Excerpt of Soul Deep by Anne Hope

Marcus found Regan standing at the top of one of the numerous cliffs that barricaded the Watchers' complex, staring down at the sea, her features pinched with concentration. The rain had finally stopped, but dampness still hung in the salt–laden air. A thin mist hugged her feminine figure, making moisture bead on her skin. She looked intangible, as elusive as the fog encompassing her. Regan was so strong and capable, he sometimes forgot how delicate she was.

The sight of her standing so close to the edge triggered all his protective instincts, and something else—the forbidden desire to touch. "Penny for your thoughts," he said, burying his fists in his jacket pockets, where they wouldn't be tempted to stray.

She smiled but didn't turn to look at him. "Is that all they're worth?"

"You drive a hard bargain. How 'bout a quarter?"

She laced her arms across her chest as the sun slowly set behind red–hued clouds. "What's going to happen to him, Marcus?"

He didn't have to ask her who she meant. Ever since they'd found Ben cowering in that kitchen, the boy had dominated her thoughts, maybe even her heart. Marcus had never believed it was possible for their kind to love, but recently he'd been forced to revisit that assumption. He'd seen it firsthand with Jace and Lia, and now he was seeing it again with Regan. Maybe one didn't necessarily need to have a soul in order to love. Maybe just the echo of it was enough, similar to a phantom limb that continued to throb long after it was severed.

"Cal hasn't come to any decisions yet," he told her.

A brisk breeze blew, sending her curls rioting around her face. Again, he was seized by the urge to reach out to her, to smooth back her hair, to run the pad of his thumb across her mouth.

A mouth meant to be kissed.

He gave himself a mental kick, focused his attention on the churning waves below. He had no business kissing Regan. No business even thinking about it. When he'd taken the blood vow, he'd made a conscious choice to swear off sex, same as all those who bore the Watchers' mark.

Only Jace and Lia seemed exempt from this oath, and Marcus couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He'd seen Cal punish his followers for far less a crime. If there was one thing his leader demanded, it was absolute loyalty.

Regan picked up a pebble, then flung it over the cliff into the restless ocean. "Do you believe in destiny?"

The question took him off guard. "I'm not sure. I know Cal swears by it."

"I didn't ask about Cal. I asked about you." She ran her fingers through her hair, exactly as he'd imagined himself doing. "Cal's always preaching about fate, and for the most part, I believe him. But deep down, there's this inkling of doubt, and it gets me thinking sometimes. If everything really is preordained, what happens to free will? Does it even exist or are we just being strung along?"

"When did you go all philosophical on me?"

She inhaled deeply, drawing his attention to the gentle swell of her breasts. Ignoring the kick beneath his ribs, he looked past her, fixing his gaze on the rocky shore again.

"I don't know," she said. "I've been having this feeling lately, like there's something I'm supposed to do, but I'm not sure what that is. I only know it involves Ben. He's important somehow."

He'd been having the same feeling, but he refrained from telling her. The last thing he wanted was for her to grow even more obsessed with the boy. In their world, obsession and impulsiveness often spelled disaster.

"Regan, you need to trust Cal to do the right thing. You know the drill—no Watcher can deviate from the plan. If you do anything, anything that compromises the mission, you will be labeled a Rogue. And you know better than anyone how the Watchers deal with Rogues."

They hunted them down and exterminated them. The idea of that happening to Regan tore a painful strip out of him. He'd spent too many years training her, working alongside her, fighting to keep her alive, to lose her now. Had she been capable of reading his thoughts, she would've argued that she was the one always bailing him out of trouble, and she would've been right. She'd saved him more times than he could count. They were a team, more in tune than most, able to regenerate each other with nothing more than a touch, thanks to the Watchers' bond.

The truth was, he couldn't picture his life without her.

Losing the battle, he clasped her arms and turned her to face him. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

She tensed at his touch, inclined her head to look at him. "Define stupid."

Those sweet–looking lips hovered inches below his, too damn appealing to ignore. Right there and then, standing at the edge of a deadly overhang ensnared by Regan's smoky gaze, Marcus understood the precise meaning of stupidity.

He was tempted to demonstrate, but he didn't. Releasing her, he secured a safe distance between them. "Just think before you act. That's all I ask."

She visibly deflated, and he could've sworn disappointment momentarily flittered across her face. Above them, the sun's dying rays struggled to pulse against a sky determined to suffocate them. Regan grabbed another pebble and sent it whizzing through the air with a note of finality. "Thinking is overrated."

A bitter laugh rumbled in his throat. If he wasn't so damned disciplined, he would've agreed.