Uncharted

by Adriana Anders

  “You stick your head in this guy’s den? Wake him up?” Or gal, if they were really unlucky. Just because the cubs weren’t out didn’t mean they weren’t around.

  “Didn’t get as far as the den.”

  The grizzly moved. Elias tensed his finger, squinted through the scope, half-blind from the rain, though he was surprised at how steady his hands were. Firing the weapon would be the worst-case scenario. There was a chance he could take the animal down before it reached Leo, but the sound would blaze a trail straight to them.

  The bear shifted, tilted its head at a funny angle, like it was actively listening…and dropped to all fours.

  “I don’t want to do this, bear,” he muttered, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud he’d scare the animal into doing something they’d all regret. “Don’t want to have to kill you right now.”

  Slowly, it turned to the side, took a few rolling steps, its limbs probably stiff from a winter underground, and then stopped to sniff the air again.

  Leo said something, calm and quiet, her head down, that knife glinting in her hand.

  The air burned as Elias blew it out and blinked past the rain misting everything now, not daring to raise a hand to wipe it from his eyes.

  The grizzly walked away a step and paused, one leg still up, suspended, lowered its head toward Leo’s toes, and took another slow step away. With each additional foot, Elias found he could breathe a little better, control his muscles with more precision.

  Then, as if they’d finished whatever they had to say to each other, the big guy turned fully away, harrumphed over its shoulder, and ambled back into the shadows.

  Elias couldn’t lower his rifle yet—maybe never would.

  The situation was so surreal, reality so suspended, that it was a shock to feel rain falling on his skin when he expected to see the individual drops frozen in the air, like something from the Matrix—time gone still.

  When he next focused on Leo, she’d backed up a few feet, put her hands on her knees, and dropped her head. Her deep breathing sounded like an asthma attack.

  Bursting into motion, he reached her, grabbed her hand, and yanked her to his side, flooded with relief at just the solid feel of her under his arm.

  “Can’t sleep here, Leo. Got to move.” Better to face the steep higher ground, even in the dark, than to bed down near a grizzly. Add to that God only knew what else was lurking nearby—and not of the animal variety—and they’d be better off taking the risk. “We’re climbing the mountain.”

  “See, there’s a Sound of Music feel to those words…and yet…” Her eyes got big as they traced the earth’s angry silhouette up into the sky. “The view’s giving me distinct Mordor vibes,” she whispered, before meeting his gaze. “Big time.”

  For no reason at all, he found that he was suddenly out of breath.

  His hold wouldn’t loosen when she tried to turn, his arms wouldn’t give her an inch of space. His insides felt ragged, innards ripped up like ribbons, as he reached out to wrap one shaking hand behind her nape and pull her closer, forehead to forehead. “Shit, Leo.”

  “I know.” She nodded, ran her hands up his sides to his neck, and watched him with her soulful eyes. “I know.”

  He bent, she lifted to her toes, and they clashed. Lips crashing, teeth not far behind, tongues twining as if they had to hurry. Which, fuck, they did. The kiss was fast, rough enough to imprint her on his mouth, to seal them together. No way could he feel her through those layers of clothes, but that didn’t stop his hands from roving, stroking down to her hips and taking hold the way he wanted to. She leaned in, pressing her bottom half to his, and the groan he made was the stuff of barbarians. He couldn’t find words now if his life depended on it.

  Not that it mattered. The slide of their tongues was enough—no need for speech between them. Keeping each other alive had given them a language of their own, like they had the key to each other’s bodies.

  Her gloved hand wrapped around his neck. More, the pressure said. Deeper.

  It told him her hunger matched his. He growled and tilted his head, showed her with his body how essential she was.

  Bo yipped and they both went still, their breaths stuttering in time.

  She moved away first, the back of her gloved hand pressed to her mouth, looking shell-shocked.

  “Christ, I—”

  “We—”

  Their eyes snagged as they shared a laugh, awkward, but kind of hot in the way it acknowledged the depth of this thing. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and he was three seconds from pouncing when she spoke again. “We should…um…” She swallowed and stared at their surroundings, like she had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there.

  “Go,” he managed, ignoring his aching cock, his pounding need.

  Without another word, they returned to pick up their things and started walking again. All the while, his heart thumped too hard in his chest, his lungs never expanding quite far enough.

  Nerves and happiness mingled to make him smile. Until he remembered that danger was everywhere. He’d been surrounded by it for years. Only now did it terrify him, because now, against all odds, he actually had something to lose.

  ***

  After an hour, Leo’s lips still burned. And not just from the memory of his touch there, but from the intensity of it, the fierceness of him—of them, together. For those few seconds he’d crushed her to him, she hadn’t felt fragile exactly—the whole thing had been too brusque for that—but she’d felt cherished. Wanted. Needed in an elemental way.

  The ferocity of the man, the power in that one short contact. She’d felt so much. Too much. Shit, this couldn’t work beyond the here and now, could it? No. And why am I even thinking about this when we’re—

  With a grunt, she lost her footing on the loose rocks and almost went down.

