by Keri Arthur
I walked into the hallway, then stopped. There was a light in the kitchen, but it was faded, like a flashlight that was rapidly losing battery power.
Part of me wanted to go down there, see what Trae had uncovered, and grab something to eat.
But as tempting as that might be, the reality was, I needed to get to water.
Fast.
Chapter Seven
I swung around, walked back into the living room and over to the French doors. The moonlight flooding in through the dusty glass was as cold and as distant as I felt deep inside.
But through the hush of the night came the call of the sea.
It was a call I could not disobey.
I unlatched the French doors and walked out into the cold night. Paving gave way to grass, then grass to sand as I made my way though the overgrown gardens and onto the path I’d spotted earlier.
The wind swirled around me, sharp with the scent of the sea, tugging at my hair and at the hem of my T-shirt, as if trying to hurry me along. I all but ran down the path, my speed making my shoulder ache, and yet the ache getting lost in a growing sense of urgency. Fear even.
I had to get down to the sea. Had to.
I scrambled down the old steps that lined the cliff face, the occasional loose stone digging into my feet but causing no pain. The night had once again stolen such sensory details, leaving my skin cold and, for the moment, unfeeling. Leaving me the same.
I strode out across the sand. Waves rushed toward me, reaching with foamy fingers for my toes. When those fingers raced up and over my feet, a shudder that was part pleasure, part relief, ran through me. I stopped and stripped off the T-shirt, then the bandages, tossing them both back up on the beach. The wind caught them, flinging them backward, well out of the reach of the sea.
The waves roared as they rolled toward the pristine sands, the sound seeming to hit the cliffs and spin back, until the night was filled with the cry of the ocean. I flung my arms wide, breathing deep, filling my lungs with the cold, salty air, feeling it wash through every muscle, every cell, invigorating, renewing. There was power in the sharpness of the night and in the chill of the water, and my sudden laugh swirled across the waves, mingling joyously.
I was home. Maybe not my actual home, but the home of heart. My soul.
I continued on into the water and, when I was deep enough, dove under the waves. The icy water caressed my skin, a lover’s touch that soothed and healed. The itching vanished, replaced by a feeling of wholeness. The sea replenishing what the day had taken away.
I played in the waves, diving under and over, a fish who had no fins or tail. I have no idea how long I stayed there, but it must have been hours, because the moon was losing its strength by the time I began to make my way back to the shore.
Only then did I realize I was not alone in the cold, starry night.
I hesitated, but a wave hit my butt, forcing me on. I smiled, half wondering if the ocean was sick of my presence, but took the hint and kept moving.
Trae rose as I approached the sand, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight, filled with heat, filled with desire. His gaze slid down my body as I left the grip of the waves, and my skin prickled and warmed.
I knew in that moment that no matter how much I wanted to honor Egan’s death by showing a little bit of restraint, I wouldn’t. Not if the opportunity now arose. The night and the sea were filled with magic, and the longing to share it all with another was very much a part of who I was, what I was.
His gaze rose, annoyance warring with desire in those rich blue depths. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to come down here? I just about had a heart attack when I walked into the living room and found you gone.”
I stopped several feet away from him. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind, and it should have.”
He contemplated me for a few moments, his spicy, masculine scent swirling around me, teasing my senses, stirring desire.
“That water is icy, and yet you come out of it glowing with warmth rather than cold. A gift of your heritage, I gather?”
I nodded. “We don’t have to change in the water—except if we want to go deep or stay under for longer periods. And my skin is always cold at night.”
“I noticed.”
A smile teased my lips. “So the thief has stolen a caress or two?”
His own smile emerged. “The thief has. And he has no regrets.” He took several steps, closing the distance between us before raising a hand, lightly brushing strands of hair away from my cheek, his fingers so warm, so tender against my skin.
“Why is the water so important to you? Besides the fact that you’re a sea dragon, of course.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did no one teach you about your undersea cousins?”
“My family barely even taught us about the other cliques. Draman may not be killed, but they don’t get the same sort of education as full bloods.”
“Ah. Well, it’s because if I do not immerse myself under some form of water every twenty-four hours, I will die.”
“So it doesn’t have to be seawater?”
“I survived eleven years in that facility without seawater, so it doesn’t seem like it.”
But even as I said the words, doubt crowded my mind. What if there were side effects, and I just didn’t know about them? After all, my mom had been insistent that I get away from that place quickly. So what if it wasn’t just because of Dad, but because I was reaching the end of my limits, sea-wise?
I shivered and rubbed my arms. Trae immediately took off his coat. “Here, take this.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay naked and cold and a part of the night and the magic, but there was something in his eyes—a steel that would brook no arguments. And why stand here and argue when there were many more interesting things we could be doing? So I slipped my arms into the sleeves, breathing deep the dual scent of leather and man, then let him slide up the zipper. His hands lingered near the top, his fingers brushing oh-so casually across my breasts.
