“Get on my back.”

Darcy shuffled forward until the toes of her shoes disappeared under him.

“I don’t have cooties,” he added after a few seconds of her hesitation.

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

“I’m a lot of things, but dirty ain’t one of them,” he answered with obvious offence. “Dirty minded, maybe.”

“Not about the cooties,” she laughed. “Carrying me, I mean. I’m not as light as I look.”

“Don’t insult my muscles now, Darcy.”

“Sorry, muscles.”

Luca almost tipped himself onto all fours laughing at her. It really wasn’t that funny. He always seemed to find the things she said and did a bit too hilarious.

Darcy gave in, not that she didn’t desperately want to be carried by her mate, but when it came to Luca, it was safer to err on the side of pessimism. She rested her forearms on his shoulders and hopped up, wrapping her bare thighs around his waist. Squeezing him between them felt sinful. Darcy’s front pressed to his back wasn’t exactly a perfect fit, but it coated her in his warmth and scent all the same.

He popped up to straight legs and shifted her a little, a minor adjustment. A shiver ran through Darcy’s inner thighs.

Luca took off at a gentle jog at first, winding between the trees and pointing anything out that was particularly big or small or funny-looking. Darcy hummed agreement with all of his observations. She was paying attention to the tiny mushrooms and the tree carving that looked like a smiley face, of course. But maybe not quite as much attention as she was paying to the bunching of Luca’s back muscles under his very thin t-shirt. They moved against her like writhing snakes. It took every drop of willpower within her not to grind against them.

The further into the forest they delved, the more she allowed her chin to droop closer to the crook of his neck. His unique scent was pulsing from it, and she wanted it for perfume. The gentle summer breeze, combined with his jogging pace, was brushing it into her face pleasantly.

A tree wider than Darcy was tall appeared before them.

“Look how low those branches are!” Luca shouted. Darcy jerked upright to appraise the tree, roused by his noisiness. It was bushy and green and could probably house a whole army of squirrels. She was unsure why the low branches were the high point for her mate. “Let’s climb it!”

Darcy’s stomach seemingly disappeared from her body. She did not do heights. Especially anything taller than her, and everything was taller than her.

“Wait, Luca-”

He was already bounding to the trunk. “You can see things from a whole new viewpoint, short-stack,” he said cheerfully. Oblivious to her terror. He grabbed the bottom branches and easily pulled off from the forest floor.

“No, L-Luca!” Darcy babbled. She dug her nails into his shoulders, scrabbling at his t-shirt. He had already propelled them up two rows of branches. “Stop! I don’t like heights!”

Luca slowed, but didn’t stop. They were easily fifteen feet up already. “You’re safe,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not going to drop y-”

“Luca!”

He passed another two rings of branches easily.

“Just hold on to me-”

“Luca, I said no!” Darcy barked. Birds fluttered in trees nearby, uncertain whether to high-tail away from the loudly distressed omega.

Luca’s entire form froze. Darcy couldn’t tell if he was considering her words, but if he was, she didn’t have time for the delay. She needed to get down, now. If she didn’t climb down, she’d faint and plummet to her death. That thought did not help the sickening feeling climbing through her body. She unhooked her legs and swung them for the nearest branch below.

“Darcy, don’t!” Luca yelled.

She released his shoulders to drop mid-swing.

The back of her dress was snatched before she could even attempt to grab the branch she had been aiming for. Luca yanked her in against his chest as he skidded down the trunk. His feet were braced against it while his free hand grappled at any branch that passed them to slow their descent.

They landed on his feet, hard. Darcy dangled from his side.

His breaths were coming out as half-growls, huffing out of his chest. He lowered her onto her own feet before turning to face her. His eyes were wide and his lips trembling slightly.

“What were you thinking?” he choked out. “You could have gotten hurt! Or worse, fallen to your death!” He raked his hands through his stupid, perfect curls.

“I was scared!” Darcy snapped. Nausea bubbled within her, she needed to lie down. For just a moment up there she had truly thought she was going to die. She managed to gasp out, “I told you I didn’t want to go up there.”

“And I told you to hang on! Why didn’t you listen to me?” he demanded, suddenly more angry than concerned. It rubbed Darcy even further up the wrong way, and she was upset with him already.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Darcy screeched in his face. She felt manic and disoriented, but she wasn’t going to let him steam roll her, not this time. “I told you no, and you climbed the tree anyway! You told me under the table that all I had to do was tell you if I didn’t like something. You have zero respect for me or my feelings. I was scared, Luca. Do you even know what that feels like? When was the last time you felt helpless?”

Luca’s eyes dropped and fixed to the ground. If Darcy didn’t know him so well, she could be fooled into thinking he was ashamed of himself. His entire frame still had a slight tremble to it, but she told herself it was simply adrenaline.

“You can’t remember?” she continued. “I’m not surprised. I can’t imagine it’s often you are forced into anything you don’t want to do.”

“’m s’rry.” A mumble, barely audible.

Darcy pretended not to have heard him. As shocked as she was to hear him say sorry. It didn’t count as a real apology. He was staring at his shoes and speaking at a volume only bats could hear.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Darcy huffed.

He half-raised his head. Enough to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for forcing me up the tree or sorry for lying the other day under the table?”

“I wasn’t lying!” he argued. “I do want you to tell me things straight if you don’t like them.”

Darcy rested her hands on her hips. “Me telling you doesn’t make you stop, though,” she countered furiously. “Your fun always comes before my feelings!”

“I was only playing around! I thought you were, too.”

She stepped under his nose, pressing her chest to his stomach. “I am not your play-thing,” she seethed.

His eyes grew dark. Molten honey. His expression clouded with hunger. “I want to play with you,” he admitted huskily.   

Darcy flushed. This guy could give her whiplash without his car. His face only had to drop a foot to reach hers, and it snatched her lips so fast she almost stumbled backwards. His arms helpfully encircled her lower back, pulling her in closer, up onto her tip-toes. Her hands somehow found their way back to the shoulders she had clawed up moments before. Her legs curled around his. She was the vine, he was the tree.

In between wet, open-mouth kisses she managed to pant, “I’m… still… mad at y-… you.” He sucked on her tongue and a moan slipped out.    

“Good,” he chuckled against her lips. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”