He helped me into the helicopter like it was second nature, like dragging someone into midair wasn't psychotic behavior. His hand settled on my waist too long as I strapped in, his gloved fingers brushing my thigh when he reached across me for the buckle. Casual, not casual.
I hated the way I let myself lean just a little closer when the engine roared to life.
The flight was short but terrifyingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to dip, casting the clouds in honeyed gold. My thoughts spun with it—faster and louder than the blades above.
Then we descended.
Down toward a cliffside retreat.
It looked like something out of a billionaire's Pinterest board. Modern glass and stone architecture built into the rock, fire pits glowing near the edge, dark whiskey in expensive glasses clinking beside low, murmured conversation. There were only six people seated in curved leather chairs around the fire—and one of them turned and waved lazily at Kael.
