by Zoe Chant
A public seating area, she decided. With a sigh, Jane sank onto the bench. She took off one sandal, rubbing at her aching insole. Walking was a lot more work than swimming.
“I like your hair,” said a voice from somewhere around her left elbow.
Jane jumped, dropping her sandal. Swinging round, she found herself under the curious stare of a little girl. She could have been no older than five or six. Jane’s mind flashed to another small, childish face, and she had to swallow hard against a spike of pain.
“Th-thank you,” she managed. “I like your hair too.”
The girl wrinkled her nose, tugging at her own dark locks in clear dissatisfaction. “But mine’s just ordinary.”
“Where I come from, your shade is rare.” It was true. Among sea dragons, only the Empress herself had pure black hair, with no tinge of common purple or blue or green. “It is considered a mark of great beauty.”
The girl did not look entirely convinced. “You must come from somewhere really weird, then.”
“To me, it is your land that is strange and foreign,” Jane said with a smile. “But I am eager to explore its mysteries. Tell me, do you know of a thing called ice cream?”
“You don’t have ice cream where you come from?” The little girl’s tone conveyed utter horror, as though Jane had revealed that Atlantis lacked light, or laughter. “Your home sucks.”
“I am beginning to think so,” Jane said, in heart-felt agreement.
The girl looked at her with the pity usually reserved for orphaned baby seals. She turned to tug on the sleeve of a woman seated on her other side. “Mommy, can we go to the park and get ice cream?”
“Not now, sweetie,” the woman responded, rather absently. She was hunched over one of the small black objects, prodding rapidly at the glowing surface. “It’s not snack time.”
“But the blue lady’s never had ice cream. Can we get her some?”
“Who?” The girl’s mother looked up at last, saw Jane, and let out a strangled yelp.
Jane quickly held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “My apologies for the interruption. I—”
She didn’t get a chance to explain herself. The woman seized her daughter’s hand, practically yanking her away from Jane. As she bundled the child off, Jane caught a snatch of a hissed, “—told you not to talk to strangers! Especially not strange strangers!”
Jane was left alone once more, with the familiar sinking feeling of having transgressed some essential rule of etiquette. Though why a child should not talk to a stranger, she could not fathom. How else were youngsters to learn, if not from the adults around them?
Perhaps the woman had feared that her child had not been appropriately respectful. Sea knew that Jane herself had been chided many times for pestering her elders with too many questions. Even the youngest child was expected to display proper deference.
Danny had not. His open, sunny nature had been like a breath of fresh air after a long sea dive. He’d reminded her of herself, at that age—except that he had no fear of expressing his curiosity. How she would have loved to help him explore the world, and see him grow and bloom…
With a sigh, Jane slipped her foot back into her sandal. There was no point in dwelling on impossible dreams. She would find ice cream and be content with that small victory. At least the girl had given her a clue.
Chapter 6
Go back, Reiner’s lion insisted. Find her. Find our mate.
Reiner gritted his teeth. He picked up another rock, hurling it into the sea. The call of the mate bond felt like a choke chain around his neck. Only sheer dogged determination kept him where he was.
Seagulls wheeled overhead, their calls faint and lonely against the endless murmur of the sea. He had no idea how far along the coast he’d come. Far enough that the party was long lost in the distance. Far enough that by the time he returned, Jane would be gone.
Forever.
His lion snarled in his soul, baring its fangs. Go back! Now! She needs us!
Reiner shook his head, baring his own teeth. He hurled another rock, viciously, as though he could fling his unwanted feelings with it.
He would master his animal. Reiner would crush this instinctive, aching yearning, even if he had to exhaust himself throwing the entire damn beach into the waves to do so. He had to crush it. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this: raw, hurting.
Especially not his son.
“Daddy! There you are!”
Seagulls squawked and flurried as broad golden wings cut through the flock. A gust of wind blew Reiner’s shirt against his torso. Gleaming, razor-sharp talons touched down on the beach directly in front of him.
With a rustle like silk, the griffin folded its wings. It cocked its head, fixing him with an eagle’s bright, enigmatic stare. Then it crouched, belly dropping low to the beach, as though preparing to pounce.
Danny slid down from the griffin’s back. Even with Griff practically flattening himself against the ground, it was still a long way for a small boy to jump. Instinctively, Reiner lunged to catch Danny before he could face-plant into the pebbled beach.
“Danny?” Reiner brushed his son’s windswept blond hair back, anxiously searching his face. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, of course.” Danny craned his neck as though searching the deserted beach for something, then gave a self-satisfied nod. “Ha. I was right. I told you it was an emergency, Da.”
“What?” A sudden jolt of adrenaline swamped even the siren pull of the mate instinct. Reiner looked past Danny at Griff, who’d shifted back to human form. “Is it Hayley? Are the twins coming?”
“Not yet.” Griff’s golden eyes were still as calmly unreadable as they had been in his griffin form. “You’re the emergency, Reiner. At least according to Danny.”
Reiner didn’t let any hint of it show in his face, but he swore in the privacy of his head. He’d been doing his utmost not to let any hint of his inner turmoil escape down the pride link. He’d thought he’d been successful.
