Riveted

by Brook, Meljean

  His mouth left her breast, found her lips in a hot, rough kiss. “I’ll bring you close first. Make sure you’re wet. If anything hurts, I’ll stop.”

  It hurt not having him. “I won’t stop you.”

  “Promise me.”

  His thumb rubbed over her clitoris. Her back suddenly bowed, body trembling. She clung to his shoulders, shaking her head. She wouldn’t promise this. She never wanted him to stop.

  Desperation made her lie. “It has to hurt the first time.”

  Because it probably wouldn’t. She’d taken his fingers, and there was only pleasure here, maddening desire, a deepening ache. But she would say anything to reassure him. Anything to be certain he was inside her.

  “Then stop me if there’s more than a little pain.”

  Relieved, she nodded. Anticipation and need boiled through her as he settled between her thighs—and a sharp coil of nervousness. Why did he fear hurting her so much? Annika hadn’t worried about pain before, but now she did. Her body slowly stiffened, tense as she waited for him to tear her apart.

  He came over her, resting his weight on his right forearm, his left reaching between them. His face was directly above hers, but he was looking down.

  “I’ll try to be slow.” His voice was tight with strain. “Not rough like this morning.”

  Those three hard thrusts against her. Mine. A jolt of arousal shot through her at the memory, was echoed by a needy throb deep inside. She felt him against her, looked down. Angling his hips, he guided his shaft to her entrance. The wide tip pushed through her slick folds—too far. He slid up over her mound, the head glistening.

  He groaned. His chest rose on heavy, rasping breaths. He held himself still, as if regaining control. After a long moment, he asked hoarsely, “Will you spread your legs wider?”

  She did, aware of the soft prickle of his wool trousers on the inside of her thighs. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she glanced up at his face. Tension held his jaw tight. His body shook as he lifted back, guided himself slowly to her again.

  Desperate not to hurt her. Taking so much care.

  With his steel thumb against the top of his shaft, he angled the head toward her. He slid through her folds again, nudged against her entrance. His back flexed, ever so slightly. Pressure built against her opening. Her breath came in rapid gasps.

  “Annika.”

  She glanced up. His dark gaze locked with hers. Below, the pressure rose almost to pain and then suddenly became a burning sting, a tight stretch. Unbidden, a whimper of uncertainty escaped her lips.

  David instantly stilled. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She looked down. He hadn’t gone in very far. Just the wide head, lodged inside her.

  A quiver raced through his body. He strained above her, every muscle stiff and his tendons standing in sharp relief. “Am I hurting you?”

  No. It just felt bigger than she’d expected. Stranger, too.

  Her hands slid down his shoulders, gripped his biceps. “I can take more.”

  She watched him slide deeper, stretching her to the verge of pain but not over, it was just intrusive, and odd, and all that she could feel as he sank halfway into her was more pressure, pushing outward from her core as if he invaded all of her, not just this space between her thighs. Then he stopped, withdrew slightly, and she saw the slick moisture oiling his shaft, because he’d been inside her, and she was wet, so wet and ready for him to drive deep. Her body tightened, squeezing around him, and she gasped.

  He froze. “Stop?”

  “No. Oh, no.” She raised her hips with a deep, needy moan, pushing herself up and forcing him deeper. “David. More.”

  Bracing both hands beside her shoulders, he rocked against her, each shallow thrust sinking farther into her, until he was locked against her, deep, so deep, he couldn’t go any deeper until her back arched and her thigh dragged up over his hip, and then he was. Annika cried his name on a sobbing breath. Her inner muscles clenched around his thick shaft, unbearably full and tight inside her.

  With a tortured moan, he drew back. She writhed as he pressed forward again, trying to ease the pressure, trying to increase it, trying to draw out the exquisite sensation of David sliding deep, then pistoning against her, into her, so slow at first then a quicker, more desperate pace. Then slowing again, his head hanging, the mattress bunched in a fierce grip.

  Trying to not spend. An effort for him, torture for her when he stopped. She urged him on, and his head lifted, his gaze burning into hers. Determination set his jaw. His hand found her knee, pushed it higher. Pushed his thick length deeper.

