by Daya Daniels
He’s uncomfortable...
I don’t blame him.
These days everyone is uncomfortable around me.
I ignore it and sit forward, running my fingers over the yellowed maps on the table.
Bringing his hands together once in a clap, Ollie leans forward. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I don’t allow the sound of him banging around the small kitchenette to interrupt my observation of Hugo and Igor’s work already laid out on the table close to me for this expedition. Admittedly, they look good, but the fact that before the team has even left base camp, two porters are dead, and the lead guide has been injured, it doesn’t exactly make me feel as though the luck of the Lord is ahead.
Canting forward, I trace my fingers over the notes written next to the Abruzzi Spur route, which already seems to have been selected. It’s the go-to route around here and the most climbed with more than 75 percent of K2’s temporary guests taking it.
The route gets its name from Prince Luigi Amadeo, Duke of Abruzzi, who back in 1909 first attempted it and had succeeded. It passes along this mountain’s most technical climbing spots, “House Chimney,” “The Black Pyramid”—a section of rock more than 100 feet—1,640 meters—high, and forces climbers to pass the “Bottleneck.”
Despite the Abruzzi Spur route’s popularity, it isn’t my favorite.
I’ve had many friends killed on this route from avalanches and falling seracs.
In fact, three of them had died out of all the climbers who’d perished in the 2008 disaster on this mountain. And two others who were a part of the expedition had died years before in the 1986 calamity on this peak.
I’m not quite sure how the summit party will feel about me changing the route this late in the game, but I’m not sure I care. The goal is to get them to the top and back down alive, regardless of which path we use to get to the top.
And technical climbing will be a large part of this summit because, unlike Everest, this mountain offers climbers almost no flat sections, except for a few. It’s all vertical as fuck. A mountain of sustained technical difficulty with forty-five-degree angles or more at each turn.
A gust of wind shakes the tent, yanking me back into the here and now.
“What kind of bunch do I have on my hands?” I ask Ollie, snatching up a marker.
“Um, you have one who’s not that experienced. The others are, mostly.” More banging accompanies his speech and he gets the coffee made.
I stand.
With the marker, I trace a line along the map in red, highlighting the South-Southeast Spur or the Cesen Route, which avoids the Black Pyramid but still reconnects with the Abruzzi Spur route about two-thirds of the way up the mountain. I draw a circle right at the summit and place the marker down.
Ollie continues to speak. “You do have one playboy in the bunch who might give you a bit of trouble.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You have an old man.”
Fantastic.
I groan.
“A mother of three.”
I cringe.
“A hothead.”
I roll my eyes since it all sounds like I’ve just been given a band of misfits.
More banging then the sound of the clanking of a spoon in a cup.
I’m still staring at the map when Ollie nudges me, offering me the cup of freshly brewed coffee. The aroma of the Colombian beans takes me away to someplace for a beat. Slowly, I take the mug from him, absorbing the contrite expression that overtakes his face.
“And...” he starts to say.
I stare at him blankly.
He clears his throat, like the next words out of his mouth are about to kill him.
“What is it, Ollie?” I straighten up completely.
“And in the bunch is Kai Alexander Brager.”
The only sound that can be heard is the howling wind outside.
I set my cup down slowly, so slowly. “Excuuuuuse me?”
“Yeah.” Ollie blinks exactly ten times.
“How could Cassian not tell me—”
With a little shrug Ollie shakes his head and before I go off on an epic tirade, the tent flaps open and in walks the man—bravado, good looks, and all.
The fucking “Prince of the Peaks.”
Instinctively, I fold my arms across my chest, tight.
He moves through the tent. His face is obscured by the darkness in here every now and again with every step he takes as he stalks forward through the junkyard maze. When it reaches the light in spots, my eyes narrow as I attempt to get a clearer view of who is heading my way.
The clunk of big boots pounds the ground as his large frame gets closer, closer, closer.
Ollie sucks in a breath. His big eyes are even bigger as he waits, like I do.
The footfalls are heavy and then when his face pops out of the darkness and into the light, a startled breath comes from me. I stumble back a bit but make sure I maintain my stone expression.
He stands straight and tall, showing me all six-foot-five and roughly two hundred and fifty pounds of him. He’s a big bastard. That I already knew. But to see him up close, standing a few feet away from my frame...is another matter.
He inches closer until he’s standing right in front of me.
I can’t breathe.
He’s breathtaking.
And I must crane my neck up a lot to face him.
Chiseled features. Deep-set silvery eyes. Tanned skin.
You’d think this man spends his time lying on the beach somewhere in the tropics, but nope. I don’t think so. The hue of this man’s skin could only be obtained by spending far too much time on the peaks of mountains all over the world, lingering close enough to the sun where he could almost touch it.
He removes the beanie from his head, revealing thick dirty-blond locks that are pulled back in a messy man-bun. Then, he smiles.
I stumble back a little more at that smile.
All perfect, straight, and blinding white, revealing a slight dimple in his left cheek.