  Just as she steadied herself, Elias turned, hand out to help. Heart beating hard with a startled adrenaline rush, she stared at it for a few beats, then looked up at his face.

  “Look, we’ve had a few moments, done things, but this isn’t good. It’s not me, okay?” The words blew from her mouth. “I work with men. I’ve worked with literally thousands of men and the last thing I’d let myself do is get involved with one. All this kissing is…” She swallowed, frustrated at her inability to communicate what she meant. “I don’t sleep with men I work with and—”

  He made a noise: half-grunt, half-snort.

  “What?”

  “I’m not your colleague, Leo.”

  “No, but we’re teammates and—”

  “Not officially. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, not trusting the big, flashy smile on his face. The yeti didn’t smile like that. “What? Why are you doing that?”

  The man was grinning like the cat that got the canary and maybe pulled down a couple caribou while he was at it. He grasped her hand and leaned in. “’Cause you like me.” His smile got impossibly bigger, whiter, more self-satisfied. Devastating.

  “What? No. Uh-uh.” She took a step back.

  His brows rose and what might have been hurt washed across his face. “You saying you don’t like me?”

  “No. Oh, gosh no, I’m saying it wouldn’t work. It can’t work. There’s too much…um…”

  He cocked his head, along with his right eyebrow. “Too much…?”

  “I don’t know how to describe it.” She threw up her hands. “I just know that it’s a bad idea. That’s all. End of story.”

  He mumbled something that she didn’t catch.

  “What? What’s that?”

  “Just said maybe this story’s got a different ending.”

  She blinked. “From what?”

  “From all your other stories. From the ones you…didn’t care about.” With a pointed look, he swung away, leaving her no cho
ice but to follow him up. Up the mountain, toward the peak they’d have to crest in order to get where they were going. And to a spot where he’d said they just might have a chance of getting a real night’s sleep.

  You like me.

  Yeah, sure.

  As if to punish her for lying—even to herself—the sky chose that moment to open up. It went from a cold mist to a torrent that made them small as ants. Just two tiny people and a dog, as inconsequential as dust against the big picture: mountains and sky, trees, rivers, and rocks, veined with glaciers made of million-year-old ice.

  And somehow, that image—or maybe the extra danger or the exhaustion dragging at every cell of her body—pushed her to admit the truth. She did like him. And it made her very, very uncomfortable.

  Chapter 28

  Leo couldn’t count all the ways she’d been tired. There’d been studying for college courses tired and boot camp tired, there’d been survival training, drag your ass through cold rivers just to pass tired, and the electric exhaustion of a long flight over water, refueling in the air. She couldn’t bring herself to dwell on the desolate, lonely, sleepless hours right after Mom died. And the more recent time spent at Dad’s bedside. Tired because a few ill-timed seconds of shut-eye could mean never seeing him again.

  Then there’d been the hypervigilant exhaustion of almost dying, dodging bullets for hours, doing her damnedest to keep an unseen enemy at bay from the relative safety of her grounded helo. In that case, the only thing between her and death had been her quick reflexes and three Navy SEALs. The bravest men she’d ever met.

  And now this unplanned journey. The run over breaking ice, plowing straight into briars, collapsing on the ground with this man… The damn bear. She’d thought that was the worst this would get.

  Wrong again, Eddowes.

  Visibility was down to nothing, the path they trod so steep, every step was a risk they shouldn’t be taking.

  But every time she considered yelling up at Elias and demanding they stop for the night, she was met with the sight of his big, broad back, hunched against the winds, soaking from the weather, but still stalking inexorably on. And if he could do it, well then, so could she.

  I like him.

  With frightening suddenness, her foot slipped out from under her and she was down, her knees and palms and head all ringing from the abrupt contact with solid earth.

  She tried to get up and slid, not from the slime, but because she was literally knee deep in a rushing brook. Had this been here a minute ago?

  Her eyes couldn’t focus on a single part of the slope, but when she leaned her head back and took in their surroundings, it was all rushing brook.

  More like waterfall.

  Another failed attempt at rising sent her facedown in the stuff. And now she was terrified. There hadn’t been a river here seconds ago. Was this runoff from the mountain?

  It was pouring down and when she looked ahead, there was nothing to see. Back was the same thing, just a screen of rushing water and night, finally laying its dark curtain upon them.

  She pushed up onto all fours, shaking, scrabbled at the slippery stones, and got a handhold on something that didn’t roll down the hill.

  “Not far,” he’d told her a little ways back, and she’d believed him. So, rather than lie there, the way her body demanded, or try to get up again, which was futile at this point, she forged ahead at a crawl, climbing in the steep places, pulling herself up over ledges, helping Elias with the dog when Bo needed a boost.

  Not far.

  One tiny handhold in the stone, two fingers in, pull up.

  For what felt like ages but was likely just a millisecond, she teetered on the edge, her body undecided—could her muscles power her up or would gravity take over?

  Her muscles failed; she lost purchase, slithering down those few last hard-won feet. As her body grappled, she stretched, reaching so hard she could have sworn her bones cracked, fingers, toes, elbows, every part of her was in the fight, trying their damnedest to hold on to something—anything.

