Uncharted

by Adriana Anders

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, that’s not something I’ll ever know.”

  “Your dad…”

  “Destroyed.” She half shrugged. “I figured it was my fault?”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She let him move close, didn’t stop him when he put a big arm around her. “Still think that?”

  Shaking her head put her face right against his chest, where he smelled good—like smoke and mountains, with a hint of sulfur. “Depression and some of the meds she was on were probably at least partly to blame. My dad pushed her, too, you know? To be this big diva when she’d been talking about retiring for a while. Maybe teaching. Spending time with me. It wasn’t his fault either.”

  “Where is your dad? Now, I mean.”

  She sighed. “He’s alone. In a…place. A home, I mean. For people with Alzheimer’s.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “She’s still alive as far as he knows, so…silver lining, right?” Elias’s arms went tighter, drew her in until there was no space between them. No chance she could fall. “I’m sorry,” she managed to gulp between sobs.

  “Stop it.”

  “I…I…can’t.”

  “Not crying. I mean apologizing. Don’t apologize for what you feel, Leo.”

  “I don’t cry. I never cry.” The next sob was laced with humor. “God, you’ll never believe that.”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Seriously.” She was giggling now, though the tears and laughter were indistinguishable. A little levity to lighten the pain. “I didn’t cry when she died. Didn’t cry at her funeral or when I…” She gulped back her next words.

  “When you what?”

  “How about I save some of my”—hiccup—“stories for another day?”

  “I want it when you’re ready. All of it. Everything you’ve got to give—good or bad. The hard shit. The sad. I want every little bit of you.” He leaned down, put his lips to the side of her head, and whispered, “You don’t scare me, Leo Eddowes.”

  “No?” She sniffled, her voice thick with emotion. “Well, you scare the living hell out of me.”

  ***

  They ate quietly, side by side, bodies touching, feelings too close to the surface to disguise and too new to talk about. Leo was wrung out, shaken, but not weak. Like a person after major surgery, everything ached—including her soul—but under that was a better life, a strength she’d never felt.

  After years of shoving the truth deep down, she’d ripped herself open, exposed her innards to the light of day, and now needed to heal.

  The scarring process, she figured, would hurt like hell, but this newfound fragility felt precious.

  After dinner, she went off to clean herself up, stumbling in the dark as she went.

  “You okay?” Elias called from inside the dilapidated cabin.

  “Yep.”

  “Need help?”

  She opened her mouth to say no and changed her mind. “Not right now.”

  By the time she returned, he’d cleaned up their dinner stuff and set the bedding up again. Without lifting her head from the floor, a sated Bo woofed a gentle greeting that made Leo smile.

  Without discussion, they settled under the covers, and though they’d been here before, Leo couldn’t help a nervous thrill at his nearness.

  “Something I’ve been thinking about, Leo.” Elias’s voice rumbled through his big chest.

  She snuggled closer. “What’s that?”

  “How long’s your dad been sick?”

  “Got bad about five years ago.” She swallowed down the bitter taste of guilt. “Noticeable to me, I mean.”

  “Is that when you left the military?”

  She released a long, slow breath. “Yeah.”

  “Your team know your dad? Von and Ant or—”

  “Ans. Short for Anselm.” She smiled. “Can’t believe you remember their names. We call Von the Grim Reaper and Ans is Ladykiller.”

  His brows lifted. “What about you?”

  “I’m Terminator. Or, if they’re being really annoying, Arnie.”

  “Oooooh. That’s rough.”

  “Right.”

  “Eric Cooper. He’s kind of the leader, right? And Ford’s his brother. The scientist who’s with the chef.”

  She paused. “When did I even tell you this?”

  “I listen. I take an interest.”

  “Apparently so. I feel…” Seen.

  “Remember what you told me, Leo? That I wasn’t alone anymore?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know you’ve got your crew, but…guess I wanted to say that you’re not either. Alone, I mean.”

  Fresh emotion prickled through her. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Make me cry again.”

  “Okay,” he whispered, stroking her back, her side, her back again. “Okay, sweetheart.” The long, slow sweeps of his hand over her thin base layer put her to sleep like a lullaby.

  At some point in the night, the touches changed, his or hers, she couldn’t say, but caresses turned to nudges, sighs turned to pants, laziness to intent. She was on her side, with Elias behind her, one hand working her breast, sensual and slow.

  The touch lacked the urgency of their previous encounters but had another element she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was dreamy, comforting.

  She arched her back, pushing her hips toward him, and felt him, hard. Another shift brought them closer. He grunted when she ground against him and—there—a taste of their earlier frenzy.

  “I want…” She reached back and found his erection, hot and hard and ready.

  “Yeah…”

  “Can you…”

  “Yeah.” He yanked at her pants, pulled them down so her ass was bare, and let her feel how badly he wanted this. “Yeah.”

  “Elias.” It was all she could say. One word, though it felt like she’d offered up her heart.

