Beacon Quotes

“Ever since Impact, former sources of power like money, fame, social status, and political influence have been made irrelevant. Now the only power that matters is numbers or physical strength and skill.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“I turn away from the man I killed without even a sliver of guilt or regret. I used to be a twenty-three-year-old high school English teacher in a small mountain town in western Virginia. But somehow in the past ten years I’ve turned into this.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“The world was broken ten years ago when a large asteroid crashed into Europe, decimating the entire continent, destabilizing infrastructure and governments around the globe, and sending the world into a descending spiral of chaos, violence, and deprivation.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Then Mack is beside me, gently turning me over. I stare up, still dazed and bewildered and shocked beyond all measure. “Oh fuck, angel. What did you do? What did you do?” “I…” My voice sounds weird. Kind of stretched and wobbly. “I saved you. Didn’t I?” Mack makes a strange sobbing sound and lowers his face briefly to my chest. “You did.” Then he’s pulling away my jacket and my shirt, searching for the wound. I can feel it burning on my side, and being exposed to the open air from Mack’s fumbling doesn’t make it any better. “Shit, it really hurts. I guess it’s bleeding. Are my guts hanging out?” He chokes on what might have been a huff of anxious amusement. “No. They’re definitely not. You’re bleeding but not as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe it didn’t get you too bad.” “Oh.” I’m focusing on taking deep breaths, trying to will the pain away so I can think more clearly. I’m hot and cold at the exact same time, and both my head and my chest are pounding violently. “Okay. So I’m not going to die?” “No!” He makes some weird, jerky motions, and it takes longer than it should for me to figure out he’s pulled off his T-shirt. He wads it up to hold it against the place that’s hurting on my side. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.” “Do you think you can stop it?” I’m genuinely curious since he sounded so certain. “Yes. I don’t think you got shot too bad, but even if it’s bad, I’m gonna fix it. You’re not gonna die now. Not when I just got you for real. I’m not gonna let it happen. Not while I’m alive.” While he’s muttering out the hoarse words, he’s working on me, checking my side again and then moving my hand so I’m holding his bundled shirt to the wound myself. “Hold this right here. I’ll be right back.” “You’re leaving me?” I ask the words in a groggy blur since I have no clear idea what’s happening. “Course not. Just need somethin’ to wrap you up.” I don’t know what this means. I consider telling him I don’t need to be wrapped up because I’m as hot as I am cold even though I’ve started to shiver. But I don’t get the words out, and it doesn’t end up mattering because he returns with another one of his shirts. This one he wraps like a sash tightly around my middle, so snugly it holds his wadded T-shirt in place. “There’s first aid stuff at the cabin. I need to get you there so I can fix you up better. You think you can get up?” He sounds so upset and stressed I wouldn’t dream of telling him no. “I can do it.” My words are more confident than is warranted by my condition. I do make an attempt, but it’s mostly Mack lifting my full weight on his own and then carrying me over to the quad. He considers various options for positions, but there’s no safe way for us both to ride this thing except in the normal arrangement with me behind him. So he helps me get on and then climbs on in front of me, pulling my arms around him.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Maybe we’ve gone soft. Gotten used to the relative safety of the farms in the past week. But Mack slows down immediately, and I jump off without hesitation so I can run over to help. I should know better. We both should. But things have felt settled and secure since we got together for real, like the worst of the danger should be over. But we still live in the world. And The Wild has never been safe. And this is undoubtedly a trap for the most gullible of travelers. Evidently today that’s us. Before I can reach the prostrate woman, a man steps out from behind a thick tree. The woman isn’t armed, but he is. And he lifts his pistol, aiming it unwaveringly at the largest threat. That’s Mack, of course. I can’t even take a breath before he’s pulled the trigger, firing directly at Mack. I act on pure instinct. Not because I’ve thought it through in even the slightest of ways. This stranger is shooting a gun at Mack, and Mack will always—always, always—be mine. So I jump right at the man, blocking Mack from the bullet that would have killed him. Unfortunately that means the bullet hits me instead.