Guardian

by Heather Burch

  Before she could react, his wings snapped open, and they were hovering just above the water line, feet dangling in each rising wave. “Here,” he said, reaching into a pouch fastened to his waist. “You want to feed them?”

  She nodded, but couldn’t exactly speak as two dolphin vied for her attention once they saw the small fish. Raven kept a tight grip on her waist. She wound an arm around his neck and maneuvered just enough to feel comfortable letting go with the other arm, then held the fish out. A dolphin jumped, and she dropped the bait into his waiting mouth. As it fell back into the waves she let out a quick breath that actually had a tiny squeal hidden in it.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Her head bobbed and she looked at him. She immediately regretted the eye contact. Raven’s midnight gaze, aflame with her excitement, made her feel flush. He was smiling a most unRaven-like kind of smile. Genuine, happy. Free.

  She swallowed.

  His hands flattened against her back.

  “How’d you know they were here?” she asked, attempting to lessen the closeness, the intimacy.

  But being locked together, faces only inches apart, made that impossible. “They’ve been following us. I’ve been hoping to get this close for a few days, in fact.”

  Nikki smiled. “Will they stay with us the whole trip?”

  “No,” he said, and something painful entered the depths of his gaze. “Eventually they’ll go back where they came from and we’ll never see them again.”

  She realized her heart was pounding. Not just pounding, hammering, and she knew he wasn’t talking about dolphin anymore. And without as much as a warning, Nikki was sad. Because the Halflings had become such a part of her life, and one day she’d return home. The idea of never seeing them again … well, it just seemed impossible. Her arms tightened around Raven’s neck. It was an attempt, though a useless one, to hold on to what she was sure to lose.

  “Sort of makes you want to make the moment count, doesn’t it?” His eyes searched hers. “It’s different when you know you only have a short time.”

  Why, why did he have to do this? Did he want to destroy her completely? It wouldn’t be any easier for him and Mace to walk away than it would be for her. But eventually time would rip them apart; of that, she was sure.

  Neither she nor Raven had broken their gaze, and her pulse began to skitter and her throat constrict. She knew how Raven felt about her, or at least how he believed he felt. “You said you’d give me time.”

  His mouth twitched into a smile, but the sadness lingered in his eyes. “You? I wasn’t talking about you, Nikki. We were talking about the dolphins.”

  When he pumped his wings, she could feel the agitation— and the truth. But he tried to hide it, something she appreciated greatly. She was barely sorting through her feelings for Mace; she couldn’t begin to sort through the twisted emotions she had for Raven.

  “You want to pet one?”

  Without hesitation she said, “Yes!”

  He helped her readjust so she was safely against him, then gave her another fish. “Here, stand on my feet and let go of my neck.”

  She obeyed, and with a gentle wave of his wings she leaned out away from him.

  “I’ve got you, so just relax.” His hands were tight around her, fingers against her hipbones. “Hold the fish with one hand, but don’t drop it. When the dolphin comes up, raise the fish and reach to his head with your free hand.” Raven lowered them a little deeper into the water.

  “Okay,” she said on an exhale. Within a few seconds, a dolphin came up out of the blue and hovered face-to-face with her. First shock, then awe overcame her, until she remembered her instructions. Slowly, she raised the bait and reached to stroke the dolphin’s smooth skin. Finally, she dropped the fish in the dolphin’s mouth, and it made some clicking sounds then disappeared into the water. “Wow,” she said.

  A moment later, her body was resting against Raven’s. She hadn’t even noticed until she felt the muscles of his chest moving in tandem with his wings. For a moment it seemed like they were right back in the woods with the dead hell hound they’d fought, and Raven was her shelter again. Her head rested on his collarbone.

  “I lied to you, Nikki.” With his lips against her ear, there was barely any need for a voice.

  Her eyes slammed shut. She didn’t need to hear that tone, that low, honest one that he reserved for her.

  “I lied to you about your painting.”

