He sighed, shifting away. “You’re a pain in the ass, Eddowes.”
She smirked. “Takes one to know one, Thorne.”
Chapter 20
Heart thumping, Leo picked up the backpack and followed Elias into the woods, sticking to what cover there was in the sparse early spring taiga forest. Conscious of the continued risk of being seen from above, they climbed up a steep slope covered with brush that was almost impassible but provided more than adequate cover. Which was a good thing, since the aircraft was clearly searching for them.
After three hours’ slow slog, Leo stopped to wipe her dripping forehead and cast a look at the sky, wondering if maybe she should throw up her arms and beg the enemy crew for an emergency evacuation.
Wading through the underbrush had saved their lives, yeah, but as she picked devil’s club thorns from her hands and sleeves and gritted her teeth against the ones elsewhere, all she had to give was hate. She’d been through some shit, some long-ass hauls, some pretty gnarly rescues in the world’s legitimately deadliest places, but she’d never hated anything more than thick, spiny devil’s club.
They’d been at it for three hours and there wasn’t an end in sight.
“Shouldn’t this stuff be dead? Dormant?”
Elias’s back lifted and fell in response. Right. No point arguing with mothereffing nature.
“Bitch,” she muttered under her breath.
Yeah, she’d lost it.
Hilarious, wasn’t it, that after everything, it was the thorns that sent her over the edge?
She narrowed her eyes on the man in front of her. Another Thorne entirely.
All it took to break her spirit was a couple of hours of slogging through swampy, frigid, thorn-studded snowmelt, with those assholes above—searching, with no intent to rescue—and the yeti leading the way with absolute stoicism.
Okay. So, maybe she wasn’t broken. But she was tired and pissed. Her spirit was angry. It wanted potato chips. And a tall, frosty glass of rosé. A damn bottle. Or one of those boxes so she wouldn’t have to leave her place for a while. Her spirit wanted to curl up in front of a nice fire with chips and wine and maybe a taste of that man in front of her.
She came to a dead stop.
Oh crap.
The angry hiking had worked for her for a bit. A decent distraction, especially since she’d spent the last hour or so picking the hellish thorns from her skin. The bastards had pierced her through four layers of clothes—including the damp coat she’d finally thrown back on for protection.
But suddenly she was faced with the truth of what had happened in the last couple of days. She’d developed an unlikely attachment—attraction, lust, whatever the hell you wanted to call it—to the big, messed-up man in front of her.
A crush. Only far more desperate than that.
And the worst part, right now, if she was being terribly honest, was that given the choice between eating chips and drinking wine in a soft bed or having this man on the hard ground, sober and starving, she knew exactly which one she’d go for.
And it wasn’t soft or crispy or smooth going down.
Must be the head injury. There was no other explanation. “Hell,” she muttered.
“You okay?”
She focused on his drawn brows, the thick beard covering the concern on his sun-gilded face.
A quick nod should have been enough to get him moving again, but something about this guy gave him access to truths others never saw. Leo’s secrets were a wide-open book for Elias Thorne.
And that was not okay.
“Turn around,” she said grumpily. “Keep walking.”
“What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“Just go.”
“Is it your head?”
Yes. Yes, it’s my head…my neck, my back, lick my pu—I’ve lost it. Singing Khia lyrics in the wilds of Alaska. Totally screwy. “Head’s fine.” Aside from the obvious delirium happening here. “Think we could just…” She put out a stiff hand. “Keep going?”
His eyes did a quick circuit of her body. Must have found nothing out of order, because they then focused in on her face. Which was probably another story. She couldn’t get the panic off it fast enough.
“Look. I’m having some…unpleasant thoughts.” Liar. They were pleasant as all get-out. So pleasant, she’d stopped thinking about the killer prickle bushes and the mud and the enemy for a while.
He was walking back toward her now, and she didn’t want that. She wanted him to keep going, to put some actual distance between them and the helicopter search centered above the lake. She wanted to get around this mountain to where the yeti claimed the temperature was higher and actual spring was underway.
If she could thaw out, maybe she could think, instead of toiling through this hellish terrain, where cuddling with yetis seemed like a half-decent idea.
“Let’s just get around the mountain, yet—Eli—Thorne!” She shook her head. “We need to get past this thing, and I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Good as new.”
His brows rose, lowered, went up, and dropped again, as if he were trying to translate an indecipherable set of hieroglyphics on her face. After a few more seconds, he nodded.
“Whatever you say, boss,” he said before taking off again, constant, kind, dependable, easy.
And hell if that didn’t mix up one very attractive cocktail.
***
Mud, cold, injuries, and the constantly sweeping helicopter turned the journey into a slow, ugly grind along the river and up to higher elevations. Well, up a thousand or so feet. They couldn’t go above the tree line until the aircraft headed home for the day.
Which was bound to happen soon, given that they’d need to refuel.
The worst part was that he and Leo had probably walked no more than a couple of miles from the lake, and while this hike would usually be a piece of cake for Elias, his backpack weighed him down like it was filled with lead weights and his body was a mess.
He’d carried heavier, gone farther. Normally, he could do this trek in his sleep.