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“My words have an effect. Every bit as much as they did last night. His face, his whole body, twitches briefly in reaction. “I love you too, angel. You know I do.” I nod and swallow and fight tears all at the same time. “I hate that this keeps happening to us. That it can’t be… it can’t be easier for us. That we can’t just be together.” His eyes squeeze shut, and his shoulders shake a few times. It takes a minute for him to recover enough to say, “I know. I hate it too.” “But I think it’s… it’s right to keep following our separate roads since they’re the right roads for us. And maybe one day…” I can’t hold back the tears any longer. A few slide down my cheeks and then my neck. “Maybe one day our roads will come back together.” “I hope so,” he murmurs. He leans down to kiss me, soft, seeking, and desperate.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“He bites back an anguished groan. “Mack! Don’t pull out, Mack!” I don’t know why or how I’ve come to this decision, but I mean it. Maybe it was holding Sammy today. Maybe it’s the fear that this will be the very last time I’ll be with Mack this way. Whatever the reason, I want all of him. All of him. I want him to come inside me. No matter what that might mean. He makes a broken sound, briefly pausing his carnal motion. “You sure?” “Yes. Yes please, Mack! Don’t pull out.” He lets out a low, soft groan that’s stretched out so long it gets choppy as his hips start moving again. He fucks me so hard my entire body jiggles, and he’s reached climax in less than a minute. His body works through the release clumsily. His hips roll as his cock spasms inside me. Then he’s coming in several hard spurts, filling me with his semen. It’s the first time he’s ever done that in all the years since we first got together. His hips keep jerking for a long time with each lingering aftershock. Then he collapses on top of me, all his weight collapsing. He buries his face in the crook of my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him. Hold him tight. After a minute, when his body finally starts to soften, I whisper, “I love you, Mack. You know that, right?” He makes a weird, rough sound. Almost like a sob. He doesn’t lift his head, but he presses a few kisses against my skin. It’s a long time before he can form any words. And when he does, they’re mumbled against my neck. “I love you too.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Eventually it’s time for bed, so Mack and I walk back to the farmhouse. We don’t say much, but he reaches over to squeeze my hand at one point. I’m not sure why, but I don’t let his go, so we’re holding hands for the rest of the walk back. By the time we reach our pretty guestroom, I’m feeling closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my entire life. And I’m also holding back tears because it feels so much like I’m about to lose him. He’ll leave in the morning, and I’ll risk my life in this attack. There’s a chance we’ll never see each other again, and even if we do, it won’t be like it’s been in these past two months. Tonight might be our last. Maybe Mack is experiencing something similar. He’s subdued when he finally releases my hand as we stand in our bedroom. They don’t have showers here. They have to pump water manually to fill tubs, and most of the time they use a basin and pitcher of water in rooms to wash up the way they do at New Haven. We get as clean as we can and get ready for bed. I change into a simple knit nightgown while Mack takes off all his clothes. We switch off the lantern on the bedside table and climb into bed. Mack still hasn’t said anything as he pulls me closer and rolls on top. He stares down at me in the dark for a minute before he finally lowers his head so he can kiss me. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around him and softening my lips. He slides his tongue into my mouth. As our kiss deepens, I move my hands over his body, stroking his smooth scalp, caressing my way down his back, running my fingers over his large frame, his developed muscles, his tight skin. Every part of him is big and strong and solid and warm. Every part of him is perfect for me, exactly what I want to feel under my hands. We kiss for a really long time. His body slowly tenses up, and eventually his erection is poking into me. But he doesn’t rush to the main event. He seems to need this—this intimate, needy kiss—as much as anything else. I need it too. I’m hotly aroused and filled with so much more in my heart when he finally breaks his mouth away, gasping and ducking his head to suck on the pulse in my throat. “Mack!” His name on my lips is a whispered gasp. He makes a guttural sound as he pushes up my nightgown so he can get his mouth on my breasts. He teases and sucks until I’m squirming. I hold on to his head until I can’t take any more. “Mack!” I’m still keeping my voice soft so no one can hear us through the walls. We aren’t in our little cabin right now where it doesn’t matter how loud we get.