One second, Vanessa was kissing him, and the next, Hunt was diving like a madman into the shallows.

Daisy swore violently. "Hunt!"

Ezra was hot on her heels as she sprinted to the stream. Panic surged through her body. Her throat closed up. Oh, god, if Hunt was hurt, if he went and died before she had the chance to kill him herself—

Hunt emerged from the water like a titan, throwing his head back to banish the droplets of moisture from his hair. His damp shirt clung to the hard ridges of his chest, the sun glinting off his slick forearms, and it was an effort for Daisy not to curl her toes at the sight.

Luckily, she had her anger keeping her head clear.

Because she was absolutely furious with him. Murderous, in fact.

As soon as his eyes opened, they were on hers. Daisy and Ezra leaned forward in tandem, dragging Hunt out of the stream.

"You're insane!" Daisy bellowed, slamming her hands into his chest, even as her eyes flew over his face, his body, searching for injury. "You moron, Hunt—"

"I didn't ... Daisy, I didn't know she was here. I didn't know ..." He was panting, his hazel eyes wide and desperate. His whole face contorted into agony as he gripped her hands, then cupped her face. "I know what it looks like—"

Daisy blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You're angry. Rightly so."

"You're damn right I'm angry! You're going straight to the infirmary to get looked at, and then I'm going to murder you."

"But Daisy, she kissed me. I didn't ... Daisy," he pleaded.

She stared at him in disbelief. He was shaking his head manically, clutching her face like he was afraid she'd disappear.

It hit her.

"Hunt." Daisy placed her hands on top of his, holding him to her. "I'm angry because you jumped into shallow water. You could have paralysed yourself! You could have died."

He looked at her, then at the stream behind him, almost as though he hadn't realised the gravity of what he'd done.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, breathless.

He turned back to her, his eyes roaming over her face—like she was the one who'd almost cracked her skull open. "I ... You ... I needed you to know. That ... that was all her, Dais."

Daisy had never heard him sound so small. He looked small, and he was trembling.

She let out a breath, releasing her panic with it. "I do know, baby."

"No, listen. Please. Just—" He cut himself short. Blinked, like he was dazed. "What?"

"I saw the whole thing," she told him, wincing at the memory. "I saw her kiss you, saw you try to break it. I saw the way she was holding you ..." Her eyes lowered to his wrists.

Daisy saw red.

Three shallow cuts were nestled amongst a smatter of redness blooming on Hunt's right forearm, his other arm adorned with a long, bloody gash down to his wrist. He looked like he'd been mauled. He had been mauled.

Slowly, Daisy's eyes rose to the other side of the brook.

Vanessa was still there. It looked like she couldn't hear them, like she was pricking her ears, desperate to see if her low blow hit the mark.

Daisy heard her own pulse. Slow. Furious.

That.

Bitch.

She'd taken her shit. Daisy had taken years and years of Vanessa Fucking Barinov's shit. She hadn't pushed back when she should have. She'd extended olive branch after olive branch, only to have them snapped in her face like bones between a predator's teeth. Daisy took it all. She turned the other cheek.

But then Vanessa had hurt Hunt.

She'd made him bleed.

So there was only one thing to do.

Daisy was going to have to kill her.

"Ezra." She didn't recognise the sound of her voice—quiet, but lethal. Ezra stepped forward wordlessly. She told him, "Take her back to the resort."

"I think I should stay," Ezra said. "Give Shep a one-over—"

"Take. Her. Now."

Ezra looked to Hunt, who nodded.

Smart.

Daisy didn't see Ezra cross to the other side of the stream, didn't know whether Vanessa put up a fight when he sternly asked to escort her back. As Daisy lifted Hunt's wrist, brushing her mouth over the torn skin, she didn't care about anything—except him. She slid her fingers down his arm gently, as though she could will the painful splotches of crimson away. His breath hitched, and she brought each harsh mark to her mouth, kissing them softly.

She looked up, running a finger over his swollen lips next. She didn't know how she was going to get that image out of her head—of Vanessa smirking at her, then reaching for Hunt, assaulting his mouth like he was nothing more than a trophy to be fought over and won.

