by Zoe Chant
This is how I wish to remember them. All of my dearest friends, joining together in celebration.
Almost all of his dearest friends, that is. John glanced sidelong at Hugh, who was also watching the dancers. The paramedic’s handsome face wore his usual faintly sardonic expression, but there was a hint of wistfulness in his ice-blue eyes.
“You too watch from the side.” John rested one hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “But if I could find a mate unexpectedly, perhaps you are also mistaken in your belief that you must be forever solitary. I hope that it is so.”
“Believe me, that would turn out even worse for me than it’s worked out for you.” Hugh scowled at him, that momentary vulnerability hidden once more behind his spiky defenses. “If you’re going to go, then just go. No need to start wishing me ill-fortune on your way out.”
“I shall leave before I can make further blunders, then.” John shifted his grip to clasp Hugh’s forearm, in the gesture of one warrior to another. “It has been my honor and my privilege to call you my friend.”
Hugh’s fingers tightened on his arm. Though the paramedic’s expression remained uncaring, the physical contact meant that John could sense the true sorrow behind his comrade’s sarcastic manner.
It also meant that he could not help but be aware of Hugh’s loud telepathic shout, even though it wasn’t aimed at him.
*I’m losing him! Chase, for God’s sake tell me she’s nearly here!*
“Tell you that who is nearly here?” John said out loud.
Hugh jerked his hand away as if burned. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
A terrible suspicion formed in his mind. “Yes,” he said, coldly. “But not as rude as it is to cowardly attempt to undermine another’s honor. That would be a truly unconscionable act. Especially from a comrade-in-arms.”
The guilty look that flashed across Hugh’s face told John all he needed to know. Anger lit in his blood at the betrayal.
How could he? How could they?
Hugh was opening his mouth, but John did not give him a chance to make whatever feeble excuses he planned. He turned his back on the paramedic—only to discover his path blocked by Chase.
“Now, calm down-“ Chase started, holding up his hands.
“Out of my way,” John snarled at him, fingernail-scratch harmonics of outrage nearly drowning out the human words.
Chase was barely half his own mass. John held his full strength in check, but the pegasus shifter still slammed back into the wall with a thump, all the breath knocked out of him. Heedless of both the shock in Chase’s eyes and Hugh’s startled curse behind him, John started to stride on—and was one again forced to stop in mid-step.
“You going to hurl me into a wall, John?” Dai said, broad shoulders set and green eyes blazing.
The red dragon shifter would indeed have been a much more formidable opponent, but that was not what made John pause. Dai still cradled his sleeping infant, her tiny head nearly hidden in his large hand.
“This is a low tactic, kin-cousin,” John growled, quietly so as not to disturb the child.
“I’m no knight. And I’m prepared to fight dirty if that’s what it takes to stop you from making the worst mistake of your life.”
“If it is a mistake, it is mine to make!” John’s hands curled into fists, shaking. “How dare any of you presume to know what is best for me? No dry-lander could ever hope to fathom the ocean’s heart. Now stand aside!”
“You are beginning to attract attention, gentlemen.” John started at Fire Commander Ash’s quiet but ice-cold voice. “Control yourselves.”
Soft-footed as ever, the Phoenix had managed to appear right at his elbow without him noticing. Rose was at Ash’s side, brow furrowing as she looked around at them all. The enigmatic swan shifter had the ability to see what was truly inside a person’s heart. John wondered what she was seeing now.
“I will not have any of you casting a shadow over Griffin’s happiness today,” Ash continued, his dark, cool gaze sweeping over his crew. “What is the problem here?”
Dai jerked his chin at John. “He was trying to slip away.”
John reflexively straightened to attention as Ash’s eyes turned to him. “Commander. As I told you this morning, my other duties call, and I must answer. My task here is finished. I no longer have excuse to tarry.”
“But your mate-“ Chase began, but Ash lifted one hand slightly. The pegasus shifter instantly fell silent.
“I am aware of your attempts to entice John’s mate here without his knowledge.” Though the Fire Commander’s level voice and set expression never changed, disapproval radiated from him like heat from a furnace. “John, do you wish to see her?”
John opened his mouth to say no, but the simple word lodged sideways in his throat. He did want to see her. With all his heart, he longed to. He could not dishonor himself with a lie.
“It is not a matter of my desires,” he said at last, painfully. “It is a matter of necessity.”
Ash nodded slightly, as if in understanding. “Daifydd. Stand aside. Let him pass.”
“Stay right there, Dai, or you won’t be setting foot in my pub again.” Rose put her hands on her ample hips, scowling round at them all. “John, listen to your friends. I know what’s in your heart. It isn’t duty that’s driving you into the sea. It’s fear, plain and simple.”
“Rose.” Ash made a slight, abortive motion, as if he’d started to put a restraining hand on her shoulder but then checked himself. “It is John’s decision. We must respect it.”
“Oh, I could smack you sometimes.” Rose rounded on Ash, glaring up at the Phoenix without the slightest hint of trepidation at so disrespectfully addressing the most powerful shifter in Europe. “You’re just as bad as he is. All that stoic suffering. Well, what about John’s mate? Doesn’t she get a say in this decision? Why does John get to unilaterally decide what’s best for them both?”