  The broken pot. The proof she and Raven were so much alike, and the representation of the one thing that Mace could never understand.

  “Your painting doesn’t represent life draining from a broken pot. It represents hope. Even something broken can be mended.” He nuzzled deeper into her hair. “Even something broken can have the promise of a future.”

  She struggled to answer. To say something. But what? Raven had seen through all her great defenses, all her carefully constructed masks. Raven knew who she really was. And wanted her anyway.

  Mace, in contrast, saw her through rose-colored glasses, and she could never begin to live up to his expectations.

  Nikki opened her eyes. Around them rolling waves crested and fell. It would be a mistake to look at Raven, but she tilted her head, eyes trailing up until she found him.

  She saw real love reflected in the blue of his gaze. “I know you’re scared about what’s on the horizon. But I’ll be here for you.”

  It was an oath. A promise. And it broke her heart because she couldn’t promise to be with him. “Raven, I—”

  But he didn’t give her a chance to answer. Raven closed his mouth over hers in a gentle, sweeping kiss, his lips soft but hungry. His mouth lingered for only a second before he tilted back and studied her, searching for something she didn’t think she could give. Nikki was surprised to realize her hand had slipped up to rest against his throat. With her elbow bent, her fingers fluttered against the ends of his hair. Why can’t my body obey my mind around him?

  Raven dropped another kiss on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll still give you time. But I’ll also occasionally remind you.”

  “Remind me?” she echoed.

  “Yeah, remind you that with me, you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. You’re free. And the smell of freedom is good on you.”

  A sound came from the edge of the boat, and Nikki looked up. Several sets of Halfling eyes were on her and Raven. She squirmed to move away from him, but it was too late. Mace turned from the railing and disappeared.

  “Dolphin,” Glimmer said.

  A second later, Nikki heard a splash as the Halflings dropped into the water.

  Chapter 8

  The confines of the cabin had become too much, forcing Nikki to grab her blanket and leave the sleeping Halfling girls for fresh air on the deck. Four a.m. and wide awake. Great. They’d reach their destination in one more day, and still she couldn’t feel the faith ball.

  She opened the door and wind blasted her, disrespecting her personal space. It pressed against her sweatpants and T-shirt and almost ripped the blanket from her shoulders.

  Nikki offered a faint wave to Sky, who stood at the helm. He waved back but didn’t say anything, so she meandered toward the front of the ship.

  Raven was standing on the bow tossing the faith ball into the air, catching it, then tossing it again.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were taunting me.”

  He turned to face her. “I thought I smelled you.”

  “Ugh. How many times do I have to ask you to stop saying that? Besides, you’re lying.”

  He caught the faith ball and held it still. “What?”

  “You couldn’t have smelled me. I’m downwind, and with the breeze as strong as it is, there’s no way.”

  “Sensed you, then.” In the star-brightened night, his eyes sparkled like they held their own universe inside.

  “Or maybe you just heard the door shut.”

  “Maybe.”

&
nbsp; “I smelled you, though. As soon as I stepped outside, your scent came right to me.”

  His eyes narrowed playfully, but not before they flashed a moment of concern. “Really? You smelled me?”

  She rocked back on her heels, bare feet cool against the wooden deck. “Yep.”

  Raven left the ball and moved toward her. Which always made her nervous, because she never quite knew what Raven would do.

  He stopped inches from her. “What do I smell like?”

  “What? You don’t believe me?” She took a tiny step back.

  He took a step closer. “I just want to hear what you think I smell like.”

  Nikki closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath in through her nose. And with it, it seemed Raven invaded every cell of her being; a beautiful scent, an inviting scent. One part snowcapped mountains and one part black pepper. “You smell like danger, Raven. Like trouble.”

  Water hit the side of the boat in a gentle rocking motion. “What else?”

