“Do I have permission to touch your chest?” she asked.
He frowned. “Why?”
“So I can shove your stubborn ass into the ocean.”
“You’re asking permission to drown me?”
“No. I’m asking permission to touch you. If I kill you, it will be entirely without your consent.”
“You know,” Dante said, in the tone of a patient teacher. “Someday you’ll thank me—”
He hit the water with a splash she hoped left his backside stinging for hours.
* * *
When the brutal sun went down and the air cooled to a tolerable temperature, they settled in a circle around a fire Kamaria had made with driftwood. Using her gift, she coaxed the lavender flames to dance while Saida sent a targeted breeze to fan them, and Nina passed out a picnic dinner.
Kaleb jutted his chin at Dante. “What happens if you touch us while touching him?”
Kamaria snickered. “I didn’t sign up for that kind of thing, but hey, two for the price of one.”
Kaleb made a gagging face at Kamaria before turning back to Alessa. “You said he’s like a gauge or whatever. So, grab on and use your handy-dandy power detector to dampen the power while we’re practicing. Makes more sense than doing it when you’re alone.”
“Depends on your goals,” Kamaria muttered.
Alessa kicked sand at her foot.
Any other day, she’d jump at the excuse to take Dante’s hand, but he could barely look at her.
“Might as well,” Saida said. “Anything’s worth a try if it might help, right?”
Nina hugged her knees. “I’ll do anything that will lower the odds of people dying.”
“Dante?” Alessa asked tightly.
Grumbling, he walked to the center of their circle.
Staring past Alessa’s shoulder instead of directly at her, he extended one hand to her and raised his other hand, thumb out to the side. His meter, she assumed.
Her heart lurched as his palm slid across hers, and his thumb turned to the ceiling.
Saida giggled, and Alessa couldn’t help but smile.
Dante’s thumb arced down.
“I guess laughter is good.” Josef said. “It is sort of funny.”
In a tragic way.
Pretending both hands she held were Josef’s, Alessa focused on sensing her power. Dante was a meter, nothing else. A weather vane with long eyelashes. A rain gauge with a tumble of dark hair over chocolate-brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold around the irises. A thermometer with—
Her thermometer hissed. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“I’m okay,” Josef said, a bit strained.
Alessa gathered the strands of power, turning her sights on the waves lapping at the shore. She held while the power built, then released.
Nina shrieked with delight as the closest waves froze into a crystalline sculpture.
“That was good!” Kamaria looked around at everyone. “Right? That seemed good.”
By the time night fell, Alessa was ready to head back, but the others wanted one last swim, so she and Dante entered the tunnels alone.
She didn’t want to be angry at him. She wanted to drink him in, to memorize his face.
But it was dark, and she could barely see him anyway.
* * *
Dante stared at the gate from the Fortezza to the Cittadella. “If we lock it behind us, they can’t get back in.”
“Then don’t lock it,” Alessa said.
“I’m not leaving an open gate below the Cittadella. That’s, like, bodyguard rule number one.” He scowled at her through his hair.
“Okay, then we’ll stay close by and let them in when they return.” She studied him. “I could give you a trim while we wait. I used to cut my brother’s hair and I’ve been doing mine for years. You want to look nice for my wedding, don’t you?”
His lips twisted. “Go ahead, Finestra. Try to make me presentable.”
Alessa led Dante to the empty kitchens, where she found a pair of shears, and ordered Dante to sit. Standing behind him, she mused about studying the texture as an excuse to run her fingers through his hair, the sheer indulgent pleasure striking like the rush of a double espresso hitting her bloodstream.
Thick, tousled strands curled around her fingers, as though they wanted to hold on. With a slow drag, she lightly scraped her nails down to his nape, and he shivered.
“I used to love having my hair played with.” She let the smile color her voice. “Don’t you find it so relaxing?”
Dante cleared his throat and said roughly, “Sure. Relaxing.”