Evidently not.
Some father he was, if he couldn’t even prevent his six-year-old son from worrying about him. Reiner tightened his control on his inner animal and did his best to rearrange his expression into a reassuring smile.
“Nothing’s wrong, Danny.” It was a monumental lie, but he made it sound convincing. “I just wanted to go for a walk. That’s all.”
Danny gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “All on your own?”
“Sometimes…” Reiner had to stop to clear his throat. “Sometimes people need to be alone. That’s just how things are.”
For a moment, Reiner thought he’d gotten away with the half-truth. Danny nodded gravely, his small face solemn. Then the boy heaved a vast, exasperated sigh.
“See?” Danny turned to Griff, with an eye-roll worthy of a teenager. “I told you he’d mess it up.”
“So you did, lad,” Griff said. “I think me and your daddy need to have a wee talk. Can you give us some privacy for a minute?”
To Reiner’s guilty satisfaction, Danny treated Griff to the same skeptical, pitying look. “Da, you’re terrible at this too.”
“Aye, but you’ve taught me a thing or two,” Griff replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He gave Danny a gentle but firm push. “You’ve done your part. My turn now. Go on. See if you can find some pretty shells to take back to your ma.”
Danny expelled another weary, I-can’t-believe-I’m-related-to-these-idiots sigh, but nodded. The boy patted Reiner’s hand, as though he was the child. “I’ll be right here if you need me, Daddy. Don’t worry. Simba says everything’s going to be fine.”
“Don’t go too close to the water!” Reiner called after Danny as the boy trotted off. He lowered his voice. “You didn’t need to send him away.”
“Yes, I did.” Griff’s tone was neutral, revealing nothing. His unnerving, penetrating gaze still lingered on Reiner. “He’s a sensitive boy, that one. Picks
up on a lot more than we realize, I think.”
In Reiner’s previous pride, a direct stare from the alpha signaled danger. Reiner found himself reaching for his lion in old, conditioned reflex. He twitched, shaking off the prickle of fur under his skin, and covered the motion by ducking to pick up a rock.
“I’ll do better. Keep tighter control over my lion.” With more force than was strictly necessary, he hurled the stone out to sea. It skipped three times before sinking into the shallow waves. “I won’t let it disturb Danny again.”
“Mmm.” To Reiner’s relief, Griff’s gaze dropped to the pebbles underfoot. The griffin shifter selected a flat stone and sent it winging out to sea with an effortless flick of his wrist. “I’m sure you won’t. But that wasn’t why I asked him to give us some space. It’s not Danny that I’m worried about.”
Griff’s rock danced five times across the water, easily double the distance of Reiner’s own throw. Reiner’s lion stirred, competitive instincts pricked. Reiner searched the beach for another rock.
“There’s no reason to be concerned about me.” He found a good stone; wide and flat, nestling perfectly into the palm of his hand. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” Griff said. One of his eyebrows rose. “Which is of course why you’re ten miles down the coast, on your own, throwing rocks at the sea like it insulted your mother. Did things go that badly with Jane?”
He knew even before the stone left his hand that he’d messed up the throw. Skip skip plonk. “Since when is my private business a matter for public discussion?”
“Since you met your mate in front of almost every shifter in Brighton,” Griff said, rather dryly. “Not to mention half the Atlantean court. Given how sea dragons gossip, I expect your love life is being avidly dissected on the other side of the ocean by now. What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Griff made a thoughtful sound. Selecting another pebble, he launched it with a fluid motion. Six skips this time. Reiner’s lion growled.
The griffin shifter put his hands in his pockets, turning to Reiner. The sea breeze blew his long blond hair back from his square, blunt face.
“You’re a lion in my pride, and father to my son.” Griff’s golden eyes were cool and steady on him. The back of Reiner’s neck prickled. “If you’re hurting and angry, Danny will pick up on it, and that’s something neither of us wants. I think we need to talk about this.”
It wasn’t quite an alpha command, but it was close enough to squeeze words out of him. “Jane doesn’t want children.”
Griff blinked. “You certainly moved fast, if you were asking that kind of question within minutes of meeting.”
Reiner fumbled for another rock, grabbing the first one that came to hand. It was entirely the wrong shape for skipping, but he threw it anyway. It sank without a trace.
“I didn’t have to ask her,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “It was written all over her face, the moment she saw Danny. She was horrified, Griff. She hid it a moment later, but by then it was too late.”
“Ah,” Griff said, in tones of dawning understanding. He clasped Reiner’s shoulder, expression filled with sympathy and understanding. “Oh, Reiner. You complete, utter idiot.”
Reiner shook him off. “I’m certainly glad you forced me to have this conversation. It’s making me feel so much better.”
“It will do in a moment.” Griff chuckled. “Of course she looked horrified. But I’ll wager my house it was nothing to do with Danny himself. When she saw you had a child, she must have assumed the worst. That you were already mated.”
“But she didn’t ask if I had a partner.”
“She’s a sea dragon, you great galloping pillock. They aren’t even fertile with anyone other than their true mates. I had a hard enough time explaining to John Doe how my own mate could have a child from a previous relationship, and he’s been on land for years. This is just the mother of all misunderstandings.”