  The movement of the boat on the water and the intensity of his question—not to mention being so filled with his fragrance—made her wish she’d stayed in the cabin. The wind was colder at night, and Nikki pulled her blanket tight around her shoulders. “That’s all,” she said, and it didn’t even remotely sound like the truth.

  “What else?” Raven insisted.

  Nikki started to turn and walk away, but once again her feet wouldn’t obey her mind. She wouldn’t tell him what else he smelled like. She wouldn’t even think it again. In fact, she’d forget the sensation that accosted her, forget the one word it brought to mind. Forget that it was exactly what he'd said to her.

  “What else?” he said again.

  Freedom. Like the first rev of her motorcycle, or the wind on a summer day, rich and alive and filled with possibilities. Like rain after a long drought. It took all her strength to step past him and go to the faith ball now hovering waist high. With all her concentration, she reached for it. Nothing.

  She willed herself to concentrate yet harder. Still nothing. Her hand passed right through.

  “Do you really think that’s going to work?”

  She ignored him and went over the things Mace had taught her about faith. It’s real. It’s touchable. The ball has mass and weight. Reach out. Feel it.

  “Stop, please. It’s embarrassing.”

  Her eyes flew open in an attempt to scorch him. “Do you have a better way?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Fine. Teach me.”

  He shook his head.

  Her mouth dropped open. “You stuck-up—”

  “Watch it,” he said, holding a finger in the air.

  She swallowed her insult, and it scratched all the way down.

  “Look, it’s not that I won’t teach you. It’s that I can’t teach you.”

  Her anger searched for an outlet. “And that, Raven, is exactly why I’m wasting my time here with you.” She turned to go back to her room. At least it was quiet there.

  “No one can teach you.”

  His words stopped her mid-stride. She angled to look over her shoulder at him. “What?”

  He jerked his head, motioning her back.

  “I already regret this,” she mumbled.

  Raven tossed the ball a couple of feet into the air and caught it. “No one can teach you because you can’t learn it. You have to feel it. From within. Faith has to become a part of who you are. It’s not a separate item. It’s woven into you.” As he spoke, he moved so her back was to him. With one quick motion he stripped the blanket from her, leaving her feeling bare in spite of the sweats and T-shirt. A heartbeat later, Raven reached around her, holding the faith ball in front of them. “You can see it, right?”

  “Of course.” His arms were warm against her where they scraped her shoulders, creating a little harbor of safety against the night wind.

  “If you can see it, you can feel it. But you can’t feel it because you see it, or you’ve missed the whole point.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Put your hands on mine.”

  Nikki draped her arms over his and placed her hands on the outside of Raven’s. More warmth. More warning that this was a bad idea.

  “Now, close your eyes and tune in to the faith at your fingertips.”

  She did, and for the first time there was a fluttery sensation along her fingers. “Is that you moving?”

  “No. You feel the vibration of faith. Can you hear it?”

  The hum was louder and almost sounded in rhythm to her body, her heartbeat, her inhalations. “Yes.”

  “It’s becoming part of you.” But as she thought back on Mace’s instructions, it all started fading.

  “Don’t lose it,” Raven said, and slid his hands to the outside of hers.

  “I’m trying to hold on.”

  “You’re trying too hard. Forget what you’ve learned! It’s about the heart. You can’t learn it with head knowledge. It’s heart knowledge.”

  The hum returned, the sensation quickened. “Okay, it’s back.”

  “Now put your hands out and close your eyes.”

  Reluctant to let go of the ball, she released it on one side and held out a flattened hand, then repeated with the other.

  A slight movement, then Raven asked, “Which hand is it in?”

  She could feel the vibration and weight in her left hand. Her eyes opened. “My left!”

  “Close your eyes!” Raven demanded and placed the ball in her right. He repeated the action several more times, each correct answer building her faith a little more. “Now, toss it into the air.”

  Eyes still closed, Nikki obeyed. She felt the weight of the ball leave her hand for a few seconds, then smack. It was right back in her palm again. “I did it!”

  Raven’s smile was broad and genuine—her personal smile. “You did. Do it again.”

