Jenny didn’t know what to say. Chicago. He had been in Chicago. New York. On land while she lived at sea.
“You’re so quiet,” Perrin said. “Does it bother you? The way I’ve lived?”
“Of course not,” she replied. “I just wish . . .”
I wish I had known where you were. Maybe if I had asked for help, talked to someone in my family, trusted them enough to use those damned psychic gifts . . . I had your scale, I had something they could have used to track you . . .
No. Too late. She had made her choice.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry we didn’t find each other.”
Perrin was silent a long time. “Did you ever tell anyone about that morning on the beach?”
“What was there to tell? That I found a merman when I was a kid, and couldn’t stop him from being dragged into the ocean by his tail?” Jenny shook her head, feeling bitter. “I never breathed a word of what happened that day. To anyone.”
“But the pieces have still fallen back together. You and me,” he murmured, his large hands closing around her wrists, comforting and strong. His breath was warm against her hair, and if she turned her head, just so, if she let herself, if she dared—
She did. And brushed her lips against his cheek.
Just a simple touch. Hardly anything to it. But heat swelled, flowing from her throat into her stomach—making her ache in body and heart. The heartache was worse. She didn’t know what she was doing here—not what was happening to her and not how she could control it. Make it safe.
Nothing is safe. Nothing. You know that. You’re a big girl, and you have what you always wanted. Don’t be an idiot. Grab it. Take it. Don’t look back. Bear what comes. You’re good at that, Jenny-girl. You’re good at rolling with the punches.
Take it.
Jenny reached up and grabbed a fistful of Perrin’s long hair. Silken, shimmering silver in her hands. He stilled, but when she tugged, ever so gently, he dipped his head and kissed her mouth. Soft, careful, painfully tender.
Jenny pulled away, though it hurt to do so.
“Why?” she asked him, finding it hard to breathe. “Why the dreams? Why this, now?”
His fingers drifted up her hair, to her cheek, grazing her skin and leaving a trail of heat. “Something happened that day on the beach. Something very rare. I should have realized, but I never did until now. We were bonded, Jenny.”
“Bonded,” she echoed.
Something lost, haunted, filled his gaze. “I don’t know how it happened, I promise you that. Mind to mind—”
“A telepathic link,” she interrupted. “My grandparents have one of those. Always in each other’s heads.”
Perrin hesitated. “You have lived a strange life.”
Jenny poked his knee. “Tell me about this bond.”
“I don’t know much,” he said, capturing her hand. “But what I do know is that it runs deep. It’s different for each pair. And it’s almost never formed between a human and Krackeni.”
“Almost never.”
“I know of only one who would admit it, and he’s half-human himself. We’re not supposed to mix, though it happens.”
“I don’t even know what’s happening with us,” she muttered. “I looked for you, Perrin, all my life. I was obsessed. Are you telling me it was because I didn’t have a choice?”
“There’s no mind control involved. There’s always a choice. But the bond would have kept me in your thoughts.”
Jenny begged to differ about the mind control. She was being controlled quite a lot, it seemed. But the parasite, she had to concede, had nothing to do with being a twelve-year-old girl who had sat every day on a beach, waiting for a boy to come swimming from the sea. It had nothing to do with the woman that girl had become, a woman who couldn’t stare at the sea without seeing silver hair and pale eyes.
The parasite had nothing to do with dreams. Nothing to do with anything but trying to drown her and speak riddles inside her head.
Jenny sat up straighter, hoping he would look down and somehow see through her tangled matted hair to the growing lump at the base of her skull.
Look, she thought, fighting her arms that refused to move. Look down, look, touch me there–
“What did you think would happen if you found me?” Perrin asked suddenly, quietly. Jenny wanted to hug her knees to her chest. Like a child again, lost.
“Not this. It doesn’t matter, I guess.”
“It matters.”
“I was a kid,” she said. “A stupid kid. I imagined—”
Jenny couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell him that she had imagined that he would hold her hand, like he did in those dreams, and sit with her, and just be with her. That he would be hers.
“So we’re . . . bonded,” she whispered instead, unsure what that even meant or how she felt; a little scared, a little trapped. “We’re inside each other’s heads. That’s why we shared those dreams.”
“It’s more than that,” he replied, with obvious reluctance. “Each bond might be different, but some elements are consistent. The longer we’re together, the more . . . attuned we’ll become to one another. The harder it will be for us to be apart. Until we won’t be able to be apart.”
The dog perked its ears, staring at Perrin. Jenny did the same. “What happens if we are?”
Perrin ducked his head. “What would happen if one of your grandparents died?”
Something cold slithered down her spine, and she thought about her grandmother and grandfather, how close they were, how comfortable. How they depended on each other. It had never been a weakness, but a strength, between them. Beautiful, impossible strength.
“The other would follow,” she said.
Perrin nodded, still not looking at her. Gently, carefully, he pushed away and stood. She let him, watching in silence as he walked to the door, out into the night. His absence made her cold, and she stared after him, even when he disappeared from sight, searching herself for evidence of that bond. Like it should be lit up in neon, or something.
