“Deal’s off.” He stepped around her and crouched behind a mound of snow near the small Nenets outpost. “Goodbye.”
“Hello.” She knelt beside him. Her cold arm nudged his and explosions of awareness rocked his system. Her scent—cloves and vanilla—drifted to him, teasing his senses with each breath. This was getting way out of hand and annoying as hell. “So, we kill them and rob them?”
“No.” Rev gave a long-suffering sigh and pointed. “We aren’t doing anything. I will steal what we need from those supply huts over there.”
Claire gave him some serious side-eye. “What do I do?”
Fuck off? “Stay put.”
He growled then disappeared in a flash. Moving faster than human eyes—and most immortals—could see, Rev zipped to the supply huts and peered inside. Nabbed two thick, fur-lined parkas, boots, rough woolen underclothes, gloves, and hats, then zoomed back to the snow mound. Arms laden with stuff, he dropped it all on the ground, then quickly pulled on his new duds. Not exactly his usual Deadwood meets Dead Zone attire, but it would do for now.
Claire sorted through the things then turned away from him to dress.
Seriously? He shook his head. She was going to be modest now after she’d damned near drawn and quartered him back in the passageway?
“Don’t look,” she said over her shoulder before letting her tattered gown fall to the snow.
As she tugged on a pair of wool leggings, Rev couldn’t stop staring at the smooth stretch of her spine, the soft curves of her hips, the globes of her buttocks. Throat dry, he blinked, catching himself just before he reached out to touch what his body so desired.
“You’re peeking, aren’t you?” Claire said, her tone laced with accusation.
“No.” Rev coughed, still staring. The lie had creaked out like a noisy old floorboard. He swallowed hard to clear the constriction of lust from his vocal cords and looked away. “No.”
Torn and twisted, he pulled on his heavy fur parka then wrinkled his nose. The thing smelled like dead caribou with the carcass still stuck inside, but at least it was warm. As he flipped the fur-lined hood over his head, he once again mourned the loss of his cowboy hat.
The Council would pay for that, and so many other crimes.
At last, Claire turned back around to face him. “How do I look?”
Rev opened his mouth, but his sarcastic remark died on his lips.
With her pink cheeks and glittering eyes, she looked…
He frowned. She looked…
Well, she looked like his every female fantasy come to life.
Cursing his fate, he stalked off toward what he hoped was civilization.
“Wait!” Claire caught up with him and blocked his path yet again. “Here.”
Before Rev could stop her, she reached up and adjusted his hood, her gloved hands cupping his cheeks as she pushed his hair behind his ears then scooted the thing this way and that, nose scrunched. Unfortunately, her touch only notched the heat in his blood higher.
He caught her wrists and stared down at her, his icy gaze meant to intimidate. “Stop.”
The answering flicker of want in her eyes, mixed with equal parts fury, only served to enflame him more.
“No,” Claire said.