by Shona Husk
He’d meant it as a joke, but Isla went still. Her lip was caught between her teeth, her eyebrows pinched together.
And Nik knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.
Chapter Six
Beneath her hands, Nik’s muscles hardened as if he were preparing to take a hit. Isla held on to him, unwilling to let him go. Hot, her body ached, responding to his touch in a way it had never done when she was alone. Could he tell? Is that what he was asking? Should she tell?
In the shadows, his eyes were unreadable. He waited for an answer. The delay was making her toes curl. She needed release. All she had to do was speak. She didn’t have to tell him the truth. She could tell him she liked sunset, autumn, and red. But those words didn’t form.
“I’ve never done this before.” It was a half-whispered confession. The truth was out, and it couldn’t be swallowed back down and unheard.
Nik didn’t pull away like she was some kind of weirdo for getting to college with her virginity intact. His weight shifted, his breath cool on her cheek. “Never had sex?”
She shook her head, unable to say it again. Couldn’t meet his gaze. She’d seen plenty of naked men, since art books and museums were full of them. She’d done a life drawing class at summer school. Of course, those models had looked nothing like Nik. Her fingers moved over his back, tracing the contours of his spine that she’d drawn that morning.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t had the chance to have sex. She could’ve—plenty of girls at her school did, and some had even had babies. Until now, she’d never wanted to. Never wanted the emotional involvement that went with it and the shifting of priorities to accommodate the wants of the man. But Nik would leave. He was safe. He wouldn’t upturn her plans and take over her life.
He laughed, a low, deep chuckle like the gurgle of water, and placed a kiss on the end of her nose before catching her mouth in another strength-sapping, heat-building kiss. A whirlpool built in her stomach, pulling her deeper and lower.
Then he became too serious for the moment. “You don’t want to do this with me.” His body didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, his lack of action at odds with his words.
“Yeah, I do.”
He closed his eyes and took a breath as if gathering the will to walk away.
Isla jumped in before he could speak and douse the burn in her blood. “I want you, I knew that when I first saw you.”
“I can’t stay.” His crimson hair spilled over his shoulder, tickling her skin.
“I know. I don’t want a boyfriend. I want a lover.” The admission was not as hard to make as she’d thought. It was the perfect solution.
“You should wait, Isla.”
“I don’t want to wait.” She shifted her hips and connected with hot, hard heat of his body as she searched for a way to take the edge off the need that inflamed her blood.
Nik groaned. His argument was melting like snow in summer.
Her hand smoothed over his skin. The lurking doubts raised their head like ugly sea monsters looking for an easy snack. “But if you don’t want me…” The question hung in the air, thickening between them.
“Don’t think that. Not ever.” He kissed her like she was as fragile as an empty shell. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
“Let me decide that.” She eased her legs open a little more.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he murmured against her neck. The length of his shaft slid against her spread sex.
“It’s the best idea I’ve ever had.” Isla tilted her hips so all he had to do was press forward.
As he sank into her, she exhaled. There was no resistance, just the forced expansion that rubbed on nerves she’d never known existed. She couldn’t draw breath. Sensations overwhelmed her, sweeping away everything she thought she knew about herself. Her body wanted more but couldn’t keep up.
Nik held still. “Do you hate me yet?”
Awakened. Amazing. Don’t stop. Fragments of thoughts danced out of reach. She looked into his dark eyes, totally focused on her.
All she could manage was one word. “No.”
“Good.” He sealed her lips, smothering the moan that rose as he gently rocked his hips.
And her body was no longer her own. It moved to an ancient rhythm and needed no guidance. But the heat wouldn’t break, the rain wouldn’t come and take away the gnawing ache centered in her belly. She felt his release, his muscles ease. It was over, and she was sore and unsatisfied…neither of which were his fault, but she knew what she needed.
Her fingers moved, easing into the space between their bodies. He caught her hand, and together they circled her clit. Her eyes closed, but Nik was behind them. He was in her thoughts as she tried to find the moment when nothing else mattered. In his arms she let go and let Nik pull her over the edge, into the swirling tide of sensation. She gasped as she came back to herself and melted into the bed, content under his weight, their bodies as one.
She’d expected less. To be unmoved and left wondering why she’d bothered. Instead of getting the curiosity out of her blood, she had opened the floodgate. And she couldn’t jam it closed.
Reluctantly, Nik eased away. Her scent was all over his skin, clinging like dew on grass. He knew it wouldn’t evaporate as easily; Isla would sink deep until she became a part of him. He threw the condom in the bin. Her eyes followed his every move. From the shelf, the book gleamed like scarlet blood. He wanted to take it so much he could taste the brine on his tongue.
How far would he get before the guilt ate through him like a piranha ate raw flesh?
The room lurched. He dropped onto the edge of the bed. He’d already stolen from Isla. She didn’t know what she’d lain with, and she didn’t seem to care. She expected him to leave. He’d crossed oceans, traveled by air to be here, only to fail, because taking back what was his would destroy Isla. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He was so human that he couldn’t do that. Not even to save himself.
