Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

“There,” Ransom said, his breath heaved as he pointed to our right. I followed him as he jogged the length, crouching to lift the near-hidden steel cable in the darkness, a long bar and wheel connected to its base. “Only one,” he said, his eyes calculating the distance. “You zipline over, and I’ll jump,” he said, shoving the handlebar into my hands.

“We can’t,” I said, catching my breath. “No powers beyond speed, remember?” There were very few vampires who could make that jump without wending, and Ransom was one of them. Hell, each of the Assassins likely could, their chosen bloodline instilling them with abilities far beyond that of normal vampires.

He furrowed his brow.

“We have to go together,” I groaned. “Mates, remember? It’s a test for mates. No way one would leave the other behind.”

“I never said anything like that,” he growled, and I raised my brows.

“I didn’t say you would,” I fired back. “I’m just saying mates may look at this and think differently.”

Something flickered behind his eyes, but he blinked it away. “Right.”

“I’ll take one side, you take the other?” I asked, extending the handlebar to him.

He shook his head. “The cable isn’t thick enough to balance us both on each side. My weight difference will send you flying.” His eyes churned in that way they did when he was strategizing. He tested the cable with his hands, yanking and tugging, sliding his fingers this way and that. “It is strong enough to hold the weight though if we’re centered.”

“Centered,” I repeated, my body instantly flaring to life for an entirely different reason than the adrenaline.

Ransom took the bar from me with one hand then flicked a come-hither motion at me with the other. I stepped into his space, unable to not obey to command in his eyes. He cocked a brow at me when I merely wrapped my arms around his neck as he gripped the bar with both hands behind me.

“Your legs,” he said, and my eyes flared. “Wrap them around my waist.”

Liquid, I went wholly liquid at those words, at the primal dominance in them. I couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to think, how to move.

“You had no issue wrapping them around my head last night,” he teased, and my eyes flared wide again, my heart racing as warmth pooled in my core. “Don’t be shy,” he continued, noting my hesitance. “I won’t bite.” He grinned, showing just a hint of distended fang that sent my mind whirling to thoughts far away from this competition. “Unless you ask me to,” he added, his voice gravelly and sliding over my skin like flames.

I gripped his neck harder, somehow regaining control over my body enough to hop and wrap my legs around his hips.

Nose to nose, I couldn’t escape his scent or those goddamn blue eyes. Couldn’t feel any part of me that wasn’t pressed against him.

“Lock your ankles,” he demanded, his lips damn near brushing mine we were so close.

I did as I was told, and he leaped.

My breath caught, a scream of shock climbing up my throat before I swallowed it as we leveled out on the cable. We glided across the vast ravine, the Arctic crashing far below us, beckoning us to our deaths if Ransom’s hold faltered.

But he didn’t. In fact, he never lost my gaze as we soared across the line toward the other side, as if he could hold me to him with his eyes alone. Keep me with him by sheer force of will.

And I clung to him, my muscles aching and pulsing every single place we touched.

A jerking halt propelled us over the edge of the other side of the island, and we tucked and rolled as Ransom let go of the bar. The wind left my lungs in a rush as I landed on my back, Ransom sprawled atop me, my legs still on either side of his hips. He quickly raised up on his elbow, examining me, his free hand smoothing over my cheek. “Are you all right?”

No, no I was not all right. Not with his delicious weight between my thighs. Not with what I knew he could do to my body after what had happened between us yesterday. Not with the way he was looking down at me, daring my heart to hope.

“Yes,” I said, and he grinned.

In one smooth movement, he hauled us both to our feet.

“One to go,” he said, his eyes on the obstacle ahead.

The bar was already zipping back to the other side, and I had to wonder how many more hidden cables there were for other couples to find. Behind us, teams rushed, hot on our heels.

I turned to focus on the path ahead, my brow furrowing. I could see the finish line, clearly marked by torch lights and my parents and other spectators waiting—no doubt having wended while we scraped through the course.