Hunt untangled his hand from hers. Daisy didn't realise her eyes were brimming with tears until he brushed a knuckle underneath, wiping the moisture away.

She released a shaky breath. "Are you okay?"

His eyes were dark. Unreadable. His jaw pulsed. "I should be asking you that."

"No, you shouldn't." Her thumb hovered over a bloody slice on his lip where Vanessa's teeth had been too rough. Her rage flared, and she felt a sudden urge to rip into the forest and drag Vanessa back by her hair to grovel at Hunt's feet. "What the hell is her problem?"

"You," he answered simply. He captured her hand, kissing her open palm tentatively, all while his gaze held hers. There was something so sheepish about the gesture, so sweet and coltish about the way he was peering down at her. Especially after everything they'd done the night before.

Her eyes searched his, expecting to find something heartwrenching inside. He was mad about Joshua, wasn't he?

But Hunt cocked his head, beads of water slipping off the sable strands. "You're really not angry?"

"Not even a little." And she meant it. "I told you. I saw what happened. But even if I hadn't ..." She flattened her other hand on his chest, not caring as water seeped down her arm. "I trust you."

The breath that came out of him was one of pure relief. He pressed her fingers to his mouth again, squeezing his eyes shut as he kissed each of them in earnest.

But then she was frowning, cocking her head right back at him. "Aren't you?"

"Am I mad?"

"At me?"

His expression was one of pure shock. "Why the hell would I be mad at you?"

"Because of Joshua. Because of what he said."

Hunt made a sound that was half-amusement, half-irritation. "He's a jerk. I've always said that. But that's no reason for me to be mad at you."

"He said he told you that he was my boyfriend."

"And I knew he was either lying, or wildly delusional." Hunt ducked his head to meet her eye, realisation flashing in his. "God, I never once thought that you were lying, Daisy. I know you wouldn't." His smile twitched with mischief. "You can't."

She rolled her eyes, but the tear that slipped out was like his sigh—pure relief.

He stroked his thumb over it, dipping his forehead to rest it against hers. She slid her hand to the back of his head, holding him against her. He was saturated, his hair clinging to his brow as surely as his clothes clung to his body. Water seeped through her dress, but she didn't care. She ran her lips over the seam of his, not to arouse, but to comfort. To try and soak up the damage Vanessa had done.

"I'm going to kill her," Daisy decided.

Hunt chuckled again. "Easy, tiger."

"I'll gouge out her eyes with my bare hands."

Hunt didn't recoil. His smirk didn't waver. "Have I ever told you"—his hands slid down her back, hauling her closer—"that you have a temper?"

She swallowed. "You've mentioned it."

"Have I told you that it turns me on?"

Sparks flew over her skin, curling low. "Have I ever told you that there might be something wrong with you?"

"Yeah. But I think you like that."

Daisy groaned.

She did.

"I'm crazy about you." Hunt wrapped his arms tighter around her when she shivered. "I know I shouldn't say that because we've only just ... you know. But I am."

"You hardly know me."

"Really? Wow. Don't tell me; you're actually an undercover assassin? No—Catwoman." Hunt clicked his tongue. "God, you'd be hot with a whip."

Daisy rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"Dais ... " Hunt laced his fingers behind her back, like he wouldn't let her push him away. Wouldn't let that voice in her head telling her that they were too good to be true triumph. "We've spent more time with each other in one week than most new couples do in three months. We prepped for trivia so hard that I told you things I've never told anyone else. We've lived together. We went to therapy."

Daisy pursed her lips. "We did annihilate the other couples in the games ..."

"Damn right we did."

"And last night was good, right?"

"Daisy." Hunt gave her a look before he burrowed his face into her thick hair. "If you think I'm letting you go after last night ..." He drew a deep, greedy breath. "You really will need a whip."

She laughed softly when he nipped her skin below the ear, then sighed when he kissed it.

"I was worried," she murmured. "When you left ... I thought you were angry. I thought I lost you."

He smiled against her. "But you found my note."

Daisy frowned, pulling back just enough to look at him. "Note?"

With his eyes half-closed, Hunt said, "I left a note on the nightstand while Joshua was ranting about how you were using me to make him jealous. Left you directions to get here."

