Page 72 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
My grin widens. She sniffs and shields her eyes from the glare to search our snowy surroundings. Her cheeks are windblown, but her complexion is bright.So fucking beautiful.I can’t help it—I grip her collar and yank her down to me. Her body flattens against mine, and anoofof air puffs from her lips.
“Kiss me.” It was supposed to be a request, but there’s no question in my tone.
She licks her lips and then lowers. I cup her head and pull her the rest of the way until our lips clash, and I drive my tongue in deep. I sweep her mouth with long, hot strokes. She moans at my intrusion. Our kiss is hard, fast, and hungry. I need more. Something about falling from the sky has wiped the last traces of the fear our run-in with Asmodeus left behind. How can I complain about anything when Leila kisses me, making little feminine whimpers as I slide my hands down her back and squeeze her ass.
She is warm and alive. I’ll never get enough of this.
When she pulls back, I almost groan at the loss. I drink in the sight of her flushed and happy face. I try to freeze time. Right here, right now. If it wasn’t so fucking cold, this is where I’d stay forever. I won’t need food—I’d feast between her legs daily. I won’t need heat—I’d warm myself by fucking her senseless.
For fuck’s sake, I’m so hard right now. When we finally get somewhere warm and dry, I’m going to—
“What?” she whispers, her brows lifting in the middle. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because,” I answer gruffly. “I want to do wicked things to you.”
I nip her chin, tugging her hips against mine and flexing until she feels the hardness waiting for her. My wildcat blushes, and I might make some kind of desperate whimpering sound no man should make.
Her eyes are full of hot desire, but she climbs off me and then does that beautiful thing where she cares for me. This is the old Lei Ling I remember. The sweet, caring heart that would cut my hair with rapt attention to detail. The one who made sure I ate.
I could probably detangle myself from the chute, but I don’t want to. I want to watch her fuss and check my knees. I relish her tiny touches as she prods my bruised ribs, pretending she’s not blushing from how deeply I look at her. I want to take her hand and guide it south, but what I want isn’t important right now. Her safety is.
Asmodeus could be hot on our tails. He could be at the temple already.
I grumble as I collect our pack. I truly am a bit stiff. At least the snow softened our landing, but, Christ, jumping out of a plane isn’t my first choice for a mode of transport. We narrowly missed the wrong side of the mountain. Leila had expertly steered us through the wind and landed us in a valley between snow-capped forests. The sky is now bright blue and clear. We left the clouds somewhere behind.
“There it is.” She points in the distance.
I squint and see smoke from over the horizon of the valley. “The village?”
She nods. “Thea booked us a place at the local hotel—”
Warm and dry.“Say no more.”
She laughs and hurries to catch up to me. I think her laughter is the sweetest sound I know.
“Thea said reviews online mentioned the villagers are usually very welcoming. I figured since you speak the language, we might be able to arrange an invitation to dinner with one of the families so we can ask about the helmet. Local folklore could help us find this temple.”
“Good idea. I think Ludovic struggled to find its exact location. If that’s true, then we’ll need more information.”
“If he wasn’t lying.”
The walk into the village is across treacherous terrain. Snow sometimes has ice beneath it and can hide rocks and deeper drifts or sinkholes. We’re lucky we landed not too far from safety.
I offer to carry her backpack, but she refuses and soon walks ahead of me while I’m wheezing to catch up. I’m not terribly upset. At least with her in front, I have the perfect view of her pert ass flexing in her tight skydiving pants. Plenty of fodder for my fantasies.
But after an hour’s walk, not even my dirty thoughts can keep me warm. The cold nips at my extremities, and I begin to worry my cock will fall off. Then I really will be in hell. Miraculously, we clear the hard terrain and walk up a sludgy footpath with hoof prints in the muddy snow.
The village is small and mainly consists of farming structures and log cabins. We receive strange looks from locals as they go about their afternoon, collecting logs for their fires and feeding farm animals. I don’t have the energy to summon an approachable smile. Leila does all the talking. A local geriatric walking a donkey gives us directions to the hotel Leila booked.
I’m a little sad that my gun-running trips to this country have never taken me somewhere this isolated. This place has a certain charm and honesty missing from the city. It’s the furthest thing from godless and dark. It’s hard to imagine anything bad touching the fresh air and huts painted with colorful flowers.
If Asmodeus gets here and we can’t stop him... all these happy, innocent people will die.
We see no sign of foreigners or anyone who might be considered a treasure-hunting mercenary team. I hope it doesn’t mean Ludovic lied. Since Leila mentioned it, the doubt has been circling my thoughts.
Eventually, we find the hotel. It’s more of an inn and another log cabin with a porch and veranda. Somehow, news of our arrival traveled faster than us. An older man with white hair waits on the steps with a big goofy grin on his rosy, broken-capillary face. The hand-knitted jumper stretching over his portly torso is covered in the same brightly colored flower patterns I glimpsed on some of the houses.
“Welcome!” he bellows in a voice big enough to cause an avalanche. “I am Orlov.”
