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A strong breeze tries to pry me from the wall and my fingers squeeze the stone with all their might. With my heartbeat thundering in my ears, I continue climbing. The fatigue in my muscles worsens, but I’m doing it. Fear and jubilation mingle, more potent than any wine I’ve ever tasted.
Do not look down, Rina.
Near the top, my arms and legs quake so badly that I suddenly worry I’ll make it, but won’t be able to pull myself over the edge. Light-headedness assaults me.
Focus, Rina. Focus.
I lift my leg, my now numb toes searching for somewhere to land and I push higher.
Yes! I’m able to throw my hand over the battlement . . . but my fingertips barely clutch at the far edge. Panic shears through my overworked heart. I don’t quite have enough leverage to pull myself up, but my arms and legs are close to seizing up. Time is running out.
Fuck it.
I trust my grip on the edge and heave with what little strength I have left. My toes scrabble for purchase. They find nothing. Horrified acceptance begins to take hold just as my toes connect with a tiny outcropping and I push upwards. My chest hits the ledge and I crawl over, falling in a heap onto the other side.
My mind blanks, and for a moment, there’s only the sawing of my breaths in and out of my chest. Unexpected laughter slips out of me, softly at first, then with more feeling. I’m not too proud to recognize its sharp maniacal edge and embrace it.
“Wooooo!” I scream to the darkening sky and its echo sets off another round of giggles.
A bang has me rolling my head against the stone to see a trap door flip open and Luka’s head pop out. A triumphant smile stretches across my lips. I don’t care that his glare is meant to instill terror. Nothing can pull me down from this high.
I’m not empty. I’m not only existing. I’m living.
Fully emerging onto the parapet, he stands over me, looking murderous. “What the fuck?”
All I do is smile up at him. I have no energy left for anything else.
“I asked you a question,” he growls.
This has another burst of laughter leaving my throat, which only serves to enrage him further. He crouches down, closing his big paws over my upper arms and hauling me up. My feet dangle as he holds me at eye level like I weigh no more than a doll. Studying me with fierce disapproval, he finally pulls me close and presses his forehead to mine. “Rina,” he breathes.
“Luka.” I’m loopy and exhausted, but it’s accompanied by joy, which has me using the last of my strength to wrap my legs around his waist. I don’t want him to put me down. I only want him closer.
A low rumble comes from his chest. Though I’m unsure if it conveys approval or not, with me braced against him, he’s able to slide one arm under my ass and the other across my back. I manage to lift my jelly-like arms to his neck. “Luka,” I whisper with another giggle. “I’m alive.”
He pulls back to see me and I’m seized by the impulse to stop the censure that’s surely coming. I kiss him. In my haste, I only catch the side of his mouth. But I kiss him.
“Wha–” He tries to pull his head back, but I follow and this time manage to make full contact with his mouth, his beard tickly against my skin. He freezes but doesn’t protest.
I kiss him again, and this time, his lips come alive under mine, sending triumph into my blood. It’s wonderfully sweet and gentle until his mouth opens and our tongues meet. Then my heartbeat explodes, sent high by the glorious jolt of decadence. The kiss becomes hungrier, the give and take of our lips building until there’s only him and me and the ache between my thighs. I’ve never felt anything like it and I arch my breasts into his chest, getting my first real taste of passion in years.
His hold on me tightens, pulling my core more firmly against the hard plains of his torso. The zing that radiates out from my clit fractures my thoughts and pulls a moan directly from my soul. My head lolls to his shoulder, stalling the kiss. I press my nose into the soft skin below his ear, the smell of him amplifying the pleasure and . . .
Without warning, everything tilts. I clutch at him to steady myself, but my feet meet the ground. My legs wobble as he steps back, allowing the frigid air to scrape against my hot skin and reality to crash back in.
His scowl is fierce. “Don’teverdo that again.”
My armor almost cracks with the impact of his words. They hurt. They make me want to piercehisheart with my own attack, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
“Do you hear me?” he rants on, turning his back as he throws his hands in the air. “I almost shit myself.” He whirls back and points an accusing finger at me. “If I’d had to watch you fall to your death . . .” He shakes his head as if he can’t think of a way to end that sentence.
All thoughts of hurling insults at him burn up in the renewed coals of my arousal. He’s mad, yes. But not about the kiss.
Chapter 10
Luka
The woman is infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.
