When he did surface, he lay back, letting the water pool under his spine, floating. He would tell her, tonight, after dinner. Cemil was right; the longer Stephen kept the secret, the harder it would be for Romy to accept. But he wouldn’t ask her to complete the bonding until he was absolutely certain she would be safe with him. This trip had been necessary, but coming here may have blown his cover. Not a big deal if it was just him and his brothers—they could defend themselves. But to bring a fragile human mate into the mix was untenable.
He heard a splash behind him, turned and saw Rekkus and his mate at the shoreline. Damn it.
“Hey, Stephen!” Dana called out. “I’m teaching yoga for Trixie again tonight, you should join us. Romy will be there.”
He took one big paw and sent a splash of water her way. She laughed and splashed back, a tiny human splash, before Rekkus tugged her away, leaving him to his solitary swim.
* * * *
Stunned.
It was the only word Romy could settle on for the way Stephen had left her, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. The emotions that had been playing tug of war in her head the past few days had finally exploded and she was stunned. She mulled over the episode in the shower as she brushed the tangles out of her still-wet hair.
What kind of secret could Stephen possibly have that was such a big deal? They’d covered any health issues like responsible partners, beyond that, she didn’t really care. Unless he was married or something. She paused her brushing. Married? No, he didn’t seem the type to screw around on a wife. If she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that her feelings for Stephen were growing far beyond hot vacation sex. Was that what had sent him scurrying from her room? Was he as confused by the growing affection between them as she was? That had to be it. He had to know she didn’t have any expectations once they left the Wiccan Haus. They were both adults, it was fun; they could go their separate ways when it was over.
The moment she thought the words, she felt a stab of nausea, but she pushed it away. It was anxiety, the same anxiety that had been haunting her since she was blinded. It would get better over time, right?
She finished brushing, and braided her hair into a quick plait, wrapping it around itself and sticking pins in it to hold it in place. As she felt around the edges for any stray hairs, she realized she’d worn her hair in a bun nearly every day of her life. Maybe it was time to let go.
She slipped the pins from her hair, shaking it loose from the braid. It felt strange, tickling the backs of her shoulders, but good too: a prickly sensuality she’d never indulged. She left it free as she made her way to the elevator.
In the lobby, she turned toward the sound of Myron’s cards slapping.
“Hi, Myron,” she ventured.
“Good morning, Romy.” Slap, slap, slap. “Your hair looks nice.”
“Thanks.” She touched the length hanging around her shoulders self-consciously. “I’m feeling restless. Can you recommend a class?”
“Trixie is doing meditation out on the lawn…” Slap, slap, slap. “But that’s not what you need. The yoga studio is empty.”
“I’m taking yoga tonight with Dana.”
“I know.” Slap.
It was sort of infuriating, the way the other woman was dragging it out of her, but then she realized that Myron wasn’t suggesting yoga at all.
“How big is the studio?”
Chapter Eleven
The empty studio was perfect. After fetching her battered old “for luck” pointe shoes from her room, Romy made her way to the yoga studio, feeling along the walls to get an idea of its size. Big enough. And there was a stereo in one corner with an iPod jack. Even better.
Bless you, Myron.
Romy took her time warming up, using the stereo cabinet as a make-shift barre. When sweat dripped freely from her forehead and her limbs were loose, she slipped her feet into the shoes, tying the ribbons at her ankles, and turned on the music.
She let the feel of the music move through her, taking small steps at first, finding her bearings after eight weeks without dancing. Soon, she was attacking each step, throwing herself into each movement with a desperate precision.
It felt good. A fierce joy swept through her, and she wanted to share it. She thought of giant, gentle Stephen and the dance grew more sensual. What would it be like to dance with a man like him? Her movements slowed, a few steps forward…a teasing pirouette…and then she could feel his huge hands on her waist as she leapt into the air. The fantasy built upon itself, echoing until she could feel a new dance in her blood. Smiling, she moved to the stereo and started the song anew.
* * * *
Stephen heard the noise in the yoga studio as he walked by, paused in the doorway and the sight took his breath away.
Romy was alone in the studio, dancing, or something like it. Her hair hung in long, loose waves around her shoulders, swaying with her steps. A pair of tattered shoes on her feet, she moved in tiny steps across the floor, paused a moment, and then dropped down off her toes. She paced back to where she had started, and then moved again. When she reached the center of the room, she stretched out like an exquisite waterfowl, arms and one leg reaching. She circled her leg back and her chest plunged toward the floor. He lurched forward, reaching for her, believing that she was falling, but she righted herself, scratched her back absently, and started the whole process over.
He watched as she made her way through the same steps, over and over, before moving on to another sequence, giving it the exact same meticulous attention. Every once in a while, she’d start the music over, and move through the whole series. There were certain points where her movements would look like a miniature of the step she wanted to take: she wouldn’t stretch her arms all the way out, wouldn’t step all the way onto her toes, like she was holding back.
“Why do you hesitate?” he finally asked.
She startled, dropping off her toes. Damn. He hadn’t meant to scare her.
“Stephen?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Come here, I could use your help.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry for this morning.”