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Three weeks later, it’s the day before I need to leave, and I really don’t want to do it. Mack has been different ever since his breakdown during the massage. It’s like some sort of internal struggle has been resolved. He’s not the man he used to be—he’s quieter, more brooding—but that core of sweetness that’s always been at the heart of him has shown its face again. So we’ve spent the past three weeks going through life together, doing chores around the cabin, hunting, fishing or driving to the market, and having a lot of sex. I would have thought some of our enthusiasm might have waned after so many weeks, but it hasn’t. The sex is still as hot and wild and creative and needy as it was that very first week. Today we went fishing in the morning and fried up our catch for lunch. I took a shower while Mack washed the dishes, and then he took a shower while I locked up the cabin in preparation for our regular afternoon in the bedroom. We didn’t actually make it to the bed. Mack walked out of the bathroom naked and took me right there against the wall of the hallway. Then he carried me into the bedroom and fucked me on my hands and knees at the foot of the bed while he stood beside it. At that point, he was about to lose it, so I finished him off in my mouth. We dozed contentedly for an hour or so until Mack woke up and got going again. He spent a long time on foreplay until he finally had me ride his face until I came over and over again. Feeling ambitious, I eventually leaned over so I could take him in my mouth at the same time. I usually get too distracted to do that position effectively, but I did okay today. Mack came hard into my mouth just before I came again myself. Now we’ve collapsed back on the bed, naked and tangled together as we try to catch our breath. He’s so winded his inhales are loud and hoarse, and he moans with each exhale. I search my mind, but I honestly can’t remember him this wiped out after sex in our relationship before this cabin. Not just physically but in a way deeper than that. Like he’s pouring himself into it in a way he never did before. Maybe that’s part of what’s changed for me. Or maybe it’s simply that I’ve changed myself. Either way, I’ve had none of the fears and anxiety spirals and confusion that used to plague me whenever I used to think through our relationship. I know what I want now, and it’s simply my bad luck that Mack needs something different.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“That makes sense.” He pauses. Then adds softly, “I’m proud of you. Thank you for telling me.” I press a little kiss against his shoulder since I can’t get any words out. We lie in peaceful silence for a few minutes. Then Mack says, “You don’t talk about Josh much anymore.” “I know. He used to fill my mind, even long after he was dead. But he doesn’t now. Honestly, I barely even think about him anymore. I think that’s good.” “It is good. He never deserved even the smallest space in your head.” I smile and find the energy to pick my head up so I can kiss him. We don’t take it very far since both of us are tired and sated. After a few more minutes, we adjust our positions so I’m at his side and his arm is around me. We go back to sleep that way, and we don’t wake up until midmorning.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“You’ve never told me how he died.” “What?” “Josh. I knew he was dead, but you never told me what happened to him.” “Oh.” I swallow. Put my head back down on his shoulder since it seems safer that way. “I thought I had.” “You haven’t. I figured it was too raw and hard for you, so I never asked directly. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want.” “No. It’s okay. After Impact… After Impact, he got worse. A lot of people did. All the fear and the stress and the struggle to even survive. He eventually started to hit me. He’d do it once and then act all sorry and promise to never do it again. He’d be good for a while, but then he’d do it again. In the old world, I think him hitting me would have been a hard line for me. I really think I would have left after the first time. But after everything fell apart… I felt trapped. I was trapped. How the hell was I going to survive on my own in that world right after Impact. Everything was chaos. And so incredibly dangerous.” “So what happened?” he murmurs gently. “It went on like that for about six months. Then one day he hit me in the face. I tried to cover the bruise with the makeup I had left, but an older lady in town noticed and asked about it. I… I told her. The truth. That he was hitting me and it had been going on for a while. Nothing I did would make him stop.” Mack is silent. His hand is still now as it rests on my back. “Then… Then the next day…” I take a ragged breath. “Maybe it was just a coincidence. I never knew for sure. But the timing… Anyway, the next day he went off into the woods with a hunting party like normal. He never came back.” “Fuck,” Mack breathes out. “They said it was an accident. Someone else was shooting in the area and must have mistaken him for a deer or something. But he was wearing orange, so… I don’t know. But he was dead, and I was…” “You were what?” “I was so relieved. Not sad at all. Just relieved.” “Of course you were. Anyone would have been.” “And it was then I decided I was going to make the best of my freedom and new start. Even though we were going through an apocalypse, why shouldn’t I finally try to learn how to be strong?” “You did.” “Yeah. I think I did okay. I did get stronger, and maybe I’ve also finally figured out that real strength isn’t what I used to assume it was.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Until Mack finally bursts out, “What the hell is going on over there?” There’s no over there. I’m snuggled right up against him. But I know what he means anyway. “Nothing’s going on!” “Then why are you getting all upset for no reason! Are the cramps worse? Or are you sick again? Like yesterday?” It is kind of like yesterday when I was crying in the bathroom. “I’m not sick. I’m fine. I was trying to sleep. I thought you were asleep.” “Well, I was, but then I was getting hit by all these stressed vibes from you. It was very disturbing.” I sigh and give up trying to convince him of something that isn’t true. “I wasn’t really stressed. Just a bad memory. Sometimes they hit me, and I can’t push them away, and I feel it all again.” “Yeah. That happens to everyone, I think. What bad memory are you thinking about right now?” He asks the questions as if he’s absolutely certain that he has a right to the answer. I exhale deeply again. Stroke his hip. His lower back. His tight butt, completely bare as usual. “Honestly, I was thinking about when I broke up with you.” “Why were you thinking about that?” “I don’t know. Just a random, passing thought. But once it was lodged in my brain, it wouldn’t budge.” “And it upset you that much?” “Of course it upset me! It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” He’s fully awake now. He eases me onto my back and rolls over on top of me, propping himself up on his arms so he can look down at me. “It was hard for me too.” “I know it was. I felt like shit for doing that to you. And I felt like shit for not realizing the way things… things really were a lot sooner.” “No, that part is my fault. All mine. I’m the one who told you all I wanted was the casual thing. I had my own self half-convinced it was the truth. Why wouldn’t you have believed me?” “I don’t know. But I felt guilty anyway. Still do a little.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“After we clean up, Mack gets interested in a different sort of activity, and I have no objection. So we fuck on the couch with my legs wrapped high around his back until I come twice, and then after he pulls out, I finish him in my mouth. It’s after that. After a good day and a good meal and good sex with a good man who feels like mine. It’s then. I’m hit with a deep wave of grief. Because he’s not mine. Not for real. I might want him now in a way I never have before, but he doesn’t want me anymore. Not for more than the next three weeks. The reality hurts so intensely I have to leave Mack in a sated sprawl on the couch with the excuse that I need to go to the bathroom. There, I sit on the toilet and cry into my hands, fighting to will myself back into composure. Mack can’t know. He can’t know how much this hurts, how bad I feel. He’s got such a soft heart and such a strong sense of responsibility, he might try to give me what I want even now, even if it’s not the best thing for him. And I can’t let him do that. He needs to be perfectly free in a way he’s never been before. Free to decide on the life he wants. And telling him the truth about these new feelings and desires would make him less free. I won’t do it. “Anna?” Mack is knocking on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?” “Yes!” I’m relieved I sound just slightly strained. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “I don’t know. Just picking up vibes. You upset about something?” “No, of course not! Sorry. Just have some… digestion issues. I’ll be out in a minute.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“have to. That’s who I… that’s who I’ve always believed myself to be.” “It is who you⁠—” I can’t finish a sentence because he keeps interrupting me. “No, it’s not. I keep… I keep freezing. When it matters. I keep freezing. Instead of acting. A few weeks ago when Maria’s crew was under attack, I froze. When we saw Elizabeth yesterday on the motorcycle, I froze. Even this morning, when we found that asshole with his pants down, I froze yet again. I knew he was a kidnapper and that he was a danger to Elizabeth and to you. But instead of acting when I should have, I froze. You had to kill him instead. That never—never—would have happened last year.” I want to burst out with another denial, but I make myself think about his words, what he’s expressing. I have to process it so I can give his naked confession the response he deserves. Still massaging his lower back, I finally say slowly, “I understand what you’re saying, and I understand why you think it means something is wrong with you. But I honestly don’t believe the reaction time of your trigger finger defines whether you’re a good or bad man. There’s so much