Roar (Stormheart #1)(98)
“Sure. I could do with a run.”
She grinned at him, and it nearly took him to his knees.
“You ready?” she asked, bouncing slightly on her feet.
He laughed. “I don’t think I have ever seen you this eager for a run. I know I haven’t.”
She darted back a few steps, and when he followed at a lazy pace, she scurried a little farther. “Maybe I missed running with you.”
His heart began to ease into a faster rhythm, and even though he was tired and sore from the last few days’ brutal work, he felt a burst of energy.
“You missed getting beaten?” he asked with a smile.
She twined her hands behind her and walked backward, pulling him along like there was a lure stuck in his chest. “I don’t know. I’m feeling good tonight. I think today might finally be the day that I leave you in the dust.”
“Doubtful,” he growled, picking up his pace to match hers.
“Prove it,” she said with a smile, then turned and took off at a hard sprint.
Soul of fire, soul of rage
No longer bound by flesh or cage,
Soul exalted, soul made new
Reserved for those devout and true.
—“The Way of Souls,” a Sacred Soul hymn
21
Roar could hear Locke hot on her heels, and her heart beat at a frenzied pace. She was in the mood to have fun. For so long, in every part of her life, she had felt like she had been cornered into one choice or another. When she hadn’t been taking risky leaps of faith, she’d been trudging down lonely roads because there were no other options. She’d been miserable from the stress of it all, and after days of agonizing over the future, she realized she was falling into the same patterns here in the wilds. For once, she did not want to be ruled by the future. She wanted adventure. She wanted fun. And she wanted it with Locke.
No more wavering between Rora and Roar.
She was Roar for the foreseeable future, and that was all that mattered. Running hard, she blew past one of the village gates, heading out into the dusky twilight. The sun was down, but the sky was still spattered with purples and pinks and blues. Stars winked overhead, a multitude of dazzling lights that seemed to dance and swirl together in some faraway place.
Snapping out of her distraction just in time, she changed direction as Locke lunged to catch her. He missed, and Roar laughed, speeding away while he refocused.
She could not outrun him for long. She knew that. He was much faster than her, but she was counting on his fatigue and her own restlessness to give her the edge for a little while. But she had not counted on the single-minded intensity with which he pursued her. She realized very quickly, as she had to dodge him again and again, that while he might be tossing playful taunts as he trailed behind, he certainly was not playing around. Every time he came near, her body buzzed with anticipation for that moment when his hands would take hold of her. And each time she delayed the inevitable, the sensations became more intense, until she wanted him to catch her. Until she craved it.
She did not hold out long before his huge body plowed into her from behind. Her legs tangled together as his arms wound around her chest and shoulders, and the only thing that kept her from falling was his agility. He lifted her up, spinning to keep from falling himself, whirling her around in the process. She screamed and reached her hands up to clutch at the arms that held her. They were both laughing as her feet touched back on the ground, swaying together to recapture their equilibrium.
“You did not have to tackle me,” she breathed.
“I didn’t tackle you. I caught you. And it was surprisingly easy. Has Jinx been going easy on you?”
Feeling daring, she leaned back fully into him, resting her head on the curve made by the arm still wrapped around her. “If I say yes, will I be in trouble, commander?”
He squeezed her closer and let out a barking laugh. “Commander, really?”
She shrugged, but the movement was restricted by his hold. “How about strict overlord?”
“Rolls right off the tongue.” The words were low and joking, but he said them so close to her ear that it felt like a slow burn had begun at the base of her spine. She wanted to have fun. And though she did not always let herself admit it, she was intrigued by the idea of having a different kind of fun with Locke.
With Cassius, the idea of being intimate had felt frightening and overwhelming. And after his betrayal, it had made her skin crawl. But with Locke … the prospect of making herself vulnerable to him was not as scary as she thought it would be. And what little fear remained was overshadowed by curiosity and desire. She thought about that kiss in the rain, and she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him when there was no storm distracting her, no anger between them.
For now, though, she decided to continue playing hard to get. He had relaxed his grip, holding her softly as his chin rested lightly against the back of her head. She used her body to push him backward and then wiggled out of his hold and ran.
When her footing slipped and she ended up on one knee, she took the opportunity to throw a fistful of sand at an approaching Locke. He dodged easily, but the glint in his eyes was so worth it. He prowled toward her, and there was a drumming in her ears, beating too fast to be her heart, surely.
“Gonna pay for that, princess.”
“Maybe I’ll call you Wolf,” she said as he drew nearer. “A predator that hunts in packs.” He made a growly sort of grunt, but didn’t protest. “Or maybe Tiger. Or Lion.”