Up. Up. Up, she shouted in her mind. Fingers gripped any outcrop she could find, any protrusion, anything. She climbed with haste nipping at her heels.
Just in case.
In case there were more, she had to get to safety.
When a warm, steady grip latched around her wrist, she almost wept and let go. Lifting her other aching arm, Max caught her second wrist. He pulled, growling with effort, face reddening, veins bulging. Helping him with her feet, she scrambled over the ledge until she fell into his arms and they rolled across the limestone, locked in a punishing embrace.
Whimpering and panting, they held each other, faces buried in the other’s neck. Max’s big palm cupped the back of her head, arms like trembling rocks.
I’m alive.
Max is alive. The adrenaline that held her together, rapidly rushed down. Dizzying shudders gripped her body while Max refused to let go. Both laid there with their eyes closed, breathing in the comforting scent of the other. Musk, sweat, salt. Home. Safe.
Max’s hold relaxed and Sloan almost protested, but he only looked into her eyes as he freed her pack from her arm. He made her un-sync her bow and quiver. When the weight dropped, he rolled them until he was on top, thighs caging her hips. Eyes glistening with fury pinned her. He cupped her face and growled, “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”
She nodded, tears still brimming in her eyes.
“Don’t ever say goodbye.” Punishing lips slammed onto hers, and everything they couldn’t speak came through with a kiss. He claimed her in a euphoric haze of dueling tongues. Sloan clutched his head between her hands, just as he held her. Emotion swirled between them. Longing, want, and need. Need so strong she wanted to tear his clothes from his body and press her naked skin against his, to have nothing between them but a heartbeat.
And then her blood began to flow again. Pain flashed in every cell. Reality slammed home. She winced, drawing apart, gasping in the tepid night air.
“Shit,” she burst. “I think it got my leg.”
“You’re hurt.” A self-deprecating statement. A desire to come down to earth. “Of course you’re bloody hurt. I’m such a dickhead,” he muttered, and then his weight lifted. He ran his hands down her body, testing. “Where?”
She sat up, groaning. “Everywhere.”
“Come on.” Max helped her further away from the ledge.
Under the light of the full moon, they could see their surroundings. Their platform was halfway between the cliff bottom and top. A cave-like alcove dug deep into the recess of the wall. That would do fine.
“I just need to rest for a bit, then I’ll be okay,” she said, exhausted. “Give me an hour and I’ll be good. Got good genes.” It was an attempt at a joke, but neither laughed. “I think they got my rucksack more than me, and the uniform helped.”
Max didn’t look convinced and deposited her on a lump of rock good enough to use as a stool. She perched down, wincing as she stretched her sore leg out. Her pants were in tatters and she was afraid to lift the flaps to see what damage had been done. Her arms weren’t bad; they’d missed the brunt of the onslaught when she’d been climbing, and the stab-proof jacket protected the rest. The few bites that got through were superficial. But her legs… that’s where they hit her the most.
She squeezed her eyes shut. It’s fine. She’ll heal. Whatever it is, she’ll heal.
“Here.” Max’s soft, deep voice near her face. A gentle touch on her knee.
The man kneeled at her feet. He lifted the fabric at her ankle, tacky and wet with blood. The fabric resisted, sticking. He retrieved a canteen from his pack and opened it. Dripping water onto her leg, he peeled the fabric and squinted down.
“Do I have a leg left?” she joked.
“Actually, it’s not so bad.”
“Really?”
“I think most of this blood is theirs.” Max continued to check Sloan, running water over any wound he could find. “You could grow back a limb, right?”
“Don’t really want to test it.”
“Don’t blame you.”
The worst was on her right calf. Bite lacerations had dug deep, but no flesh was torn from her body. Just piercing stab wounds. Parker’s wonder fabric had saved her.
Knowing she would survive, that she wouldn’t lose a limb, she relaxed.
Max grinned at her, dimple in his cheek deepening. “Bloody hell, Sloan. If you wanted to prove you’re tough as shit, that was one way of going about it.”
A small smile tipped her lips. She was tough. She was a woman, and damn it, she was just as mighty as her brothers. She didn’t know why she had to keep proving it to herself.
His humor dropped. “But don’t do it again. I can’t lose you, too.”
The heavy statement hung in the air and her heart tugged at her failure. She wasn’t there for him when he needed her most.
In the starlit night, warm wind rushed up the cliff and brushed their faces, lifting her hair from her sweaty neck. Birds squawked in the trees. Crickets chirped. The world passed in that moment and all Sloan could think was that she needed Max. All of him.
She didn’t want to lose him either.
Max cocked his head, gaze turning distant. “You hear that?”
Oh God, no. “What?” she whispered.
Please let the beasts be done. No more. Please.
“Dripping.”
She perked up. “Water?”
With a nod, he straightened. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Panic squeezed her throat. “Max.”
Don’t leave, she wanted to say. But he gave her a warm smile, tipped down and left a lingering kiss on her lips. “I won’t be long.”
He found a small torch in his rucksack, collected his firearm and checked the chamber. Muttering about one bullet being left, he ducked into the dark alcove which turned out to be a cave entrance. Heaving a sigh of relief, Sloan’s heavy head fell backward to rest on the rocky wall. Despite everything, she smiled. Max had kissed her. He didn’t want to lose her.
Over the ledge, she could see the tops of trees swaying, the starry night beginning to lighten with pre-dawn, and somewhere in the distance, further down the mountain the soft glow of lights from the black site.
No howls. No beasties following them.
She hoped Parker got away with Tony and Barry. Limping over to her shredded rucksack, she rifled around for her device. She found it next to her toiletry bag, and pulled it out, but the glass surface was cracked, despite the rugged protection sleeve.
“Bummer.” She tried to turn it on. No go. Dead.
Crunching down the cave tunnel alerted her to Max’s reemergence. The grin on his face eased her worry.
“You’ll never guess what I found,” he said.
“From the dripping cuffs of your pants—water?”
“Damn straight.” He picked up her pack and heaved it on his shoulder along with his. “Let’s go get you washed up, then we can rest for a few before continuing. Can you walk?”
Nodding, she hopped up and followed him, wincing with every step as they traveled down the tunnel, following the echo of dripping water. The further they walked, the temperature cooled. Down they went, on a decline until they emerged at the base. Max’s torch beam glowed, revealing a large cavern. Rocky and crystal clusters had formed on the ceiling and a breeze wafted through, keeping the air fresh. Must be an opening somewhere else. When Max shone his torch across the expanse of turquoise water, it reflected shimmering patterns on chalky walls.
“This will do.” He dumped the bags, propped the torch and then held out a hand to Sloan. “Come on. Smells fresh in here. Water will be good enough to bathe in.”
He supported her weight as they went down to the soft muddy shore where he helped remove her shredded boots. He took off his own and stepped into the water first, testing it to make sure the surface was safe, then he held out his hand. She frowned at him. Did he think she couldn’t get into the water on her own? He rolled his eyes
and stepped back into the water. She followed, breathing a sigh of relief at the cold water on her aching flesh. They stepped further, feeling the squishy silt between her toes, descending until the water reached her thighs.
“So good,” she muttered, shoulders dropping.
“Yeah. It is.” Max’s voice had turned deep, and he tugged her to him.
A sparkle of light reflected from the torch on the shore. It was enough to see the yearning in his eyes. Enough for her to connect to his innermost emotion. A desire so deep and raw called out to her. It was more than lust. He wanted to belong. He wanted to love her.
She did.
Still holding each other captive, Max lowered, his face inching towards hers. She lifted her lips— but he bypassed her face and splashed water up her side, cleaning the filth. She gasped, shocked.
“Psyche.” He splashed her again. “You thought I would kiss you.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. “You’re such a tease.”
“Gotta pay you back for your pranks somehow.”