The feelings he’d never been capable of having for Greta now sucked him under and held him down, crushing his human heart with a pressure he knew he wouldn’t survive. Isla kissed his back. He lay down with her on a bed barely big enough for one and wrapped his arm around her. Nik watched himself as if from a distance. While she slept curled against him, he lay awake, Greta’s triumphant laughter echoing in his skull where once the rhythm of the oceans had pounded.
****
Daylight was barely peeking through her window, but Isla was awake. Her heart beat was settling and her skin cooling. She leaned over and kissed him on those lush lips that had done so much damage. She hadn’t expected fireworks the first time. Hadn’t expected Nik to do much at all, and yet he hadn’t left her behind. And it had been better, much better, the second time. Although she was extra sore now, she wouldn’t change a thing. Not a moment of last night or this morning.
She slipped from under his arm and out of bed then threw on a T-shirt and some underwear. It didn’t feel right to make phone calls in the nude. Especially not to the dean’s secretary. With her back turned to the naked man still in her bed, she made the appointment. The sooner this was sorted, the sooner she would know where she stood. The sooner Nik would move on. She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat and forced herself to think of the scholarship.
If she lost the scholarship, she had few options. Maybe she could travel, backpack like Nik. A few clothes and a sketchbook in her bag as she soaked up the details of life around the globe. She could live with being poor, but she would die if she went back home.
Isla put her cell phone down and turned around. “Two p.m.”
Nik propped himself up on one elbow. “I heard.”
“That’s okay with you?” She should’ve checked; she’d just assumed he had nothing better to do than be with her between classes.
He nodded. So easy and elegant in her rumpled bed, but his gaze was on the bookshelf. “For an artist, you have an awful lot of commerce books.”
“Tha
t would be plan B.” And why college consumed so much of her time. She was doing a double degree. Isla thumbed the pages of the leather-bound sketchbook. She knew the odds of earning a living as an artist were small. “If I don’t make it, at least I’ll be able to work around art in a gallery or museum.”
“You’ll make it.” He didn’t say it like a false platitude. There was a cold current of conviction in his tone.
She gave him a small smile. To succeed, she would have to sacrifice everything. Including Nik. Outside, the clouds broke apart and spilled their contents on the earth. Rain drummed against the window.
“To keep the scholarship, I need an eighty percent average. Between work and studying, I have no time for anything else.” She hoped he’d understand what she was saying.
Even if he stuck around for months, she wouldn’t be available. They were on the clock. The idea that had given her the confidence to pursue him now undermined her. It wasn’t fair on either them to expect more. They couldn’t date. They would just be strangers who met during the night and drifted away in the morning.
Nik’s eyebrows drew together. “Why do you need to work if you have a free ride?”
She worried at her lower lip. How much did he need to know about her life? Enough so that he understood why it could never work between them.
“I send money home for my sisters. If I don’t, they miss out on school camps, excursions, and sometimes books.” Sometimes shoes, clothes. The list went on. If she wasn’t putting money aside, they’d have no chance at college either. She looked away and changed the topic. Dirty laundry was best left in the hamper, not hung out in public. “What about you?”
He watched the rain streak down the window. “My parents died when I was young. I grew up in boarding schools.” He stayed silent for several breaths. The rise and fall of his chest marked time.
When he didn’t elaborate, Isla pried a little deeper. “And now you travel. What about college?”
“Not for me. I can’t put down roots. I move around on a whim with what I can carry.” He turned his gaze back to her and gave her a rueful smile. “I’m not the man your parents would want you to marry.”
A peal of thunder shook the building. Isla laughed, easing the tension that had been building. True, her mother wanted her to marry someone with money. At least they both knew this was never going to be a relationship. It was a fling. No matter how lovely he looked lying in her bed, she couldn’t keep him. She should’ve been happy, or at least relieved they were on the same page. So why did she feel so hollow? She opened the red leather book and picked up a pencil as a distraction.
Nik flinched. “What are you doing?”
“Adding another sketch.” Of Nik lying in her messed-up bed. His hair a splash of crimson against the white of his skin. His body lean and lithe. “So I never forget our time together.”
Nik swallowed but remained still as her hand danced over the pages of his skin. Filling in details he didn’t see, only felt. Lust, joy, and sadness poured over him, raising goose bumps. He drew in breaths saturated with her scent and the lingering musk of loving.
With Isla he could forget what he wanted, what he needed, and think only about what she required. The slippery taste of the lie still lay on his tongue. He’d lied to give her a reason to want him around, promised to help her, and faked an upbringing that never existed. She’d shoved back. Made it clear she had no time for anyone. And she was right—they would never have worked. He didn’t age; he was immortal, if not Elemental.
She glanced up from her drawing, lips parted as she concentrated lost in her work. More content with pencils than people. He clamped his teeth shut as another swell of aching sorrow broke over him. Her emotions didn’t match her tough words. She was drawing to remember in the book he would take. He would leave her with nothing but a memory. If he was lucky, she would dredge it up when she was lonely.
