body temperature as high as possible against the chill.
A light cut through the darkness over the ocean.
Ivar paused, and she tumbled against his broad back, fighting to stay on her feet. He turned and grasped both her arms. “Can you run?”
Gulping, shoving wet hair off her face, she nodded. “Can you?”
He turned and watched the light grow near. “They might be friendly.”
She swallowed and stared up at his still bleeding face. Friendly? Was he having some sort of war flashback or something? “It’s okay, Ivar. Let’s get to the trail.” The storm was so thunderous, she had to lean up to yell close to his ear.
Lightning ripped across the sky, deadly and beautiful. It lit up a helicopter rapidly moving their way.
She gaped. “Who in the world is flying through this storm?”
Ivar’s shoulders relaxed, and his body stilled. “They’re ours. Saw the side of the copter.”
She shook her head, turning to see the craft pitch crazily in the air. “There’s nowhere to land,” she whispered, her words stolen completely by the wind. A gust of wind attacked her, throwing her into Ivar. She hit him midcenter, already trying to backtrack. Had she hurt him?
He planted an arm around her shoulders and hauled her into his side, protecting her from the wind, rain, and sand.
Oh, no. She could inadvertently damage his possible internal injuries more. She gently tried to extricate herself, but he held firm. She stood stiffly, trying not to touch him.
The light shone down from the helicopter, and a rope became visible.
Panic attacked her, and she shook her head, trying to move away from him.
“You’re okay.” With one hand, he grabbed her arm and swung her around to land on his back.
She cried out, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck, her knees clapping to his rib cage. The movement itself should’ve dropped him to his knees. Instead, he secured her wrists together at his collarbone with one hand and reached for the rope with the other.
There was no way in the scientific universe the man would be able to climb the rope in spite of his injuries, especially with her perched on his back.
With one hand and both legs, with her on his back trying not to scream, he started to climb.
They were going to die.
* * * *
Every muscle ached, and Ivar’s broken arm bones clattered against each other and repeatedly sliced through his skin while he climbed the rope. The wind fought him with a powerful wail, while rain somehow slashed sideways to turn him around. On the beach, he had tried several times to teleport Promise to safety, but only a sputter echoed through him. Sputter and broken bones and fucking agony.
He’d lost his ability to teleport before it had strengthened enough to be used again.
Promise tucked her nose into the back of his neck, her mouth moving, probably in some sort of prayer. She held herself as stiff as concrete, no doubt theorizing how quickly they’d fall if he lost his grip on the rope.
Rain attacked his eyes, and he blinked water away, gauging the distance to safety.
The copter pitched and rolled, throwing him wide.
Promise screamed and dug her nails into his clavicle, her foot scraping along what felt like a break in his femur. He growled low but kept climbing, having to reach with his one free hand and then use his knees for leverage. His right knee was going numb, and he sent emergency healing cells to it. He just had to get the woman inside the helicopter, and then he could pass out.
The cut in his forehead kept bleeding, the liquid burning his eye. The gash went beyond his skull to his brain, and the healing cells were stitching the skull back together too slowly to make a difference. He hadn’t regained his strength after his ordeals in hell, and crashing through a windshield the other day had taken its toll, especially on his slowly regenerating ability to teleport.
The helicopter pitched again, and his hand slipped, burning along the rope. He growled and fought to stay in the air.
They dropped several feet before his grip caught purchase. Promise burrowed closer to him, now making soft mewling noises.
“It’s okay,” he said, turning his head so his mouth brushed her forehead, his muscles straining so much he could feel them unravel.
She shuddered.
He drew deep for strength, fighting his body once again for survival. “This is nothing,” he grunted, climbing once again. After a guy had been to a few different hell worlds, getting