H, $2,000." And there were others. Payments to the mayor. Payments to the judge. "We got him," Luke whispered. He shoved the ledger into his shirt.
Suddenly, voices erupted outside. Heavy boots crunched on the gravel. "A patrol! They are checking the doors!" Ayanna hissed. Luke grabbed her hand.
"Out the window!" They scrambled through the side window just as the doorknob rattled. They landed in a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for two people, squeezed between the office and the neighboring dry goods store. They pressed themselves against the rough brick wall, deep in the shadows. The soldiers walked past the mouth of the alley, their lanterns swinging. The light slashed across Luke and Ayanna, missing them by inches.
They froze. Luke pressed his body against hers to shield her, shielding the white of her dress with his dark vest. Ayanna turned her face into his chest, holding her breath. They stood there for what felt like an hour, though it was only minutes. The boots faded, but neither of them moved.
The adrenaline was coursing through them, hot and sharp. The fear of capture, the thrill of the theft, and the crushing proximity ignited something that had been smoldering since the night in the ravine. Luke looked down. Ayanna looked up. Her shawl had slipped back.
Her eyes were dark and luminous in the gloom. "I thought," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought they had us." "They don't," Luke breathed. He could feel her heart beating against his ribs. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck.
The barrier of the dress, the disguise, the war, it all vanished. There was only the heat of her skin and the desperate need to affirm that they were alive. Luke brought his hand up to cup her face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "Ayanna," he said, his voice rough.
"I meant what I said. I am yours. If we die tomorrow, I die yours." Ayanna let out a shuddering breath. She reached up and cupped his jaw, her fingers tracing the stubble. "You are not a traitor," she whispered fiercely.
"You are my heart. I choose you, Luke Carver, fully, despite the blood, despite the grief. I choose you." She pulled his head down. This kiss was not like the one in the storm. That had been a question.
This was an answer. It was deep, slow, and devastatingly possessive. It tasted of salt and dust and a love that had clawed its way up through rock to find the sun. Ayanna opened to him, pressing her body against his, trying to merge their broken pieces into something whole. Luke groaned low in his throat, his hand tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck.