After the Fade (Rise Book 1) Read online

  After the Fade

  Rise: Book One

  Emilia & Kamryn Foxe

  Copyright © 2021 Emilia & Kamryn Foxe

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  To Zack: Thank you for believing in us.

  Author's Note

  After the Fade is set in a dark, dystopian world where violence, including sexual violence, and inequity are part of everyday life. Difficult themes run throughout, and scenes are not glossed over. Just remember, there is always light beyond the dark.

  Prologue

  Alex had never been so cold. She perched on a bare stump, shivering, and peeled off her worn sneakers and last pair of threadbare socks. Her toes, numb and useless on the ends of her feet, barely registered the movement as she tossed aside her shoes and socks. She exhaled in quiet relief upon finding them white and bloodless, but not blue as she’d feared. She pulled her left ankle across her right knee and started rubbing vigorously. After several minutes, her toes prickled with renewed blood flow and she switched. It was a minor relief, but relief nonetheless.

  The woods creaked eerily around her, wind whistling through the barren winter branches that offered little respite from the weather. Ice crusted everything—Alex included—and she could only wonder how anyone survived out here at this time of year. Animals were smart enough to hibernate or migrate south, or else grow thick winter hides to protect themselves from the elements. As the wind gusted across her exposed skin, she wished she could grow a hide of her own. She tugged down her hat, shivering harder. It hadn’t snowed yet, but judging by the frigid air and quiet orange sky, it soon would. If she couldn’t find better shelter by then, she’d freeze.

  Her temporary shelter consisted of a partially hollowed out tree-trunk hidden beneath the tree’s exposed roots. Despite the frozen ground, it at least blocked some of the wind. It also blocked her from view, if anyone were to wander by.

  She felt almost silly worrying about that. No one else was crazy enough to huddle inside a tree trunk in the dead of winter, especially no one wearing only a thin jacket, cloth shoes, and moth-eaten gloves. The pants she wore hung low and loose around her hips, stopped from falling only by the scarf she’d fashioned into a belt and strung through the loops. As she had stolen them, she really couldn’t complain. Still, she wished she’d grabbed her boots instead, layered up with leggings or long underwear beneath the pants. But she’d barely had time to think, let alone plan her wardrobe, before running. Even now, the memories remained jagged and warped in her mind. Perhaps that’s why she sat huddled against a tree, shivering and wondering if she’d die before or after she made it across the border.

  She’d lost track of time a while ago. Multiple days had passed since her initial escape, days filled with endless walking and hiding, hunger gnawing continuously at her belly. The backpack currently hugged to her chest contained a limited supply of food—jerky, dried fruit, and a bag of nuts—hastily swiped from a shelf in the pantry. She’d made an agreement with herself to eat as little as possible each day, just enough to keep placing one foot in front of the other. If all else failed, she could hunt, but that would involve traps and waiting and wasting precious time that she’d couldn’t afford to lose. So far she’d honored the agreement, even if it left her weak and lightheaded, her mind seeming to trip over itself at times. The last several days remained a painful blur, but that was probably for the best. If only she could scrape the other memories out as easily.

  After resting a while longer, she pushed tiredly to her feet, hefting the backpack over her shoulder and trudging forward. She squinted up at the hazy sky, judging the remaining daylight. If her sense of direction was right, which it usually was, she would reach a town before nightfall. It was a dangerous prospect, walking into a town. Sleeping outside again would be worse. Surely she could find a shed or an abandoned shop to hunker down in for the night. Anything to ward away the chill. Maybe, if she was very lucky, there’d be a sympathetic soul, someone who would pity her wretched state and offer her a warm meal and a place to sleep.

  Alex shuddered at that last thought. In her experience, no one offered kindness unconditionally; she knew very well what they might expect of her in return. She’d come this far, though. If it came down to it, she would do what was necessary to survive, just as she always had.

  The temperature dropped as the day dragged on. Soon enough, the sun had sunk beneath the trees. Deep shadows seemed to crawl across the forest floor as the branches swayed and bobbed in the breeze.

  That was when she heard them.

  A twig snapped. It might as well have been a gunshot. Alex froze, her heart beating frantically behind her ribs. Another twig snapped; if they were trying for stealth, they were terrible at it. Had they heard her as well? Or worse, seen her? She waited, barely breathing. And then the wind picked up and blew their scents in her direction.

  Alphas.

  It didn’t matter if they heard her now. If she could smell them, they could surely smell her. For an endless second, she felt as frozen as the world around her. If they caught up with her, it would all be over. There’d be no forgiveness this time. This time he would—

  “No,” Alex whispered. Her breath puffed white in front of her.

  She was smaller, lighter than any alpha, and she had a head start. She bolted.

  Branches whipped around her, snagging on her clothes and stinging her face as she fled through the trees. She flung herself over a fallen log. The ground nearly slid out from under her as she landed with a grunt, barely catching herself against the rough bark. A hot spike of pain shot up her leg as she straightened.