Then Griff went still. He looked at Reiner, and his brow furrowed.
“But,” the griffin shifter said, more slowly, “you’d worked that out already, hadn’t you?”
Reiner stiffened. “How could I? I’m not best friends with a sea dragon. I hadn’t the faintest idea Jane might have misunderstood the situation.”
Griff cocked his head a little, like an eagle spotting prey. Too late, Reiner remembered just how well Griff could read body language. The man was a living lie detector, thanks to his unique animal.
“Lie,” Griff said, matter-of-fact. “And not just to me. You’re a lot of things, Reiner, but stupid isn’t one of them. I think you’ve been trying very hard to convince yourself that the problem lies with Jane. What I don’t understand is why.”
Reiner glanced at Danny. He was now poking a slimy pile of washed-up seaweed with a stick, well out of earshot.
Reiner lowered his voice anyway. “I’m a parent. You know damn well that means putting your child before any personal desires. I nearly wrecked Danny’s whole life once already. Now he’s happy and secure. How could I risk destabilizing that now? He’s got three parents as it is. How can I expect him to understand me bringing yet another adult into his life?”
“Reiner, the only way that Danny could be more thrilled about this is if your mate had turned out to be John Doe,” Griff said, with a touch of exasperation. “And even if he didn’t like her—which he does, by the way, there’s absolutely no doubt of that—I can’t believe you’d just lie down and let your love life be dictated by a six-year-old without even trying to find a solution. You’re a bloody lion, for heaven’s sake. When you want something, you go after it. Don’t you want Jane?”
“Of course I do!” Something inside him snapped at last, releasing all the pent-up emotion he’d been trying to contain. “That’s the whole problem! I want her so much it hurts to breathe. And the last time I wanted something this much—the last time—”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. He snapping his arm round, putting all the strength of his shifter body into the throw.
The rock only skipped five times. It was the very best he could do, and he still wasn’t good enough.
He never would be.
“So that’s it,” Griff said softly. “You want her so much, you’re frightened of what you might do.”
“I can’t trust my own instincts.” Curiously, it felt better to admit his weakness; like heavy armor falling away. “From the first moment I saw Danny, I felt such overwhelming love that it wiped away every other consideration. I wanted so badly to make up for all the time that I’d missed. And I was so scared that he wouldn’t feel the same way that I tried to make sure he wouldn’t have any choice but to love me.”
“That’s why you fought so hard for sole custody.” There was no accusation in Griff’s voice; just compassion. “You wanted to be the only adult in his life. So that he’d need you as much as you needed him.”
“Exactly.” Reiner picked up another rock, clenching his fist around it. “And I was so certain, so sure that I was doing the right thing… but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now I want to be Jane’s mate, to love her and cherish her in every way that she needs. But what if that’s just me putting my own desire above my family’s best interests? Above her best interests? What if I’m still that arrogant, selfish bastard at heart, and I end up hurting everyone I love?”
Griff was silent for a moment. Down the beach, Danny ran from an unexpectedly large wave, surf splashing at his heels. His shrieks of glee drifted to them on the breeze.
“I’ve faced down a lot of bad shifters in the course of my career,” Griff said at last. “Many of them far, far worse than you ever were. And here’s the thing. None of them, not a single one, had a mate. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”
Reiner frowned. “You think it was karma? Like some higher power had ruled that they didn’t deserve a mate?”
“Not exactly. But I believe that none of us meet our mates un
til we’re ready. Until we’re strong enough, brave enough, to take that next step and become our best selves. None of us deserve a mate. But grace, or fate, brings us together at the right moment. When we are, or can choose to be, exactly the person that our mate needs.”
The griffin’s words struck a chord. Reiner had never thought of it that way before, but his own experiences matched Griff’s theory.
No one in his old pride had been mated. Most pairings were arranged; to ensure the continuation of the Ljonsson bloodline, or seal alliances with other lion clans. His own parents had been about as far from a love match as it was possible to get. Until he’d come to England and met Griff and his friends, Reiner had honestly thought that true mates were no more than a fairy tale.
Reiner could tell the griffin genuinely believed what he said. He wanted to believe it. But lingering doubt still made him shake his head.
“How on earth can I be what Jane needs right now?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Griff held his gaze, and for the first time a challenge gleamed in his eagle eyes. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Reiner thought about that for a moment. He stared down at the stone in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the sea-smoothed surface.
Then he threw.
Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip.
He tensed, some part of him cringing in anticipation of punishment. In his old pride, no one ever dared to best the alpha at anything, no matter how trivial. But Griff just smiled, his stance loose and easy.
“Good throw.” He clapped Reiner on the shoulder; a light, friendly cuff. “You should teach Danny how to do that.”
Reiner let out his breath, unaware until then that he’d been holding it. “Another time. Right now, there’s something I have to do.”
Griff’s smile broadened. “Thought there might be. Don’t worry about Danny. I’ll explain things to him. And don’t worry about John, either. He’ll come round. I’ll make sure of that.”
“John?” Reiner said, startled. “What does he have to do with any of this?”