Fallon

I never doubted that I was the man to keep Hypatia safe. But now, as I wake with her in my arms, I know it with every ounce of my being.

She is mine and I am hers.

And damn, that’s scary. Because even though I cut out of work the other day to be with her, I can’t just quit my job to watch over her every move.

It wasn’t just the lottery that cost a small fortune, keeping up this compound means every man here has to pull his weight.

“Don’t go,” she whispers as I roll out of bed. Her hand reaches for mine as I stand.

She looks so damn beautiful early in the morning, in the tangled bed sheets, lips still swollen from last night’s kisses. Her hair is tousled, and she wears a sleepy expression that makes me smile despite myself. I sure as hell took care of my wife last night. She’s exhausted and I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept until noon.

I’m not sure who all she’s slept with, but I do know that she crawled into my bed late last night, seeking comfort from the man she feels safe with.

Good. I hate the idea of her ever sleeping alone. And damn, I don’t like to share, but I am willing, knowing it means Hypatia is protected by someone in our compound at all times.

That is my number one concern.

I head to work, wanting to get my shift over with. I’ve always loved my job, but my world has expanded since the lottery. Now, there is more to life than clocking in flight hours. Now I want to be around the compound at dinnertime. I might not be buddies with all the men, but Giles and Banks are solid--and Emerson doesn’t seem half bad, albeit a bit naive.

And of course, there is Hypatia.

It seems every day she wears something more seductive than the last. Huxley has been providing her with everything under the sun. He gave her new perfume the other day, and hell, even now the scent of her excites me in the most primal fucking way. And don’t get me started on the lotion she is forever rubbing into her hands.

Every time I see her pull the bottle of vanilla scented hand cream out I have to leave the room for fear of a hard-on. Watching her rub the lotion into her skin gets me going in a way that makes me red in the face.

Living with a woman is more than a novelty, it’s fucking glorious. I’d be lying if I said folding her laundry wasn’t a turn on. Tiny thongs and silky nighties. And I know it’s not just me. I saw Salinger lick his lips as he helped her unload the dishwasher the other night. She’d bent over to get something from the bottom rack and his eyes were on her tight little ass, and the black thong that peeked out from her jeans.

Truth is, my own eyes were in the exact same place.

Hard not to think about anything else but my beautiful wife. And I catch myself, more than a couple times drifting to memories of her beneath me, as I drive to work. The day in the kitchen, her full lips wrapped around my cock as she got me off, swallowing my fucking come--damn, it’s the thought I get myself to sleep with most nights.

Cock in hand, I have no problem jerking off to the memory of my wife’s mouth taking me until I come.

I shake my head, it’s like I’m fucking fifteen years old all over again. Hypatia has given me a new lease on life, that’s for damn sure. I never realized how much I was missing before she entered my life.

“I’ve been looking for you, son,” my father says, walking up to my station in the hanger. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Yeah, I had the time off after the lottery.” I close my toolbox, and turn to him, having my daily flight schedule in hand. “How about you, doing alright?”

I take a closer look and see a familiar look in his eyes. Dark and hollow. A look I remember from when we lost Mom. Lost Caroline.

Dad shakes his head slowly. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” Whatever it is, it isn’t good. I know that immediately by the expression he wears.

“An attack last night. It was bad. A woman down at the wharf was raped and killed. She’d been traveling here, for the lottery.”

“Jesus.” A shiver races down my spine. That could have been Hypatia. I run a hand over my beard, refusing to dwell on that idea.

“I know.” Dad rubs his red-rimmed eyes. “I’m done, Fallon. Tired and ready to throw in the towel.”

These words don’t sound like my father. “What are you talking about?” I press a hand to his shoulder, as if trying to steady his thoughts. “You joined up to make a difference, to help-”

Dad raises a hand and my words fall short. I pull my hand away and really listen to him. “The world is no good anymore, Fallon. Hiding in Alaska won’t solve anything. There are bad people everywhere, wanting to kill and destroy. Ruin every good thing.”

“There’s more good than bad. You’ve always believed that.”

He just shakes his head. “I used to. Thought flying planes, going to remote places on rescue missions would mean the world was a safer place.”

“It does. You’re making a difference. We are making a difference.”

Dad gives me the saddest damn smile I’ve ever seen. “It’s nice to think so, isn’t it?”

I think about the men at the bar the other night, how deplorable they were. They certainly weren’t the good in the world. They would hunt down every vulnerable woman in this state and have their way with her, without thinking twice.

“So what, we just give up?”

“Maybe we’re just fighting a losing battle, son. And maybe that’s why I hate the idea of you and the damn lottery.”

“I thought it was because you were old fashioned.”

“Maybe that’s how I spin it, you know? The truth is a bitter pill to swallow.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Frustration races through me, squeezing my throat.

“You've been flying planes long enough to know there are less and less women to rescue and bring to safety. And you know why.”

I clench my jaw. We used to do evacuations every week, getting pregnant women in remote areas of Alaska to safety to give them the best chance of survival.

I can’t think of the last time I did an Evac.

The women are gone.

“So what?” Dad continues. “You marry a woman, all six of you men fall in love with her, only to watch her die.”

Fear. That’s what smacks me square in the chest.

“There’s no guarant-”

Dad cuts me off. “You’re increasing the odds of her getting pregnant six-fold.”

“Isn't that the point?” The anger of my words is more from fear that he’s right, than anything else.

“Good question. What is the point of any of this? It’s over, Fallon. Life as we know it is gone. And it’s not coming back.” My father sighs and drops his hand.

“Everything will be fine,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince more, him or me. “Our scientists are working night and day for a solution. I should know, I have one living under my roof.”

“It was scientists that got us in this mess in the first place. If they hadn’t messed with the natural order of things-”

“I know. But look at our birth rates. They’re better than anywhere else in the world. We’re making progress. Within the compound, we’ve had more female babies born this past year than the year before. That’s saying something.”

He gives a hard laugh, one that holds no humor. “And more maternal deaths. That’s the part they leave out. I’ve read the reports.”

That was the crux of the matter. It wasn’t just infant mortality that mattered, but the health of the mother as well. It was one of the reasons many women stopped trying to conceive. Until it became against the law to use any type of birth control.

Still, women were having a more difficult time conceiving. Some blamed toxins in the water, others pollution, some the after effects of birth control pills. Whatever the cause, one thing was certain, close to eighty percent of the time a woman conceived a female child, it was a death sentence to either the mother or the child, and sometimes both.

And no one knew why. Not really.

The change happened so quickly, spreading like an uncontainable virus that even the brightest minds in the world couldn’t understand.

The odds of Tia conceiving are low to begin with, and the odds of a female embryo surviving past the first six weeks in utero even lower. But the fear is still there.

I need to talk with Banks. Really understand the risks. I know he’s part of the team of researchers working on a cure.

But how the hell do you find a cure for something that you don’t understand?

“If we don’t keep trying, keep fighting, keep believing in a better tomorrow, then what happens when no one is left to give the vulnerable and weak a voice? A hand. A fucking flight out of the wilderness.”

Dad presses a fist to his mouth, holding something back. And I realize, my stoic father is suppressing a sob.

He shakes his head, tears in his eyes. “Maybe my son is just a better man than me.”

“Maybe you’ve just seen more than I have, Dad.”

He rests his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve never met your wife, and there’s a reason I won’t. I’m done getting attached to people only to watch them die.”

“Hypatia won’t die.” I’ll make sure of it. Do everything in my fucking power to keep that from happening.

“I hear you, son. But I worry you’ll die in order to keep her safe.”

“I will if I have to.”