John had the rare experience of seeing the Phoenix look discomfited. The crack in Ash’s calm lasted only an instant before sealing over again, his expression settling back into its usual impassiveness.
“Chase,” the Fire Commander said, turning to the pegasus shifter. “Where is John’s mate now?”
Chase hesitated, his black eyes sliding away from his commander’s as if not quite able to meet his gaze. “Ah. Well. At this precise moment in time, she’s…not actually in my range.”
“What? She’s still at least five miles away?” Hugh slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead with a groan. “I chase my own tail all day trying to keep this overgrown idiot from wandering off prematurely, and now you tell me she’s not even coming?”
John should have been grateful that his mate understood the hopelessness of their situation just as well as he did. He should have been thankful for her own honorable nature and strength of will. He should have been relieved.
Instead, he felt as though he’d been disemboweled.
They went to find her and bring her to me…and she refused?
Ash lifted one eyebrow at Rose. “It would seem that John’s mate is of the same mind as he is.”
“No,” Rose said firmly. “It would seem that Chase is drunk.”
“Excuse me?” Chase looked mortally offended. “I’ve only had one bottle of champagne! It takes a lot more than that to put me under the table, as you should know.”
“Well, all I know is that your pegasus is utterly addled. But my swan isn’t. There’s nothing wrong with my ability to sense mate bonds.” Rose’s full lips curved into a smile as she pointed triumphantly across the room. “John’s mate is standing right there.”
Chapter 8
Neridia’s nerves failed her right at the entrance to the reception room. Clasping her father’s pearl—safely strung round her neck once more—she tried to summon up the courage to push open the closed door and take that final, irrevocable step. She could hear fiddles and drums playing a bright, lively tune inside, and what
sounded like hundreds of people dancing and laughing.
I can’t. I can’t do this. They’re all going to stare at me.
“Hi!” said a bright voice behind her, from somewhere around the level of her thighs. “Are you Sir John’s sister?”
Neridia nearly leaped out of her skin. Whirling round, she saw a small blond boy of about five or six beaming up at her. From his adorably miniature morning suit and waistcoat, Neridia guessed he had to be part of the bridal party.
“Wow,” the boy added, leaning back and craning his neck. “You’re really tall. Are you a sea dragon knight too?”
“Um, no.” A little awkward in her one good formal dress, Neridia crouched down on her heels. “I’m not. A knight, or a sea dragon, I mean. I’m…Griff invited me.”
The boy beamed at her. “That’s my da. What kind of a shifter are you? You smell funny.”
“Danny!” A muscular blond man had appeared around the corner, evidently just in time to catch the boy’s words. “Don’t be rude.”
“I didn’t say she smelled bad!” Danny protested. “Just different. I was only asking, Daddy.”
Daddy? Neridia stared from one to the other. Danny’s features were definitely a tiny version of the older man’s. But I thought he said Griff was…?
“Apologize to the nice lady, Danny,” the blond man was saying firmly. He had a slight Scandinavian accent to match his Nordic cheekbones and hair.
Danny rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“I apologize for my son,” the man said to Neridia. “He’s still learning proper shifter manners. Do you—hold kæft den er stor!”
Neridia had no idea what language he’d just lapsed into, but—given that she’d just risen to her full height—she would have placed money on the translation being, "Holy fuck you’re huge." She flinched.
“I-I’m looking for John,” she said, trying to sound dignified and not like she wanted to flee like a frightened rabbit. “John Doe?”
“Yes,” the man said faintly, still staring up at her wide-eyed. “Yes, I imagine that you are. He’s in there.”
Neridia licked her dry lips, glancing at the indicated door. “Could you possibly let him know I’m here?”
The man’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Ah. Sorry, but no. Apparently I dishonor him with my mere presence. If I tried to speak to him, he’d probably challenge me to a duel on the spot.”
He really means it. What kind of medieval barbarian would assault someone just for speaking? Oh, this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.
“You don’t need Daddy to find Sir John,” Danny chirped up. “You really can’t miss him.”
Before Neridia could stop him, the little boy flung the door wide open. At least a dozen heads turned at the sudden motion—and did double-takes, gawping up at her. Neridia froze like a deer in car headlights.
“See?” Danny said happily. “There he is.”
Neridia didn’t need his pointing finger. John’s gigantic form towered over everyone else in the room. He was in profile to her, slightly stooped, apparently arguing with the knot of people around him. His hunched, defensive posture made Neridia think of an animal at bay, searching for an escape route as hunters closed in.
Then he looked up, and saw her.
Time froze. The room, the crowd, everything seemed to fall away. In all the world, there was only him, and her.
He started to walk toward her, the crowd parting before him like water. Neridia moved forward too, matching his pace. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She could no more not move toward him than the tides could resist the pull of the moon.
They halted at the same time, barely a foot apart. Before, he’d just been a silvered silhouette in the night. Now, she could finally take in every detail.
