by Ann Gimpel
Heat rose from her chest over the top of her head. He had her number. She wore her faults proudly, like a banner proclaiming this is how I am, take me or leave me.
She reached inward, hunting for her bondmate, but the vulture wasn’t there. “Our animals are still talking, huh?”
Leif tilted his head. “Mmph. Now mine is gone too. They must have retreated to their borderworld.”
“Any idea why?”
“The main one that comes to mind is they couldn’t solve the problem and are conferring with some of the older animals.”
“We should join the others.” Moira felt mildly guilty for taking any time for herself.
“We should,” he agreed. “Are you feeling more composed?”
A smile started in her heart before it turned the corners of her mouth upward. “Very much so. Thank you. I’m surprised you knocked at all. You must have heard me crying with your dolphin’s ears.”
“I did, and I almost left. Not because I didn’t want to offer what support I could but because I didn’t wish to embarrass you or be intrusive.”
He laced his fingers with hers. When she met his blue eyes, twin fires burned in their depths. Was she reading the signals right? Taking a chance, she leaned closer, hoping for a kiss.
He smoothed his fingertips over her mouth. “You have the most beautiful lips.” His words were low and lined with unmistakable longing.
Moira tilted her head and closed her mouth over his, the kiss light, experimental. He groaned and captured the back of her head with his hand, holding her in place as he returned her kiss.
No going back now. She’d ached to kiss him for weeks, and she savored the feel of his lips against hers, biting, sucking, teasing. Following little nips with more kisses to heal the sting. He licked the seam between her lips, and she opened her mouth to his tongue, sparring with it. When he withdrew, she followed his tongue with hers and explored the inside of his mouth. Something about tongue-kissing him felt raw, intimate. She could tell by the way he touched her—tentative and intense wrapped up together—how important the interaction was to him. Unlike most men, he didn’t take physical contact lightly, and the perception pleased her. She ended up sitting in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and breasts pressed into his chest. Her nipples pebbled, and her breath hitched with wanting him.
His cock swelled where it pressed into her side. She longed to reach between them and grasp the length of that hot hardness, but he was from a much earlier era, one where women weren’t so bold. She didn’t want him to view her as a slut.
Leif lifted his mouth from hers. The fires in his eyes had grown into a raging inferno, and he cooed to her in his language, followed by, “Thank you for that. You kiss like an angel.”
A vigorous squawk announced her vulture was back. When had it returned? Reluctantly, she turned her attention inward waiting to hear her bondmate’s assessment of Eiocha and stone shackles and whatever else the bird had come up with.
“Back to the real world and all its problems,” Leif murmured. “I suppose I should be grateful we stole even a scant handful of minutes to be together, but I would have liked more.”
His words cheered her. They held an old-fashioned note that hearkened back to when the world was a simpler place and survival was measured in centuries not weeks. “I would have too,” she said.
“According to my dolphin, the consensus seems to be the Cataclysm altered the ease with which the ley lines hold and transmit magic.” Leif narrowed his eyes into a thoughtful expression. “Because of how tightly bound Eiocha is to the lines, the Cataclysm changed her too.”
Moira thought back to her bondmate’s assessment about Eiocha not matching up with its memories of her.
“Your mind is busy,” Leif observed.
Moira blew out a tense breath. “I get the part about the Cataclysm changing Eiocha. Hell, it changed all of us, and not exactly for the better, but the lines had power to spare when she booted us out of her lair.”
“My read on things,” the vulture shrilled, “is something is feeding wickedness into the lines, has been for some time now. Because of her connection to the lines, Eiocha has been absorbing the wrongness a little bit at a time.”
“What about the sand that turned into stone and did its level best to kill me?” Leif asked.
“We couldn’t figure that out,” the vulture replied. “Not with any level of certainty.”
“My dolphin claims it’s more likely the work of demons loosed through the fissure that are doing everything in their power to make sure we never reach northern waters.”