  Someone shouted nearby. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, granting her an extra burst of speed and allowing her to ignore the pain. He shouted again, his voice fainter and nearly swallowed by the forest. Alex grinned. She could do this. She could—

  The ground vanished beneath her feet, and she fell.

  She yelped in surprise a split second before crashing into freezing water. The shock punched the air from her lungs. Her body convulsed, instinctively gasping for air, only to have icy water flood her lungs instead. Desperate, she flailed her limbs. Her face broke the surface and she sucked in a ragged breath, kicking and thrashing her arms as she scrabbled for the frozen shore. Her fingers slid and scraped at the bank. Every pull sent her sliding backward, the water yanking at her legs. She was so weak, so exhausted. The next time her fingers slipped through the icy mud, she sank. Black spots danced across her vision, lungs spasming in her chest. She tried to kick up, to reach out once more. Her limbs would not cooperate. The black spots grew larger. Her vision dimmed…

  Something hard and unyielding knocked against her, clamping around her waist like a vice. Dimly, she was aware of being tugged from the water, her head flopping against her chest as her heels dragged across the ground. One of her shoes was missing. The world tilted as someone lowered her onto her side and, a moment later, gave her a hard thump on her back. Immediately she choked, coughing and spitting up water. Everything hurt. Her head, her body, especially her lungs. Each breath sawed through her, knifelike, distracting her enough to not notice his scent. But once her breaths came a little easier, her mind finally caught up to her, and she stilled, an entirely different sort of cold sweeping through her.

  “You know,” a male voice gasped from beside her, “that would’ve gone much better if you hadn’t insisted on jumping in
a lake.”

  Alex stared at the ground. Violent tremors raced through her. She wanted to lift her head, face her attacker—her rescuer?—head-on. But she honestly didn’t think she could. She was so fucking tired. When the second alpha stepped up behind the first, she allowed her eyes to flutter closed and bit back a moan.

  “Is she breathing?” the second alpha asked, sounding oddly concerned. In her semi-delirious state, Alex wondered why they sounded so much alike. Almost like the same person.

  A large hand pressed against her shoulder, warmth seeping into her skin despite her sodden clothes. Alex sagged, too exhausted to flinch away.

  “Hey,” he said. “Are you all right? Don’t worry, we—”

  Darkness beckoned, and Alex sank willingly into its embrace.

  Chapter One

  Nine years later

  She arrives midday on a late summer afternoon. Matthew watches from the window in his study with his hands clasped behind his back and a strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach. From this angle, he can’t make out any details, only that she’s small and pale, dwarfed by the man leading her inside. He can’t smell her either from this far away, but he already knows who—or rather, what—she is.

  Omega.

  Matthew shivers, pulse kicking up a notch as he considers what it will be like in her presence. What he will be like.

  A soft knock at the door has him turning his head in time to see William walk in. His older brother pauses and gives him a once-over before stepping up beside him and following his gaze outside. The omega has disappeared from view by that point. But the car they’d brought her in remains in the driveway. A muted, flat thing compared to the polished grandeur of the Ryker estate.

  “You didn’t go down to greet her,” William comments.

  Matthew raises an eyebrow. “Neither did you.”

  Rather than respond, William turns away and retrieves a bottle of brandy from a hidden compartment in Matthew’s desk. Matthew doesn’t bother asking how he knew it was there; he’d accepted long ago that his brother’s powers of observation far outweighed his own.

  “I wasn’t aware we were celebrating this,” Matthew says when William nudges a glass toward him. He picks it up anyway, swirling the amber-colored liquid around the sides.

  William returns to the window. He takes a delicate sip before speaking. “It’s the way things are. Fight it or enjoy it.” He takes another sip, eyeing Matthew over the rim. “That’s always been up to you.”

  Matthew tightens his fingers on the glass. “What do you know about her?”

  “Enough.” At Matthew’s expression, he relents by adding, “She’s an omega who knows her place. Just as we know ours.”

  Matthew snorts and takes a healthy swig of his brandy, relishing the burn that lingers in his throat and on his tongue. “That’s enough sage wisdom from you for one day.”

  William gives him a long look before responding. “Don’t fight this, Matthew,” he says.

  Outside, the driver of the vehicle returns and climbs back inside. The engine coughs to life a moment later, spewing smoke and exhaust from its tailpipe as it lurches down the driveway.

  “You’d think the O.A.B. could afford better,” Matthew mutters.

  The omega, whoever she is, must be in her quarters by now—shown there by one of the many estate servants, no doubt. Vaguely, Matthew wonders if he’d be able to smell her if he stepped into the hall, or if he opened a window. The mere thought of it is enough to make his body tighten with need.

  “Matthew.”

  Matthew looks at his brother calmly. “Yes?”

  William purses his lips. “I know you feel… conflicted about this.”

  “Conflicted?” Matthew echoes. He chuckles darkly. “You’re not? You know what it’s like here.”

  William looks away briefly. “It’s not the same, Matthew. You know that.”

  Matthew bristles, biting his tongue to keep from arguing. They’ve had versions of this conversation many times over the years, after all. Only it has never been quite this real before, nor this urgent.