The last time she’d seen him, he’d been practically naked. Now, fully clothed, he was if anything even more jaw-dropping. His perfectly-tailored morning suit clung to the planes of his chest and accentuated the astonishing breadth of his shoulders. Although his massive arms would have made any bodybuilder cry into his steroids with envy, he actually had a swimmer’s build, with long limbs and a wedge-shaped torso narrowing to slim hips. He was just all scaled up, to the point where his sheer physical size became overwhelming.
His eyes were the deep liquid indigo of the ocean depths, mysterious and unfathomable. With a start, Neridia realized that his hair was blue too, perfectly matching the shade of his eyes. There was no question of it being a dye job; even his eyebrows and eyelashes were the same alien hue.
He isn’t human. He really isn’t human.
His dreadlocks swept back in intricate braids along the sides of his head before falling freely down his back in a thick, textured mane. Small golden charms were strung onto the narrow strands, gleaming like sunken treasure. They chimed and clicked as he gracefully sank to one knee, taking her hand and pressing it to his forehead.
“My lady,” he murmured, in that glorious cello-deep voice that sent thrills through her very bones. “You came.”
“Is he proposing?” someone whispered off to the side in delighted, scandalized tones.
Neridia was abruptly aware of the circle of fascinated stares and murmurs surrounding them. Face flaming, she grabbed hold of John’s suit lapel, awkwardly tugging him up. He appeared totally unselfconscious as he rose again, as if what he’d just done was as normal as shaking her hand.
“All right, people!” Heads turned as Griff’s firm Scottish voice cut over the whispers of the crowd. The griffin shifter jumped up onto the band’s podium, clapped his hands together briskly for attention. “Next dance is the Circassian circle! Ladies on the right, gentlemen on the left, if you please!”
Something about his no-nonsense tone demanded obedience. Neridia breathed a sigh of relief as their unwanted audience broke up, drifting away. Still holding John’s lapel, she retreated, drawing the sea dragon shifter back with her to the edge of the dance floor.
“You are upset,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together a little. He turned his head to glare out at the crowd, one hand clenching into a fist. “Has someone here caused offense?”
“I’m all right. It’s just that they were all staring.” She looked at him hopefully, searching his chiseled features for any sign of understanding. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
From his quizzical look, he didn’t. “It is natural that they stare. I am a sea dragon. Dry-landers cannot help but marvel at my presence.” His matter-of-fact tone made the words a simple statement of truth rather than a boast.
Neridia wrapped her arms around herself, hunching her shoulders in the habitual, futile attempt to make herself look smaller. “Well, I hate it.”
His oceanic eyes darkened. “I am sorry. Yet again, I am the cause of your distress. It was I that attracted the unwanted scrutiny.” He sighed, looking away from her. “Even after nearly two years on land, I still cannot fit in.”
She peeked up at him, drawn to that strong, noble profile with a hunger that scared her. It was more than just appreciation for his physical looks. Something about him, some vital essence, pulled her to him as if she was caught in a riptide.
This is ridiculous, she tried to tell herself. I know practically nothing about this man, and everything I do know just highlights that we have nothing in common. For pity’s sake, every word out of his mouth makes it clear that we’re from completely different worlds!
And yet, and yet…
“I will never fit in here.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear him over the sound of the band striking up a sprightly tune. He was still looking away. “I must go.”
“Must you?” She felt as if she balanced on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a gleaming, beckoning sea; a reckless inner voice whispering jump, jump even as common sense held her back.
He met her eyes again at last, and the naked longing in his took her breath away as surely as water closing over her head.
“I should,” he whispered.
Th
ey stared at each other, yearning, yet separated by a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.
Out of the corner of her eye, Neridia noticed an elegant, middle-aged woman with ebony-black skin staring in their direction as she whirled past. Abruptly, she broke away from the other dancers, striding with firm steps straight toward them.
“Rose,” her abandoned partner called, a note of warning in his voice.
The woman took no notice of him. She had the wisest eyes Neridia had ever seen, calm and kind in her soft face. Neridia found herself unable to resist as the woman took hold of her left wrist in one hand, and John’s in the other.
A shock went through Neridia as the woman closed John’s calloused fingers over hers, and she felt his swift, sharp intake of breath. Without pausing, the woman moved the two of them into a ballroom hold, as briskly as if positioning a couple of mannequins.
“There,” the woman said, stepping back and surveying her handiwork with satisfaction. “That’s better.”
Without another word, she went back to her previous partner, grabbing his hands. The two were quickly swept up again in the swift, energetic dance circle.
Her hand clasped in his, and his broad shoulder under her palm…it was like an electrical circuit had been completed. Neridia found that she couldn’t let go again. She didn’t want to let go again. Not ever again.
His long fingers tightened on her waist fractionally. She could feel the strength in his grip, and how carefully he controlled it, and how his hand trembled as he pulled her closer. She could feel the heat radiating from him, warming her to the core. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, perfectly echoing her own.
“What are we doing?” he whispered, his breath soft against her ear.