by Chant, Zoe
“Mind if we sit with you?”
Alice, her head cocked in challenge, towered over Mal where he was seated. Mary and Amber looked dubious, but when Mal graciously gestured at the empty chairs, they all took seats. Alice was brave enough to sit beside him, while Mary timidly took the seat across from him and Amber awkwardly lowered herself into the remaining chair.
Breck returned to pour everyone water and give the dinner choices, a distinct lack of flirtation in his service.
“I am surprised to see you two here still,” Mal observed across the table, once the waiter had returned to the kitchen with their choices.
Alice snorted. “Neither Neal nor Tony are particularly happy with it,” she observed frankly. “But you try telling Amber to do anything. She looks all sweet and pliable, but good luck getting her to comply.”
Amber looked abashed by the honest assessment and Alice cleared her throat. “I mean... you’re leaving on the boat first thing tomorrow morning, right Amber?”
“Yes,” Amber said shortly, taking a sip of her water.
Mal, following Alice’s blunt example, gathered himself. “Amber, I’d like a moment to speak with you alone, if you’re willing.”
Amber stared at him with alarmed golden eyes.
Mary squirmed. “We could get salads from the buffet...” she started to suggest politely.
“No,” Alice said flatly. “Look, no one knows what you’re up to here, or what you’ve done to Scarlet, but I’m not real excited to leave my pregnant friend in your clutches for a conversation.”
Mal protested, “I assure you—”
“Your pregnant friend?” Amber exclaimed in disgust. “Really, Alice?”
Alice still had her baleful gaze fixed on Mal. “I promised Tony I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second.”
“I think you could see anything that was going to go wrong from across the restaurant full of shifters,” Amber pointed out.
“I want to be in hitting distance,” Alice declared.
“I wish I were in hitting distance,” Amber muttered, glaring across the table at her.
Mary looked like she wanted to fold into her chair and die.
“It can wait,” Mal said peacefully.
Amber gave him a piercing look. “You can say anything you have to say to me in front of them,” she said firmly.
“I was sorry to miss your mother’s visit,” Mal said gently. “I would have preferred to tell her what I found out about your father in person.”
Everyone at the table stiffened and Mal steeled himself.
“My... father?” Amber said numbly, with a hand to her belly.
“If you’d prefer to...”
“What do you know about my father?” Amber demanded, bringing a fist down on the table that made all the glasses jump.
Mal kept his voice low. “You’re aware of the warlock Corbin and his... use of shifters.”
Amber’s face went white.
“Your father’s sole goal was to keep you from Corbin’s clutches,” Mal said gently. “I don’t believe he would have given you up for any other reason. My guess is that he knew he was close to capture.”
Amber was staring down at the surface of the table, taking careful breaths. Alice swore quietly. Mal was surprised by his own sympathy. He usually maintained a professional detachment from this sort of thing, but the look on Amber’s face cut deeper than it should.
“I’ve... there’s a fund set up for victims of the warlock and his—”
Amber surged to her feet, shoving her chair back hard. “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but money doesn’t fix everything,” she snarled at him.
Mal took her outburst without comment. “I’m sorry for your—”
“I’m not hungry,” Amber growled and she stormed as gracefully as she possibly could for the entrance to the restaurant.
Alice rose to follow her, shooting Mal a baleful look over her shoulder as she called to Amber to wait for her.
Mary remained behind. Her look was thoughtful and measuring. Mal remembered that she was the timid one of the bunch and was surprised that she didn’t flee at the first opportunity.
Instead, they sat for a long moment in silence, regarding each other.
“Are you the one who set up the anonymous trust for the victims of Beehag’s zoo?” she finally asked.
“Yes,” Mal said simply.
“You did that for Benedict Beehag, as his lawyer, because of the horrible things that his uncle had done?”
