Free Edge of Darkness by J. T. Geissinger

blood, he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You’re going to want to hang on for this.”
    Then, surprising himself with his boldness and the strength of the sudden, fierce glee that seized him, he picked Ember up in his arms and began to run.

It all happened so fast. Faster than she could react, faster than she could draw even a single breath. One second he was leaning down with a mischievous glint in his eye, whispering in her ear, the next second she was aloft, held tight in his arms, flying through the air as if propelled by a jet engine.
    He was running with her. In his arms. Fast . And it was utterly, completely silent.
    There wasn’t even the sound of his shoes striking the worn cobblestones of the plaza, or the hollow echo of the wood as they hit the stairs. There was only the slightly nauseating sense of rapid motion, the wind cool on her face, the plaza and stairwell a passing smear of color. And when they arrived at the top of five flights of stairs in less time than it would take to count from one to ten and Christian stood looking down at her, smiling at what must have been the sheer, obvious shock on her face, she felt a lurching in her stomach completely unrelated to the speed at which they’d just travelled.
    “What—how—”
    She couldn’t get it out. She was breathless, stunned, stiff as a board in his arms. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and her fingers were sunk into the hard, bunched muscles of his shoulders. It was a good thing she didn’t have long nails, because he would definitely have been bleeding.
    His smile grew wider. Those green, green eyes twinkling with a seductive dark glow, he said, “Your landlord’s not the only one with Spidey senses.”
    Ember made a noise that was neither a word nor a gasp, but something in between, a little sound that was the perfect description for everything she felt.
    Carefully, he eased her to the ground, making sure she was able to support herself on her own two feet before releasing her. She wobbled unsteadily in her high-heeled boots and had to lean against her apartment door for support.
    “How did you do that?” she finally managed, trying to catch her breath.
    He shrugged, slid his hands into his pockets, smiled, and said nothing.
    “Okay…secrets. Great. I can deal with secrets.” She’d had her own for years.
    His smile faltered, replaced by a look of intensity, a look she was beginning to recognize too well. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
    “Tell, I think you mean.”
    He gazed at her, his expression contemplative and somehow severe. A current of electricity crackled between them, bright as danger. “Do I?”
    Trying to feign indifference to cover her pounding heart and the heat flooding her cheeks, Ember swallowed and said lightly, “You promised to behave, Fancypants.”
    A muscle in his jaw worked. “Believe me, Ember, this is me behaving.”
    Her heart fluttered, a direct response to the glowing dark burn in his eyes. “How bout we just get you that tea, then you can go back to training for the Olympic sprint?”
    Before he could answer she turned to the door, hiding her face from his ignited look, eager to get inside and avoid any more sudden, weightless travel in his arms.
    What on earth had just happened?
    She’d hidden the house key in the saucer of the drooping, potted pothos beside her front door, and quickly retrieved it. She unlocked the door and entered the apartment, with Christian following silently on her heels.
    She didn’t turn on any lights, because she wasn’t even supposed to be there. But that presented a problem. The two of them couldn’t wander around in the dark…and how was she going to make his damn tea if she couldn’t see the stove?
    And did she really want to be alone with Mr. Spidey Senses in the dark?
    Her body said one thing, her good sense another. She stood undecided for several moments, then muttered, “Oh, screw it.” Kicking off her boots, she