Page 354 of Primal

“Seriously?” I snap. “It’s stuck.”

“And I’m helping.” He chucks another tiny rock.

Ping. Hiss.

“Go climb up and get it.”

He crosses his arms. “Why?”

“Because you’re tall and vaguely functional.”

“And you’re what? Morally opposed to ladders?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“You’ll break your neck.”

I wave at him to step back then roll my hoodie sleeves up. “Watch how a pro works.”

The lowest branch is thicker than my thigh. I haul myself up, sneakers skidding.

“Graceful,” Kade mutters.

I hook a knee over the branch—almost there. Something yanks me backward.

Kade sighs. “Real professional.”

“Shut up.” I tug at my hoodie—snagged on a fucking branch.

The branch creaks.

The cat watches, unimpressed.

My arms burn. Damn thing’s choking me. And fuck, that next branch is suddenly three miles away.

“Is this the part where you fall and I catch you?”

“Just stand there and look pretty.” I lunge, grab the branch, swing one foot over, and—

Yes. Mission accomplished.

My foot flails at empty air. I make a noise that’s half squeak, half dying seagull.

An arm bands around me.

Kade.

My spine’s molded to his solid chest.

He fumbles around my hip, pinching the back of my hoodie. The damn thing’s caught again.

“Told you,” he growls. Dark. Rough. Warning-label shit.

He rips it free.

Neither of us moves.

I swallow.