“No,” Mal said shortly. He had tried to convince Benedict to set something up, but the heir to the Beehag fortune had proved to be as self-centered and shallow as Mal had come to expect of billionaires; even the promise of a tax shelter had not strong-armed generosity from him.
“You made secrecy about the payment a condition of the allotment,” Mary observed. “Neal almost didn’t take it.”
“I’m glad he did,” Mal said.
“I’m trying to decide if I should thank you,” Mary said honestly. “On the one hand, that money made it much easier for him to change careers and get his life back. On the other... it feels like dirty money.”
Mal was having to reconsider Mary; though she was quiet and unsure compared to the forward, forthright Alice, the deer shifter was no coward. He sighed. “Because I’ve been trying to get Scarlet to sell out her lease?”
“She loves the resort. This is her home. Why would you try to take that from her? I take a dim view of anyone who can’t take no for an answer.”
Mal wasn’t used to justifying himself to anyone, let alone wanting to. He made the best choices with the information he had, and he almost always had more information than anyone. He never felt the need to waste time seeking approval for the choices he made, and his ego didn’t need stroking.
But he found himself wanting to explain himself to Mary... to the entire staff of Shifting Sands and all the people who cared for Scarlet.
“I’m willing to admit I made a mistake with Scarlet,” he said honestly. “I made assumptions I should not have.” He did not add that it was a very reasonable expectation that Scarlet could have rebuilt elsewhere. It had never even occurred to him that she would be literally incapable of leaving the island.
He wondered what other assumptions would prove false.
“I have the lamb for the lawyer,” Breck said, clearing his throat. He looked askance at the chairs Alice and Amber had vacated; their meals were balanced on his tray. “And halibut for the deer Mary?” He paused a moment before putting Mary’s down, giving her a chance to declare her intention to switch seats.
But Mary only smiled. “Thank you, Breck.”
The waiter spread a napkin into her lap as Mal laid out his own.
The food—hot and fresh this time—was everything that he had hoped for, with balanced spice and perfectly cooked vegetables.
They ate quietly for a while after Breck refilled their water and left, with minimal conversation about the food. Then Mary abruptly asked, “Is it true you’re Scarlet’s mate?”
Mal wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that she had already heard; Alice was Graham’s mate, and Alice was Mary’s closest friend. Honestly, Mal would not have been surprised if the entire resort knew.
“I am,” he said simply.
“And you’re a warlock like Corbin?”
Any warm, companionable feelings that had started to bloom in Mal’s chest turned to ash. “I am nothing like Corbin,” he said fiercely.
Mary gave his forearm tattoos a long measured look.
For a second time, Mal desperately wanted to explain, to make her hear his side of the story. “I’m not like Corbin,” he reasserted. “I’m...” He paused.
“A good guy?” Mary guessed.
Mal met her gaze appraisingly. “I was going to say that I was trying to save the world, not rule it.”
“Noble goal,” Mary said, mopping up a last of her sauce with a piece of bread. “But goals don’t define som
eone, their actions do.”
Mal gravely replied, “Then I hope that my actions prove to you my sincerity.” And he meant it with his whole heart.
Chapter 22
Scarlet hesitated on Mal’s front step, her hand lifted to knock. Should she just go in? Should she simply materialize inside? She didn’t know the rules of engagement for having a mate.
Just as she decided to knock, the door opened and she sucked in a breath. Mal was wearing pants, and nothing else, the broad expanse of his chest like a landscape of toned muscle.
“I wasn’t sure if you needed to sleep,” she said apologetically, lowering her hand.
Mal was gazing back at her. “You are so beautiful,” he said in awe. “I keep thinking I’ve imagined you more gorgeous in my mind than you could possibly be, and then I see you again and you are so much more.”
Scarlet hadn’t thought a compliment could undo her so completely. She felt her cheeks heat and felt like a trembling sapling all over again. “I... I...” His bare chest didn’t do much to help her keep her thoughts together.
Then he closed the distance between them and Scarlet was eagerly meeting him.