  “Hang on.” He disappeared for a few moments, taking his firm, heady heat. She barely heard the sounds of him rummaging in his coat pocket, followed by crinkling foil and snapping rubber through the quick beating of her heart. His return was preceded by the acrid scent of latex. “Let’s get this off.” He yanked the pants the rest of the way off her body—without much help from her—slid in behind her again, and nudged her top leg until she lifted it. At the feel of his blunt, heavy tip against her, she tilted until he lined up and slid slowly in.

  They shared a sigh as his body filled hers, the sensation still not entirely comfortable, although she was wet.

  Yeah, well, if this adventure had taught her one thing, it was that comfort was overrated.

  After a minute or two of just being together, he moved and she responded, each taking turns leading their bodies in this magical, electrifying dance. Only this time, orgasm didn’t seem to be his goal, any more than it was hers. It was togetherness they sought.

  Every slow slide brought more heaviness, more heat, more sighs of contentment, desire. She had no idea how long he stayed in her like that, how long the ascent lasted. But at some point—could have been hours later—he tightened his full-body hug, deepened the penetration, and came hard, with a low noise that she felt to her marrow.

  After recovering, he reached down—still inside her—and rubbed tight circles over her clit. Panting, she came, not even a little surprised when she started leaking tears again.

  This must be the new normal. The feelings right there on the surface, instead of suppressed.

  He pulled out, arms around her, and lay still for a bit before getting up—probably to deal with the condom, maybe to get away from the soupy swamp of emotion she couldn’t seem to contain around him. When he didn’t immediately return, she rolled into a ball under the blankets, trying to prepare herself for the possibility that sh
e’d cried one too many times with the guy.

  The scuff of his returning feet told her she’d underestimated him.

  Without a word, he climbed in and eased his big body in front of hers, then sort of under her until her head was on his chest.

  She rubbed her face into him, breathed him in, and let herself be happy. So she’d cried a few more tears. Maybe what she felt for him was too big to be contained. Trusting him and winning his trust had opened her up to the possibility of something deeper. It felt good to let him in—cathartic actually.

  His hand rubbed circles on her back with a familiarity that spoke of years together, not days. Years of this closeness. What would that be like?

  She stretched and made a low, happy sound, fully coming to when his voice rumbled gently in her ear.

  “Mom and Dad fell in love at first sight.”

  The words sent a shiver down her back. When he didn’t go on, she prompted him. “Seriously? Yours, too?”

  “Mom’s blind date never showed. And this guy sitting beside her at the lunch counter bought her a milkshake. Said something cheesy about pretty girls looking sad. Way he told it, she rolled her eyes and turned away, telling him that she wasn’t interested in smiling for any man.”

  Leo chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

  “Said he was done right there. Kaput. Like lock, stock, and whatever. Told me never to settle for a woman who didn’t challenge me. Said I’d hate my life if I chose easy instead of interesting.” His breathing was too measured, as if he were holding it in, doing his best to control it. “Karen—my ex. The one I was supposed to marry. She was nice. I mean a really good person.”

  Leo snorted. “She left you.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Yes. Yes, I blame her.” Leo would never do that. Never. “I won’t get mad about it. Her loss and all that.” She settled back into his warmth, a little surprised at how worked up she’d gotten. “My gain.”

  He gathered her close and sighed against the top of her head. “I’m wild about you, Leo. No matter what happens, I’ll never regret a moment of this. Not one single second.”

  “And if we wake up surrounded by bad guys tomorrow?”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  She stiffened. “How do you know?”

  “While you were heating up dinner, I set my traps.”

  She settled back down. “Any chance of Bo stepping in them?”

  “She knows better.” He nudged her, as if to remind her that she’d almost stepped in one herself. “We’ve been practicing this shit for ages.”

  Sadness welled up at that thought—at a life spent preparing for the worst.

  “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get maudlin about me again, Leo.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good.” He tightened his arm and kissed her head. “’Cause I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.”

  Chapter 35

  Elias couldn’t sleep, despite his exhaustion and the relative safety of their surroundings. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of holding Leo in his arms, it was the fear of losing her. What if this was it? This one night, his only chance at being with her.

  He couldn’t relax, couldn’t lay his mind to rest. If this was it, he wanted to be awake for every single second.

  So, rather than fight wakefulness, he embraced it and let himself be. With her, let her smell comfort and stir him, let her low, cute snore reassure him, let the feel of her body restore him.

  He must have fallen asleep for a while, because maybe half an hour before sunrise, he came to and found her awake.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough and groggy.

  She nodded.

  “Sleep any?”

  “Yeah. Really well, actually.”

  A predawn light shone through the room’s single window, glowing blueish. “Want to see something?” he asked, though really, they should try to sleep a bit more.

  “You know it.”

  Fuck, he loved her. And not in the sweet, comfortable way he’d loved Karen, but so deeply, the feeling so raw and harsh and new it hurt. He didn’t love her with his heart, he loved her with his skin and bones and guts. Or maybe his heart, but not one of those pretty ones that people drew with their fingers in the air. No, his love was coarse and earthy and real, pumped full of blood and its own electric current.