“You aren’t married, are you?”
He damn near choked at that. “No, definitely not.”
“Okay, then we can talk about that later. Come here, please.” A grin flashed on her face as she beckoned him forward. Her scent hit him at the moment she reached for his hand and the wildness crept back into him. The animal inside him pushed to complete the bond. Not married—but I want to be, lover.
“This jump is typically assisted by a partner—I take three steps—” she moved back across the room and demonstrated “—and when I reach here, your hands come around my waist, like this.” His breathing grew shallow as she placed his hands on either side of her waist. “And I jump. You lift at the same time, so I can go higher and hold the position longer, and then you set me down.”
“I’ve never done this before.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to drop you.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve been dropped tons of times.”
Anger flooded him, that her dance partners could have been so careless that they’d dropped her.
“Hey, it happens. It’s okay, really. A few bruises never hurt anyone. Besides, I trust you.”
“You do?” How could she trust him, when he was keeping such a huge secret from her?
“Yeah.” Her grin was stunning as she reached down and squeezed the hand that was still on her waist.
“Then let’s do it.”
The first time, he almost did drop her, but she laughed it off.
“See? You’re a natural. Again.”
He lost track of how many “agains” there were, but there were enough that he suspected his arms might be sore the next day. It was worth it, though, to see her face light up every time she threw her arms back and soared in his hands.
“Oh, I have another idea!” She turned to face him after he set her down, her hands m
oving quickly as she spoke. “What if, instead of a grand jeté like that one, you lifted me toward yourself, up over your head, and then I slid down your body on the way down—here, let me show you…Just lift me up, I’ll do the rest.”
The moment she was in his arms, he understood. Her arms flung wide, her head back, then her hands moved to his shoulders. She seemed to hang in the air for a long silent moment, and then she slid down his body to the floor, the wide grin on her face turning sweet and hesitant as he set her down, holding her close to his chest.
“You’re incredible,” he said, staring into her unseeing eyes. His hand moved up to cup the side of her face, to draw her into a kiss, and she stepped away, scrubbing the back of her hand across her forehead.
“You’d make a pretty good dancer.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.”
And then she turned her back to him, walking to the stereo and turning off the music. She slipped the raggedy shoes off her feet and pulled the iPod from the dock. Behind him, Stephen heard someone clapping, and he turned to see Cemil standing in the doorway.
“Very well done, Romy.” The blond man smiled broadly at her, raising the hairs on Stephen’s neck in challenge. “I wish I’d seen you perform on the stage, but even in our little yoga studio, you’re quite captivating. You even managed to make this old bear look graceful.” He stepped into the room, clapping a hand down on Stephen’s shoulder. It was all Stephen could do to keep from ripping the hand from its owner. Cemil smiled at him unrepentantly, clearly able to read his thoughts.
“Thanks, Cemil.” Romy grinned in his direction, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her T-shirt. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.” Picking up her cane, she strolled from the room, sweeping it in front of her.
“You’re welcome,” Cemil called after her.
“Why does her iPod work and my iPhone doesn’t?” Stephen asked.
“She needs her music. Your brothers will live without you for a week, and your spiritual growth depends upon it.”
“Whoa, Rowan. I didn’t come here for any healing or spiritual growth. I don’t know what you think is going on. I’m here to give Rekkus and Cyrus some security information, and as soon as the portals open and I can report back to the Syndicate, I’m going.”
“Yes, that’s why the Syndicate sent you here. But that’s not why we made room for you.” Cemil grinned at him before he strode out of the studio.
Chapter Twelve
She couldn’t deny it any longer. She couldn’t stop thinking about Stephen as she dressed for dinner. When she was away from him, she was on edge, uneasy, adrift. When he was close by, she felt grounded, centered. And when he touched her? The muffled isolation disappeared. Not once had he treated her like he felt sorry for her. Instead, he treated her like she was the most amazing person he’d ever known. So why was he holding back?
She’d indulged her own little fantasy that morning when he’d come into the studio. It had been amazing to dance with a partner again, even if he was only helping her work out the steps for that part of the dance. The way his hands had felt on her body, the reverent way he’d touched her—she hadn’t wanted to stop, and long after she’d decided how the sequence would go, she’d kept at it, just to feel him touching her again.
As she walked into the dining room, the muffled conversations of other diners roared in her ears. Confused, she paused for a moment, trying to isolate a familiar voice.
“Let me help you.” Cemil. She felt his gentle hand on her elbow and smiled up at him.
“Thanks.”
“Why don’t you join me for supper tonight?” His voice was quiet, but she had no trouble hearing him. She nodded.
“Sure.”
As soon as he had her seated, she heard another familiar voice on her other side.
“I made you a special herbal shake, Romy. After that workout you had this morning, I thought you might need an extra energy boost. Cemil says he caught the end of it, and you were amazing. I wish I’d seen it.”
“Thanks, Sage,” she said as Sage pressed a glass into her hand. “And thank you for the ointment. It’s wonderful.”
“You’re welcome, of course. We do our best to help all of our guests with whatever troubles them.” Sage patted her shoulder once, and then walked away.