To her shock, he lifted her up into his arms, kissing her as he carried her into his cottage. She felt his hand make a gesture behind her and the door swung shut behind them. No one had ever carried her anywhere, and Scarlet savored the unexpected delight of it, wrapping her legs eagerly around him.
He laughed against her lips. “You weren’t kidding about that whole lusty business, were you?”
“Let’s find out together,” Scarlet suggested, moving to nibble his ear.
Mal’s arms tightened and he hissed in pleasure as he navigated them to his bedroom and laid her down on the broad bed. A stack of books was swept carelessly to the floor to clear space for them.
It was like being offered a buffet with too many delicious options: she wanted to kiss his amazing lips, and she wanted to spread her hands over his strong shoulders, and she wanted to wrap herself around him, and she wanted to run her fingers through his silver-touched hair, all at the same time.
And most of all, she wanted him in her, filling her physically as well as emotionally. She craved his warmth inside of her, his skin against hers, his weight... she was whimpering, tugging at the closure of his pants.
But he pressed her down onto the bed with gentle, slow kisses, thwarting her desperate efforts. “Shhh,” he said, putting first one of her hands, then the other, above her head. “Shhh,” he repeated, kissing sweetly down her neck.
Scarlet squirmed, but left her hands above her head obediently as he reached for the buttons of her blouse.
He unbuttoned her so slowly that Scarlet had to force herself not to hasten the process by simply unmaking her clothing out of impatience. His hands caressed everything he uncovered, in slow, unhurried worship. He followed his fingers with kisses and nibbles as he finished with the buttons and pulled her into a seated position so he could slip the blouse off her arms.
They kissed there a long moment and Mal unclasped the bra and slid the straps from her shoulders. Scarlet could not help gasping as he cupped her breasts in his hands, growling against her lips.
“Mal,” she begged, clawing at his gorgeous shoulders. “Mal...” He was still wearing pants, and Scarlet was beginning to think this was a desperate injustice.
“Shhh...” he said again, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses across her cheek. Then he was pressing her back down into the bed and kissing down her belly to unzip her skirt. Scarlet lifted her hips to let him slide it down off of her, hopeful, longing, waiting for the sound of his zipper, and she was disappointed when he threw aside her skirt but returned to the bed still clothed.
Then his mouth met her nethers and Scarlet gave a cry of surprised pleasure as she took double-handfuls of the quilt beneath her. His tongue teased her, licking and probing gently, slowly, drawing out the orgasm that washed over her.
When she could see again, Mal was once again straddling her and she could feel how hard he was through his now-hated pants. “Mal...” she begged. “Mal...”
He bent to kiss her, and she tasted herself, tangy and salty, on his lips. She wrapped one leg around him and pushed him over on his back, rolling over to straddle him confidently.
“Scarlet,” he started to say.
“Shhh...” she told him with a smile. Then she kissed the base of his throat, drawing a groan from his lips as he tipped his head back.
She kissed slowly down his chest, then unbuttoned his pants with her teeth, nibbling at the muscles that tensed in his stomach as she used her fingers to unzip him at last.
He sprang into her hand as she wrestled the pants down around his hips and she teased him and bent to kiss him, to draw him into her mouth as slowly as she could manage. His hips squirmed as she licked and sucked and her own desire was mounting to a new pitch as he growled her name.
When he was reduced to fragments of sentences—please, you have to, Scarlet, wait!—she crawled up his intoxicating body and lowered herself onto him in one smooth motion that made them both cry out. The orgasm was only the first of several, as Mal managed to hold off his own pleasure by sheer force of will and bring her again and again to climax. Scarlet wondered if he was using a spell to prolong things, he was so keyed up, and then decided to stop overthinking it and let herself enjoy the pulsing waves of bliss that he woke in her body.
At last, he joined her in one final release, desperately holding her hips as he thrust into her. Still coupled, Scarlet sank down and they lay together as their bodies shivered off the last spasms of their lovemaking.
