Jeaniene Frost - The Sweetest Burn

“Hold the reins,” Adrian ordered, pushing them into my hands. I grasped them and held on because refusing and begging for this to stop wouldn’t help. I’d learned that the first time.

Brutus tilted his massive head to glance back at me, as if he could feel that the reins had changed hands. Then he dipped slightly, angling his body downward and to the right. The shift tore a scream from me and it was all I could do not to drop them while grabbing wildly for the sturdier base of his wings. How had Adrian ever mastered this alone? If he hadn’t insisted on staying behind me, I would’ve fallen off a dozen times over.

“You’re doing better,” Adrian said, putting his mouth closer to my ear so he didn’t have to yell.

“Liar!” was my instant response. He chuckled.

“I told you, no more lies. Now, try looking straight ahead, it’ll help with the nausea. Then, try to steer Brutus.”

I opened my eyes into mere slits, wishing I’d worn the goggles Adrian had offered me. He’d insisted on giving me his jacket, which I’d thought was his excuse to show more skin, but now, I was grateful that he hadn’t taken no for an answer on that. March in the Florida panhandle was cooler than expected, or maybe I’d gotten too used to Miami’s perpetual heat. Either way, my fingers felt stiff from the cold, and it might take weeks for the feeling to return to my toes. Between Adrian covering my back and legs and Brutus’s large form blocking the wind from my front, the rest of me was warm enough, at least.

The few times I’d previously opened my eyes, I’d looked down out of a masochistic need to see how high we were. Answer: high. Now, I took Adrian’s advice and looked straight ahead.

At first, I couldn’t see much. There were lights, but they were faint, like indistinct stars. After a few hard blinks to clear wind-induced tears, I was able to see more clearly, and another few minutes of concentration later, I realized that Adrian was right. With Brutus flying relatively parallel to the ground and me staring straight ahead, the urge to puke faded.

“Steer him,” Adrian urged, touching my arm for emphasis.

I pulled the reins a little to the right. Brutus didn’t alter course. I pulled harder and the gargoyle turned, dipping down at the same time. Immediately, I yanked up, and Brutus responded by increasing velocity and torpedoing straight upward.

“Level him out, Ivy!” Adrian yelled, molding his body tighter around mine.

Through my instinctive panic, I remembered the simple lessons Adrian had given me. Pulling up on the reins meant fly higher to Brutus. Pulling down meant dive. I needed to pull straight out for the gargoyle to go back to cruising position, so I did, although harder than I probably should have.

Brutus leveled out, allowing my organs to realign back to their proper positions. Adrian’s grip on me turned less bruising, and when I pulled on the reins again, I made sure to keep them absolutely straight. This time, Brutus turned smoothly in the direction I indicated. Emboldened, I steered him toward the cluster of lights ahead. Within minutes, we were soaring over a city, the tops of tall buildings well below us and little dots in the nearby bay all that marked what might have been large, luxurious yachts.

I surprised myself by laughing as exhilaration replaced my fear. It was scary, yes, but I could, in fact, do this. Adrian’s laughter joined mine, and when he gripped me tighter, this time, it had nothing to do with keeping us from falling off. The gargoyle was the one soaring over the city, but in that instant, I felt like I was able to fly, and sharing that indescribable feeling with Adrian only made the moment more unforgettable.

I was almost sorry several minutes later when Adrian took the reins and turned Brutus back around. All too soon, it seemed, the lights from our house on wheels were back in view. One frightening dive later, we were back on solid ground, and Adrian issued a command that had Brutus lying down so I could slide off instead of jumping like Adrian did.

Once I was on my own feet, Adrian took the reins off Brutus, then said something in Demonish that I loosely translated as “Who’s a good boy?” The gargoyle took his praise as his due, even tilting his head in invitation. Adrian scratched him for a minute, then left Brutus to come toward me.

If I’d thought he looked luscious with his jacket open, that was nothing compared to how he looked with it off. His shoulders were so broad, my arms wouldn’t fit around them. Muscles flexed under skin tanned a deep gold, and his taut abdomen was set off by jeans that now hung so low, one tug would probably bare everything beneath.

I had a sudden urge to test that theory, and I clasped my hands together to stop myself before I did something crazy.

“So, some ride,” I said, more than a little breathless.

He came closer, and the raw hunger that flashed across his features almost leveled me. “The ride isn’t why your heart’s pounding, Ivy.”

He almost growled that last part, and his roughly sensual voice felt like it rubbed me while he spoke. I couldn’t admit that he was right, so I took a step backward—and almost tripped over a headstone. Adrian’s hand shot out, steadying me, and I shook it off while mentally berating myself.

Smooth, Ivy. Real smooth!

I pushed him away, feeling my heart hammer at the brief sensation of him beneath my hand. Touching him was more than enticing; it was addictive, which was why I had to get away from him before I let him do everything his darkly erotic stare promised me that I’d love.

I took his jacket off and held it out to him. His fingers closed over mine, but instead of taking the jacket, he used it to tug me into his arms. His hair brushed my face as he leaned down, and willpower alone caused me to turn my head at the last second, so that his mouth landed on my cheek instead of my lips.

He didn’t fight the movement, but slid his mouth lower until he reached my neck. A moan left me at the feel of his tongue, and I shuddered when he pressed his lips more firmly against my throat. Flicks, circles and light suction had me reeling from sensations, until I needed the arms he wrapped around me. Without them, I might have fallen.

“Ivy.” His voice was rough, and the hands that slid over me were achingly possessive. “I want you.”

I could feel that in the hard flesh that pulsed against my belly. Deep inside me, an answering throb responded. I’d been overwhelmed, angry, lost, betrayed, burdened and brokenhearted over the past several months, but right now, all I felt was passion that threatened to boil over until it scalded me, and I knew that I would love being burned.

But I couldn’t. Doing so wouldn’t just be epically stupid—it would be greedy, and greed was something to be avoided at all costs when it came to Adrian and me.

Judas had been guilty of three betrayals: trust, when he stole from the communal funds; greed, when he accepted those thirty pieces of silver; and death, when he identified Jesus to the Temple guards with that final, infamous kiss. Adrian had already betrayed my trust by lying to me about my real destiny. I wasn’t about to help him succumb to greed by saying yes now.

“No,” I said, pushing him away. Adrian let me back him up. He didn’t go far, and his hands flexed into fists as if he were fighting a fierce inner battle.

“Okay, so I still want you,” I went on, because that was obvious. “Whether that’s destiny, lust or something else, I don’t know, but if you care about me like you claim to, you’ll stay away from me unless you can prove that you’re not going to betray me again.”

And the only way he could prove that was if we succeeded in finding Moses’s staff and used it to repair the realm walls, then found the final, hallowed weapon, and did all of this without getting killed in the process. I may as well have told him that I’d give him a chance only if we were the last two people left on earth.