Page 35 of Savage Bond

With each word she speaks about hope and escape, my annoyance clashes with an unwanted surge of desire that tightens my chest. I grumble again but keep my gaze ahead, unwilling to acknowledge how drawn I am by her spirit and tenacity amidst this hellish landscape.

The jungle closes around us; a cacophony of life drowns out our conversation—but not what’s brewing between us in silence.

The jungle feels like it’s closing in, every vine and branch a reminder of how trapped we are. Ava’s voice prattles on about possibilities, her excitement palpable. It infuriates me—how distracting she is, how tempting. I try to shake it off, focus on the path ahead, but the heat presses down, wrapping around us like a snake.

With each step forward, her determination pulls me in deeper. She’s relentless, pushing against the limits of her endurance while I want to growl at her to stop. I want to blame the humidity or the constant threat lurking behind every tree. But that wouldn’t scratch the surface of it.

No, it’s worse than that. Something inside me stirs—a dangerous urge I can’t shake off. Her hazel eyes flash with fervor as she talks about the artifact like it holds magic. Every word she speaks draws my attention; each gesture amplifies my irritation and something more primal lurking beneath.

I glance back at her just in time to see her wipe sweat from her brow, the fabric of her shirt clinging tightly to her body. My breath catches. I should look away, but I can’t help it. This isn’t a distraction; it’s a temptation I’m unprepared for—and it infuriates me even more.

CHAPTER 22

AVA

The trail narrows, the underbrush closing in like a shroud. Vines hang low, thick and dripping with moisture that glistens in the faint light filtering through the canopy. Each breath feels heavy, like I’m swallowing steam instead of air. I swat at the insects buzzing around me, but it’s half-hearted. My body aches from the constant strain, my boots squelching with each step as they soak through from the jungle’s relentless humidity.

My uniform is a wreck—ripped at the collar and thighs, crusted with dried sweat and jungle grime. I’ve tied the sleeves around my waist to stave off some of the heat, exposing my tank top beneath. I hate feeling so exposed, like too much skin is on display. But what choice do I have? Collapse from heatstroke or bear this discomfort?

Kairon strides ahead of me, a shadow among shadows. His footsteps soundless despite his size—he moves like a predator through this thick undergrowth. Occasionally, I glance up and catch him looking back at me. Not often—just enough to keep me aware of his presence.

Each time our eyes meet, something coils low in my belly. A tension that feels both electric and unsettling. He’s an enigmawrapped in danger; his crimson gaze always seems to linger just a moment too long on my throat, my chest, my hips. He doesn’t leer—he studies me as if he’s trying to unravel some puzzle that unsettles him.

I want to scream at him to just stop looking—to tear my gaze away from me and instead focus on finding a way out of this suffocating jungle, instead of whatever strange fixation it is that holds his attention when he gazes at me. Yet, fatigue pulls at my limbs like a heavy blanket, wrapping around me, making every movement feel like a monumental effort. Every muscle in my body screams for relief, a desperate plea that clashes against the adrenaline surging through me, fighting to keep me moving forward despite the exhaustion.

“What exactly are you staring at?” I snap, my voice cutting through the oppressive silence of the jungle like a knife. The sharpness of my tone surprises even me, echoing off the thick foliage that surrounds us, as if the jungle itself is taken aback by my sudden outburst.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight twitch of amusement flickering across his features, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he studies me for a moment, his expression inscrutable, a mask that offers no hints of whatever thoughts might be swirling beneath the surface.

“Nothing worthwhile,” he finally mutters, dismissing me as if I’m nothing but a fleeting distraction.

His eyes dart back to the path ahead, a clear indication that he's trying to will himself not to notice me, to push me out of his mind as if I were merely a passing shadow in the dense underbrush. I can’t help but feel a sting of irritation at his nonchalance, even as I battle the conflicting emotions that churn within me.

I roll my eyes but keep pace behind him, irritation mixing with something deeper—a yearning I refuse to acknowledge. Thetension stretches between us like a taut wire; it pulses with each glance exchanged in this suffocating green prison we’ve found ourselves in.

The jungle thickens around us, a tapestry of life that vibrates with a frequency I can feel deep in my bones. It’s not just the sounds—the rustling leaves, the distant calls of creatures hidden among the foliage—but something else, something that hums in the air. It feels eerily familiar, echoing the energy signature of the artifact we once carried. I grind my teeth, trying to push the thought away.

The air around us feels charged, like static before a storm. Kairon moves with an effortless confidence that unnerves me; I can't shake the feeling that he’s both my greatest ally and my worst enemy.

I push through branches that whip at my arms, feeling one sharp leaf slice across my bicep. A trickle of blood seeps down my skin. I don’t complain; I refuse to give him any satisfaction.

But as we ascend a steep incline, weakness catches me off guard. My leg buckles—still tender from his rough treatment days ago—and before I can brace myself, I crash down hard onto one knee.

A sharp inhale escapes me just as his hand wraps around my arm. Kairon’s grip is firm, steadying me without hesitation or question. He doesn’t say anything—just holds me there in silence, fingers pressing into my skin like an anchor.

I look up into his face, breath caught in my throat. His crimson eyes are focused on mine, intense and searching. They hold a mix of annoyance and something softer beneath—a flicker of concern that he won’t admit to.

Kairon’s face looms close, his features sharp and defined in the muted light filtering through the leaves. I catch the glint of sweat trickling down his collarbone, the way it pools briefly before vanishing into the shadow of his tactical vest. His skin,mottled gray with streaks of black and white, contrasts against the vibrant green around us. It’s like he’s carved from stone, solid and unyielding.

His eyes—crimson with an ember-like glow—capture me. They hold a fierce intensity that makes my heart race. I’ve faced many adversaries, but none have ever made me feel this raw awareness of my own body. The heat radiating off him envelops me like a thick blanket; I can almost feel the pulse hammering beneath his throat as if our heartbeats sync for a fleeting moment.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

His grip lingers on my arm, firm but not painful, grounding me in a reality that feels too charged. It’s too intimate for a situation like ours—a human and a Reaper stranded in a jungle with danger lurking behind every tree. But here we are, suspended in this moment where nothing else matters but the heat between us.

My breath hitches as his gaze flickers to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes. There’s something electric about that glance—an unspoken challenge wrapped in curiosity. It sends shivers down my spine, igniting that low flame of desire I’ve fought so hard to ignore.

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