All she felt was a hunger to be near him. That was all. An ache in her chest. She didn’t feel empty, or less like herself. She was still Jenny. But Jenny wanted to be near Perrin.
She wished she knew if that was all her, or the parasite. The parasite, or something else. She didn’t want to be controlled by a bond that she didn’t understand. If she was going to want a man, it had to be because she really wanted him.
And don’t you want him?
Simple question. Simple answer. Jenny had always wanted to be near Perrin, ever since seeing him for the first and last time on that beach.
If anything was true, it was that. She’d tried her best to live a normal life around that need, but it had always been there, in the depths of her heart. And after her carefully constructed life had fallen apart. . .
The dog pawed her thigh. She hugged the sleek, wriggling body close to her side, ignoring its wet nose against her hand.
“Good boy,” she whispered absently.
Jenny went outside, swaying on weak legs. Afraid of what her reaction would be, looking at the sea. She felt nothing, though. No twitch in the parasite. No desire to drown herself.
Perrin stood at the rail, staring at the ocean. Stars glittered, tangled, wild in the sky. A breeze lifted his hair, winding it around his shoulders and throat.
Magic. Flesh and blood. She had seen him as a boy, a creature out of legend. But here, he was a man. Not a human man, but a man all the same.
She joined him. “How do you feel about this?”
“I’m afraid for you,” he said quietly. “The sooner we separate, the safer you could be. The bond might not have had time to settle fully. But being apart . . . that has risks, too.”
“I’d rather sta
y with you,” she told him, without thinking. But it was the truth. Not a compulsion, not some strange force making her mouth move against her will.
I want to stay with you, she thought, riding on a wave of need born from some place so deep inside her she couldn’t begin to describe it. If this was the bond talking, then what the hell. She wasn’t like her family, who could read minds and emotions. All she had were her normal human senses—and gut instinct.
And her gut was saying, Yes.
Perrin gave her a haunted look. “You don’t understand, Jenny. There’s no win in this.”
“I found the boy on the beach,” she heard herself say, as though listening from very far away. “I call that a win. I’m still breathing,” she added. “So are you. Big damn wins. Miracles, even. What more do you want?”
“You, alive,” he whispered. “Long after I’m dead.”
Jenny stared, wondering how one person could make her feel love and heartbreak, and anger—all at the same time.
Behind them the dog growled.
They turned. Nothing was there; but the dog stood stiffly, legs braced, staring at the sea. That low growl turned into a snarl that made her cold, and afraid.
“Get inside,” Perrin said urgently. “Hurry.”
“What is it?” Jenny asked him, but something hard hit her head, and she dropped, stunned. She couldn’t even react when Perrin grabbed the back of her shirt and shorts and began dragging her from the rail. She tried to help him, but her feet wouldn’t work. Her head throbbed.
Perrin grunted, and she landed hard on the deck again, just inches from the open door. The dog danced around her, whining and growling. It nipped her ear, then grabbed her shirt, tugging. Jenny rolled sideways, searching for Perrin.
She found him beside her, on his stomach. He was trying to push himself up, grunting with pain. A spear quivered from his back. Slender, pale as bone.
A guttural, strangled sound left her throat, threatening to become something hysterical. Jenny clamped it down and pushed past weakness, pain. Perrin was so close, but it seemed to take forever just to grab his hand.
He turned his head, blinking at her. Dull eyes. Half-lidded. Not just with pain, she realized.
“Get out of sight,” he said, words slurred, thick. “I’m the one they want.”
Jenny gritted her teeth and yanked the spear from his back. Perrin cried out.
“Come on,” she muttered, trying to stand. Her fingers latched on to his hair, then his wrist. “Move it.”
Perrin tried to help her, but whatever poison had been in the spear was fast-acting, and there was no way she could drag a man his size. Not when she could barely stand.
Jenny was still on her knees when a large foot slammed down on Perrin’s back, pushing him down. Seawater dripped from pale skin. She stared for one moment, stunned—but the spear was beside her, and she grabbed it without thinking. Jenny stabbed the sharpened point down into that foot.
She heard a roar but didn’t look. Just moved, fast. Maurice—and later, the shape-shifter, Serena—had taught her that much. Never stay in one place during a fight.
But that didn’t stop the panic or bad memories. A flashback hit her—gunfire, screams, a fiery pain in her belly—and then she was back again, scrabbling across the deck on all fours. Perrin was trying to stand. He met her gaze, and his eyes were clearer, stronger.
Someone grabbed her throat, fingers digging in with choking strength. Her assailant was crouched behind her, breath hot against her ear. She fought but had no leverage. Her feet kicked uselessly against the deck. Perrin screamed her name.
The dog snarled, rushing past her in a blur of dark fur. All that hot breath puffed into a muffled shout, and the fingers loosened. Jenny twisted with all her strength, rolling on her back—
—and a knee planted itself hard on her chest, pushing out the rest of the air in her lungs.
