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The moon hung low, a silver coin pressed against black velvet. Gabriel balanced on the thick limb of an ancient oak, one hand braced against the trunk, the other curled around Marie’s waist. The night smelled of pine sap and distant rain.
Marie’s hair spilled free, a brown river over her shoulders, catching starlight in its waves. She tilted her face up to him, light-brown eyes luminous in the gloom.
Gabriel’s blue eyes flicked to her mouth, then back to her gaze. “We shouldn’t be up here. I have a mission tomorrow, I have to go far away,” he murmured, voice rough.
“We’re always somewhere we shouldn’t,” she answered, and closed the distance.
Their lips met softly, then urgently. The branch creaked beneath them, but neither flinched. Gabriel’s combat cross hung heavy at his hip, forgotten for once; the only weight that mattered was Marie against him. Her fingers threaded through his brown hair, tugging just enough to make him exhale into the kiss.
Wind stirred the leaves. Somewhere below, an owl called. They stayed tangled on the branch, night folding around them like a secret.