She gaped. "You did?"

"Of course. You didn't see it?"

She shook her head. She'd been too busy panicking, assuming the worst.

"Then how did you know I'd be here?"

Daisy's cheeks heated. "This morning, you mentioned the Commitment Ceremony. And the last time we were here ..." Her eyes wandered to the grassy bank where they'd laid down to dry that day. A picnic basket sat idle next to bowls of fruit and a cake and a bouquet of flowers—

Her pulse tripped.

Daisies.

Tears pricked her eyes again, her heart thumping so loud she was worried Hunt would hear it. Feel it. She curled her fingers into his hair. "You said that we should have our ceremony here," she finished, her voice trembling slightly. "By the waterfall."

A strange, wistful look washed over Hunt's face. "You remember that?"

She tutted, arching into him. Even when he was wet, he was so warm. "Of course I do. It was ..." Her heart twinged. Traitor. "It was the best day of my life, Hunt."

He tensed. She almost regretted it—being so raw, so vulnerable. She almost tried to take it back—

"This is the best week of mine." He swallowed thickly. "It's only been a damn week, Daisy."

"I know." She laughed, letting that sob slip out. It felt like so much longer. She felt like she knew him, like she was always supposed to. He was the piece of the puzzle that had always been missing, the final spin in a dance she'd abandoned long ago, and she didn't know how she'd ever felt whole without him.

He pulled her against him, resting his chin on the crown of her head as she burrowed her face into his chest. If the tears hadn't ruined her makeup, then his damp shirt sure would, but she didn't care. She couldn't get enough of him. Couldn't get close enough. His breathing slowed, turning languid. He held her as tight as he had all through the night, and she held him just as fiercely, burying her hands in his hair like she was trying to cling to the little time they had left together, to thread it together like a tapestry unravelling at the seams. They were in the middle of a rainforest, and he was sopping wet, while she wasn't much further behind. The sun beat down on them without reprieve, the humid air crowding her lungs.

And there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Ever.

"I think I'm addicted to you," Hunt murmured oh-so-quietly, reading her mind. His voice was soft as silk, his speech slightly slurred. "You don't have to promise me anything. I don't need anything. But you consume me. Please possess me, too."

She frowned.

Was he quoting Movie Moment? Not entirely accurately, but ...

"Let me kiss you."

Daisy pulled back.

Hunt was blinking down at her, his eyes droopy, his smile so lopsided, so tired.

"Hunt—"

"One kiss," he bargained, his shallow breath fluttering over her cheeks like butterflies, making her realise how hot she was.

How hot he was.

She swept a hand over his brow. His very warm, very red brow ...

Blood streaked his skin.

A scream caught in Daisy's throat, fear bursting through her. Jerking back quickly, she spun him around. He was so weak and lethargic; there was no other way to explain how easily his weight surrendered to hers.

"You're bleeding," she exclaimed, her fingers plunging into his hair.

She swept it up in sections, standing on her tiptoes to gather the saturated strands. She scoured and searched and—breathed, when she found the shallow cut responsible for the gore. It was no wider than a two-dollar coin, and most of the blood was already drying. Just a graze. A rock, probably.

Still.

"Hunt, we have to—"

"Kiss." He spun around, swaying a bit. His grin was broad and goofy, his lids still heavy. "I need to get her out of her mouth. I only want to taste you."

"That's very sweet." Daisy grabbed his arm, trying to haul him toward the forest track. But as coltish as his expression had become, he was as impenetrable as a stone fortress. "You need to see someone."

Hunt pouted.

Pouted.

He dipped his head, the warmth of his body making her dizzy. Yep. He was burning up. Fast.

"I want my movie moment, tiger." He grinned feverishly. "Kiss me in the rain."

It ... wasn't raining.

Daisy tugged his arm again, digging her heels into the dirt. She grit her teeth, huffing as she hauled, trying to find any bit of leverage.

Hunt didn't even break a sweat as he blinked down at her. He chuckled. "Adorable."

If he wasn't half-concussed, she might have thrown him into the lagoon.

But he wasn't going to move an inch, Daisy realised, until she conceded.

