Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Nope. He’s ready to go again, adjusting his stance and hitting the gas.
Goddammit.
I grip the ratchet mechanism, rapidly locking and tightening the cogwheel, trying to prevent the strap from loosening with the vibrations and movement of the machine.
Far below, he wrestles with the steering, his eyebrows clenched in concentration. As he inches upward, I struggle to keep the line taut, my hands sweating in the gloves despite the freezing temperatures.
Every moment feels like an eternity as the engine splutters and strains, the sound reverberating through the gorge.
But he’s climbing.
Inch by agonizing inch, his relentless determination shines through. Slowly, miraculously, he fights his way up the incline, his muscles pumping with effort.
My lungs seize every time he teeters too close to the edge. The ski runners barely fit on the path, and each thrust upward has them precariously balancing on the icy slope.
One tiny slip…
He accelerates. The machine lurches, but instead of advancing, the front end lifts dangerously high.
“Leo, no!” Panic locks up my limbs, making them too heavy and sluggish as I fight to tighten the line and force the skis to the ground.
The snow machine hovers at an angle, its nose reaching for the sky, threatening to flip backward and send Leo hurtling into the river below.
He fights to regain control, throwing his weight into it. I don’t have enough strength to crank the ratchet and level him out.
The straps strain, creaking, fraying, threatening to snap.
I’m losing him.
My blood pounds, pounds, pounds, rushing between my ears. My throat closes, the airway so tight I can’t breathe.
This is terror. Crippling, soul-sucking, hellborn terror.
With a roar, Leo shoves his body forward, and the snow machine slams back down with a bone-jarring thud, sending a spray of snow into the air.
The straps hold.
Adrenaline crashes through me, and I drop to my knees, trembling and sick.
He grits his teeth, his fists clenched around the handles. When he meets my eyes, I see the resolve in his.
He’s halfway up the slope. No turning back.
Fuck.
So he presses on, and the mishaps continue. Each jolt, slip, and wheelie takes years off my life. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I helplessly watch the man I love hang in the balance. It’s an unending nightmare, unfolding before my eyes, each moment more terrifying than the last.
Through it all, he remains stoic, dauntless, his willpower unwavering in the face of death.
After what feels like a thousand lifetimes, he finally reaches the top, the snow machine lurching onto solid ground with a triumphant roar, not a piece of meat or chunk of coal lost in its journey.
Weak-kneed and shaking, I rush forward and throw my arms around him in a rib-cracking embrace. Tears sting my eyes as I bury my face in his chest, overwhelmed with relief.
“I thought…” My voice chokes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I’m here.” He hauls me closer, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his hug a vise of indomitable strength. “I’ll always come back to you.”
“Damn straight. Because you are never pulling that stunt again.”
“No argument there.” He laughs.
“Let’s go home.” I push back my shoulders.
“Home?”
“Kody. He’s our home.”
He inclines his head in a slow nod, and in the reflection of snowlight, his eyes thaw, cradling a rare gentleness that smooths the years creasing the corners.
“To home, then.” He lifts me onto the snow machine and straddles the space between my legs.
And we’re off.
Riding across the arctic tundra on the back of a snow machine with him is an experience of extremes.
I love the intimacy of it, the melding of our bodies. With my arms banded around his hard abs and his heat pressed firmly against me, he’s a barrier between me and the endless white expanse.
He takes the reins confidently, guiding us through the dangerous darkness with a grace that belies the peril. I place my life in his hands, surrendering to the thrill of trust and love that burns through me.
But the cold. It’s deep and invasive. A gnawing, sucking, draining pain that siphons the strength from every muscle and joint.
The shivering is fucking relentless. The wind lashes us like an icy hurricane, the terrain a minefield of bumps and dips, each one jarring my bones and bruising every bit of flesh that already aches with a dull, persistent throb.
It’s a brutal test of endurance that lasts hours, pushing me to my limits and demanding its toll.
We stop periodically to refuel, not just the machine but ourselves. As he unstraps the gas container and fills the tank, I stretch my stiff legs, trying to get blood flowing and to chase away the frostbite that digs in with frozen talons.
After a fleeting visit from the sun this morning, the polar night returned with a vengeance. Daytime darkness makes the cold so much colder, each breath a sharp intake that smothers my lungs with frost.