Yeah, real hilarious, buddy. She smiled and continued to splash water on herself. He tried to help her, but she shrugged him off.
“It’s cool. I’ve got this.”
“Let me help.”
Awkwardly, he tried to clean her as she cleaned herself.
The mood darkened when he got to her front and he couldn’t see her skin to check her wounds. Her shirt was in the way. Tugging rudely, he huffed and made a gesture for her to remove it, but she playfully jumped away. When she refused to move, he straightened, all business. “Stop being immature. You’re covered in blood. You need to submerge yourself.”
Fine, grump. He’d started it with his psyche business. Jeez. She turned her back and peeled her shirt off, wincing as she lifted her arms over her head, trying to put her finger on what she’d said to make his mood swiftly change. Stop being immature?
A deep sigh came from behind her. The weight of a warm hand landed between her shoulder blades. Then he took his hand away, and it left her cold and alone. His emotions were in turmoil. One minute, she sensed longing and love from him… the next he went cold, shut off and distant. Having enough, she held her scrunched up shirt in front of her sports bra.
“You’re being a jackass. Pick a feeling and stick with it.”
“Screw you, Sloan.” He frowned. “After everything you put me through, you don’t get to call me names.”
She gaped. “After everything I put you through? Me? What—trying to save your life down there? Sacrificing myself so you can live? Well, I got news for you, Maxi-Pad. I never asked for you to come here. I never asked for you to come to this city, start a security team and be in my face every day. I never asked for you to be my mate!”
“That’s exactly my point. You never asked.”
“I just wanted to wash myself. Jeez.”
“It’s more than that and you know it.”
And there it was. “If this is about how we left it years ago, then screw you. You hurt me too. I may not have lost a friend, but I suffered. My feelings matter too.”
“And what feelings are those?”
“I fucking love you, dumbass!” Her shout echoed through the rocky chamber, repeating. When it died off, tears burned her eyes.
“If you loved me, you would have tried harder to find me,” he murmured, voice scratchy. “You never called.”
He was right. She lost all will and fell to her knees in the water, submerged to her shoulders. She gave up. “I’m supposed to be this big, badass woman who can handle shit on her own. I know I should have called, but I didn’t.”
“But you never had to be like that with me.”
“I was lost, okay? I’m sorry. You have no idea what it’s like to live with this sin plucking at my conscience, telling me to ignore everything, telling me to forget. I can’t fight it on my own. I’m not good enough to do this on my own.”
He pressed his lips. “So now the truth finally comes out.”
That she wasn’t good enough? Bastard. She looked away. “I hate you.”
A harsh exhale, and Max splashed down into the water, kneeling before her.
“Look at me, Sloan.”
“What?” she snapped morosely, but refused to meet his eyes. She felt humiliated. Weak. Unable to fight anymore.
He fixed her with hard eyes. “I love you, too. Always have. Never stopped. And it cut deep that you ever doubted that. That you couldn’t trust me enough to ask for help, to goddamn pick up a phone and communicate! All you had to do was ask. That you didn’t…”
It hit her. He didn’t think she believed he could, that he wasn’t good enough to help her. Not when he’d failed the closest friend he’d ever had.
“Max,” she whispered. “That’s not why I hid. It was my sin. One hundred percent my sin. Me, not you.”
“It’s my fault too.” His eyes softened. “I should have called. Stupidly, I’d hoped the engagement ring I left was proof of my intention to come back but, I guess, you never received it.”
She sniffed. “No, I didn’t.”
“Too bad. It was perfect for you.”
Perfect for her…
She sat there, letting the words sink in. Wasn’t sure why, except they triggered a reaction. Some deep memory tugged loose from the corner of her mind. Bit by bit, the puzzle came together. The ring Wyatt had delivered to her room the other day flashed before her eyes. Perfect for her, not Wyatt’s ex, Sara. Holy mother of… Max was right. He’d turned up all those years ago, never intending to leave on an emergency mission, always intending to come back… and ask her to marry him.
