Page 42 of The Onyx Covenant

“Blindfolded? That’s insane.”

“You have a better idea?”

She hesitates. “No,” she admits reluctantly. “But if you drop me, I swear I’ll end you.”

“Never,” I say too seriously. “I’d never let you fall. Come on, then. I’ll crouch, and you put your feet on my thighs, then I’ll stand, and you can step onto my shoulders.”

“This is such a terrible idea,” she mutters, but her free hand finds my shoulder.

“Ready?” I ask.

“No… but do it anyway.”

I crouch lower, bracing myself against the tree. She hesitates, then places one tentative foot on my thigh, gripping my shoulder for balance.

“I’m going to fall and break both our necks,” she warns, wobbling slightly.

“You won’t. Trust me.” I can’t help the grin spreading across my face.

“Stop enjoying this so much. I can hear you smirking.”

“I’m not?—”

“You absolutely are.” She places her other foot on my opposite thigh, her body swaying dangerously. “Oh Gods, oh Gods.”

I steady her with my hand at her waist. “You’re doing great.”

“Shut up,” she hisses.

As she attempts to maneuver higher, she loses her balance, pitching forward. Her breasts bump against my face, and we both freeze.

“I… sorry,” she stammers.

I clear my throat. “No problem. Though I can’t say I mind the… unexpected perks of this position.”

“If you make one more joke, I swear I’ll?—”

“Just keep going,” I say, my voice strained. “Before I drop you.”

She shifts upward, her hand finding my head for support. When I breathe in, I catch the faint scent of her perfume, something delicious and light. It’s intoxicating and absolutely not what I should be focusing on right now.

“Can you… just a little higher…” she says, her fingers tangled in my hair.

“Working on it,” I grunt, slowly beginning to stand. Every muscle in my body strains with the effort.

She steps higher, one foot finding my shoulder.

“Focus on not falling, would you?”

Her second foot lands on my other shoulder. I’m steadying her with my hands on her thighs, her bound arm pulling against the rope and giving her one arm to stretch up. She’s light, but the position is awkward. My back presses against the rough bark of the heart tree, giving me the stability I need to hold her. The muscles in my shoulders and arms burn with the effort, but it’s a good pain—purposeful, necessary.

Standing slowly, I widen my stance and plant my feet more firmly on the moss-covered ground. She shifts her weight, leaning more heavily on my right shoulder as she extends herself further.

“Almost there,” I encourage, voice strained from the effort. “Can you reach it?”

“Nearly,” she breathes. I feel every subtle shift as she balances herself. “I can feel it brushing my fingertips.”

“Hurry,” I urge, feeling a tremor start in my legs. No matter how light she is, holding anyone above your head while blindfolded is no small feat. “Not to rush you, but I’d rather not drop you.”

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