Marksman POV

Marksman rested his head on his hand and watched Ember as she slept.

Not creepy at all.

Her red hair was spread out over the white pillowcase and the morning sun made it glint like gold. Her skin was fair, almost translucent, and a small, delicate sprinkle of cinnamon freckles dusted her nose. Pale red lashes brushed her cheeks and her pink rosebud lips were slightly parted as she breathed softly.

He wished he was a painter so he could capture the moment on canvas to have something to look at when she left.

Because she was leaving.

Despite what he’d said to her the night before, Marksman...