Page 117 of The Hunter's Empire

"I usually am."

"No." There's a hint of amusement in her voice despite everything we've survived. "Usually you're thinking of something sarcastic."

"I was giving you a break."

"How generous."

I don't bother responding.

After a few more steps, she speaks again. "I've unsettled you."

"I wouldn't flatter yourself."

"You haven't insulted me for almost five minutes."

I glance back at her briefly. "You're counting?"

"I always count."

A reluctant smile threatens to surface before I bury it. "That sounds exhausting."

"It is."

For a while, neither of us says anything else. The conversation fades as naturally as it began, leaving only the sound of my footsteps through the jungle and the weight of everything she had just confessed lingering between us.

By the time I decide we've put enough distance between ourselves and the patrols, the jungle is completely concealed from the moonlight. We climb the last stretch of rocky ground before emerging beneath a narrow overhang concealed by thick vines. It isn't much more than a ledge carved into the cliffside, but from below it's nearly invisible, making it the best hiding place we've found since the crash.

"It'll do." I say as I help Zora lower herself onto the stone.

The moment she puts weight on her injured foot, she winces. But before she can insist she's fine again, I crouch in front of her and carefully roll the fabric of her trouser leg above the swelling. The ankle has already begun to darken, though thankfully nothing feels broken beneath my fingers. Tearing several strips from my shirt, I begin wrapping the joint with practiced movements.

"You've done this before." She says quietly.

"A few times."

She smiles to herself, and shifts against the rock to get more comfortable. As she does, her balance slips slightly. Instinctively, she reaches out, but instead of catching herself against the stone, her palm lands flat against my chest.

Neither of us moves.

My hand remains around her ankle, forgotten. Her fingers curl lightly against my shirt, and all at once the world seems to shrink until there is nothing beyond the two of us. The jungle, the men hunting us, the revenge I'd spent months building my life around, it all fades into the background. The only thing I can hear is the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

Slowly, I lift my head. She's already looking at me. There isn't a trace of sarcasm in her expression anymore. No challenge. No attempt to provoke me. Only uncertainty, curiosity... and something neither of us is brave enough to name.

My eyes drift to her lips before returning to hers.

"So..." She whispers.

"So."

Neither of us finishes the sentence. Instead, I find myself leaning closer without ever making the conscious decision to do it. The distance between us disappears inch by inch until I can feel her breath against my face. Every instinct I possess tells me to stop. She is Marcus's daughter. She is engaged. She is the last person I should be looking at this way.

"You're crossing a line." She murmurs, though the words lack any real conviction.

I don't look away. "Then stop me."

For a long moment, she simply holds my gaze. I watch the conflict flicker across her face before slowly giving way to quiet surrender. Her hand, still resting against my chest, tightens ever so slightly in the fabric of my shirt, but she doesn't pushme away. Instead, she closes the last fraction of the distance between us, her eyes slipping shut just before our foreheads almost brush.

And our lips meet.