Page 30 of Reaper
I will gladly let the mountain bury me to ensure she survives it.
The ancient oak groans violently above us. The heavy root cage shifts under the extreme atmospheric pressure, showering us in heavy clumps of loose dirt and freezing water.
I tighten my punishing grip on the earth, turning my face directly into the warm curve of her neck to protect my eyes from the flying debris.
The roar peaks. It becomes a deafening, physical pressure that crushes the remaining oxygen out of the tiny hollow. My eardrums scream in agony.
The world directly above us rips itself apart.
Time ceasesto exist inside the noise.
Gradually, the vibration in the earth lessens. The freight-train roar stretches out, moving east, fading into the heavy, torrential sound of rain.
Cold water pours through the root lattice, soaking my jacket, washing the mud from my face.
I wait thirty seconds. Sixty.
The wind drops from a howl to a steady, punishing gale.
I push up onto my elbows, taking my weight off Addy.
"Addy."
She doesn't move. She's curled into a tight knot, shivering violently, her hands still clamped over her ears.
"Addy. Look at me."
She lifts her head. Her face is streaked with mud and rain. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown out, shocked and unfocused.
I run my hands over her quickly. Brutally clinical. Checking for deep lacerations, compound breaks, or concussions. Her collarbones are perfectly intact beneath the fleece. Arms solid. Legs responsive. No warm blood matting her dark, wet hair.
She suddenly grabs my wrists. Not to stop the frantic medical assessment. To pull herself up out of the freezing mud.
She launches her entire body into me, throwing her arms desperately around my thick neck. The heavy hardshell drive digs into my chest between us. Her mouth crashes into mine—fierce, entirely uncoordinated, and desperate, tasting heavily of wet earth, adrenaline, and freezing rain.
Seventy-two agonizing hours of forced, suffocating distance shatters in a single, violent second. The paralyzing terror of the last ten minutes burns off into something dark and completely feral.
I take her face in both of my scarred hands and kiss her back.
It is hard. Punishing. Entirely bruising.
I need the heat of her mouth. I need the frantic beat of her pulse against my palms to prove she's alive. The clinical check wasn't enough. I need the visceral reality of her breathing against me to convince my nervous system that the storm didn't take her.
She makes a sharp, fractured, animalistic sound in the back of her throat, her freezing fingers gripping the heavy canvas of my tactical jacket even tighter, pulling me closer until there is absolutely zero space left between us.
I forcefully break the kiss, pulling oxygen into my burning lungs. I rest my forehead heavily against hers. Her fingers are like ice where they dig into my wet collar.
"I'm okay." Her voice shakes. She holds up the hardshell drive between us. Intact.
I drag my focus back to the perimeter, and tap the comms unit on my vest.
"Frost. This is Reaper. Status."
Static.
"Flint. Kade. Anyone on this net."
Nothing but the empty hiss of a dead frequency.