“I notice the bullet wound is almost healed.”
I nodded. “The sea always heals. It is her gift to us.”
His hands slid down my arms, lightly rubbing, sending little shocks of electricity through the leather and across my skin. “I think we’d better get you inside.”
His voice was edged with a huskiness that had my hormones dancing. “Or we could stay here, and talk about whatever pops up.”
“Sweetheart, you may not feel the cold, but I’m fucking freezing. Trust me, nothing worthwhile is going to pop up on a night like this.”
“Really?” I skimmed my gaze downward. “That seems pretty worthwhile to me.”
He grinned. “Trust me, it’s only a halfhearted effort.”
If it was, it had to be pretty damn impressive when he was serious. I stepped closer, pressing myself against the warm, enticing hardness of his entire body. His hands slid around my waist, holding me closer still. It felt good, felt right. And that made the fear swirl again, because I really didn’t want to find someone else for the scientists to threaten and maybe even kill.
And yet the part of me that burned made me say, “Are you sure you want to go inside?”
“Yes,” he said, then lowered his head and kissed me.
Not sweetly, not tenderly, but forcefully, desperately, like a man in the desert who’d been deprived of water for too long. I returned it in kind, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on tight as I tasted and explored and enjoyed. It was a kiss that seemed to go on forever, a kiss that I wanted to go on forever, until a dizziness that I wasn’t sure was due to his closeness or lack of air crept over me. It was only then that he pulled away and stared down at me. I was breathless, burning—and not just from the force of our kiss, but also the intentness of his gaze, from the resolve and determination so evident in the rich depths.
Whatever it was I was feeling, he was feeling it, too. And that made me even more frightened.
There was too much at
stake already. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—put someone else in danger. Especially someone who might just be important to my future.
If I had a future.
I forced myself to step back, away from his warm body and marvelous kisses. “Maybe we’d better get inside.”
He ran one hand down my arm and clasped his fingers around mine. “Let’s go.”
I resisted the urge to wrap my fingers tightly around his, and just let my grip remain loose. “Don’t forget my T-shirt.”
He leaned down and scooped it up, then tugged me lightly toward the cliff and the old, worn steps.
The wind was stronger on the top of the cliff, tugging at my hair and freezing my exposed butt and nether regions. Which only served as a pointed reminder that next time I went for a night swim, I’d damn well better make sure to bring some decent clothes to wear afterward.
I huddled a little closer to Trae, and his scent spun around me, warming me almost as much as the heat emanating from his body. He released my hand, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer still.
“The fish is suddenly feeling the cold, huh?” Amusement ran through the huskiness of his voice.
“It’s the wind.” I crossed my arms against a shiver. “There’s a storm blowing in, I think.”
He glanced upward. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
“Not yet. It’ll be here by mid-morning, though.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I can taste it in the air.”
“Of course you can.”
I shot him a sideways glance. “That wouldn’t be sarcasm I can hear in your voice, would it?”
“Why would I be sarcastic when the woman making the statement predicted—to the second—the time the sun would rise?” He slid his hand down my shoulder and lightly rubbed my arm. Warmth trembled across my limbs, and my fingers and toes began to tingle. As if this man was forcing life into extremities long used to being cold at night. “Another gift of your heritage, I gather?”
“Much like your fire,” I said, voice a little breathless.
He glanced at me, blue eyes gleaming with hunger. He might have said no on the beach, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want me.
“An air dragon’s fire is linked with daylight. Or rather, sunlight.”
“So Dad told me. He never did explain why, though.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a phenomenon that’s really been studied. It just is.”
“But why just sunlight? I mean, sea dragons can control water night or day, though the greatest power comes during the twilight times between day and night. It always struck me as odd that air dragons had much greater restrictions on their skills.”
“We’re creatures of air and the sun. We can shift shape at night, but when the darkness sweeps in, it puts out the flames. Literally.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So no one in your family has ever been curious enough to question why there seems to be a link between the sun and this flame-throwing skill? I mean, you can’t all be thieves. Surely there’s one bad apple who turned out to be something worthwhile—like a scientist?”
He grinned. “Thievery is something of a family business. We have a long history of collecting shiny things belonging to other people.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we like shiny things?” His eyes twinkled at me. “Why did sea dragons attack boats?”
“Because most were too lazy to work, and boats were easy pickings back in those days.” It was a guess on my part, but from the dim memories I had of my uncles, I was betting I was right. None of them seemed to have too much responsibility on their plates. Of course, I was viewing them through the memories of a child, so maybe I was doing them a grave injustice. I added, “So your skills come courtesy of family training?”
“Nope. Unwanted bastards don’t get much of a run in the family business.” Despite the sarcastic edge to his words, I could almost taste the anger in him. I could certainly feel the tension running through his body and arm. “Hell, draman weren’t supposed to get the family skills in any way, shape, or form, but something has gone wrong with my generation.”