  “She’ll be well treated,” William says, watching him. “She will be good for us. For our family.”

  Matthew stares into the depths of his glass. A small white line runs along the bottom. It’s nothing more than a groove in the glass at the moment, but over time, it will deepen and erode; eventually, the glass will shatter.

  “Yes,” he says. “But will we be good for her?”

  ◆◆◆

  He stays away from her for most of the day. But as afternoon fades into night, his control slips, curiosity and unadulterated need fraying away at his thoughts.

  He paces the halls after dinner, which turns out to be a bad idea. It’s faint, barely detectable even, the lingering wisps of her presence. It’s more than enough. With his instincts rearing to life, he finds the nearest servant and asks to have the omega brought to his rooms. He pauses then and backtracks to the kitchens for some wine and snacks. They’ve never minded him randomly popping in for such things before. He’ll get to know her first, he tells himself, need and agitation crawling beneath his skin. He won’t be like everyone else.

  Items in hand, he makes his way back to his rooms. He pauses outside his door to shift the wine under his arm, freeing up a hand. He places a hand on the doorknob and—

  Matthew smells her before he sees her; her rich, peppery scent goes straight to his cock, bypassing all higher brain functions along the way. The unmistakable scent of sex—of another alpha—adds a sour note to the otherwise heady aroma, and Matthew growls under his breath. Some primal, animalistic part of himself has awakened, and it’s furious—howling as it clammers to rise to the challenge posed by another alpha’s scent on an unmated omega. His brother’s scent at that.

  He pushes the door open; whatever thoughts he had to speak with her, to introduce himself, flee his mind immediately. She stands there in the center of his living room before a low burning fire, wearing nothing but a white nightgown. The firelight flickers behind her, casting her pale hair in a halo of gold and amber. The effect is nearly ethereal. Shadows cast over her down-turned face, her dark and fathomless eyes following him as Matthew halts several feet in front of her.

  He allows himself a moment to drink her in. He’s a man starved as his eyes feast upon her from top to bottom. From her slim, elegant neck down to the long, shapely legs which disappear beneath the tiny nightgown. Her inner thighs are shiny, still wet with slick and come. Matthew’s gut clenches at that.

  He turns away, just long enough to set down the wine and other items on the entryway table. The omega belongs to his family, he reminds himself, not solely to him. An omega to be used and fucked at her alphas’ leisure, but more importantly, to be bred. Because of her, the Ryker name will continue. He and William will have children—alphas who will inherit the family legacy.

  There really is nothing his family can’t buy.

  He steps closer, unable to help himself. She’d been with William before him. The evidence is on her skin, and it bothers him on more levels than his hormone-addled brain can currently process. He wants her to smell like him, not anyone else. He wants it to be his hands roving over her slim shoulders, tracing across those delicate collarbones, dipping beneath—

  Matthew forces himself to take a deep breath.

  “Hello,” he greets quietly.

  The omega’s posture remains loose and unconcerned as she raises those dark eyes to meet his. They lock into his own with almost startling intensity, a small jolt seeming to pass between them. Her expression, so full of pride and quiet certainty, is nothing like he expected. Then, as if remembering herself, her face relaxes, softens, and she’s suddenly the picture of omega docility and subservience.

  “Hello, Alpha,” she says. She lowers her eyelids demurely, a smile quirking her lips as Matthew steps closer, nostrils flaring. Beneath the offensive scent of another alpha, he smells her, that sweet, peppery scent that makes him want to purr with
pleasure. The alpha in him wants to wrap himself around her and protect her, societal and familial obligations be damned.

  “I see you’ve met William,” he says wryly. “I didn’t mean to summon you directly from his bed.”

  She smirks at him, cocking her head slightly. The movement, however slight, lifts the shadows from her face, revealing flecks of gold in her irises and the faint dusting of freckles across her nose.

  “I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” she says.

  Matthew huffs out a laugh. “Would you like to shower?”

  “With you?”

  Matthew smiles. He’s aware that he’s staring, but he can’t help himself, rather in awe of the creature before him. He stretches out his hand, palm up. Her eyes flicker between it and his face, a note of confusion in her gaze as she places her hand over his and allows him to lead her to the bathroom.

  Her skin is smooth and cool beneath his own. He can well imagine what it might feel like elsewhere on her body. Already he knows it will be warmer and wetter in certain areas.

  It takes less than a dozen steps to reach the bathroom. In that time, Matthew’s mouth turns bone-dry and his pants tighten uncomfortably as his arousal reaches a nearly painful level. The biological pull toward her is profound; he feels half drunk from her scent alone. Never has he been so at war with his body and his mind. Matthew has always prided himself on managing his baser instincts, the ones that tell him to fuck and knot and fight. It’s only now, face to face with his omega for the first time, he finds himself helpless to their thrall.

  The omega clearly feels it too. As he steers her into the shower, her cheeks are flushed and her pupils dilated as she locks eyes with him once more. Matthew’s breath quickens. His pulse surges.

  Distracted, he twists the water on without checking the direction of the stream. She shrieks as a spray of freezing water pulses over her.