Nik closed his eyes. He needed to set a deadline, or he’d hang around until she kicked him out for ruining her life and all her thoughts of him were tainted with bitterness. He didn’t want to be remembered that way, not by Isla. He forced himself to speak. “I was thinking of leaving when your class was done with me.” He was hoping for an invitation to stay, an excuse to let her hold the book a little longer. He knew he wouldn’t get one.
Her head snapped up, but she said nothing. She didn’t need to. Shock stabbed him in the gut and twisted. He glanced down to make sure his innards hadn’t become out-ards. She didn’t want him to leave, but she wouldn’t ask him to stay. She schooled her features, her face as blank as a Victorian portrait.
No strings. No demands. No complication. He was free, so why couldn’t he rejoice?
He didn’t belong in her life any more than she should hold the power of the oceans in her palm.
“Ready?” She turned the book around, not waiting for an answer.
The man on the page was relaxed and happy, like he was waiting for his lover to rejoin him, not anxious to reclaim his lost tail and return to the sea.
“It’s beautiful. Can you make me a copy and sign it? That way, when you make it big I can say I knew Isla Williams.” But he knew he would leave it for her, so she would have something after he and the book were gone. He wanted to be remembered by her with fondness, even though he would go on long after her short human life had expired.
She looked down, pink staining her cheeks like a deepening sunset. “I was planning to use your sketches with diatom structures to make a series of drawings…” Isla shook her head. “I’m drifting, and you don’t care.”
Diatoms were the intricate algal snowflakes of the sea, visible only by microscope to humans. She’d linked him to water without realizing. “They sound beautiful. I’ll look for them at your first show.”
“Where you’ll tell everyone you were the model and become the talk of the town.” She pressed her lips together in a cheeky smile. He tried to imprint it in his memory. How many centuries would it take before he forgot her? No, he would never let himself forget Isla.
“That can be our secret.” He sat up and pulled her to him. The book tumbled to the floor with a slap that stung his skin and was soon forgotten as they twisted together on the bed.
Chapter Seven
Isla rubbed her palms on her pants. Beside her sat Nik as they waited for the dean’s secretary to usher them in to his office. In her satchel were her sketchbooks, her only proof she had been in the class. In a separate folder were photocopies because she didn’t want the originals lost in bureaucracy.
The door opened. Nik squeezed her hand, and then she went in alone. Nik was here as backup in case the dean didn’t take her seriously and placed his faith in Mr. Gardner. She hoped whispers of Mr. Gardner’s activities had reached the dean’s ears, that he would believe her and this would be easy, but she knew the odds were against her. The dean would back his staff. He had to.
She perched on the edge of the chair, opposite a man in his fifties who looked like he’d spent his whole life at college cushioned from the real world. None of his lines were hard etched; they were more like scratches from accidental brushes with hardship.
The dean smiled and folded his hands. “How can I help you today, Ms. Williams?” He glanced at his notes. “You are enjoying your course?”
Isla’s lips pulled back, tight over her teeth. Anxiety crowding her chest, pushing down on her heart and lungs. “Yes, it’s perfect. Everything I wanted.” More than she ever thought she’d get.
“Yet you’re here.”
She gave the books in her lap a reassuring squeeze, like they would be snatched away if she complained. “One class is giving me problems.”
His face shifted from happy to concerned. “What kind of problems?”
She swallowed and for a fleeting moment considered staying silent. If she did, Mr. Gardner would win and her future would die. So she forced the words out. “I’ve attended every class, but I’ve been marked absent.”
“Practical?” The dean w
rote something down.
Was the conversation going in her file? Was she being marked as a troublemaker already? It was too late to stop now. “Life drawing.”
He paused before writing something else. “I’m sure it’s just an error. Have you spoken to the teacher?”
Isla drew in a breath—this was it. She lifted her chin and met her fate head-on. “He told me…he said if I didn’t stay after classes for private tuition, he’d mark me absent.” Just saying Mr. Gardner’s threats out loud made them less harmful.
The dean’s face hardened, freezing her in place. She was helpless to do anything but wait for him to speak and issue judgment. “You have Zachary Gardner.”
She wanted to speak, but her voice had dried up. She managed weak nod.
“This is a serious accusation.”
The sketchbooks moved, forcing her hands to rise with them. “I was there. The poses of the models and the play of the light will match the other students’ sketches. The male model will back me. He overheard.”
The dean flicked through the pages of both books, his face a portrait of distaste. Was it her drawings or her accusations that made him grimace? Maybe the dean was already aware. Maybe Mr. Garner had even had a warning. Isla grew hopeful. A splinter of sunlight broke through the storm clouds that had surrounded her since Mr. Gardner had first singled her out.
The dean handed back her books. “Alone, these sketches prove nothing.”
The sunlight vanished, and Isla’s world began to sink. The dean went on, oblivious to her despair. “I will need copies and statements if I’m going to launch an investigation into improper behavior. Are you sure this is the path you want to take?”
For a reply, Isla handed the dean the folder of copies she’d prepared.
“Very well, I’ll look in to it. In the meantime I suggest you attend his classes and refuse the extra tuition.” He spat out the last word like it burned his tongue.