That explanation resonated for Moira and chilled her to the marrow of her bones. Tessa had felt darkness targeting her and rebuffed it. About the same time, they’d sailed into an unnatural storm, and the sea Shifters’ alpha was threatened. Another unsettling thought surfaced.
“When we were trying to reach you and your pod, I understand why you and Lewis and Lynda didn’t answer, but what about the others?” Moira asked.
“I’m guessing they either didn’t hear you or chose not to respond because it might mean Viktor would order them back to the boat.” Leif thinned his mouth into a tight line. “Not that they’d have abandoned their search for me, but it would have put them in an awkward position of refusing a direct order from a Shifter in an authority position.”
“I’m not concerned if they chose not to answer.” Moira spoke slowly. “What worries me is if they never heard us calling. We have to come up with a foolproof way to communicate when we’re not all in the same location.”
“Give me a moment. I’ll find out.” Magic flared around Leif as he employed telepathy. He drew his brows together.
Moira waited. She should be beyond reacting to new manifestations of evil, but she wasn’t, and she licked at dry lips.
The shining nimbus around Leif faded, and he steepled his fingers together. “That’s curious. The whales heard; the dolphins didn’t.”
“Is your magic species-specific?”
“Not the way you mean. I’m wondering if the whale we left in northern waters has been working behind the scenes to strengthen his kinfolks’ sensitivity to magical manifestations.” Leif stood and extended his hands, drawing her upright.
She held onto him, savoring the heat from his hands and not wanting to ever let go, but she recognized it for a diversion. Easier to get lost in desire than give in to her trepidation about what form of wickedness would strike next. She offered him a crooked smile. “I bet everyone is on the bridge—except us.”
“You’d be correct.” He held her against him for one delicious moment before letting go. “See you up there.” He turned and slipped out the door, letting it close behind him.
Moira stood over the sink and rinsed her face to erase the last traces of her tears. She wanted to hide the evidence of her meltdown. No one would ever accuse her of being the brittle link that let them all down.
The vulture screeched, the sound blasting through her mouth and filling the cabin.
“What now?” Moira didn’t bother with telepathy.
“He kissed you. It’s a contract. Why didn’t he wait and accompany you to meet the others?” the vulture demanded.
Moira shut eyes that still felt hot and gritty. “It was only a kiss,” she said and opened them to stare at her cabin.
“There’s no such thing. Not for those like him.” The vulture lowered its voice from a shriek to something slightly less shrill. “His dolphin is plenty worried. He’s supposed to mate with another sea Shifter, but none are left who don’t share his bloodlines.”
The meaning in her bondmate’s words sank in. “You and Leif’s dolphin discussed him and me.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t we. Choosing to mate is a momentous—”
“Stop right there,” Moira growled. She’d never tried to bend her bondmate to her will—much less stand up to it—and had no idea if it were even possible. “I have no expectations. I like him, sure, but it was just a kiss.”<
br />
She quieted her mind, burying her longing for Leif deep, and went on the offensive. “I’ve taken lovers before. You never opened your beak about any of them.”
“None of them were Shifters. I knew you’d never consider joining your life with theirs.”
“What if I had?” Moira persisted. Her gambit was working. The vulture’s attention had been diverted from her and Leif to her and the other men who’d shared her bed.
“I’d have severed our bond.”
Dismay beat a tattoo through Moira. Before she could demand how the vulture could even consider such a Draconian move, the place her bondmate lived within her was suddenly empty.
“Coward!” Moira shook her fist at the air. “Drop a bombshell like that and hightail it out of here.” She fully expected the bird to dive back into her head, but it didn’t.
She dried her face and found fresher clothes. If choosing the wrong mate was all it took for her vulture to abandon her, maybe she’d picked badly when she was young. Other Shifters made stupid mistakes, but she’d never heard of their bond animals leaving in a huff.