Gingerly, she lifted her fingers to his rough jaw. “Sara had a ring. It was silver with a pink diamond heart at the center. Was that meant for me?”
Confusion, then fury flashed in his dark eyes. “Hell, yes. It was meant for you!”
He’d wanted to marry her. He’d left a ring. She was the first person he’d called after Gale died… and she’d moved on. That was enough to make him doubt her feelings.
There was only one way to make him believe.
Let him feel it.
She let the bindings holding her emotions go free. The flood gates opened and poured into him. The aching love, the fiery passion, the need.
His lips parted. “What—?”
“That’s how I feel, Max. It’s how I’ve always felt.”
When vulnerability splashed over his face, she took his head in her hands and kissed him.
Seventeen
Sloan was kissing him.
At first, Max didn’t respond. He was too overwhelmed with her emotions still smashing into him, but slowly, surely, he deepened the kiss until their tongues danced, their hands explored, and they gasped and panted with need. He pulled back, breathless. Was this real? Then they clashed again, kissing and falling backward into the water.
Engulfed, all sound disappeared.
Time stopped.
Weightless ambience cocooned them as they held onto each other. It was as if they were floating through a dream.
Not a dream.
Real.
He ached for her with a madness that consumed him. Years of fantasy, eons of lust, all flooded to the surface and tore out of him with single-minded tenacity. Forgetting where they were, or what they should do, he only knew one thing. He needed her. No more messing about. He had to make her his, once and for all. No doubts.
Slipping his arms under her legs and arms, he planted his feet and carried her out of the lake, never taking his mouth from her skin. Water dripped from their bodies in a mad rush as they stepped onto a shore of fine muddy silt. He wanted to give her diamonds, silk sheets and more. He wanted to give her time. None of it mattered now. The silt was soft enough. It would do. What was important was she understood his feelings, that she learned his heart.
He couldn’t release every feeling inside. He had to show her.
He laid her down, pushed her gently onto her back and stripped the pants from her legs,
careful not to drag against her bite marks. Satisfaction bloomed when he noticed they’d already scabbed over. Nothing would stop him now. Shoving the pants under her ass for protection, he bent and trailed a long, salty lick up her front, from navel to bra. She shivered and arched into him. He unclipped her bra and covered her nipple with his mouth, suckling until she moaned, begging for more.
He looked up, caught her heated gaze and grinned. Rightness spread through him, warming his blood. “You will look at me like that every morning for the rest of your life.”
She arched a brow. “Only mornings?”
Chuckling, he went back to tasting her, running his tongue all over her sweet, gorgeous body. When he hit the hem of her panties, she rolled her hips into him, challenging him. Over the cloth, he buried his face between her legs. He nibbled, bit, licked and rubbed. Made love to her mound with his mouth. When he’d had enough, he bit the fabric with a growl and pulled her panties aside. Holding them with a finger, he licked between her folds, groaning at her satin smooth skin. She’d waxed everything. His Sloan.
Watching her face under the torchlight, he dipped a finger inside her and held firm with a growl. Her cry of pleasure hit every button on his lust, and he went back to lick with his tongue, smiling as she likened him to a god. Only when she tensed up, panting and whimpering for more, did he move his finger inside her, adding a second and increasing the pace until she froze, tense.
“Max!” she shouted, fingers ripping his hair as her pleasure climaxed. Uninhibited, she couldn’t hold back her emotion. He felt it in his soul. It was the warm sun beating down on him as he surfed in the ocean. It was the call of the birds as he relaxed by the campfire. It was home.
He lifted to see her face. He wanted to remember how she looked before he—
Shit.
She scowled at him from over her chest. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t bring protection. Did you?”
She snorted. “On a mission?”
Of course not. What was he thinking? He sat back on his haunches and scrubbed his face. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“What?” She sat up, panic widening her eyes.
“I don’t mean, this-this. But, here, now.” He glanced around the dark cavern then back at her. “I mean, I want children, but—” Not now. Not like this.
Sloth: A Fated Mate Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 4) Page 15