I’ve decided I hate that smile as much as I hate green peas and lentils and people who litter.
His jawline, which I swear could’ve been carved from granite, is covered in around three days’ worth of scruff, making him appear to have the perfect blend of groomed and unkempt.
He smells like old money.
And he’s gorgeous.
Just as I’d heard and already knew...
Royalty.
A man who could never imagine falling from his lofty pedestal...
Educated at Eton, then Oxford.
An only child.
The son of an earl and a duchess. Rich. Spoiled. Has everything!
But, nomadic anyhow.
Like a lost boy.
A man who attempts to hide his royal lineage behind a dirty-blond almost-beard, wild hair, and a gruff temper. He may look rough around the edges, but the spoon that’s been in his mouth his entire life should very well have turned all his teeth gold by now.
He reaches out a hand and sends all the heat with it, warming me, sucking the cold right from my gut. I fold my arms tighter and tighter across my chest, almost popping my boobs beneath my now open jacket.
Another body lingers just behind him.
A few seconds pass.
I don’t make a move.
I’m frozen in place at this very awkward moment.
No one says a word. Not me. Not Ollie. And not the mysterious man who stands behind Kai.
Kai doesn’t take his hand back, only reaffirms his desire to shake mine with the cock to the left of his beautiful head. “Annika Maya Weathers.” His subtle British accent mixed in with his deep voice skitters its way into my ears, loving them. The timbre of it rattles my rib cage and echoes throughout this tent, fills it up, making me forget everyone else who’s standing in here. It’s smooth like perfect mashed potatoes. Warm.
I shift uncomfortably from side to side and find myself extendin
g my arm forward.
Taking my hand in his and pulling me forward slightly, forcing me to be in his personal space, he squeezes my hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so many great things about you.” He smiles again, then winks one of his big, icy eyes that remind me so much of the glaciers around here.
Cold. Beautiful. Dangerous.
We continue to shake while he peers at me curiously.
As if I’m some sort of animal he’s never encountered before in the wild.
I’m conscious of how my hand feels in that hand of his and I don’t like it.
With the tip of his head forward, he starts to speak. “My name is—”
I snatch my hand out of his like it burns, before he gets the chance to tell me who he is...as if I don’t already know. “I know who you are.” I wipe my hand that’s now covered in all sorts of dirt from that brief contact on my jacket.
He jerks his head back, clearly offended.
And I’m back on earth, pulled down from the stupid cloud I was just floating on.
“Annika Weathers,” the man behind him says, all smug and bastardly-like, and extends a hand. “I’m Sebastian.”
I reach out and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you.” I muster up a smile, then spin around and get back to the maps.
Ollie makes small talk with the two men about the weather and how long the trek up to Advance Base Camp will be tomorrow—weather permitting. Snatching up my coffee cup again, I take a few sips and try my best to ignore the heat coming from behind me as Kai edges closer to the table I’m hunched over. I place the cup back down as my eyes flicker all over the place, attempting to detect exactly what his next move will be.
I-can-smell-him.
It isn’t an odd scent. As you can imagine out here in the wilderness, he isn’t wearing cologne. It’s the natural scent of his skin and the aroma of his sweet breath I’d inhaled a few minutes ago when he first spoke to me. The crisp scent of the outdoors lingers all over him, like he was born smelling just like that. It’s a fragrance I can’t get enough of.
Hell, it’s why I’m here!
His big hand lands on the map, right next to mine. “Have we met before?” His hard chest brushes my right shoulder and his mouth is near my ear, dusting it with all sorts of confusion.
Glancing over my shoulder, I give him the side eye. “No, but I’ve heard lots of things about you.” Snatching up the marker, I scribble more notes on the map.
He exhales. “And you believe everything you hear, I’m guessing?” He arches a tawny brow.
“Only facts.”
I hate to accept that this one just might be a rumor.
But where there’s smoke, there’s usually a great big smoldering fire, right?
He grunts. “I see.”
Standing straight, I spin around and face him. Then snatch up my now cold coffee. “Think back to five years ago...a team of three, including you, were summiting Nanga Parbat. Instead of descending when one of the climbers in your team was injured, you left him bleeding to death because you wanted to make it to the top.”
Sebastian and Ollie fall completely silent.
Kai only slow-blinks.
It’s an arrogant blink, if there is such a thing. A non-apologetic one that tells me he isn’t sorry for what he did. Nor is he fucking denying it. I have no desire to climb with a man such as this one. He’s a hazard. A liability. One who stops at nothing to get what he wants. A man who’ll let someone die on his watch to get his glory.
Goddamn you, Cassian!
Kai smiles, not showing any of his teeth. “You know they don’t call that mountain ‘The Man Eater’ for nothing.”
“You left him there.” I slam my cup down, then ball my fists at my sides.
“I couldn’t do anything for him.” His voice comes out in a delicate whisper.
“He was my friend.” I will my tears to stay in my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He exhales. “I’m very, very sorry, but I can assure you there was nothing I could do for him.” He makes a strange face. “You know how these things work, Anni.”
