Heartless Hunter (Crimson Moth, #1) (65)

Harrow shook her head. “People fear becoming suspects themselves. If soldiers find a witch’s signature in someone’s attic, they might be accused of sympathizing. Others secretly welcome the witches’ return. Like those who suffered for their loyalty to the dead queens. Or those who were promised better lives under the Red Peace, only to find their conditions have worsened.”

Gideon remembered the moth flickering over the door of the mine the other night in Seldom Harbor.

“Do any of these signatures belong to her?”

“No one has reported a crimson moth. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t among them. Or leading them.” Harrow lowered her voice. “Gideon, Penitents are saying the witches are rising, coming to take back what’s theirs. They think something big is about to happen. Something formidable enough to bring down the entire regime.”

The thought of it turned Gideon’s stomach.

Witches could not return to power. He’d devoted his life to ensuring it.

“The Good Commander needs to be told.” If what Harrow said was true—that more people were secretly sympathizing with witches, letting them gather in their houses and factories—they might have to bring back the raids, like in the days following the New Dawn.

“Speaking of the Moth,” said Harrow, “what happened to your trap? I expected Rune Winters to be imprisoned by now.”

Gideon fisted his hand, remembering how close he’d come down in the mine. “My plan failed. I think we’ve gone down a false trail.”

“Did you take my advice?”

His thoughts raced back to Rune in the garden. It had taken all of his willpower to walk away from her. On the ride home, he’d nearly turned back twice.

The thought of Alex had stopped him.

Gideon blew out a frustrated breath.

Did he regret kissing her? Yes. Absolutely. What kind of man kisses the girl of his little brother’s dreams?

But he also liked it.

He thought of Rune on the beach, stripping off her clothes. Letting him look.

Heat flickered deep inside him.

Gideon ran a palm over his eyes, trying to chase the image out of his brain. “I took your stupid advice, yes.”

“You got her naked.”

He looked away as the blood rushed to his face.

Harrow whistled. “You do move fast. And?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing. No scars.”

“But you were thorough?”

“As thorough as I could be.”

“So, you slept with her?”

“What? No.” The thought of it turned the flickering heat into a raging inferno. “No. We went swimming the other night.”

Harrow raised a skeptical brow.

“I looked,” Gideon growled. “I found nothing.”

“You said you went at night. How well could you see?”

“Harrow.”

“Gideon. This is a witch who’s escaped detection for two years now. She won’t keep her scars where anyone can find them. Did you look between her thighs?”

The thought of Rune’s thighs made him grind his palms into his eyes. “Stop.”

“Because if I were a witch hiding in plain sight, that’s definitely where I’d keep mine.”

Gideon groaned. “You’re killing me, Harrow.”

“You need to sleep with her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Of course he’d thought about it. It had physically hurt to turn down Rune’s invitation. The moment he got home, he’d gone straight into a cold shower, so he could stop thinking about it.

If they were truly courting, it’s all he’d be thinking about.

But they weren’t courting. Not really. So he needed to not think about it.

“It’s the only way to know for certain.”

“No,” he said again.

It was too far. A crossed line.

“If you were committed, Comrade,” said Harrow, crossing her arms, “if you truly want to catch your little Moth as badly as you say you do, you’d leave no stone unturned.”

He ran both hands roughly over his face this time, then through his hair, tugging on it.

“Come on, Gideon. With a face like that, it won’t be a chore.”

Gideon felt too many things at once. His chest knotted with frustration. His body ached with desire. Worst of all, he suspected Harrow was right. It had been dark when they went swimming. He’d looked at Rune from a distance. And he hadn’t truly inspected every inch of her.

The thought of doing so made him swallow hard.

If he wanted to know, without a doubt, whether Rune Winters was a witch, he would have to take this to the end of the line.

But could he live with himself afterward?

On the one hand, his brother might never speak to him again. On the other, if Rune was the Crimson Moth—and if the Moth was not only rescuing witches, but murdering Blood Guard soldiers and planning an uprising—Gideon had a responsibility to do whatever it took to find out. To stop her.

He growled low in his throat. “Fine.”

He remembered Rune pulling off her dress. The fabric sliding up her legs, over her hips, along her torso. Thought of her dropping the dress in the sand and peeling off her undergarments.