“Jump!” Gabriel told Heather as the anchor broke off from the ceiling. Their momentum stopped, threatening to send them flying into infinite darkness, as Gabriel hurled his body—which was now wrapped around Heather—to the other side of the gap, landing on the hard ground with Heather beside him. The whip fell straight down into the black hole.
Gabriel stood and helped Heather stand as well. The three of them looked back at the half-destroyed cave and the chasm of death they’d barely escaped—using a whip, no less.
Gabriel shook his head.
His life was so weird.
Scarlet bunched up the bottom of her tank top and twisted water from the material. Tristan had pulled his shirt off to wring it out—which was much more effective.
Guys had it so easy.
They had walked until they found a small alcove that was free of deadly vines, rushing rivers, and breaking walls, and decided to camp there for the night.
Tristan’s forearm muscles shifted beneath his skin as he wrung out his shirt. The sound of their dripping clothes echoed off the cave walls, but aside from that it was silent and it felt like they were in their own world.
It was a world of man-eating vines and falling rock—so not exactly paradise—but they weren’t sharing it with anyone else, which made it seem magical.
In a good way.
Not in a blue-water-evil-witch-curse way.
She caught him staring at the scratch marks on his arms and smiled. “Is it freaking you out to have scars on your body?”
“Not at all. I’m just not used to it. I’ve been injured plenty of times, but I’ve never had a wound mark me before.” He smiled. “I kind of like it.”
“Me too. It’s hot.”
“Oh yeah? Do I look tough?”
She shook her head. “You look mortal.”
His eyes held hers for a moment and wild hope burst inside her. If Tristan drank the fountain water, he would be mortal. And if Scarlet could somehow find a way around sacrificing herself, she could be mortal with him. And they could live a mortal life together and eat pancakes and live happily ever after.
It was such an alluring thought that a lump formed in the back of her throat.
“How’s your arm?” He asked, walking up to her and gently turning her arm.
“Fine.” She shivered when he touched her.
He frowned. “Your stitches tore open.”
She looked down at where her wound had reopened and a thin trickle of blood ran down her arm. “I didn’t notice.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.” He tossed his wet shirt on the ground and retrieved a med kit from his backpack.
“What are you doing?”
“Sewing you back up.” He laid out his bedroll. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine. Really.” Even as she said it, more blood poured from her wound.
“Yes, I know. You’re always fine. Sit down.”
She sat on the sleeping bag and another shiver went through her.
He smiled and started building a fire. “I can’t have you shaking while I’m running a sharp needle through your skin, now can I.”
“Not if you want your stitches to look as perfect at Nate’s,” she said.
“A challenge. I like that.”
A few minutes later, a healthy fire blazed before them as Tristan sat beside her and carefully cleaned her arm.
She stared at the red mark around her wrist from the rope, thinking of how easily they could have died in the river today.
She watched him in the firelight. “Were you scared the first time you tried to kill yourself?”
He paused for a moment. “Yes.” His eyes stayed on her arm. “I wasn’t afraid of the pain—though I should have been because it hurt like hell—but I was scared it wouldn’t work and you’d keep dying. And then I was scared it would work and that I’d never have a life with you.”
He finished cleaning her arm and gently began threading the needle through her skin. She tried not to wince.
“Then why did you keep trying to die?”
He was silent a long time. “Because my love for you was stronger than my fear of being without you.” He smiled. “Story of my life, I suppose.”
He finished stitching her up and dabbed a numbing cream on her wound before bandaging her arm.
Scarlet stared down at the man who had lived to love her and tried to die to save her, and she was overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you, Hunter.”
He smiled at her, his green eyes bright under his dark lashes. “I love you, too,”
Desperation came over her as she took in his sweet dimples and patient eyes, and she leaned into him, kissing him with reckless abandon. Just to feel him without fear, to love him without pain one more time before she left his world.
He kissed her back. Softly. Slowly. His hands slid behind her neck, warming her chilled skin as he tilted her head up to his. She crawled into his lap so she could feel his arms around her as she held his face. The stubble along his jaw rubbed against her fingers as she stroked his cheeks.
She tried to memorize the contours of his face with her fingers, trailing them along his jaw and brow line as they kissed. She wanted her hands to remember him forever. Even in death. Even in nothingness.
Her wet clothes heated against his bare chest as he held her in his arms, his lips soft, but demanding at her mouth. She parted her lips, sharing his breath as his tongue fell deep into her mouth. Hot, wet and wonderful.
She shifted in his lap and gripped at his muscles. He was so warm and strong. She wanted to climb inside him and tuck herself in forever.
She kissed a trail down the side of his neck and moved against his body. He groaned and clutched her hips, holding her to him as his hands slid under her tank top and heated her skin. He pulled the wet shirt from her body, their mouths parting for only an instant as he tossed it aside and went back to capturing her lips with his.
With their bare chests pressing against one another, Scarlet was no longer cold. She was on fire. She brought her hands to his hair, loving how soft it felt between her fingers.
He pressed warm, careful hands on her back and laid her beneath him on the bedroll as Scarlet’s hands drifted across his skin, running over hard muscles. His hands slid over her breasts and down her belly and she moaned into his mouth.
If it was possible to burn someone into your soul, Tristan was ablaze in hers, and had been for centuries. Seared into her flesh and permanently marked on her heart.
His mouth moved down her body as Scarlet tipped her head back and reveled in the sensation of his tongue sliding along her collarbone.
They kissed and moved until they were both undressed and Tristan covered her exposed skin with his body.
He gazed down at her for moment with loving green eyes.
He kissed her cheekbone, then her eyebrow; He ran a finger over her lips and touched the shell of her ear. “I love you, Scar. So much.”
“I love you too, Hunter. With all my heart.”
He kissed spot just above her heart, his lips resting against the place where a piece of him had lived for so long. Her heart was his completely.
He kissed a gentle trail back up to her mouth and kissed her fully.
Here in Tristan’s arms, there were no curses or broken hearts. No sorrow. No sacrifice. It was just love.
Ancient, messy, beautiful love.
They moved against one another in the pulsing blue glow of the caves as their souls collided.
They were Scar and Hunter, the way they always should have been.
Nate looked up and down the tunnel. “No falling floors. Awesome. I’m going to go journal.”
“You’re what?” Gabriel blinked. “You’re going to go journal? What are you, a thirteen year old girl?”