more to you than being a protector, Mack.” He’s shaking again, more urgently this time. His eyes are still squeezed shut. “What else is there?” “What else? Are you serious? You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. You encourage people. Make them laugh. Make them happy. Make them want to be brave, want to do the right thing. You’ve been like… like a beacon fire, lighting the way for us. And keeping all of us warm. You’ve always taken care of people in so many ways that have nothing to do with handling weapons. Even if you never get back to the reaction time you used to have, you can do so much good in the world. And you can have a really good life. You don’t have to be the same man you were to be good or be happy. You don’t. And maybe you should offer the same grace to yourself that you’ve always offered everyone else.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Don’t lie to me, Anna. Don’t lie just to make me feel better. This world might suck most of the time, but other people didn’t let it break them. Not the way it broke me.” “Stop it!” I’m still massaging his back with firm, relieving strokes, but my voice is almost angry, and tears are streaming down my cheeks. “Stop it! Stop saying that about yourself. Stop thinking it. All the people you just listed—including me—had major stuff to work on in themselves. You began as brave and strong and loving and generous. You’ve been that way for as long as I’ve known you. There’s no way for you to get any better than you already are!” He’s making some harsh, breathless sounds, and his body has started to shudder slightly. Since neither one of us can speak for a minute, I swipe away my tears and apply more lotion so I can rub down to his lower back, kneading the brown skin and tight muscles there. “Th-thank you for saying that,” Mack says at last. “For believing it. But the truth is I haven’t even stayed the same. I’ve gotten worse.” “You—” “You don’t understand, Anna. You’re thinking about me the way I used to be, but I’m not that anymore. I’m supposed to be… strong. People are supposed to be able to rely on me. I’m supposed to face the things that threaten us so other people don’t”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“You wouldn’t?” “Of course not. You’re more than enough man for me to handle.” I tighten my arms around him and press my front against his back. “Maybe you want a different sort of man.” “I don’t want a different sort of man, Mack! From the very first day I saw you, there hasn’t been another man who’s provoked even a passing interest for me. You must know that.” “I thought I did. For a while. I thought it was only your bad experiences that kept you from being with me for real.” “That’s exactly what it was.” He’s gotten tense again. I can feel something strong shuddering inside him. His voice is thick as he mutters, “But then you dumped me. So I occasionally wondered if it was me you didn’t want after all.” “That’s not⁠—” “I know what you said, and I tried to believe it. But I still wondered… Then everything went to hell for me, and now I’m broken.” “Mack, you’re not⁠—” “I’m not the man I used to be. So it’s hard not to think that I can’t be the man you want anymore.” It’s a raw, naked conversation to be having astride the ATV as we are. I’m kind of shaky as I hug him from behind again. “Mack, what do you think our conversation this morning was all about? If anything, I want you more now than I used to.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Who the hell even is he? Why does everyone act like he’s a king?” “He kind of is a king around here. It’s best to avoid him if you can. So don’t be getting ideas about him.” I stare at him in surprise. “Ideas about what?” “I don’t know. You seemed kind of… interested.” I’m almost sputtering—half outraged and half laughing. “Are you serious, Mack?” “’Bout what?” “About being jealous. Of course I’m not interested in him. It was just all so strange I was fascinated. But poor guy. No matter who he is, no one deserves to have his daughter kidnapped.” “No, that’s bad. Not sure who the hell would even have the balls to do it.” Then Mack gives his head a firm shake. “Anyway, let’s get out of here.” He puts the provisions in the cargo compartment, and then we both mount the seat. I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him. Then murmur against his ear, “You can’t really have thought I’d be into some random guy.” He turns his face to look at me over his shoulder. Our mouths are only a couple of inches apart. “Why not? You’re hot as hell. Lots of guys would be interested.” “Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, the point is I wouldn’t be interested in them.