  “Come on,” he said, as gruff and unpolished as the yeti she’d called him. “Boot up.”

  Without a word, they dressed. He grabbed his rifle and led the way out the door and up a set of rickety wooden stairs. Around the corner, through a wooden structure, out the door, and up more steps, then more. The river rushed alongside them, washing ice and snow and debris from the top of the mountain to the lake, accelerating breakup.

  His lungs puffed faster as they rose to the top of the peak. Though subtle, there was a change in the air after yesterday’s storm. It didn’t smell like winter anymore. It was full of rotting grass, fermented berries, and decomposing remains, newly unearthed and cloying. Death giving way to the fresh flush of life. Seedlings and buds popping out with their own sharp perfumes. Sulfur from the springs wafted on the air, weighted by what smelled like mushrooms but was actually mud, thawing after months beneath the snow. It wasn’t good or bad as far as scents went. It was just…Alaska. Just life.

  Bo trotted up beside him and stopped, one paw raised, ears pricked. Out of habit, he stopped with her, chuffing out a lungful of air when Leo bumped into him. She put her arms around him to steady herself, silent and no doubt ready to roll in case of trouble. He pressed his hand to hers and squeezed once, not as a sign of intrusion but of affection. He turned and smiled and held back the desire to pick her up just to hold her. “Almost there,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the east for that first glow. “Better hurry.”

  Faster now, he climbed, the half-rotted, creaking steps warning him to tread carefully. About twenty yards from the top, the sun pierced through and he knew it would be worth the extra trip.

  At the top, he waited, grabbed Leo’s hand, and held her still. “Close your eyes.”

  She did without hesitation.

  “Here.” He sat on a rock and pulled her onto his lap, enjoying her weight on him. “Okay, open.”

  He craned his neck to watch her face instead of the view and for a second, there was no reaction, nothing. Then he felt her indrawn breath.

  He tore his eyes from her and looked, making himself see it as if for the first time. Funny how his lungs did that same capture and release hers just had, his mouth dropped open like hers, his eyes wide and avid, taking in the scene like they were hungry for beauty.

  “I’ve never…” Another shaky breath from Leo, this one deep and slow. “This is astonishing.”

  He nodded, rubbing the side of his face against her shoulder.

  “There’s a name for this, right?”

  “Alpenglow.”

  “I thought it was a sunset thing.”

  “Happens when the sun’s just below the horizon.” He shrugged, feeling like a dog offering up a bone.

  “Hugging the horizon.” She lifted her shoulders and settled back into him with a sigh.

  Content and calm, he put his cheek to the side of her head and took it all in—the star-dusted sky, still flirting with night, the jagged edges of the mountains, carved sharply in the east and opposite, washed with the sun’s nascent glow. None of it looked real, though he knew from experience that it didn’t get more solid than this. Society’s constructs, now that was a load of bullshit. But this, right here—this was the real stuff.

  “You’ll miss this.” Her voice touched that deep, aching place inside him.

  Everything he’d been feeling wadded up in his throat, knotting hard and implacable.

  He tight
ened his arms and forced words past the obstruction. “You’re talking like you know what’s next.”

  When she shifted, he didn’t expect her to twist and lean back to get her leg over, squirming until she straddled him. His arms loosened but stayed around her to keep her from falling backwards, and something about the trust in that one move hollowed him out and somehow made him whole again.

  “We’re next,” she whispered as she wrapped her cold hands around his hot neck. “You. Me.” She glanced to where the dog sat, tongue lolling, ears half-perked, content to enjoy the scenery alongside her people. “Borealis Thorne.”

  He’d already started shaking his head when she moved her hands up and into his hair, catching it in her fingers and tugging. The sting tingled from his head to the bottom of his feet, pooling warm between his legs.

  “Us” was all she said before she put her lips to his to prove it.

  Christ, he could die right here, in this sun-washed place, with the scents of newborn life all around him. He could die and he’d be fine. More than fine. He’d be in heaven.

  ***

  Pleasure hummed through Leo’s nerves, buzzing over her skin and loosening her bones, even through the coat and the layers of clothes. She’d forgotten her gloves in her haste, which would be a problem if her fingers weren’t warm against Elias’s face and in his hair and raking through his backwoods beard. His mouth—so grim when she’d first seen him—was nothing but heat and lush pleasure. And hunger. Mostly that, which she couldn’t help but echo.

  Her hips moved of their own volition, circling slow and hard against his erection. It made her want him all the more. His desire—so obvious it was almost innocent—was as appealing as his hard exterior and molten center. Earning this man’s trust was the best thing she’d ever done.

  Because together, they were more than the sum of their parts.

  He groaned and tightened his hold, lifting his hips to get more, harder, closer. Fuck, she loved this—him. The way their brains worked and their bodies played and everything they did made sense. Together.