Ready to go, she shook off the desolation that had settled over her like a shroud. Talk was cheap. In her heart of hearts, she didn’t believe her bondmate would desert her. A disquieting thought lodged in her brain; once there, it refused to leave. If being old and magical meant you were more susceptible to the wickedness permeating Earth, maybe her vulture wasn’t immune.
Despite its threats to abandon her, a fierce protectiveness filled Moira. She’d do whatever she needed to ensure her savage, sharp-tongued bondmate didn’t succumb to evil.
Moira hurried up three flights of risers to the bridge. Several sets of worried eyes settled on her, and she nodded pleasantly. “Sorry. I hope you weren’t waiting on me. Don’t worry about catching me up. I’ll do that myself from context.”
“The storm bought us a couple of days,” Aura informed her.
“You must mean set us back,” Moira said.
“No. I just went through my calculations a third time.” Juan rolled his green eyes. “Maybe Arkady got caught up in a time warp, but we’re only about six days from Wrangel Island. It’s welcome news, but I expect the weather to do nothing but worsen the farther north we travel.”
“The whale that got sucked through that portal with Ketha is only a few hours away.” Leif sounded jubilant, as well he might at the prospect of a reunion with the whale who’d served as seer for the sea Shifters.
“Six days isn’t very long,” Viktor said in a tone so devoid of inflection Moira wondered what was on his mind.
“So are we going to sail full steam ahead into whatever trap the demons have laid to snare us?” a whale boomed.
“They’ve had plenty of time to come up with something to trip us up,” Lynda agreed.
“We need a plan,” Leif broke in before more of his pod weighed in with gloom and doom predictions. “Except it’s tough to forge a battle strategy against something we’ve only guessed at.”
“I could teleport,” Lewis said. “Have a little walkabout and report back.”
“No,” one of the whales thundered. “If anyone does that, it should be one of us.”
“It’s actually a decent idea,” Viktor said. “It would make sense for one of us to go along.”
“If by one of us, you mean land Shifters, your ability to teleport isn’t up to snuff,” Leif said flatly. “You burn through too much magic, and you’d alert whoever’s waiting for us. Might mean we wouldn’t get back.”
“I have a decent handle on teleporting.” Moira took a step forward and then kicked herself. Just because she’d managed a couple of clumsy teleport spells didn’t mean she had any subtlety.
Karin angled a pointed glance her way. “Not the best idea I’ve heard.”
“Okay. You come up with something better,” Moira met Karin’s keen copper eyes. After her vulture’s abrupt announcement, she wasn’t in the mood for being told no.
“Enough, you two.” Ketha’s tone was sharp. “The thing that pulled us through our standoff against the Cataclysm was sticking with our assigned roles. Granted, we had a plan then.” She dragged her grimoire out from beneath her seat. “The book helped us last time, and I still believe in its ability. Who will work with me to coax answers from it?”
Words wanted out, but Moira sat on them. Last time, Ketha hadn’t solicited aid from any of them. Her book had spit out what they needed without any additional prodding. Times had changed, and a barrier stood between them and easy access to magical accoutrements—like the book—that had provided support before.
A raucous squawk rattled from her before she could squelch it. “Sorry. My vulture is feeling frisky today.”
Moira turned away, striding to the far side of the bridge, determined to regain the upper hand. “You came back, huh?”
“Never mind your hurt feelings…” The vulture rattled off a series of squeals and honks while conversation rose and fell behind her. When she was certain she’d picked up the gist of her bird’s insights, she flipped back to face everyone and stepped into their midst.
“Apologies for interrupting, but hear me out. I don’t have a clue where my bondmate comes up with its information, but I’ve never known it to be wrong. The Shifter spell that launched the Cataclysm provided a convenient smokescreen. Wickedness used it as a steppingstone to gain a significant toehold on Earth, but even with most magic-wielders trapped much as we were in Ushuaia, evil didn’t fully take over. If we can figure out why, determine what barriers have thwarted demons and their ilk, we’ll have what we need to win.”
“That’s a damned esoteric message,” Viktor grumbled.