“What’s wrong?” Leo had taken the lead a while back, as if she couldn’t wait to get this over and done with. Right now, she stopped and narrowed her focus on him. “You look weird.”
“Weird? No, I’m—”
He stumbled on a root, the movement pulling at his side, which drew a groan from deep in his chest. He put out a hand, caught himself on a trunk, and waited for the wave of dizziness to pass.
“You’re in pain. Why didn’t you—”
“I’m fine.”
“Let me check your injury, Elias. Just to make sure.”
He shook his head. “I’m good. It’s just a scra—”
“Don’t even try that bullshit. Been through this, remember? I’m not playing with gunshot wounds.” Leo went around him and opened his pack without permission, rummaged around in it, and came out with his first aid kit before giving the canvas a firm smack. “Put this thing on the ground. We’re doing this right.”
Why’d she sound angry? Was she mad at him? “Leo. Leo, you don’t have to—”
Her annoyed exhale was so loud, it cut through his actual words—that was the power of this woman’s silence.
When he didn’t immediately give in, she put her hands on her hips and spoke. “Look, Mr. Big Elias Thorne-in-my-side Yeti Man who’s lived on his own for so long he doesn’t know how to speak English anymore, I know you hardly ever crack a smile, much less express emotions like…oh, extreme pain or whatever. ’Cause you’re such a big boy. Real manly. I get that. But I’ve seen grown Navy SEALs cry, okay? I’m okay with big boy boo-boos. You’re allowed to tell me when the boo-boo hurts. ’Cause, frankly, I’m not sure I’ve got the strength to carry your unconscious, limp—”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Here.” He dropped the pack, unzipped his fleec
e, and grappled with his many shirts to give her access to his side, surprised to find that it really did throb. “Have at it.”
The breath she sucked in through her teeth did nothing to appease him.
“That bad?”
“Nah.” She threw him a look that he couldn’t entirely interpret, then punctuated it with a raised eyebrow. “Just reacting to your insanely sculpted six-pack.” She snuffled, leaned closer, and dabbed something to his wound. “Spend a lot of time at the gym, huh? Didn’t notice a weight room back at the cabin. Must have been in the…” He swayed, she caught him around the chest and tutted, the sound weirdly reminiscent of something Old Amka would do. “Come on. I need to—”
“It’s fine.” He shoved his shirt down, shuddered, and got as much distance from her as he could. Her hands on him were too much. Too damn much.
“Did I hurt you? Oh, hey. Look, I’m sorry if I—”
“No.” But the concern on her face sure did. The soft, careful path her fingers had trailed along his side. He could still feel the goose bumps, like a brand. They hurt more than the damn injury. And it wasn’t blood loss making him woozy; it was Leontyne Eddowes and her knowing eyes.
“Leontyne,” he said aloud, enjoying it on his lips. “Pretty.”
“Mm-hm. Right. Okay. I need you to lie down.”
Jesus, even knowing what she meant, those words made him hard. Lie down.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll deal with it myself. Just give me the—”
“Lie down, Thorne. Or I swear to God, I’ll…”
He held his breath, waiting. What? What would she do? He couldn’t begin to imagine—though his brain sure tried.
And then she pulled back, suddenly almost casual, which made him wonder what she had up her sleeve. “Listen. Real talk, okay?”
“Okay.” He stared into her deep, dark eyes—huge and serious in that little round face.
“You know this thing going on? It’s weird, right?” Though they always spoke quietly, she whispered now, drawing him in closer. “Does it feel weird to you?”
Being chased by an armed militia? Was that what she meant? He glanced at the rugged terrain around them, the wooded slope leading down to the brilliant lake, the rockier ledges above. “It’s not… No. I’m used to this place. It’s tough, but you’ll—”
“Not the place. Not that.” She moved her hand back and forth from his chest to hers. “I mean this. Right here. This thing happening. Between us.”
He blinked and in the next split second was hit by a sudden realization. None of this was real. Not this woman, with her too-intense gaze that read the secrets of his soul, not the helicopter prowling the skies like some fire-breathing dragon. Even Bo wasn’t acting like herself right now, prancing like a pony while their lives were on the line. He must be asleep, dead, or dying.
“You attracted to me?” The question was so light, her voice so casual that the meaning didn’t immediately register.
Not real. Not the lake spread out beneath them, shimmering under the noonday sun, not the trees spiking up straight from the soft, slippery ground, not the new smell of melt, and especially not that question.
“That what this is about?” Her index finger seesawed from his middle to hers, the move slow and playful. “The weirdness between us?”
If this was a dream, then he didn’t need to answer. And if it was real…he had no idea how to.
“Okay. What I’m trying to say to you, Elias, is…” She bit her lip and he almost lost it. “Are you attracted to me?”
“Yes.” She was every one of his fantasies, standing in front of him. Strong and soft, real in a way no woman had been before. What was the point in lying?
She made a silent oh with her mouth and then followed it up with a businesslike, “All right then. You know that saying about catching more flies with honey?” She edged closer. “Spoonful of sugar. All that?”
He grunted. It was the closest thing she’d get to a yes. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where this rabbit hole was leading.