  Oh, but she couldn’t take more. A keening cry erupted from her with each hard thrust. Then shallow strokes, as he exhaled in bursts through gritted teeth. Hard again, her breasts swaying with the force of it and warm steel pressing her knee higher and rough fabric a soft burn against her thighs. Then only David, so deep, her body tightening around him then shuddering as she cried out, clenching around the heavy shaft still driving back and forth inside her. David groaned and shook. With a final, deep stroke, he suddenly left her empty, his hot seed spilling onto her belly.

  His chest heaving, he settled between her legs again, his weight braced on his forearms. Annika wrapped him tight. Sweat glistened over his skin. He stroked hair back from her forehead, kissed her mouth, then rolled over so that she lay atop him.

  Utterly replete, she kissed him languidly, then said, “I want you back inside me.”

  He smiled against her lips. “Give me twenty minutes to recover. And you can be like this, on top.”

  She wanted to be in every position. “And then we’ll figure out a way to bend over like wolves—like we almost did this morning.”

  “Ten minutes to recover,” he said, and then grinned up at her when she laughed. “And I’ve already figured it out. You will kneel on the edge of the bed, and I will stand on the floor behind you.”

  She couldn’t wait. “Kiss me until then.”

  “As long as you like.”

  “Forever,” she said, and he got off to a perfect start.

  Annika woke to a soft whump! A familiar sound, but not here.

  Beside her, David lifted his head. “What was that?”

  “The snow tunnel collapsing, I think.”

  “Was there a quake?”

  “I didn’t feel one.”

  She sat up with him. There were different sounds now. Distant shouts, loud cracks.

  Not the crack of ice. Gunshots.

  He threw back the blanket. “Hurry, into your clothes—”

  A loud crash came from nearby, followed by a rumble that shook through the ice walls.

  “Hurry,” he finished. “That didn’t come from beneath us.”

  She yanked on her trousers, a pair of stockings. Her tunic and coat. She spun in a circle, searching for her boots, then remembered—“I left my boots in the steam room.”

  “I’ll get them. Don’t move. Scream if you need help.”

  She nodded, then pulled on her hat, wrapped a scarf around her face. Blowing out the lamp, she waited in the dark.

  David returned too soon. “The tunnel did collapse—it’s blocking the way. I’ll carry you up and around.”

  Hating that she would be a burden, even for a short time, she sighed as he swung her up. “You’re carrying me everywhere.”

  “I’ll carry you anywhere.”

  He always knew just what to say. Annika smiled, linked her arms around his shoulders. David left the bedchamber slowly. The tunnel had fallen in on itself halfway through to the next chamber, the sides still standing waist-high, braced by the surrounding ice. Cold air bit her cheeks. The heavy huff of a troll’s engine joined the shouts, the shots—and above that, the sound of a larger engine and the hum of propellers.

  “The airship,” Annika whispered.

  They reached the end of the tunnel. Broken blocks of snow mounded at his feet. David peered toward the clearing. Annika arched her neck to look, but her view was
blocked by the still-standing tunnel wall.

  “What do you see?”

  “They’re killing the guards.”

  Who? “The laborers?”

  He nodded, eased back. Annika stared up at him, trying to grasp what it might mean. The laborers were rebelling against di Fiore. Källa had been right. But if they planned to destroy everything, kill anyone who’d been in authority or part of the capsule project…that included her and David, too. Paolo, Källa, and Olaf.

  She hoped they would be more determined to escape than bent on revenge.

  “We can’t wait here,” she whispered. “If they come, there’s nowhere to hide.”

  “I know. Hold on.”

  Carrying her against his chest, David climbed up the fallen side of the tunnel—away from the clearing—and quickly moved behind the standing wall, where he crouched out of sight.

  “We’ll stay on this side and head around to the laboratory to find your sister,” he said softly. “We can use the roofs as cover.”

  Not all of the roofs, she saw. Someone had driven a troll into the bathing room, where it had crashed through the ice blocks and tipped over into the dugout floor. Another troll lay on its side in the middle of the clearing, engine huffing and nose steaming. Bodies littered the snow, blood crimson against the white. Where were all of the laborers? She could still hear gunshots, shouts, but there was no one alive in the clearing.

