Twisted Metal Heart - Eve Langlais Page 0,50

and undulated when he was deep inside her. The tight fit of her, the soft cries. Was it all lies?

Fuck, he wanted to sink into that velvety heat again. But that would mean forgiving her. It would mean being second best. Could he handle her strength? Handle the fact she could kick his ass and travel the Wasteland and beyond without a qualm?

Understanding she could handle herself didn’t minimize how it felt to know she was in danger. A part of him demanded he protect her.

But what if she rejected him? His services. His kisses… Had it been a one-time thing?

It made him feel stupid to even wonder.

The voice inside didn’t help, whispering and taunting. Don’t be a coward. She was obviously interested. It pointed out the obvious, that there was a chemistry between them. A passion that made him feel alive. And living was something he very much wanted to do.

When he’d woken from drowning, not dead as expected, he’d discovered he’d been a little busy while passed out. Somehow, he’d managed to get out of the tank—You’re welcome, the smug reply by that voice—and washed ashore, whereupon a group of fisherfolk discovered him. Now, it should be noted, had he encountered them and demanded asylum, he probably would have gotten it. But apparently—keeping in mind he recalled nothing—he’d risen from the mud and, with his one bionic arm and single working leg, grabbed and tossed people left and right. Only killing one person—who apparently wasn’t well liked. However, what they did take notice of was his fighting skill.

The Marshes had a market for selling folks to compete in the arena of justice. He might have originally thought the idea of pitting champions against riffraff dumb, but he discovered a certain elegance to it. It served so many purposes.

For one, those who did wrong received justice. And the populace got to chant and cheer as the criminal was pummeled. Which fed into the second thing that the fights solved, a need for violence and danger. Most people didn’t actually want to fight or wonder if they’d get hurt, but they loved to bet on it. Scream themselves hoarse. They also became quite adept at finding champions.

In that arena, Tin Man wasn’t a strange aberration. He was a winner with no home. The rumor mill worked just as well in the dungeons as it did in the streets of the city. A whisper came that claimed Haven was gone. The bunker they’d appropriated and called home destroyed in an Enclave attack. Rumor went on then to claim a few crazy things. That the survivors had fled into the forest and disappeared. Another that claimed they took over an Incubaii Dome as their new home. None of it was true obviously, but he had no way of contacting them or finding them.

He’d lost his friends. Those he considered family.

Which only served to depress him. The only time he got some relief from the anxiety inside occurred in the arena.

Once he entered the blood-, sweat-, and tear-stained stage, he felt alive. He showed off his metal parts to the crowd and exulted as they chanted his name. At first, he might have struggled a bit in the fights, but after a few boos, he learned to work with the bionics—and ignore the voice. The new limbs worked even better than the old.

Some might wonder why he kept fighting. Why not just walk out of the city and go somewhere new? Where, though?

Why bother? He’d failed everyone apparently.

So imagine his surprise when he heard Gunner’s voice. “Titan, is that you?”

“Depends who’s asking.” It couldn’t be. What were the chances they’d both end up in this place? Then again, Gunner’s luck had always favored him.

“As if you don’t know. Where you been? We’ve been wondering where you got to.”

“Here and there.”

“We were worried about you.”

Titan highly doubted that. “I left a message.”

“’Gone, see you soon’ isn’t exactly self-explanatory.”

“I went looking for something.” Yet another thing he failed at.

“And found it in a cell?”

Titan snorted. “Apparently, I’m good at getting captured given this is my second in as many months.” He really should hone his skills. It was getting embarrassing.

“How did you get arrested? What happened to you?”

“I might have taken a wrong turn and gotten here.” All because he’d listened to a robot. Poor Alfred.

“Where is here? Last I recall I was in the Marshes fighting.”

He almost laughed. “You are still in the Marshes. In the want-to-be kingdom of Roark the First.”

“Who? You’re gonna