Which led me to my next brilliant point that would probably make him want to push me into the sea. “It’s a long way up there. Sure you can make it?”
He glanced at me briefly, his deep blue eyes more agitated than angry. Then he took off anyway, and of course I followed him.
I liked heights.
I liked danger.
And I loved him.
It was a damp day, but the rocks we used as handholds were sheltered by the angle of the cliff.
Embry took off like a spider monkey.
I followed much slower, but my hands and feet were just as sure. I didn’t know the route as well as him, but the terrain was familiar. The sights and the sounds. As long as I didn’t look up and lose myself in his acrobat’s agility, I was golden.
Ten minutes later, we landed in the closest thing Embry had to a family heirloom—a cave built into the clifftop. There was a story about Grandpa Carter and a card game, but he didn’t talk about his family much, and I never pushed him.
Couldn’t, could I? That shit was dangerous.
Almost as dangerous as the last slithering slide into the cave, but we both made it.
Out of the wind, a strange quiet settled over us. The cave was cosy and dry and scattered with old cushions and rugs.
There was a camping stove too. Bottled water and lemon-balm teabags.
I rolled closer and found a jar of coffee. “Does your cousin still come up here?”
Embry was still catching his breath, leaning against the cave wall, eyes closed. He cracked them open, glanced at the coffee jar, and shook his head. “I brought that up here for you.”
“When?”
“Last autumn, maybe? I wanted to watch the storms up here with you, but it never happened.”
Because club business had taken over our lives.
Because the bastard trying to kill Cam had stabbed Embry first.
Rage.
Fuck that. Not here.
I found the kettle and emptied a bottle of Highland Spring into it, keeping busy instead of asking him why it was me, of all people, that he wanted to do crazy things with. That he wanted me to sleep behind him, watching his back, while he hung off the edge like the rebel he’d been long before he ever became a King.
He trusts you.
Guilt filled my throat, a unique kind that tore me in two with no path whatsoever to redemption. It suffocated me. I couldn’t fuckingbreathe.
Embry moved. In the small space of the cave, he had nowhere to go but pressed up tight beside me, our shoulders touching, his skin on mine. “Let me do that.”
“Hmm?”
He elbowed me away from the kettle. “Do you remember why I first brought you here?”
Accepting defeat, I sat back, leaning against the wall and stretching my legs out. They still ached from the batshit-long ride yesterday, and I was knackered after losing the entire three hours I’d spent in Embry’s bed after to staring at him instead of catching some shuteye of my own. But I was buzzing too. We were alone every platonic, fraternal night I slept in his bed, but this was different. Up here, there was no club. No rules. No demons if we didn’t invite them in. “Where’s your phone?”
“Didn’t bring it.”
I pulled mine from my pocket and switched it to airplane mode. Then I shut out everything else and focused on his question. “You brought me here because you were worried I never escaped all the bad shit I do. Said I wasn’t allowed to think about killing people while I was up here.”