“Scarlet,” Mal said breathlessly, leaving little kisses on her forehead. “My mate.”
“I... love you,” Scarlet confessed.
Mal’s entire body stiffened and Scarlet wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. Was it tainted by the overwhelming rush from such incredible sex? Should she have waited for the afterglow to pass?
But it wasn’t the sex that made her say it; her body was already humming comfortably, but there was new need beneath it. She loved the sex, but this was more. This was his arms around her, his gentle mouth on her brow. It was the way she wanted to tell him everything and discover everything about him. It was the way she way dying to find out what his favorite food was and feed it to him, figure out where he was ticklish, learn all his habits and quirks and shyly show him hers.
It was the way she recognized herself in his eyes: all the isolation and buried desire for connection.
He made a noise that Scarlet couldn’t interpret and drew her closer. “I love you,” he replied, and Scarlet hadn’t known that the feelings inside her could swell further.
They continued to lazily touch and caress for what might have been moments or hours, unwilling to move apart.
“You never did answer the question about whether or not you needed sleep,” Scarlet reminded him, when he bent to draw the displaced quilt over them against the late night chill. He had fascinating goosebumps all along his arm. She stroked them as he folded her back into his arms.
“I have a better idea,” he said, and Scarlet was delighted to feel him stir in interest against her leg.
Chapter 23
Mal fell into inevitable sleep after a second round with the fiery, insatiable dryad.
No, not insatiable, he thought, laying in his bed as he woke. He could bring her to pleasure and leave her flatteringly limp with contentment. Just... how had she put it? She ran hot. Every time he touched her, she was instantly interested, responsive to his touch. He smiled, still not ready to open his eyes.
Scarlet wasn’t in bed with him, wasn’t in his cottage at all. She was in her office, he knew, by the singing mate-bond in his heart, and when he reached, she answered.
You dreamed, she observed.
Of you? Mal didn’t remember his dreams often.
Of deep places, Scarlet told him. She was distracted.
What are you doing?
Pa
perwork, Scarlet said wryly. It’s incredible how much paperwork is involved in the end of the world. I’ll need your buyout offer in writing before Jenny and Travis leave. They’re taking the boat to the mainland with the last of the staff once the private jet has left with Conall and Gizelle.
All business. Focused. Mal was still half-asleep, and he tried to figure out why she felt a little different than usual, why things felt a little off. He dismissed the niggling worry as lingering concern about the looming battle.
We are ready, his dragon said confidently. It is a good plan, and we are strong together.
They had a few days left to perfect their synchronicity, but Mal already knew that with Scarlet’s power behind his magic, there was little chance of failure. His fate felt like it was easily in hand.
Also, he was hungry.
We worked up an appetite, his dragon said smugly.
Mal threw off the sheet he’d slept under, pausing to press his face into a tangle of it and inhale Scarlet’s intoxicating scent of earth and growing things.
Our mate, he thought with triumph.
He had to drag himself out of the bed with effort and after a quick shower, he dressed and decided to get a quick snack from the bar cooler.
The resort was weirdly quiet.
All the usual birds and insects were chirping, but there was no one splashing in the pool, no loud chatter at the bar, no music anywhere. The restaurant and kitchen were still; Mal had not realized what a constant Chef’s singing was until it was gone.
The last of the staff would be packing, he realized with a pang. This was the end. They would leave on the boat and Conall and Gizelle would take a private jet away to a new life.
If—when—he and Scarlet were triumphant over the wyrm, the resort would still be battered by their battle. It would take time to get repairs facilitated.
He would build her a new resort, Mal thought. A better one, if she wanted. But would it ever be the same? Would the staff return, or would they take their severances and settle into new lives of luxury? He’d never seen such a close-knit found family, hadn’t even realized it was possible. Was this really the end of it, as they scattered across the globe?