Page 86 of Wicked Court

“I could really fucking use some fresh air,” she says on a long exhale.

“Well, fuck me. She curses, too. Keep going, baby. You’re turning into my perfect woman.”

Elara’s cheeks flush. From insult or embarrassment, I can’t tell.

I climb on and rev the engine, watching Elara’s reaction from my periphery. She’s trying to play it cool as she settles the helmet I stash at the back of my bike for such occasions over her head, but I can see the excitement, the fear, dancing in her eyes before she’s obscured behind the visor.

It’s addictive, this power to evoke such organic emotion.

The surge, the speed, it’s intoxicating, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if she feels it too—the addictive rush of living on the edge, where every second pulses with life, daring you to blink.

But then I remember who I am—Wilder, the guy who chases the high, not the heartbeats of a girl who might just be rebellious enough to keep up.

As we blaze through the night, the wind is a fierce competitor, trying to outdo my velocity, but it’s got nothing on me. Elara clings to me, her grip tight, a mixture of panic and exhilaration that feeds my ego.

“Scared yet?” I yell back, not really caring if she is.

My blood sings in my veins.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t beg me to slow down. Instead, she clings tighter, her trust in me as reckless as the ride itself. It’s a madness we share, a craving for the edge, and at this moment, flying through the darkness on twisting roads, I feel an unexpected kinship with her.

It’s unsettling, this sense of closeness, as if she’s not just someone I want. More than that. And damn, that’s a vulnerability I’m not ready to face.

She tightens her arms around me as we approach a steep descent. I imagine her face, flushed with terror.

With expert precision, I manipulate the clutch and throttle, shifting down gears while leaning effortlessly into the downward curve. My bike responds, embracing gravity and accelerating smoothly downhill. I can feel Elara hold her breath in her chest as we rapidly plunge down.

A sharp bend approaches at the bottom of the hill. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I prepare to tackle it head-on. The sound of rubber biting tarmac fills the air as I lean into the curve. Elara gasps audibly, her nails biting through my leather jacket.

The endorphins racing through me intensify with each passing second. As Elara clings to me, whispering a curse under her breath in awe or hatred—perhaps both—we soar through another deserted lane under the twinkling stars.

I snake an arm behind me, tentatively brushing against her thigh. Her body tenses at the contact, yet she doesn’t protest nor pull away. Emboldened, I let my fingers gently graze higher up her leg.

Underneath us, the bike surges with additional horsepower, a mechanical dragon unfurling its wings and soaring into uncharted territory. The force pins Elara against me, her breasts molded perfectly to my back. I swear I can feel her taut nipples piercing through our clothes.

“Hang on!” I shout, the final warning before I push the engine beyond its limit.

The bike snarls beneath us, responding with ferocious enthusiasm as we barrel down the road at velocities that mock mortality. This ride is a dare for death, unhinged from reality’s grasp and propelled by raw horsepower.

Taking a final turn, I speed the bike toward the edge of a cliff overlooking the vast forest and stop just short of the edge in a half-circle skid. As the bike comes to a stop, I prop it by grounding one foot, then exhale loudly, feeling for the first time the toll that our ride has taken on my body. There’s sweat forming on my brow, and my heart pounds in my chest like a tribal drum.

Disregarding Elara’s protests, I lift her off the bike and set her on the ground. Her legs wobble and she stumbles against me. Our bodies collide, and she’s shaking like a baby bird.

“Well?” My voice cuts through our shared panting. “Do you still want that fresh air?”

A shaky breath delays her response, but when she finally finds her voice… “That was…”

She clocks me in the middle of my chest.

To stroke her ego, I step back, pretending to be affected by her tiny fist.

“Are you insane? What the hell was that? We could’ve been killed!”

A chuckle escapes me as I reach out to remove her helmet. Once it’s off, I toss it aside and finally allow myself to take in her disheveled appearance. Flushed cheeks, tousled hair and wide eyes filled with adrenaline-induced rage.

A primitive, feral grin spreads across my face. “If I die with you wrapped around me, then kill me now.”

Elara shakes her head. She takes a deep breath and looks out over the cliff. The edge leads down to a black expanse that mirrors the void above, speckled with sporadic pinpricks of starlight.

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