Anni?
This mother...
Who told him he could call me Anni!
We’ve just met, and we’ve already graduated to nicknames!
My jaw is so tight, my mandible is grinding into dust.
“You know the rules…” Kai points to the roof of the tent. “If you stop moving up there...if you collapse from exhaustion...if you show any signs of weakness...you get left behind, Anni.” His thick brows crash together in a perfect V. “I did nothing wrong.”
“When you descended after summiting...” I pause, look away from him, and then look back at his guarded eyes. “Was he dead?”
Kai inhales sharply through his nose and does-not-reply.
And that in itself is my answer.
Sonofabitch!
Igor has made his way in here. Now, he and Sebastian are huddled together in whispers. Ollie stands off to the side.
“I’m not going to apologize for saving my own life.” Kai’s top lip turns up in a snarl.
“Are you kidding me?” I point a finger at him. “You left a man up there to DIE!”
He laughs as if everything I’ve said is just ridiculous, and before I know it, I’ve knocked over my coffee and we’re screaming this tent down as if we’re in couples’ therapy gone wrong.
“You’re a liability, Prince of the Peaks!”
Such a ridiculous fucking nickname...
His gray marbles almost fall out of his head. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!” He tosses his arms up in surrender. “Is this how we’re going to be starting out this expedition?” He points a finger at Sebastian, then back at me like I’ve just been selected for the guillotine. “I’m not dealing with this SHIT! You need to tell Cassian at Excelsior, he needs to send someone else!” His voice booms.
I laugh a little.
There is no one else.
So, I make the only suggestion left. “Maybe it’s you who needs to leave.”
Kai
WELL, FUCK ME.
The American mathematics professor has sass.
She might even be a little insane.
I’ll have to admit that when I first saw this woman’s creamy skin and fire-engine-red hair, I probably did want to bang her. But now it’s clear I’ll probably need the fucking Jaws of Life just to get her thighs open, and even then, that probably still won’t do it!
I step back flabbergasted, feeling like she’s just dropkicked me in the balls.
She puts a finger in my face, but I don’t focus on it.
All I see right now are her blues.
Bright, clear, and deep like the azure ocean.
The kind of eyes you could get lost in.
They’re beautiful.
A smile touches my lips that only pisses her off even more and I have a fleeting vision of throwing her tiny five-foot-five frame over my shoulder like a caveman and taking her back to my cave—I mean tent...
Sebastian laughs at the encounter. Ollie stands frozen, unsure of what to do.
I bask in her fury.
At least she’s looking at me now, communicating, giving me all her attention.
Even though it’s the screwed-up type.
A chill rips through my bones.
I lift my hands in surrender. “Anni.” Gosh, her name sounds sweet on my lips. “It isn’t what you think it is. And it certainly didn’t go down the way you think it did.”
Yes, it did.
“Well, how did it go then?”
“One day, Anni, I’ll explain.”
“Oh.” She cocks a thin brow.
“Yes, I’ll tell you everything about it.”
“So, I have it all wrong then?”
“Yes.”
No.
I remember that cold, cold morning on top of Nanga Parbat—the ninth highest mountain in the world and one of the eight-thousanders—a mountain nicknamed “Killer Mountain,” for good reason. Esp
ecially, since almost every climber I’ve ever known never made it back alive to the base after ascending.
It was one of the hardest climbs of my life, coupled with the fact the team wasn’t getting along. The cold was biting, and of course, the air was thin.
We’d overshot our summit time, moving too slow like drunk molasses, most of us struggling with crippling exhaustion. The kind that makes you feel like you can’t string three words together if you tried. Like you must learn to speak your native language again. You can’t make decisions. Your head is as cloudy as the night sky. You struggle for breath. Your body is heavy. And every step you take makes you feel as though you’ve just run the New York City Marathon twice!
Depleted. Unfocused. Spent.
It was an unbearable situation we found ourselves in and from there everything else went to shit some sort of super-fast.
The winds had increased and night was falling.
The stars that evening seemed especially bright and so had the shining globe that looked as though it was hovering so close to earth I could reach up and touch it.
I remember that white full moon.
It felt like an old friend that night.
It was as if it was talking to me, leading the way to the summit, telling me under no circumstances to return. After I made it to the top and pressed my boots down into the cold crunchy snow, I descended, and I’ve never been back on that peak since.
Anni’s friend had been stricken with altitude sickness before we set off for the summit that morning and was advised to descend. He refused since he had a savage quest for the summit brewing within him that only a fellow climber could understand.
He was willing to risk his life to get to the top.
He was willing to die to make sure his name went down in history.
He was willing to risk our lives for his success.
Have you ever been faced with a decision that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life? Well, for me, the decision I had to make back then is one of them. And to this day, I don’t regret making it.
It was him or me. And whenever I must make that sort of choice, I’ll always choose me.
Yep, I’m that type of fucking guy.
Anni’s sharp breaths yank me back into her world.