“Magic is esoteric by nature,” Ketha replied, “but I’d like more direction locating whoever’s been standing on the sidelines sabotaging evil. Maybe they’d help us.”
“Any information would help at this point.” Karin nodded tersely.
“Aye, at least it provides a starting point,” Zoe muttered.
“Back to teasing out a battle strategy from my grimoire.” Ketha tapped its cracked cover with an index finger. “I could still use a couple of volunteers.”
Magic crashed through the bridge, bright and smelling of the sea. The whale who’d been dragged to a borderworld with Ketha tumbled through a split in the ether and thence to his feet. Water pooled from his long, straw-colored hair, but his eyes flashed merrily.
He bowed in Leif’s direction. “Greetings, Alpha.”
“Greetings, my friend. It’s good to see you and sooner than I expected.”
“I hold knowledge to add to our effort. What initially appeared to be an ill wind contained elemental data.”
“You’re talking in riddles.” Viktor eyed the whale.
“If whatever dragged Ketha and me through that gateway knew they’d handed us the key to their destruction, they’d have left us alone.” The whale grinned.
Someone tossed him a towel.
Moira wanted to drag the information out of him, but that was Leif’s job. Why wasn’t he urging his Shifter to talk and talk fast? Instead, Leif had crossed to where the whale stood and clasped hands with him. Relief to see the whale streamed from him, so stark it was impossible not to share his joy.
The edgy, antsy annoyance that was her usual go-to place ebbed. She was happy for Leif. He was right to take advantage of every scrap of joy that came his way. Who knew how many more scraps of anything they’d have? She edged closer to Ketha and bent low, speaking near her ear. “If you need help, anything at all, let me know.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t just appreciate it. Use me. I’m not attached like you and Aura and Zoe and Karin. I’m willing to take chances.”
Ketha turned her golden eyes on Moira. “We all have value, and it has nothing to do with whether we’re mated or not. Don’t you ever forget it.”
The whale tossed the soaked towel aside and said, “Listen up.”
Moira straight
ened and faced him, anxious to hear what he had to say. Even if it was a half-finished picture, they could add it to all their other incomplete snapshots and hopefully weave the mess into a whole that made sense. That would shape their actions over the short span of days between now and their last battle.
The words last battle held an ominous note, but they also promised closure. No matter what happened, she’d be done with endless looking over her shoulder, with bottomless catastrophe chasing. Of course, she might also be dead, but the fear she’d always harbored about the way of her ending dropped away. Living the way she had since the Cataclysm hit was no life at all.
Hiding in shadows wasn’t her style. If she went down, she’d go down hissing spitting, cawing, fighting back. Maybe with Leif by her side, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. Like she’d told her bondmate, they’d shared a kiss, nothing more.
Now, if I can just get myself to believe that, I’ll be golden.
13
Strategies
Leif felt dragged in incompatible directions, but his role as alpha to his people had to come first. He’d wanted to walk upstairs with Moira, but if he’d entered the bridge with her by his side, his people would have assumed he was claiming her as his mate. The alpha’s mate was always second-in-command, had been from the beginnings of time. Placing a non-sea Shifter in that role wouldn’t go over well. He was fairly certain his people would wish him well in terms of finding a mate, but no one would accept Moira’s word as his.
No. They’d treat her more like a consort or concubine than a mate, which would hurt her feelings. The deeper he dug, the more problems cropped up. He was falling in love with her. It was about the only part he was clear on. How their attraction would play out, where it would lead, remained cloaked in mystery.
Maybe it was better to walk away; certainly, walking away was the prudent path. Sadness welled. How could he forget that amazing, delicious kiss? Forget how she’d felt in his arms? No, forgetting wasn’t possible. The best he could hope for was setting his emotions aside. It would be better for everyone. Each path with her as his mate posed new problems, not the least of which was how they’d handle children. Sea Shifter babies were born in the sea with the entire pod in attendance.