  A body dropped out of the sky and onto the bath chamber, smashing against the troll’s flank with a dull clang.

  Slapping her hands over her mouth to stifle a shriek, she looked up. The airship. The rebelling laborers had taken the airship. She flinched as another body fell—an aviator. David’s arms tightened around her. Then more bodies, and she buried her face in David’s neck as the crew slowly rained down, some of them already dead, some of them screaming until they hit the ground.

  Someone above unhooked the ferry cruiser’s tether; the cable slithered to the snow. The airship flew slowly south, the propellers turning lazily and steam billowing from the tail, as if they hadn’t known to close the vents. The night quieted, except for the huffing of the fallen troll.

  Only two of the big machines had been wrecked. “Do you see the third troll? We need it now that the airship is gone.”

  David shook his head, rose from his crouch. His gaze swept the clearing, the surrounding buildings. “They didn’t leave any weapons, either.”

  “Källa should have something.” Her gaze lit on the two-seater balloons. One had deflated—a stray bullet, perhaps—leaving an engine-powered balloon, and the pedal balloon. “Are we going to stay here tonight?”

  “I hope to God we don’t.”

  She agreed. They could be in Vik by midnight. “We need to fire up that balloon so it’ll be hot enough by the time we’re ready to go.”

  Her heart pounded as they crossed the clearing, and she listened for any sound over the huffing of the troll. Nothing. No one shouted or shot. Either everyone was gone or dead, or there were others hiding, too. She started the balloon’s burner, and they crossed the clearing again, down the steel steps. The hearth chamber was dark, cold. Annika could only see faint shadows, but David moved without hesitation to the far snow tunnel, pausing to look in each chamber they passed. He entered the tunnel leading to the laboratory, abruptly stopped.

  “It’s us, Källa,” he said into the darkness. “The others have fled.”

  A lamp flared, revealing Annika’s sister. She lowered her sword, dragged a pair of goggles down around her neck, the lenses reflecting an eerie green. “Where are your boots, Annika?”

  “The bathing chamber. But it’s destroyed.”

  “We don’t have extra.” She sighed, shook her head. “We’ll figure out something. Come back to the laboratory. Have you seen Lorenzo?”

  “We assumed he’d be with you,” David said.

  “No. He left a few hours ago with the troll to retrieve the foreman’s body. But I haven’t seen him since…and he took the suit. I can barely get a word out of Paolo.”

  They followed her into the laboratory. Olaf lay sleeping on one of the tables, bundled in a swaddle of furs. Beside him, Paolo worked over a sheet of calculations—weeping, Annika realized. The man’s eyes were red, his cheeks wet. His tears had smeared the ink.

  David sat Annika next to Olaf, took the stool beside Paolo’s. Gently, he rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Paolo? Are you well?”

  “Of course I’m well!” Paolo snapped the response. “Why wouldn’t I be well? It is the boy who is gone.”

  Taken aback by the sudden change, Annika looked to Källa. She shook her head, lifted her hands.

  “The boy?” David tried again. “Olaf is here.”

  “Not him. The other. Lorenzo.” The anger suddenly dropped away, leaving his face lined, his eyes confused and tired. “He took the suit.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s going to go. Going to go.” He tossed his arms up in the air, then buried his face in his hands. “The calculations weren’t done. The trajectory is false.”

  “Paolo.” Källa came forward, her eyes wide. “Do you mean the capsule? He’s going in the capsule?”

  “Yes, yes. He’s set the charges.” He faced her, frowning, as David abruptly stood and started for Annika. “Is the airship ready, then?”

  Källa scooped up Olaf. “Are we supposed to be leaving?”

  “The guards will come to take us to the airship at six,” Paolo said. “He said the moon will rise on the di Fiore name.”

  Oh, blast. It was just after six now. Lorenzo had probably timed it so they’d have time to reach the ship…but not wait so long that they wouldn’t see the launch.

