Page 47 of The Songs of Fate (War of Fate)

I unclenched my fists and placed my hands against his torso, spreading my fingers wide, watching how small they looked against his expansive chest. I slid them further up. My eyes followed the path my fingers took up his body, to his neck, and then weaving into his hair.

I licked my lips and turned my eyes to his. His gaze swam with dark green currents. I fluttered my lashes closed. I wanted to savor every bit of his taste. My lips sipped at his, slowly.

He let me control the kiss. Gently, exploring his lips, I skimmed my bottom lip over his and slipped my tongue against the seam.

Logan parted his mouth, allowing my tongue to swipe over his.

My teeth grazed his bottom lip before nipping at it and then kissing it, stroking it with my tongue.

I sighed and ran my hands down his tense shoulders to rest on his fists.

Jesus, I’m so bad at this. The guy is so repulsed, he’s actively trying not to touch me. He must’ve been wasted last night to have such a completely different reaction.

Removing my hands from his arms, I stepped back and focused on the small pebble beside my right boot.

Logan coughed. “Much better than the first.”

“Thanks,” I said. Liar.

“What?” Logan said, taking a step closer to me.

“I don’t need you to lie to me. You were so ready for it to end, you were literally white-knuckling it,” I said.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” I said, stepping past Logan to grab my backpack.

“It’s not like that,” Logan said, reaching for my arm.

I jerked back before his palm could land. “Okay, whatever.”

I tightened the straps around my chest. Without another word, I pivoted toward the northern ridge and started walking. Not wanting to look at Logan’s back the rest of the day, I marched ahead. It’d been so long with a man, I had to be drunk to kiss right… damn.

Change of plan: Get through the valley before the creature came.

Three hours, and ten tiny fingernails ripped to shreds later, I jolted to a stop.

The ridge led down into a small, tight tunnel. The tunnel wasn’t made of the same dark red stone but designed in waves of tan, orange, pink, and purple layers. The walls were smoothly rounded, etched by years of erosion. It was more breathtaking than my dream. The colors were muted in the darkness, but here they radiated from the rock like flames.

The dread for Logan pricked like a thousand sewing needles up my spine. This was why I met Logan. I was supposed to be here. This was the place.

“Logan, let’s not stop in the tunnel. I need to go fast. I’m claustrophobic,” I yelled over my shoulder.

I lunged for Logan’s palm and cinched my fingers around his wrist in a vise, and then tugged.

I turned and sprinted through the passageway, squinting my eyes, searching around for any movement. Any people. Any creatures.

I picked up my feet quickly, bounding against the gravel at an even faster pace.

To Logan’s credit, he didn’t object. He let me drag him through the quarter-mile of tunnel into a large desolate valley of curving lines. The same stone from the tunnel lined all of the surrounding walls.

I panted, wiping my hair out of my face.

My eyes prowled the ridges, the boulders, the dark shadows the late afternoon sun was casting on the dirt.

Nothing was there.

No. It’s here. It’s just waiting.

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