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Meaty chunks exploded from the back of its head. The aphid fell, but relief was fleeting. Two more scaled the cliff and took its place.

Fuck this. I dropped the rifle on its sling and climbed with both hands, going nowhere fast. “Get me out of here.”

Pebbles rained on my head, and the rope jerked. Each hitch in the line tore at my fingers. With a final heave, Jesse pulled me over the edge.

Shaking with adrenaline, I scrambled from the cliff and ran through the dense brush, far away from that damned ravine. I must’ve run a half-mile. My insides burned with frustration. I didn't want help, didn’t want to be reliant on others, so asking Jesse to pull me up was a big blow to the ego. Not that I nurtured an inflated sense of pride. I just didn’t want to be a burden.

Already hours beyond exhaustion, my legs weighed a thousand pounds, and when they finally gave out, I fell to my back with a thunder of exhales.

I didn’t hear Jesse’s footfalls, but he told me once he’d never be farther than a heartbeat. My ever-loyal stalker. A moment later, his shadow fell across my chest. His knees landed beside my hip, and his head dipped, the short waves of his reddish-brown hair ablaze in the sunlight.

“If you let go of the damned gun…” He feathered calloused fingers over the gashes on my palm. “You’d have both hands to pull up.”

The rare tenderness in his touch didn’t match his reprimanding tone. He bent closer, fanning warm breaths on my face, eyes focused on the heave of my chest. His woodsy scent reminded me of camping trips, s’mores around the fire, embers popping, and children laughing. A time when it was safe to look away from the shadows and gaze forever at the stars.

I closed my eyes, breathing him in, and opened them to find him inches away, staring back. Christ, he was intense in beauty and stature. Blade-sharp cheekbones, youthful skin bronzed by the sun, and a powerful body sculpted with rugged exercise and a high-protein diet. But he had a caginess about him that exceeded his thirty-one years. Something in his life—maybe even before the virus—had hardened his eyes into guarded copper shields.

I reached up and trailed fingers across his scruffy cheek. “There’s a soft guy in there somewhere.”

His jaw twitched beneath my caress, and he knocked my arm away. “You need a lot more training—”

Running footsteps approached, stopping on my other side. The intruder knelt, mirroring Jesse’s position, and a halo of blond dreadlocks moved in. Ahhh, those jade eyes, softer than Jesse’s but no less potent. So easy to get lost in them, to forget the world had become such a horrific place.

Jesse sat back on his heels, his scowl directed at the other man. “You’re supposed to be guarding the perimeter, Father Molony.”

Ignoring him, Roark scanned me for injuries, hands roaming my exposed skin with familiarity.

I swatted at him. “Stop it.” When he moved to lift my shirt, I shifted to a crouch. “C’mon, Roark. I’m fine.”

His nostrils flared, and he gripped my jaw. “This is reckless, love.” His accent, as rough as the streets he grew up on in Northern Ireland, never failed to curl my toes. “Why do ye keep attempting it?”

Jesse grabbed his bow and stood. “You know why, Priest.” He stalked up the embankment, in the direction of our temporary cabin.

Roark glared after him. “I den’ give a shite about your visions.”

But he did. As a priest, he not only held a great deal of interest in Jesse’s visions, he might’ve even believed in them. His objection to this training was simply one of worry. For me.

Jesse’s retreat didn’t slow, and I missed his glare instantly. He stirred up my insides, left them fluttering and buzzing with electric vibrations. Like now.

I stared at his back. “Roark just doesn’t want you putting me at risk.” I lowered my voice. “For something I don’t even know will happen.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “My visions are never wrong.”

So he claimed. His visions also kept our relationship nonsexual. Rooted in his Lakota beliefs, Jesse alleged he and I were spirit walkers, seers of visions and dead people. According to his visions, one of two things would result in my death. Falling off a cliff or falling into bed with him. Despite his reluctance to elaborate on either, I practiced cliff diving, and he slept alone. Not that I needed another body on my bedroll. I slept snugly between the doctor and the priest.

Didn’t stop me from watching Jesse’s muscular ass disappear in the brush. Damn, that man could work a pair of jeans.

The flutter in my belly buzzed all over again. Wait, what? This wasn’t arousal. My head jerked up, my gaze wildly scanning the depths of the trees.