Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles) Read Free Page A

full throttle through a gag. Uneven tremors quaked her body. For a few long seconds, he examined her. Though her wrists and ankles were secured, her back arched forward, forced into a curve by the pull of the wire on the clips fastened to her.
    Seeing her like this sent lust howling through him. How twisted am I? He wrenched his gaze away.
    But is she a zombie?
    Everyone had paused to stare at him.
    Four. If he was lucky, maybe they’d all be as brain-dead as those in the passageways.
    “Ah shite.” He took a last stride to draw level with the fine wires—hoping like mad they were soft copper—and drew his sword with a neat flourish, ending with a high stance.
    Blank stares met him.
    “Welcome.” The lieutenant’s voice growled in a tone deep enough to plow furrows in the earth. Eyes brightening, he lunged for Sten.
    Sten hefted the sword higher, carved the sword down in an arc that sliced the soft wires first, then through the lieutenant’s wrist. He spun, boots sliding, cut through the rope wall on one side, sending Kaysana swinging, then the other, freeing her. She thumped to the floor, her body wreathed in rope and wire.
    A fine crescent of blood fell. The lieutenant screeched, staring at his severed hand flopping about on the floor.
    Inches from Sten’s nose, a drop of dark blood meandered down the vertical length of sword. “Looks like you’re not immune to steel.” What the hell was it these guys were called? Upper men?
    “You can’t stop me.” The man grasped his wrist stump. The bleeding slowed, then stopped, as if a faucet had been turned off. “I’m the right hand of God.”
    Sten inclined his head, pointing. “Left, now, Mr. Zombie. Right’s gone.”
    Like shop dummies creaking slowly to life, the other men moved in.
    “You challenge me?” The lieutenant’s left arm rose.
    Sten kicked him in the chest with a nice thud of boot heel on flesh. Mr. Zombie skidded ten feet and whacked into a stack of metal weights.
    Departure time.
    He sheathed the sword, knelt and scooped up the woman, ropes and all, then took off at a jog for the exit. Given a few minutes, the lieutenant might perk up again, and he didn’t fancy a rematch.
    Shoulda blasted off his head . His inner raw self liked to see blood, guts, and killing. Well hang it all, his self could take a hike. He didn’t kill anymore unless he was really really pushed. No zomb was going to make him kill it. These once were men.
    Never again, though.
    The three zombies growled but barely moved any quicker. A tortoise could win a race against them.
    “Our power grows as you approach the center,” screeched the lieutenant.
    “Fuck off,” Sten muttered.
    The soft, naked weight of Kaysana across his shoulder and the smell of her sweat and body tantalized him. He jogged on.
    He eyed the plump bottom a few inches from his mouth. No, bad idea.

Chapter Three
    The whirling above flickered dark, light, dark, light . Thunder accompanied her. An engine? Kaysana shut her eyes, drifted away to the throb of her body, as if every cell inside her pined for something indefinable.
    She surfaced again, blinked away grit, groaned. Something plucked at her wrists, then at her ankles.
    “You awake?” A gruff voice. Not one she recognized. More blinking turned the blurred mess in front of her into a man. Tall, bulky, arms like, like—she blinked again—darn, big. Where’d she seen a man like that before? Black shirt and leather coat and brown leather trousers with a craggy face that said he’d lived . Gold wolf stud earring. Sten . He’d rescued her.
    Her sex flared with an ache so strong she barely understood it. Wetness surged between her legs. She saw herself impaled on him…curving back, breasts upthrust.
    What’s wrong with me?
    Fear surfaced. She shoved the visions, the feelings, away. No. Never ever did she let her body rule her mind. The law, she followed the law, always.
    Under her back, rope crisscrossed and something hard, maybe rocks, poked at