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“He nods, evidently accepting my answer as believable and appropriate. “Someone has taken my daughter.” “What?” I’m genuinely surprised and appalled, and I sound that way. He’s got startlingly intelligent blue eyes. They’re focused on me without wavering. “She’s been kidnapped. Her guard was killed. We’re checking for anyone who might have seen something.” “I haven’t seen any little girls. How old is she? What does she look like?” “She’s eight. This high.” He makes a gesture with his hand to indicate her height. “Brown hair and blue eyes. She always carries a doll with a pink dress.” “I’m so sorry she’s missing. I’ll keep my eye out. I really hope you find her.” He gives a brief nod. “I’ll find her. If you see anything, you can tell anyone. Everyone around here knows how to get me a message.” He pauses and then adds as if as an afterthought, “I’m Logan.” He turns and walks away before I can get any sort of response out. As soon as he and his men have left the clearing, Mack returns to me with his big package of provisions. “Did he bother you?” he asks, sounding as bristly as he looks. “No. Not at all. His daughter is missing, and he was asking about her.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“guards. They break away, each moving to talk to various people who’ve been hanging around the perimeter of the market. One of the guards—a burly mountain of a man—stays with the main guy, who scans the clearing in a silent inspection. Then, to my surprise, his eyes land on me. He approaches. Mack has tensed up as the man gets closer. I can see that even from the distance. My throat grows tight. I have absolutely no idea what to expect, but it feels like a very bad idea to raise my weapon, so I don’t. “You’re new around here,” the man says when he reaches me. “I’ve never seen you before.” He sounds educated. Articulate. With a very slight Ozark accent. I clear my throat and reply, “I am. I’m a friend of Malachi.” I nod over toward Mack, who is visibly bristling but holding himself back for some reason. “I’ve only been here a month.” “Where are you from?” I’m not sure why it’s any of this man’s business, but too many alarms are going off in my head to object to the inquisition. “I’m from farther east. Originally from the mountains of Virginia, but I’ve been living in Kentucky for several years. The same area Mack—Malachi—is from.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Mack is still sprawled out, the covers pushed down to his waist, exposing his broad chest and firm abdomen. His eyes are closed, so I’m quiet as I step over and crawl into bed beside him. Then I squeal when he rolls over on top of me without warning. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” I tell him, giggling as he plants sloppy kisses all over my jaw and neck. “You woke me up.” “So now I have to pay?” He pulls my gown strap down even farther so he can mouth the top of one breast. “If you call this paying.” I’m still laughing softly as I run my hands over the smooth curve of his bare scalp and then down farther to the flat planes and rippling muscles of his back. “Don’t get too excited about whatever you have in mind. My period started.” He lifts his head. “Since when has that ever bothered me?” “Never. You’re never one to let a little blood stand in your way. But I’m not sure I’m in the mood to get messy this morning.” “Okay.” He gives my shoulder one more little kiss before he rolls over onto his back. His expression is relaxed when I check. He’s never once made me feel guilty about saying no, but I still worry. I hate to disappoint him. “I’m sorry.” He slants me a narrow-eyed look.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Hi,” I say, having no idea what else to say. He gives a dry huff, his eyes warming slightly. “Hi.” “Thank you for letting me stay.” “I didn’t know you wanted to.” “Why wouldn’t I want to?” He frowns, his eyes gently searching my face. “Because you broke up with me two years ago, and I thought that would mean you wouldn’t.” I take a weird shuddering breath as nerves and excitement both flutter in my chest. “I… I don’t know. Things feel different now. I’m not sure why. I know everything is kind of in flux and nothing is… is decided. But right now, I want to be with you. As long as you want it too.” “I’ve always wanted to be with you,” he murmurs. He’s still holding my head like it’s precious. “I guess I…” I swallow hard but make myself finish the sentence. “I guess I’ve never really understood why.” He’s doing that heavy breathing again—like there’s too much going on inside him, so much that it takes effort to contain it. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. Just that you’re you. You can have anyone. Someone younger or prettier or stronger or sexier. Someone with a less complicated past. Someone who would never want to say no to you. For anything. For any reason. So why… why… did you never move on?” He shakes his head like he’s really thinking about the answer. “I tried. I did. And honestly I’m not sure how or exactly when it happened. When we first met, I thought you were sweet and smart and pretty and stronger than you ever realized. I liked helping you.” “I get that part. I was needy, and you have a hero complex.” When he starts to object, I go on. “Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true.” “Okay, yeah. That was probably it at first. And when we started having sex on the way to get you to Maria that first time, I really thought it was just because we both needed some… some comfort.” “That’s what I thought too. That’s what it was. So when did it change?” “I don’t know. I really don’t. I just woke up one day and knew—I knew—that you were my resting place.” The soft words touch me so deeply I make a little whimper. “Mack.” He kind of shrugs. “And nothing I do can change it. I promise I tried.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“No one says anything for a minute. I notice from the corner of my eye that Rachel has reached over to hold Cal’s hand. “They’re gonna answer,” Cal says at last. “They’re gonna answer for all of what they’ve done.” Rachel nods and leans forward. “They will. Maria is on the warpath, and we all know what that means. So, Anna, you can either come with us now and return here when we do, or you can stay with Mack and then join us in six weeks when everyone starts gathering.” The drive in Cal’s truck takes less than two days, but on foot like Maria and her crew the trip takes almost two weeks. We need a lot of time to gather forces. I clear my throat and turn back toward Mack. There’s a long moment when I’m really not sure what he’ll decide. But then he drops his eyes and mutters, “Stay with me.” My heart does a silly bounce. “Really?” “Yeah. Stay with me.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“Mack stiffens beside me. “She’s not staying here. She’s going back where it’s safe. She’s gonna teach English in Halbrook.” “Mack,” I mumble, turning toward him more fully. We’ve been sharing the bench so we’re right next to each other. “That’s not what I’m going to do.” His mouth twists. “Please, Anna,” he says hoarsely, so softly it’s just to me. “I want you safe and happy. I need that.” “I might be safe there, but I won’t be happy. I need to… I’m going to help with this plan. However I can.” His jaw clenches. “Why do you have⁠—?” “Because Maria helped me when I needed it. She helped me be strong. And now she’s the one who needs help, and I’m not going to let her down.” I reach out to take Mack’s face in both hands as if I can force my words to get through to him. “Because these people here on the farms have been nothing but good to us, and they need help too.” He stares at me for several seconds, breathing hard through his nose. His face is slightly damp like he’s started to sweat. “Is that the real reason?” he finally asks. “Yes, it’s the real reason. But also… also…” My voice breaks, and I can’t finish. I can’t look away from his fierce stare. “Say it.” “Because the people we’ll be fighting are the ones who hurt you,” I force out, feeling naked, completely exposed. “And they’re going to answer for that.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“What time is it?” “Not dawn yet. We’ve still got time.” I need to get to the Carlsons’ farm by midday so Cal and Rachel don’t leave without me, but Mack is going to drive me in the ATV so we’ll make much better time than I did on my way here. We stare at each for a long stretch of time. I wait to see if he’ll say something—share how he’s feeling and what he really wants—but he doesn’t. So I can’t resist. I ask softly, “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me?” His expression tightens but only briefly. He mutters, “I can’t. I’m… I’m not ready.” “Okay. I get it.” I’ve been trying very hard to be good and not pressure him in any way, but I’m running out of time. That knowledge and the desperation it provokes pushes me to continue. “You wouldn’t have to… to do what you used to do. You could find a cabin or something that’s out of the way. But… but closer to all your friends than this.” I can’t tell if he’s getting angry or defensive, but he’s not showing it if he is. “I can’t, Anna. I can’t… I can’t do this if I’m close.” He’s probably right. If he was close enough to safely reach, he’d have one visitor after another, each of them determined to draw him back. “Besides,” he continues in that same thick mutter, “they’ll never forgive me for leaving like I did.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“He must have tilted his head down because I suddenly feel him nuzzling my hair. “I’m sorry I talked like that to you.” “That’s okay. I understand. I forgive you.” “But you’re still mad.” He’s leaned down even more, moving my hair aside and pressing a little kiss on the side of my neck. “I’m not mad.” “Then why won’t you look at me?” “I…” I gasp and arch my neck when he kisses me again, this time on the base of my jaw. The small gesture sends a shock wave of pleasure rippling through me. “I don’t know.” “Do you want me to go away?” he murmurs against my ear. I brace myself with both hands on the arm of the chair because my knees are getting wobbly. “No. Don’t go away.” This is obviously what he was waiting to hear. With a throaty hum, he kisses my throat again and at the same time reaches around to slide his hands beneath my baggy shirt.