  And then she stopped, with a bone-jarring abruptness, one wrist caught in a viselike grip. The rest of her dangled above nothing but air.

  ***

  Elias was on the ground, bent over the side of the mountain, holding Leo up with one hand. His feet, which had found a crack in the rock, were his anchor.

  Their anchor.

  “Other hand, Leo.” Frigid water flowed around him, over him, pummeling her, trying its best to end them like everything else in this place.

  She threw her head back, took a face full of the stuff, and swung it down again. “Can’t.”

  “Find a foothold. Push up.”

  He felt more than saw her breathe, as if their joined hands were plugged into each other, bringing their vitals together—pulses and air, shared from contact.

  In that place that would decide if she lived or died.

  “Find one?”

  She didn’t have to shake her head for him to feel the answer.

  “On the right, put your foot out. Bend your leg.”

  She did it, her toes reaching for that elusive place, while the deluge tried to drown them.

  There was a moment when he thought she’d slip again—was worried she wouldn’t make it—and he decided right then he’d rather go with her than be left here alone.

  Muttering obscenities, he pulled one foot from its slot to get that extra inch, giving himself to the mountain in a way he’d never dared before. If he could swing her, maybe. Or get her under the arms…

  Without both legs mooring him to the top, his body shifted, his efforts more about balance now than security. Stretching his reach with his left hand, he felt the bandages at his side give, the wound open up, the pain providing extra propulsion in a way he couldn’t begin to understand.

  He dipped lower, slid his hand under her arm, and, with a roar that tore open the night, swung up and back.

  There was nothing for a few seconds. No sound, no pummeling waterfall, no death or fear or plummeting to the ground.

  And then, with a whoosh, he was back in his body, Leo tight in his arms, trembling on the edge of a cliff.

  He ripped off his glove and slid a hand around her neck, covering her pulse.

  Alive. Cold and hot and whole.

  She lifted her head, and though he couldn’t make out her features, her breath pelted his throat, the rhythmic press of her breasts to his chest, the wet coil of her arms winding around his neck. He dipped when she tugged, wrapped himself around her sopping body, and held as tight as he could.

  They sagged into each other, shiny and wet and shuddering. Vibrating with the thrill of breathing for another short while. He planted one hand on her ass, tight, demanding. The other held her still by the nape.

  “I do like you, Elias. I like you a hell of a lot,” she whispered, the sound harsher than anything she’d ever let out, like she’d lost her voice on that cliff. “Please kiss me.”

  He strained up—to hell with the wound and the weather and the world trying to kill them—and drank from her lips. Gulped, consumed. Her mouth was cool against his, her lips demanding, and her tongue when it touched him was a brand.

  A tiny, barely cognizant part of his brain knew this wasn’t real—this was danger pushing them together. Nature trying to make them mate or some shit like that. Bear attacks as aphrodisiac. Adrenaline like a drug, screaming, Hell, why not? You’re not gonna make it anyway.

  They rolled away from the unsheltered edge, through the actual waterfall, and into the recess behind it. It was suddenly staggeringly quiet and close, the water like a wall separating them from reality, the air in here still except for the cyclone of their mingled breaths. When she wound up on top again, he cupped both ass cheeks in his hands, reveled in the tight squeeze of her thighs around his waist.

  This was ridiculous. Th
ey couldn’t screw here, in what was barely a pocket at the top of the mountain. They’d die if they didn’t get dry and warm. Now.

  Although there was something poetically right about being wet with her again—a strange bookend to the longest few days in history. Completing a cycle.

  As if on cue, the wind howled, picking up the snowmelt and blowing it over them with the force of a million little fists, while she straddled him like something from his dreams.

  She’d get up now, out of self-preservation. They both would.

  He tightened his hold on her butt and then with a strange, belly-deep fear, reached for her wrists, wrapped them with his hands, held them as if her life depended on it. Her curves plastered to his front, her mouth hungry against his, her hands caught in the circle of his.

  Alive! He felt the thrill through every pore, every nerve, every cell in his body.

  Alive! She responded, her legs and arms and lips an embrace.

  Alive! Not so high above them, lightning flashed, and seconds later the ground shook, as if even the sky had to show a sign of agreement.

  “This is stupid,” he muttered against her.

  She nodded, gasped, the sound uncharacteristically shaky, and rubbed her cheek into his.

  “Need to get warm.”

  Her “yeah” was a whisper, barely audible with the wind chiming in. “Dry first. Dry. Warm.” She ground against him, scalding in that place where their bodies met.

  He could only grunt in response, pulling her tight to where he was hard and needy and hot enough to warm them both. “Yeah.”

  Water dripped from her face onto his, into his mouth and eyes. He closed them and held her for a few terrible moments, where he actually considered being idiots to death.

  “This…” He swallowed. “You feel so good.” He didn’t want her to move, but if she didn’t get up, they’d be caught here in this sexy, stupid brush with mortality. “Just want to keep kissing you. Touching you. Can’t stop.”

  “Same. I’ve known you, what? Four days? Or five?” She rubbed her nose to his. Hers was an ice cube.

  “Four.”