Page 82

Gideon couldn’t help but laugh.

He stepped closer and reached out a hand.

“It’s cold,” she complained.

“Yes, but I promise I’ll cleanse you quickly.”

Her gaze was mistrustful, but she placed her hand in his and stepped into the frigid water, her mouth open in shock.

Leila moved carefully into the stream and suddenly splashed him in the face.

Gideon froze, startled, as she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Her musical laughter was contagious, and he joined in just before splashing water onto her shirt.

She gasped. “Gideon!” The rebuke sounded sweet to his ears.

He loved hearing her say his name—no matter the tone. He wanted to hear all the ways she could say it.

She kicked at the water, splashing him again, and soon they were both playing like adolescents, laughing and splashing each other in the icy stream.

When she tried to kick again, she slipped on the smooth stones of the streambed and nearly tumbled. He caught her against his chest, clutching her tightly. As he steadied her, they were pressed together, skin to skin, and the laughter died on their lips.

He kissed her then, unable to resist, pouring all his complicated emotions into it. She responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck, her body molding to his.

Their kiss was raw and hungry.

Desperate.

As if they hadn’t just made love mere minutes ago.

“I want to see you in the light,” he whispered against her lips, his hands reaching for the hem of her shirt.

He lifted it over her head, revealing her fully to the morning sun, bundling the shirt and throwing it onto the bank.

Then his hands traced the elegant curve of her spine, moved lower, weighing her buttocks in his palms, marveling at how perfectly she fit in his hands.

She giggled at his obvious appreciation, the sound light and musical. Then, with mischievous intent, she splashed him directly in the face and attempted to run off.

But he was quicker, catching her easily by the waist and pulling her against him. He spun them around, the water swirling around them, her laughter surrounding him.

When he set her down, still chuckling at her playfulness, he noticed something that made his blood freeze.

There, on the small of her back, just above her right buttock, was a mark he recognized all too well.

He froze, his hands still gripping her waist, holding her in place.

She must have felt the change in him instantly. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, confusion and growing alarm in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to turn fully to face him.

He couldn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the small black fist etched into her skin. It was exactly like the ones the Brotherhood members bore on their bodies. He’d seen enough of them to know the mark by heart.

Except this one was black instead of the usual crimson.

The sight of it made him sick.

It wasn’t a mark they gave to just anyone.