Page 81 of Under the Iron Sky

When the first wave of pain hit, Ikarus had to concentrate very hard not to tighten his hand around her throat. “What’s taking so long?” he asked through gritted teeth, panting.

“This shard is a lot deeper than the others. And you’re not exactly making it any easier.” A growl loosened her lips. “Oh for the love of—” Pulling back, she slapped his hand away, and he didn’t get time to threaten her in the common or Dar’rak tongue before she slid so close the insides of her thighs bracketed his hips.

Ikarus held his breath. So did the cave.

The human froze. She glanced up at him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Keep going.”

“You sure?”

Yes. No. He didn’t fucking know. He’d been so ready to snap her neck a moment ago and now all he could think about was her hands on his bare chest and how perfectly her thighs had slotted around his hips.

She continued her work, and his breath whooshed out of him in a sharp hiss when the tweezers pinched around the edge of the shard.

It hurt like hell. His cock, however, seemed to be having trouble registering that. Seemed to be having trouble registering anything other than the fact that she was touching him and that sinking his teeth into her neck might be just the thing he needed to take his mind away from the pain that felt like he was being sliced open with a hot knife.

No. He wasn’t going there. She’d just stabbed him not half an hour ago. She was absolutely the worst creature in the world, her people were the reason his had suffered for so long, and now was absolutely not the time to get a raging hard-on.

He was sick. When was the last time he’d had a woman in his bed? Far too long, if his body was reacting like this to a human.

Needing a distraction, he said, “I bet you’re having the time of your life right now, aren’t you. You love inflicting pain.”

“On you? Yes.”

He’d been about to tell her the feeling was entirely mutual—but then she started to pull.

Burning pain like being impaled with a red-hot spear straight from the kiln lanced through him. He hissed, eyes squeezing closed. The more she pulled, the worse it became, like she was sawing into the very heart of him, so much so that he didn’t even realize he’d jerked forward and that his head was now pressed against her chest and that rapid thumping against his ear wasn’t echoes of the throbbing inside his own head—but the human’s heartbeat.

Her heart, that was beating like a hummingbird’s wings against his ear. Or was that his own? It dawned on him then that it was almost impossible to tell them apart, his and hers. How … odd.

And odder still, why did that appeal to him? Make some sleeping, long-forgotten creature buried deep in his chest rear its head for the first time in … he couldn’t remember how long.

“Demon.” His name was a rumble of thunder against his ear. She swallowed, and he felt it against the top of his head. What’s this now? Was the little God Killer nervous?

He flexed his fingers, confused to find them digging into her hips. How had they gotten there?

He twisted his head, not quite ready to retreat yet, and looked up at her. Her breath trailed across his skin like the brush of warm fingers. “Yes, Vous Mylista?”

She stared down at him, then held up the bloody tweezers, a shard of metal the size of his pinkie finger caught between the blades. “Got it.”

The staple gun wasn’t nearly as painful. She made short work of closing the wound, and it was much easier to breathe when she carefully peeled herself off his lap, no longer swallowing him and everything within her orbit like some sort of reverse eclipse.

“All right …” Ikarus panted. “Now what?”

“No idea.” She leaned against the opposite wall. Not that it put any real space between them. Still meant that she sat between his legs with her hips between his boots, their bent knees pressed against one another. But at least she was out of his lap.

She glanced at the sheer drop beside them, then the endless black above. “Don’t suppose you’re strong enough to use your magic to dig us out of here?”

“No.”

“Phasing?”

Ikarus blew out a breath. Fucking hell—even that hurt. “Unless you’d like to risk getting stuck halfway in a rock and bleeding out, I wouldn’t suggest it. Not for a while yet, at least.” Although if it got any more awkward in here, he might give it a try.

“What about Golla? He travels through the walls with my lunch trays. Can he not do the same thing and get us out?”

“Oh, you’re just bursting with ideas, aren’t you?”