Ryder moved toward the fire pit bowl, the air thick with the scent of smoke and charred wood, its bed of coals pulsing a deep orange-red, alive as any beast he’d ever faced in the arena. The heat rippled upward, making the night air shimmer as if the stars themselves were holding their breath. Among the coals lay the branding iron, its tip glowing with the initials he and Isobel would carry into forever—R and I, entwined in a perfect, unbreakable bond. The wood beneath it seemed almost ...