  This time Nikki left her eyes open and watched as the silvery-blue globe sailed into the air and dropped into her hand. “So, none of that stuff Mace was teaching me mattered?”

  Raven nodded toward the ball. “Did you learn it from him teaching you?”

  “No.”

  “Then it didn’t matter.”

  She tossed the ball again. “Thanks, Raven.”

  “Any time.”

  Raven didn’t fight the grin that stayed plastered on his face as he watched her walk to the door that led back to her cabin. Turn around, he urged. She reached for the door handle. But before slipping inside, she cast a long look over her shoulder.

  Oh yeah. His heart thumped.

  Her long, dark hair flew in all directions compliments of the wind. Gone were those shadowy, hollow places under her eyes that had been there since she’d gotten the news about her mom and dad. And there was a lightness to her, because tonight he’d given her something no one else—including Mace—was able to give her.

  “What are you doing?”

  Rarely did anyone sneak up on Raven. But he’d been preoccupied with Nikki and let his defenses down. He turned toward the voice but said nothing.

  Winter stepped out of the shadows to the right of the ship’s bow. Dressed in a long, flowing black garment, she resembled a gothic witch, especially with her dark, swirling hair and pale skin. “What are you doing, Raven?” She repeated the words softly, but there was a distinct bite to her tone.

  One he didn’t appreciate. “Not much. You?”

  She exhaled and looked back to the door Nikki’d disappeared behind. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

  “What?” She was really starting to irritate him. “Nikki. You let her think her faith made the ball touchable.”

  “But she was finally able to touch it, wasn’t she? So what does it matter?”

  Winter tossed her head, sending hair over her shoulder. Trapped in the light of the moon and a billion stars, she looked … pretty. The breeze caused her long gown to cling to her legs. Red-polished toes peeked from the hem. His gaze returned to her face and found a frown.<
br />
  “It matters because you can’t borrow faith. You have to find it in yourself.”

  “Really? Thanks for the lesson.” He turned away from her and leaned against the railing. “Why are you even out here in the middle of the night?”

  She moved beside him and leaned too, mimicking his posture. “I heard Nikki get up, and I’ve been worried about her. Plus, I’m a light sleeper.”

  As she spoke, Raven couldn’t stop himself from looking at her. In the planes of her face, in the gentle edge of her eyes, pain long forgotten—or pushed away—lingered. He wondered how old Winter was, and why her skin felt like ice. She seemed older than the other females, but he knew next to nothing about her. What are you hiding? Most guys would coax her into a conversation slowly. Which might be a good idea, because suddenly he felt like he needed to know more about this girl. “So,” he began. Choose your words carefully. “What’s up with you? Are you, like, really old or something?”

  Winter's eyes widened and angled to stare at him. Her mouth was open slightly, but no words came from it.

  Way to go with the slow and subtle approach. He shrugged. “You don’t look old or anything, but you don’t carry yourself like a teenage girl.”

  Her lips came together and she ever so slowly turned back toward the water.

  Raven took a deep breath. “Sometimes, admissions are hidden in words. ‘I’m a light sleeper.’ That’s all you said, but your eyes told a different story. Maybe something happened that’s hurtful, but it happened so long ago you didn’t think you’d need to hide the pain anymore.”

  Winter gazed out at the night, but her shoulders dropped marginally, telling him he’d struck a nerve.

  He shrugged. “Maybe you didn’t even think it hurt anymore.”

  Still silence.

  Raven dropped into silence too.

  “I was … captured once.” Her voice was steady but low. “Tortured. For days. Maybe weeks. It was a very long time ago. I’ve had a hard time getting used to sleeping belowdecks.”

  “The small, confined space?”

  “Yes. And the smell of wood. Or oil.” Winter shook her head, and her long hair fanned around her like darkened smoke. “I don’t know. It’s something in the room, I guess. I never sleep much, but it’s been worse on the boat.”