  “Källa,” Annika said. “We have to take the balloons.”

  “Yes. I’ll be right back for Paolo. We need our coats.”

  “We need our packs, too.” Face stark with tension, David stopped in front of her. “Ideas for boots?”

  She thought desperately. “I don’t know.”

  “I do.”

  He reached down, hauled off his right boot. His foot wasn’t what she expected—like a thick cotton stocking. She took the boot.

  “Don’t put it on yet.” He stripped off the padding, revealing skeletal steel similar to his hand. A metallic clank sounded when he set his foot down again. “This keeps it from sliding around inside. It’ll do the same for you.”

  And keep her feet warmer, too. Cozy. She pulled on the second one, her heart filled to bursting. “Thank you.”

  “I’d only expose my naked feet for you,” he said, smiling slightly. “Now, go for our packs. I’ll help Källa bring Paolo.”

  She nodded. The boots rose past her knees, but it wouldn’t matter, unless she wanted to crouch. Right now, she needed to run.

  Or stomp. Her feet felt heavy, huge. She took a lamp, made her way as quickly as possible back to their chamber. She stuffed everything she could find into their packs, ripped the blankets from the bed, clomped back out to the clearing.

  Källa and Paolo were outside, watching David climb up the laboratory’s snow-covered roof.

  “Do you see him?” her sister called.

  “Not Lorenzo!” David called back. “But the other troll is there!”

  He was looking toward the capsule tower, Annika realized. She joined Källa, who carried Olaf in a sling across her chest, and a pack across her back. She gave Annika two gas-filtering masks.

  “Paolo wants to get him,” she said softly.

  Annika looked at her in dismay. In two-seater balloons, with no idea when the explosive charges would blow? “I don’t think—”

  “He’s my son.” Paolo’s voice quavered. “And the final calculations weren’t made.”

  Beneath her feet, a deep rumble suddenly shook the ice. Annika staggered. On the roof, tiny balls of snow rolled down sloped sides. David started down.

  The entire laboratory dropped, ice cracking like a cannon shot. Stumbling forward, Annika scr
eamed his name. David took a running leap. He cleared the sudden sheer edge with inches to spare, landing hard in the snow. His legs seemed to buckle, but then he was up again, catching her hand.

  “Go!”

  They raced across the clearing. Tunnels collapsed with heavy thumps of snow. The cracking of ice sounded like a battlefield. The ground beneath her feet dropped, and she clung to David, terror stopping her heart, but they didn’t fall away into a new crevasse—the entire clearing dropped with them. Ahead of her, Källa pulled Paolo up from his knees. Her sister reached the balloons, glanced back at Annika.

  Two balloons, only one with an engine. With an older man and a child with her, there was no question which one Källa should take. Annika pointed, heard the buzzing of the small engine from the other balloon as she climbed into her own seat. She began to pedal, waiting while David helped settle Olaf into Paolo’s arms. As soon as he was in, she released the tether—even if the ice dropped to the center of the Earth, they wouldn’t fall with it now. She saw Källa engage her propellers, pedaled harder, David joining her. Annika lifted the altitude flaps, and they rose slowly into the air. Källa met her eyes, then banked south. Toward the tower.

  Blast it. If Lorenzo wanted to escape, he had a troll.

  Annika shook her head, but pulled the rudder to the left and began turning south. More crevasses had opened all along the glacier, she saw. Steam poured through the fissures, and even over the propellers and the cracking ice, she heard the whistling of the pressurized steam escaping through tight cracks. The tower rose ahead.

  Annika peered across the distance. “The capsule’s gone!”

  “It dropped into the borehole just before the first blast!” David called back.

  And must be still in there, plugging the hole. No steam rose beneath the tower yet. Annika’s heart galloped in her chest. “What happens if it doesn’t launch?”

  “Then he roasts—Good God and da Vinci!”

  A burst of steam erupted beneath the tower. The capsule streaked upward, moonlight glinting against steel and leaving a wisp of steam from its tail.

  And was gone. So fast.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she met David’s astonished gaze. From the other balloon came Paolo’s whoops and shouts, Källa’s wild laughter.