped with joy at his discovery—a huge can of potatoes.

How are those still here?

He could see some broken glass directly in front of the can, creating a small, easily overcome barrier. Apparently whoever cleaned this place out the first go-around decided it wasn’t worth the time to get the single can.

Well, Mason had plenty of time—probably the only thing he had plenty of. He got the can of potatoes without so much as scratching himself and set back to get Emily. The thought of her face lighting up when she saw breakfast was enough to make him take the stairs double time.