A sharp word bit the air. The hands around her throat disappeared entirely. Jenny fought to breathe, vision blurred.
Everything was suddenly so quiet, broken only by dripping sounds.
She tilted her head, trying to see Perrin. All she found were feet, but her gaze traveled up naked bodies, male and female—stone daggers tied to forearms, long silver hair knotted with shells, bone. Braided belts clung to muscular waists. Pale eyes glittered. Jenny felt properly intimidated.
“Jenny,” whispered a deep voice.
She stiffened, looking sharply at the man holding her down.
It was Les. Naked, wet. Sporting a swollen, broken nose. For some reason Jenny thought he should look different now—sinister, maybe, or with a sign on his forehead, spelling out E-V-I-L.
But he didn’t, he was just as she remembered—good old Les—and that frightened her almost as much as the danger she was so obviously in.
His gaze was hard, but the corner of his mouth softened into a grim, sad smile.
“Hey,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Jenny.
A surging roar filled Perrin’s chest, as though his heart was trying to devour itself. The hole in the base of his skull throbbed, but not with pain—just heat, a terrible burning heat like fire had settled there, wild and heavy.
The poison in his blood was just as heavy, but it wasn’t lethal. Even if it had been, Perrin would have kept fighting. He had lost sight of Jenny but could hear A’lesander. Rage filled him. White-hot.
One of the Krackeni hunters tried to kick him. He grabbed the male’s foot and twisted hard. He got hit again, low in the back, but the pain was nothing. Perrin snarled, rolling sideways, grabbing up the discarded spear that Jenny had used to stab one of the hunters. The tip was poisoned with a paralytic. Perrin didn’t know why it hadn’t stopped him entirely, as it had the other hunter—who was sprawled in a heap, eyes open and staring.
Perrin staggered to his feet, swaying. A full pod of hunters surrounded him, three on each side, staring with their pale, unforgiving eyes. Such disdain in their faces, a terrible coldness. He didn’t recognize them, but he didn’t need to. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He’d had years to overcome the old hurt, but it was still there, he discovered. Sleeping behind his heart.
He saw A’lesander kneeling on Jenny’s chest. Another hunter stood beside him, pale leg bleeding. The dog lay nearby, crumpled and panting.
“Get off her,” Perrin snarled, wondering why the others had stopped coming at him. They stood too still, as though waiting for something.
Or someone.
“You have no power here,” said a low voice, behind him.
Perrin’s gut crunched into a hard ball. He turned, watching as a giant ascended the yacht ladder, dripping seawater. He wore no decoration. Carried no weapons. His hair was long and silver, and deep lines creased his face. His muscles were still taut, though, and strong. He wore his age well.
“Father,” Perrin whispered, unable to put any strength in his voice.
Father. Turon O’doro. Eight years had done little to dull the sharp stab of heartbreak that traveled through Perrin when he looked into his father’s eyes. He was little again, under that gaze. Just a boy. A boy, searching for some measure of compassion, anything in his father’s eyes that might indicate even the faintest of small pleasures at seeing him again.
He found nothing.
But he heard Jenny breathing behind him. She made everything colder, sharper. He wasn’t alone now. It wasn’t just his survival that mattered.
Prison yard, Perrin told himself. Live or die.
“I thought you would be dead,” said his father, with a particular emptiness in his voice.
Perrin hoped his expression did not change. “If you wanted to be certain, you should have taken my life yourself.”
Turon’s jaw tightened—and his gaze flicked past him. Perrin resisted t
he urge to block his view of Jenny. It would do no good and only bring more attention to her.
A frown touched his father’s mouth. “Strange reward.”
“But mine. As agreed,” A’lesander said. Perrin whirled. His old friend was standing, holding Jenny by the arm. She was leaning away from him, her gaze intense, flickering from A’lesander to Perrin, settling on Turon with a sharpness that he hoped his father did not notice.
But it was the possessiveness of A’lesander’s grip that concerned him most.
“No,” Perrin said. “No.”
“She was mine before you met her,” A’lesander replied, switching to English. Perrin hadn’t even realized they had been speaking the Krackeni native tongue. He’d fallen into it so naturally. “I won’t let her suffer for your exile. I’ll take her from here. I’ll protect her, like I’d always planned to.”
Jenny tried to twist out of his grip. “Like you protected me before? Fuck you, Les.”
A terrible helplessness stole over Perrin. He felt his father watching, but this was something he could not hide. He wasn’t strong enough.
Live or die.
Perrin tried to move toward her, but the hunters barred his way. He was bigger than them, but he did not fight. All he could do was stare at Jenny, watching as some awful realization crossed her face.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered. “I don’t know what this is, but don’t you—”
“Enough,” snapped Turon, his voice clicking out the melodic tones of the Krackeni language. “You are still under exile, A’lesander, and will be punished for your trespass into our territory. You did us a service, however, by finding Pelena’s murderer. Take the human and go. What little good it will do you.”
Perrin snapped around to stare at his father. “I did not kill Pelena.”
In the Dark of Dreams Page 25