She couldn't resist teasing him. He was unruffled. Raven stepped into the shower and released the thick braid so she could shampoo her hair. His laughter held deep, genuine amusement. Without meaning to, Raven communicated a sultry invitation. She touched his mark over her breast with light fingertips. The contact caused her blood to heat, the mark to throb. There was self-mockery in his tone, guilt in his mind. She laughed softly. Her soft laughter wrapped him in loving arms. She offered it sweetly. She felt the brush of strong fingers on her throat, curling around the fragile column. How did he do that? The fingers brushed her face, and then caressed her lower lip. The smile faded from her mouth at the word. She didn't want to love him. He already had far too much power over her. Obsession might be the right word, not love.