So, sighing deeply, she dropped his hand. She didn't fight him as he cupped her face, then leaned down to give her a deep, drugging kiss.

It was impossible not to fall into it, into him. She loosened, twining her fingers into his hair. She was careful not to put any pressure on the gash, but after thinking she'd lost him, all she wanted was to feel him.

Everywhere.

Daisy found the strength to pull away.

Hunt blinked dumbly, drunkenly. He was still smiling. She slipped her finger between his parted lips, wanting to memorise the shape of them.

Textured skin greeted her. That damn, bloody cut.

She pulled on Hunt's hand, catching him off-balance. "Nurse, now," she told him. "Play later."

The throaty sound he made in reply went right to her core.

But after they'd packed up the picnic basket and his hand tightened around hers, bringing it to his lips like he needed to kiss some part of her at all times, it was Daisy's heart that was fluttering.

To absolutely nobody's surprise, Hunt was not the kind of person who liked to be fussed over.

Which was going to be a problem, Daisy thought, watching him try to sweet talk the nurse out of checking his temperature, because Daisy was absolutely the kind of person who fussed over the people she cared about.

And, ironically, so was he.

"Still okay, tiger?" he asked from the chair next to hers. No amount of prodding from Daisy or the nurse could get him up on that gurney. He leaned over to place his hand on her forehead with the thermometer still sticking out of his mouth.

Daisy swatted him gently. "You're the one who hit your head."

"You didn't answer the question."

"I'm fine. A little wet." She motioned to the drying patches of moisture on her dress.

Hunt's answering smirk was all sinful insinuation. Her cheeks heated. But not with embarrassment, she realised. An interesting development, since she rarely let her escapades hold her hand in public, let alone allude to their bedroom habits.

The nurse cleared her throat awkwardly, plucking the thermometer from between Hunt's lips.

As it turned out, it was heatstroke, not a concussion, impeding Hunt's ability to function like a normal person. Thank god. After he insisted that Daisy's temperature be taken, too, juxtaposed by him waving off the nurse's advice that he take some painkillers— "I'll rub some dirt in it"—they set up their picnic by the lake on the other side of the resort.

"Any reason you picked vanilla and almond cake?" she asked, ignoring Adam as he made kissing faces at them in between yelling at the pool patrons to stop using the foam noodles as swords.

Hunt tore off his adhesive bandages, exposing his arms to the cooling air. "No reason."

But she caught his nervous smile before he turned to flip his friend off. Might have chewed on a smile of her own.

As they packed up their rubbish, a text from Laia came through in the group chat. Honey had managed to trade in their complimentary massages for a late check-out.

Meet us at The Boathouse, Laia had written. I'm not leaving this place without trying their slow-cooked salmon.

Daisy knew from experience that she wasn't joking.

Two hours later, after packing their suitcases and divvying up the complimentary soaps and shampoos, Daisy found herself sitting side by side with her best friend at a table overlooking a lake crawling with mangroves. They watched from the window as Kenji and Hunt wrestled with a rowboat that Belle insisted she stay inside while they carried her into the water. Honey watched them from the bank, curling her toes into the sand as she peered toward the horizon wistfully.

"What are you going to do, Dais?" Laia asked.

Daisy tore her gaze from Hunt as he shared a look with Kenji, then feigned dropping Belle in the water. Belle's mouth opened like a crater, and Daisy could hear her shriek as surely as if she was right beside her in the boat.

The last light of day bathed Laia's face in a golden glow. She looked like a goddess, Daisy thought, and she felt the strangest urge to cry at the idea of the life sprouting inside of her.

And at her question.

Daisy sighed, putting down her drink. Raspberry soda. Naturally. "I don't know."

"You looove him," Laia teased.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "It's been a week, Lai."

"Well, that's not even close to a denial."

"I don't love him. I just ..."

"Can't keep your eyes off him long enough to look at me?"

Laia was right. Daisy's gaze had wandered to Hunt again. He was paddling Belle's boat, no doubt listening to her argue with herself over who would be a better lover: Darcy or Elizabeth.

"I just ..." She smiled when Hunt pulled up