Page 11 of Fifth
When he kissed her, it wasn’t gentle. It was steady and consuming, aclaiming pressed to her mouth with unyielding certainty. She gasped into him, the sound caught between protest and need, and his hold tightened, pulling her fullyagainst his body. Her pulse hammered, her lips softening beneath his, and the world seemed totilt.
The soft lines of her body pressed against his chest and thighs, every curve of her fitted to him through the thin scraps they wore. He was aware of the slope of her breasts brushing his ribs, the warm press of her hip against his own, the heat radiating from her belly where it met him. Each contact seared through restraint, his blood answering with a force that rattled his control. She was fragile in his arms, yet the way she clung made her seem essential, as though her body had already bound itself tohis.
Her hands rose against him, clutching at his shoulders, her grip frantic, as though she sought balance only in him. Heat surged through his chest and lower, his body answering the pull of her nearness. He deepened the kiss once, unhurried and intentional, then drew back just enough to let their breaths mingle, foreheads almost touching.
“You are mine to protect,” he said, voice rougher than he intended, as though the truth had been dragged out ofhim.
Her lashes fluttered, cheeks burning. She should have shoved him away. Instead she leaned closer, breathless. “Then do it. Keep me safe.”
His thumb brushed her cheekbone, atender stroke at odds with the steel of his grip. The night hummed around them—traps clicking, distant roars echoing—but all he heard washer harsh breath, while the curve of her pressed to him. Desire coiled, sharp and urgent, barely restrained.
He kissed her again, softer this time, coaxing instead of claiming, as if testing what she would allow. Hannah’s lips parted willingly now, the edge of resistance fading into something more dangerous: want. For a long moment, survivaland strategy fell away. There was only them, locked together in the dark, heat burning against heat, afragile truce sealed with akiss.
The drone whirred eagerly, recording every heartbeat of the moment. Somewhere behind, the crowd roared their approval. But the noise seemed far away. For Locus, there was only her, the taste of her lips, her heat searing into him, the dizzying certainty that no trap, no predator, no trial could matter more than keeping her alive.
When he finally drew back, the drone gave a satisfied chirp. “Traps to the east cleared,” the voice announced. Then the machine wheeled away, its red eye vanishing into the nightsky.
Hannah’s breath shuddered. She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted, the faintest tremor running through her. “That was for them,” she whispered, as if reminding herself.
His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her mouth. “No. That was for us.”
Silence wrapped them, but the warmth between them didn’t fade. Locus held her close against his chest, her body fitting to his as though it had always been meant. The danger outside the ridge waited. But for this night, she was in his arms and nothing could touchher.
Chapter 4
“DO NOTlook at the drones.”
Locus’s mouth brushed the edge of her hair, his voice a quiet command that sank straight through her skin. He didn’t pull her harder into him. He didn’t need to. His body was heat and endless masculinity. The drones that had demanded the kiss drifted backward atlast.
Hannah kept her eyes on his throat, unwilling to peer into those predatory drone lenses. She could still taste Locus. The kiss had been forced by cruelty, but nothing about the moment had been forced. The first kiss had been obedience. The second, asensual surprise. The third was hunger that didn’t care who watched.
She hated that.
Her lips tingled, swollen and warm, and her chest rose too fast beneath the thin halter they had given her. The tiny skirt bit into the soft place at her hips each time her breath pulled in. She felt bare and furious and alive.
Locus was nearly naked, nothing but a strip of crude fabric low on his hips that didn’t hide the cut of muscle or the crisp V that dragged her gaze where it had no business going. Nor did it hide the size of his cock, huge in comparison to a normal human’s. His skin held heat like he had stolen it from a fire and brought it with him. When the night air touched her, it became a mockery. When his body touched her, it became the only truth she could trust.
“All right,” she said, voice small and jagged. “You can let go of me. They’re gone.”
“For now.” His breath warmed the shell of her ear, but he didn’t pull away. “They will return when they believe the bettors require more.”
The words slid down her spine. “Bettors.” The syllables tasted like rust. “Betting notifwe’ll die, butwhen.”
He looked down at her, and the amethyst in his eyes wasn’t a color she’d ever seen on a human. It was a winter sunset with a burning light behind it. “That will not happen.”
The word settled under her ribs. She hated that, too. “You make a lot of vows to people you just met?”
“No.” He didn’t blink. “Only this one.”
The preserve hummed quietly around them. The slavers were clever with their noise. Far enough to make the night empty. Close enough that the crack of laughter could carry along the metal fence and coil into the trees. Distant torches flickered like false constellations. Something moved out beyond the swaying reeds, muffled and heavy, then stilled when Locus turned his head as if listening with hisskin.
He wouldn’t let her go. He hadn’t since the kiss. That should’ve frightened her more than the machines. It didn’t. Itsettled the wildness in her chest until the beat evened and she could think again. She shivered, half from cold, half from awareness.
“Come closer,” he urged, his voice low, toughened with a need that slid beneath her skin. The words carried more than command—they carried heat, an invitation and a pledge, awarning and a promise all atonce.
“I am close.”
“Closer.” His palm found the edge of her ribs and lifted slightly. “Breathe here. Slow. Iwill match you.”
