Page 69 of A Rebel's Shot

“You mean this isn’t some elaborate Boy Scout ritual where we rub two sticks together?” she teased, following his instructions.

“Sorry to disappoint. We’re cheating today.”

As the flames caught and grew, Merritt’s face lit up with triumph. “Look at that! I’m practically a wilderness survival expert now.”

Tiikâan chuckled. “Don’t get cocky. You haven’t wrestled a moose for our dinner yet.”

“Is that on tomorrow’s agenda? I’ll pencil it in right after ‘avoid hypothermia’ and before ‘escape crazed uncle.’”

Their laughter, tinged with a hint of hysteria, echoed off the rock walls. Her laughter died down with a sniff.

“Merritt—”

She gave one hard shake of her head. “Let’s take care of that wound.”

He set the pot off to the side and lifted his shirt. A faint pink tinged the gauze, but it hadn’t bled through. He dropped his shirt.

“It’ll keep.” He shrugged.

“Oh, no. It needs to be cleaned out and probably butterfly bandaged.” Merritt grabbed the first aid kit and sat next to him.

He laughed. “What do you think the river did for the mile we tumbled down it?”

“Got all kinds of microbes and bugs in it.” She shuddered, making him laugh again.

“Right out of the glacier like that, it’s probably the cleanest water you’ve ever been in. Plus, with how much it bled, that’s better cleaning than any alcohol wipe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. At least let me butterfly it to try and help it not break open again.”

“Fine.”

“Great.” She tipped her head like she was waiting for his next complaint.

“Would you get to it already?” He laughed and lifted his arm, pulling up his shirt. “I want to finish my tea and climb under the covers. I’m still frozen inside.”

Merritt’s trembling fingers skimmed along his skin, sending a shiver through him. Tiikâan sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing involuntarily.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. Her touchwas electric, setting every nerve ending alight. When she tried to pull the edges of the wound together, he couldn’t suppress a grimace.

“Here, lie down,” she instructed softly. “It’ll be easier.”

Tiikâan complied, acutely aware of her proximity as she leaned over him. Her hair fell forward, tickling his chest. The scent of river water and something uniquely Merritt filled his senses, making his head spin.

Her touch was featherlight as she applied the butterfly bandages, her brow furrowed in concentration. The curve of her lips and the flicker of firelight in her eyes mesmerized him. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wondered if she could see it hammering against his ribs.

When she finished, Merritt leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the bandage before pulling his layers of clothing down. Tiikâan’s breath caught in his throat, his skin burning where her lips had touched. Before he could process that, she moved higher, her lips brushing against his collarbone.

Time seemed to stand still.

The cave, the cold, the danger—it all faded away.

There was only Merritt, her warmth, her scent, the feel of her breath against his skin. Then she buried her face in the crook of his neck, her body trembling slightly.

“I almost got you killed,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hit him like a physical blow.

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