She would know; she would feel that. She was attracted, not repelled, by his energy. And yet . . . Uncertainty ate at her. She
had not been a Seeker very long. The gift was rough and raw inside her, despite Hanna‟s careful teaching. What if she were
wrong? What if he wasn‟t one of them? At best she and Gideon would have a wasted trip and she‟d look like a fool. At worst,
she could betray them to their enemy.
She watched the man begin his descent, his long limbs fluid in the sun, sheened with sweat and sunlight.
And if she were right, his life would depend on her. She shook her head in frustration. “We‟re too far away. If I could touch
him . . .”
“What are you going to do?” Gideon asked dryly. “Walk up and ask to feel his muscles?”
There was an idea. She gave a small, decisive nod. “If I have to.”
She opened her door. Gideon opened his.
“No,” she said again. She needed to assert herself. Gideon was five years older, in the cohort ahead of hers, but she was
technically in charge. “I can get closer if you‟re not standing next to me.”
A frown formed between his straight blond brows. “It could be dangerous.”
She had chosen their watch post. They both had scanned the area. It was safe. For now. “There‟s no taint.”
“That‟s not the kind of danger I‟m talking about,” Gideon muttered.
She disregarded him. For twelve years, she had trained to handle herself. She could handle this.
She swung out of the car, lowering her sunglasses onto her nose like a knight adjusting his helm, considering her strategy.
Her usual approach was unlikely to work here. This subject was no confused and frightened child or even a dazed, distrustful
adolescent.
After a moment‟s thought, she undid another button on her blouse. Ignoring Gideon‟s scowl—after all, he was not the one
responsible for the success of their mission—she crossed the street to the marina.
It was a long, uneven walk along sun-bleached boards to the end of the dock.
The man descending the mast had stopped halfway down, balanced on some sort of narrow crossbeam, staring out at the
open sea on the other side of the boat.
She tipped back her head. Her nerves jittered. Surely he wasn‟t going to . . .
He jumped. Dived, rather, a blinding arc of grace and danger, sending up a plume of white water and a shout from the
younger man on deck.
She must have cried out, too. The two men on the boat turned to look at her, the young one with a nudge and the old one
with a nod.
The one in the water surfaced with an explosion of breath, tossing his wet hair back from his face.
Cooling off? Or showing off? It didn‟t matter.
He stroked cleanly through the water, making for the swimming platform at the back of the boat.
Show time , she thought.
Pasting a smile on her face, she walked to the edge of the dock. “Eight point six.”
He angled his head, meeting her gaze. She felt the jolt clear to her stomach, threatening her detachment. His eyes were the
same hammered gold as the water, with shadows beneath the surface.
“Ten.”
She pushed her sunglasses up on her head. “I deducted a point for recklessness. You shouldn‟t dive this close to the dock.”
He grinned and grabbed the ladder. “I wasn‟t talking about my dive.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. No one under the Rule would speak to her that way. But that was what she wanted, wasn‟t it? For
him to respond to her while she figured out what to do with him.
“Thanks.” This close, she could feel his energy pulsing inside him like a second heart. She tried again to identify it, but her
probing thought slid off him like a finger on wet glass. He was remarkably well shielded. Well, he would have to be, to
survive this long on his own.
She cast about for a subject. “Nice boat.”
He shot her a measuring glance; hauled himself out of the sea, water streaming from his arms and chest. “Yeah, she is.”
She tried not to goggle at the way his wet shorts drooped on his hips, clung to his thighs. “How long have you had her?”
“She‟s not mine. Four of us crewed her up from the Caribbean for her owners.”