I slid my arm around his waist, and though I was sure this man wasn’t after any kind of support or sympathy, said, “Or something went right.”
He flicked the end of my nose with his free hand. “Right for us. Wrong for them.”
“Why? I mean, if your father is going to fling it around with all and sundry, he has to expect that some of his so-called unwanted are going to get the full family genes—and all the skills that might go with them.”
“That’s just it. It doesn’t happen. It’s never happened, not in hundreds of years of history.”
That raised my eyebrows again. “How would they even know that if they have a history of killing draman at birth?”
“They didn’t kill every draman. They kept enough alive to work the farm and the fields.”
“So maybe they were killing the ones that showed dragon signs, which is why they’ve never picked up until now that draman were inheriting dragon skills.”
“Maybe.” He hugged me closer, so that my body was pressed hard against the warmth of his and I could feel the ripple of muscle as he took each step, each breath. Goose bumps ran across my skin, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was desire or that sliver of fear again. Or perhaps even both.
Because while my mind was urging caution, my body still wanted to fling it to the wind and just give in to the moment and this man and what was growing between us.
And yet if I did, I had a horrible feeling things would go to hell in a handbasket.
I mean, when had anything ever gone right for me in the years since my childhood?
Of course, that was mostly due to the fact I tended to rush headlong into situations I’d been warned against. Like when I’d hit eighteen and become determined to find my mom, despite my dad’s warnings. I frowned as memories surged. He’d been so angry with me that day. Truly angry. Yet, reflecting back, I could see that the anger had been based in fear. He hadn’t wanted to lose me like he’d lost my mother. And however much he might have wanted to come with me, he couldn’t, because by then his arm was gone. He couldn’t fly, and while I’m sure he would have taken a plane if it had been practical, he couldn’t take the risk of being caught over there without someone close who knew about his condition and how to treat it.
Trae and I made our way through the overgrown gardens, the sweet aroma of the evening primrose that was running rampant through the beds almost over-powering the salty taste of the breeze and the heady scent of man. The house loomed through the darkness, windows like eyes frowning down on us.
For no particular reason, I found myself slowing. And I wasn’t the only one. Trae came to a sudden halt, forcing me to do the same.
“What?” I said, voice soft.
“The flashlight battery was starting to die, so I turned on the kitchen light when I left. We should be able to see the glow of it from here.”
I studied the darkened kitchen windows, then said, “Maybe the bulb just blew.”
“Maybe.”
But he removed his arm from my shoulder, and the night felt suddenly colder. Even though he grasped my fingers, the chill seemed to take hold. Or maybe that was simply the fear that was never very far away from the pit of my stomach.
“We can’t stand here all night, you know.” Though part of me wanted to. The night and the cold were better companions than whatever might be inside that house.
His smile flashed, sexy and dangerous. “I have no intention of just standing here.” He tugged me forward. “And if they want us, they’re going to have to catch us. Come on.”
He led me forward, quickly and quietly. My bare feet made little noise on the stones, and though he was wearing boots, he was as silent as a ghost. I wondered how he managed it, but didn’t dare ask because we were too close to the building. The wind would carry any sound we made directly toward those in the house.
If there was anyone in the house.
He moved into the deeper shadows, keeping low as he snuck past windows, forcing me to do the same. No sound rode the night—nothing touched the wind but the soft sound of our breathing. Mine fast, his even.
When we neared the kitchen, he stopped, then pressed me back against the clapboards. “Wait here.”
“But—”
He touched my lips gently, halting my protest. “Sneaking is my trade—and it’s not me they want. Stay here, and stay safe.”
I nodded. He dropped his hand, then disappeared into the night, becoming one with the shadows within seconds. I hunkered down, using the bushes as cover, straining to hear what was going on.
But the night remained hushed, the wind free of any sounds that didn’t belong in the darkness.
After what seemed like ages, awareness tingled across my skin and I looked up to see Trae striding toward me, an almost contrite smile touching his lips.
“What?” I whispered, as I stood up.
“Turns out it was a blown bulb.” He shrugged and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you inside and warm.”
I placed my hand in his, and let him lead me again. The house was no warmer than outside, but at least it was free of the wind.
He’d left the flashlight on this time, though with the battery on its last legs, the light it gave out wasn’t very bright. But he’d also left his laptop on and open, and the screen’s brightness washed across the shadows, providing enough light to see where we were going.
“Did you manage to come up with a plan to raid the old lady’s house?” I stopped near the bench and studied the floor plans on the screen. “That place is huge—the damn safe could be anywhere.”
“It’ll be in the library or the office, most likely.” He reached across the bench and picked up the plastic bags filled with the clothes he’d bought me. “You want to go get dressed?”
I looked at the clothes, then at him. “You sure you want me to do that?”