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“So I clear the emotion from my throat and continue, “I really do get it, Mack. I know exactly how it feels to make a decision out of self-preservation that seems like the only option to… to survive and have no one else understand why I’m making it. You hold it close to you. You guard it like a treasure and lash out if anyone gets anywhere close. I know how it feels.” “What decision did you make like that?” “Are you kidding?” I’m dying to turn around again, but I still resist. It’s somehow safer to say all this when I can’t see his face. “Mack, do you have any idea how often other people either implied or said straight out that I was heartless and stupid for not marrying you and making you happy and having all your babies?” My voice breaks despite my best effort. I feel a reaction from him behind me. His body jerks, and he wraps his fingers around one of my forearms in a grip that feels weirdly protective. Since he hasn’t replied in words, I go on. “No one ever hated me. But everyone loved you. They loved you. And they resented me because they were sure I was hurting you. For no good reason.” “I didn’t know they were doing that,” he murmurs in a very soft, very thick voice. “I never would have allowed it.” “It wasn’t your fault. I know you never complained about me to anyone. But I’m not sure you could have stopped the talk even if you’d tried. It was inevitable. You’re… you’re Mack. And I was the bitch who kept breaking your heart.” He sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on my arm. “You don’t get to talk that way about yourself. I’ve never let anyone say that about you, and you’re included. You don’t get to talk about yourself that way. Not around me.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“I’m still scrubbing when I’m suddenly aware of Mack’s presence in the door from the kitchen. I sense him rather than see or hear him. It feels like he’s standing there watching me silently. I keep scrubbing, leaning over the arm of the chair to reach the stained spot. Then I hear him walking toward me. Feel him pressing up against my back as I straighten. “You’re mad at me,” he says in a low, gruff voice. “Why do you say that?” “Because you won’t look at me. I don’t like when you’re mad at me.” “I don’t like it either.” I love the feel of his big, warm body at my back. I’m dying to turn around and cuddle against him, but I don’t. “You never used to get mad at me.” “Because you never used to treat me the way you did just now.” He makes a soft, rough sound. “I know. I’m sorry.” “Are you?” “Yes. I am. I was an ass to you, and I’m sorry. It felt like you were… prying.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“I’m clutching at the headboard and crying out shamelessly as all the tension breaks inside me again. I shake and moan through another orgasm, and the release levels me. Wipes me out. “Oh God, Mack,” I gasp out as he’s licking me through the aftershocks. “I can’t take any more.” He lifts his head and scans me from top to bottom with a little smile, obviously liking what he’s seeing. His mouth and beard are messy from my fluids, and he’s sweating and breathing heavily. “You sure? ’Cause I can keep at it.” “If you keep at it anymore, I’m going to literally pass out.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“The next morning, it’s barely dawn, and Mack’s mouth is really going at it between my legs. I woke up while it was still dark needing to pee, so I ran to the bathroom and got back into bed since it was too early to get up. A couple of minutes later, I heard Mack had gotten up too—probably for the same reason. But after a minute or two, my bedroom door opened, and he climbed into bed with me. Needless to say, I had no complaints about the situation. He fucked me on his knees with my legs in the air. Then on my stomach with my ass raised while he was gripping my hair. He came all over my lower back and bottom, so I assumed this session was over, but after a minute he decided to get busy again. Which is what led to my current position with my legs hooked over his shoulders and my lower body lifted all the way off the bed so it’s easier for him to get in position to work with his lips and tongue and face.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon

“He reaches down and turns me over onto my hands and knees. He moves one of my hands to the headboard and then the other. He repositions my legs to spread me open farther and then lines his cock up at my wet pussy. He thrusts in, making both of us moan loudly. There’s no slow, careful buildup like I used to expect. He gets going immediately, pulling his hips back and driving into me with a vigorous rhythm. “Oh God!” My whole body is shaking from his motion, and I’m clutching at the headboard to hold my position. “Oh God, Mack, yes! Fuck me just like that.” He makes a loud sound of satisfaction that doesn’t form any clear words. He’s working so hard now that he has to lean forward so he can brace himself on the headboard too. Our bodies are slapping together. I can still hear that carnal sound of wet suction. My lungs and chest and throat are burning, and we’re both grunting in time with our rhythm.”
― Claire Kent, Beacon