With the hand gripping her waist, he rubbed his thumb up and down her torso. When he made contact with the small ring at her navel, he drew a quick, surprised breath against her lips.
His shaking hand finally trailed lower...
Aching to touch him as well, she ran her fingers down his broad chest. Just as she reached the waist of his jeans, he began working his fingers into her shorts. Their kiss grew more desperate.
When she thought about them touching each other like this, pleasuring each other, she couldn't prevent her hips from rocking up to his hand. But when her curious fingertips dipped down, and she brushed the broad, slick head of his erection, he jerked as if in shock at the touch, as if she'd seared him.
He grabbed her wrist, seeming to decide if he should pull her hand away or press it against him. "Need this," he finally rasped, forcing her hand into the heat of his jeans to grip his thick shaft. "So damned much."
"Yes!" she cried, feeling him stroking at the lace edge of her panties.
He groaned and reached lower. When he cupped the wet flesh between her legs, he shuddered, thrusting himself into her fist.
Just when she had no doubt they were about indulge in each other, he stilled. Even as his erection throbbed in her grip, and his breaths were ragged, he withdrew his hand from her and shook his head hard. "But canna have it."
Suddenly, he snatched her hand from him, squeezing her wrist so tightly, magick began building in her palm in reflex. His ghostly blue eyes flickered over the light. Then, as if reminded of what she was, he looked disgusted with her. His voice low, he said, "Quit the Hie, witch."
She slowly shook her head. "Not on your life, MacRieve." Not after everything she'd done to get here. And not when the next Hie wouldn't be for another two hundred and fifty years.
His lips were subtly drawing back to bare his lengthening fangs. "Vow you'll quit, or I swear I will make it so you do no' distract me again."
"I wasn't trying to distract you - "
"Bullshite!" He shoved aside the sarcophagus cover she was perched on, jarring her. His hand rooted down, and he plucked out the headdress - a stunning gold and jade piece. "You could almost make me forget what I really want." Fisting his fingers around it, he cast her a menacing smile. They both knew that all he had to do was lift the prize above his heart, and it would travel to Riora, the goddess of the Hie. He raised it, and the headdress disappeared; for a second afterward, Mari felt the magick, clear and true, and smelled the goddess's forest temple halfway around the world.
So easily, Mari had just lost those points - or had had them taken from her.
"Do you really think you can defeat me?" he demanded. "And if no' me, then the Valkyrie or the vampire?"
"A seer predicted Kaderin will lose the Hie for once. This is anyone's game."
He eyed her. "You know why I will win. What do you seek?"
To show everyone! "It's personal," she said instead. "Look, we could team up. The key works twice."
"Team with you? What could you possibly offer me?" The expression he gave her said he was amused by her statement. Her eyes narrowed. He shouldn't be amused.
"I'm not without skills, MacRieve. I won the first two tasks I undertook." Mari could be surprisingly effective for someone who rarely put herself in challenging situations. When she did decide to work for something, she worked hard. In the Hie, she had to work harder merely because she was a mortal. "And I do believe I beat you here."
"Do you have any idea how much I despise witches?"
Many Lorekind did. Witches were feared and mistrusted, used only for their purchased spells. And that disdain had never bothered her so much as it did now. "No, that fact escaped me when you were sticking your tongue in my mouth."
The reminder seemed to enrage him. "You will no' take yourself from the hunt? Then I'll take the hunt from you." He twisted away from her, then charged for the tunnel.
Suspecting what he planned to do, she felt panic - and magick - rising up within her. After a sharp shake of her head, she hurried after him. "Wait, MacRieve!" When she got to the tunnel, he was already climbing out the other end. A concentration of magick built in her palm, and she threw a beam of it at him. Didn't know what she expected...
Though it shot straight as a laser, it just missed him. Once the tunnel was cleared of everything but aftersparks and residual power flares, he leaned down to give her a black look, then disappeared.
Snatching up her lantern, she crawled through that awful space, breaths panicked and sharp, magick cloying about her. Once freed of the tunnel, she dashed down corridors, finally reaching the first anteroom.
The tomb's entryway was at least twelve feet above this chamber's floor. She arrived in time to see him leap the distance, easily clearing it.
As he gazed down at her from the opening, his eyes looked crazed, and she saw he was turning more fully. An image of a furious beast flickered over him. He ducked down, positioning himself under the portcullis. When he raised his hands above him to grip it, she said, "Don't do this, MacRieve."
He hefted the weight - with difficulty, but by himself. Two demons had labored with that feat. And the colossal stone that the three archers had struggled to shove under it? MacRieve simply kicked it away, toppling it from the ledge into the space near Mari.
As if her thoughts of them brought the other competitors, the archers entered the outer chamber, their easy smiles lit in the glow of their lanterns. When the three saw her, they appeared shocked that she wasn't in her cloak. Each gaze locked on her pointed ears. "Mariketa, you're fey, like us?" Tera, the female asked. "It was rumored at the assembly... "