“She’s gone,” Cemil confirmed. “But we’ve got company. Your friend Stephen is headed this way, and he’s got a thousand storm clouds on his face.” He took her hand. “I’ll send him away if you like.”
Romy blushed. “He and I need to talk.”
“It can wait until he’s in a better mood.” Cemil’s voice rose slightly. “Stephen. We’re having a delightful conversation and you look like you swallowed a wasps’ nest. Can I help you with something?”
“Get your hands off her.”
Romy sat up in surprise. The voice didn’t even sound like Stephen’s—sure it was the same deep timbre, but the roughness, the hoarseness was not the big man she’d come to know. Was he honestly jealous of Cemil? Cemil who was just being nice to a guest?
“Calm down, Stephen,” Cemil cautioned him, a bit of steel in his voice.
“It’s okay, Cemil.” Romy turned toward Stephen’s voice. “Stephen? Why don’t we go for a walk after dinner? Cemil will walk me to your table when I’m ready. Have a nice meal.”
She felt Cemil squeeze her hand lightly as Stephen emitted a rough growl. As if he had a right to act so boorish when he was the one who’d run out on her this morning? He did try to apologize.
“Fine.” Stephen nearly spit out the word, and it felt like an almost physical slap to the face. Her cheeks flushed as she heard him walk away. She didn’t play games with her lovers. This was rude.
“It’s not rude.” Cemil let go of her hand. She had a feeling if she could see his face, he’d be smiling. “That was necessary. Besides, you’re cute as can be, but you’re not my type, not that he’d know anything about that. The jealousy won’t hurt him—it will help him figure out what he really wants from you.”
* * * *
Stephen was fuming. The vamp, the same vamp he’d had dinner with the first night, started to sit at the table with him, but a scowl sent him scurrying. He watched as Cemil flirted with his woman, each lilting laugh that made its way over to him sending him deeper into his own wrath. When Sage fluttered by and offered him some kind of “soothing” herbal smoothie, he was tempted to walk over there and dump it on Cemil’s head. Instead, he took it and sipped slowly.
When Cemil finally stood and helped Romy gather her cane, Stephen leapt to his feet. He was halfway across the room in a flash, taking her hand and snarling at the younger Rowan brother.
“Get lost.”
“Stephen!” Romy sounded scandalized. “Thank you, for your company during dinner, Cemil. It was lovely.”
“Good night, Romy.” Cemil squeezed her elbow and disappeared into the crowd while Stephen stared at her.
God, she was beautiful. What had ever made him think a sturdy mama bear was what he needed? This tiny sprite of a dancer with her will of steel and her feisty attitude, this woman was the mate he needed.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed, allowing him to escort her outside. “Will you walk me back to the hot springs? My feet are aching after this morning.”
“Of course.”
As they walked, he tried to think of a way to explain what he was. She had no idea about the Para world, though she’d been surrounded by it for days now. How could he explain it all, let alone the whole “By the way, dear, you’re my fated mate, the one person in the world I’m supposed to fall in love with and live happily ever after. How do you feel about cubs?”
As it turned out, he didn’t need to explain it. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, the wolf that appeared in the path startled him.
Ears laid back, it snarled, sharp white teeth snapping. Not one of the adolescent wolves visiting for tomorrow night’s full moon, this was a full grown
male, which meant its presence here was not accidental. A mature Were could control its shift—this one was trouble. They know. Whoever was after Cyrus knew Stephen was the one bringing information to the island.
“What is it?” Romy’s voice shook.
“Get behind me,” he ordered, pushing her back.
“What is it? Is there some kind of animal? Stephen?” He heard the panic in her voice and cursed himself for not paying closer attention to their surroundings.
“Yes, dammit.” He snarled, moving toward the wolf. He was pretty sure he could handle it without shifting, but it would be close. As he closed in on the creature, trying to determine the best hold to take it down, he heard a whisper-quiet voice behind him.
“Hello, lovely.” Vampire. He should have known the way the vamp had been following him around the island. Hell.
“Please, help my…my friend.” He heard Romy pleading with the other man, and for a moment, Stephen was torn between attempting to take the vamp and the wolf both in his human form. Impossible. He needed to protect his mate. He’d have to shift.
“Romy, get to the Haus, now. Tell the first person you encounter to get Rekkus or Cyrus. Run!” he shouted, letting his shift take over. He lunged for the vamp, who lurched out of his way just as he felt lupine teeth snapping at his heels.
Chapter Thirteen
“Stephen?” Romy heard a strange bellow, completely different from the other sounds she’d heard, as she backed away. The cold man who had approached her had dropped her hand and seemed to be involved in the scuffle with the animal that had wandered into their path, but what the hell was going on with Stephen? She tried to separate the noises, to make them make sense in her mind, but she couldn’t.
“Fuck!” She tripped over a root, or a rock, or something and sprawled on her backside. She heard another bellow and she couldn’t help but cringe. Stephen.
She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did; Stephen was making that noise, and he was in pain. She had to help him. He might be confusing and jealous, but he was hers. She scrabbled around on her hands and knees, finding a rock. She stood, holding it in both hands, and she listened.
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