“I saw a TED Talk recently,” she said. “The speaker said that it’s…” At his blank look, she paused. “What?”
“You saw Ted talk?”
“A TED Talk. You don’t know what that is?” When did she get so close to him? Her head tilted back, her mouth suddenly so near her breath warmed his neck. It was light and sweet, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about honey.
“No,” he whispered, though he couldn’t remember her question.
“Oh, hm. Okay. Well, research says that the flies and honey thing is true. You want someone to do something, it’s better to sweeten the pot than to punish.” Her eyes made a slow circuit of his face. By the time they made it back to his, he was breathing hard and fast, and the want was front and center—bigger than the pain, the exhaustion, his mission. Anything.
“What’d you…” He cleared his desire-clogged throat. “Have in mind?”
“How about a kiss?”
His body leaned in fractionally, but she’d already backed up.
“Is this for real? I’m not sure—”
“A kiss. Yes or no, Elias?”
His “Yeah” was a tight whisper, as if his entire being wasn’t screaming for it.
“Get on the ground, then. And let me dress your wound properly.”
He was hard as a rock now, his cock throbbing like it hadn’t done in ages. And it wasn’t just from the promise of a kiss. It was the game he liked—this quid pro quo thing. And maybe also the danger of it all. Like she’d dug into his psyche and pulled out some kinks he didn’t even know existed.
“A kiss.” He breathed it like a secret password.
She nodded. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her lips—the bow-tie curve at the top, the more pronounced pout below. They were pink in the middle, like her tongue. Like maybe other places that he didn’t dare think about.
“You’ll kiss me.” It was incomprehensible. The whole thing.
“Yes.” She was all business, her lips tight, her brows up, without a hint of that closeness they’d just had. “Now, come on.”
Chapter 21
Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, full of the smell of rotting leaves and mud, fresh green growth in there somewhere, poised and ready, though it had yet to pop. She followed him down, pointedly ignoring the way he watched her—like if he blinked, she’d disappear—and got to work.
Instead of shutting his eyes through the painful application of antiseptic, he kept them wide-open, losing focus in the treetops halfway through the bandaging process.
“Lift.”
He obeyed, held himself up while she wrapped a bandage around his middle, and settled back down, waiting for her to finish.
Which took forever. Her hands smoothed the tape, her fingers tested the edges, lingered…
When his surprised gaze met hers, there was a challenge in her expression.
Somewhere far away, the helicopter’s engine growled, back within earshot. Or maybe it was just that his ears suddenly worked again.
He ignored it. Not blinking, not breathing. Just waiting, watching, his skin prickling, antsy with cold and anticipation.
The air was different, muskier, more alive than it had been in forever—with movement and scents, sounds, and a light, chilly breeze. Birds cawed to the west, just over the crest of this mountain, while the aircraft circled back from the east. They’d have to land on top of him to get him to move right now.
“Do it.” His voice was a raw, open thing, more vulnerable than the wound she’d just covered. Want wasn’t something he allowed himself. Wasn’t much point when everything worth wanting was out of reach.
Only it wasn’t right now. It was right here. And he couldn’t remember wanting like this—ever.
He put out his hand, let his fingers curl around her perfect ear
, let them drag along the soft, brown skin. He gently pinched the lobe, testing its softness, before cupping her ear again, the fleshy part of his palm flush with her jaw.
Her eyelids dropped, opened, stayed at half-mast, and then, like a dream he’d wake up from feeling empty and lost, she pushed back, giving him the weight of her head, the curve of her cheek.
She lowered her head.
“One kiss.” The words were a hot breath on his belly, fanning his hair, tightening his abs.
Instead of rising over him and planting those lips on his, she dipped, paused, burned a path over his skin with her eyes, then pressed her mouth right where his pants ended low on his hips.
***
Leo had had no intention of doing any of this. She’d planned on bussing his cheek, just to tease him, maybe to motivate.
She most definitely hadn’t meant to put her mouth in this prematurely intimate place, where his happy trail disappeared, not here against his smooth, fragrant skin. Not in the wild, on the damp ground while the helo swooped toward them like a marauding bird of prey. It was so close now, she felt the thrum through her knees, the ground, his midsection.
Still, she didn’t lift her head, couldn’t draw away.
It might have been his scent that made her act like an idiot. Or maybe these fascinating muscles—born of the hard labor of a life lived alone. It could have been the sweet, high pink she’d seen in his cheeks before she’d lowered her face, telling her just how much he’d wanted this.
But she knew it wasn’t any of those that made her do this stupid, stupid thing. It wasn’t the light, crisp nap of his hair that made her put her tongue to skin and taste. It wasn’t the way his rough fingers cradled her ear—gently, like she was something fragile to be cared for and worried about. Taken care of, instead of doing the caring, which had always been her role.
No, she admitted, behind the safe haven of her own closed lids, what had sent her to this unexpected place was the look in his eyes. The man may have been close to forty, with the wear and tear to prove it, but his expression when she’d hovered over him had been so raw, so earnest, the yearning so pure and close to the surface, that she’d have done anything for him in that moment, given him whatever the hell he’d wanted.
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