Dion turned an irritated look on his mate. Their gazes locked, the two of them communing through their bond—not in words, but in some deeper way that only mated pairs could.
Alesia touched Rosana’s back. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”
Rosana sent her a guilty glance. The dryad was a solitary fae, more comfortable with plants than people, and she hated arguments.
“Desculpe-me,” she muttered, and took a breath. Tiago’s mate had that effect on people. Half-wild with an elfin face and mass of sun-streaked brown curls, the dryad radiated an earth-mama calm.
“Talk to them,” Alesia added. “Please? Because they’ll listen to you. Right, Tiago?” She reached across Rosana to squeeze his hand.
“Sim, sim,” he grumbled.
Rosana took another breath. Alesia was right. If she wanted Dion and Tiago to see her as an adult, then she had to show them she was calm. Mature.
And able to run her own fucking life.
Dion fingered a lock of his mate’s sun-colored hair. “I’m her alpha,” he told Cleia. “If I say she stays, then she stays.”
“Of course,” the queen agreed. “But it’s just one day. And Rosana’s a smart, capable woman. She’s not a child anymore.”
Dion shook his head.
Rosana gritted her teeth and helped herself to a slice of the thick peasant bread. She drizzled olive oil on it and tore off a piece to eat.
Calm. Mature. In control.
“I did you the courtesy of informing you where I’ll be,” she said. “But I’m not asking your permission. I’m an adult now. I don’t need the alpha’s okay to leave the base, as long as I fulfil my duties to the clan.”
“Try it,” Tiago invited, “and you’ll find yourself with two bodyguards on your ass everywhere you go.”
“Since when did you become my dad?” she snarled back. She’d expected better of him. Just five years older than her, they’d once been partners-in-crime, united against Isa and their three much older brothers when it came to childish pranks.
Dion raised a staying hand. “I just don’t understand why you have to go alone.”
“I’m twenty-two turns of the sun. When Tiago was my age, did you make him take a babysitter every time he left the base?”
“Of course not. He’s a man.”
Across the table, Cleia winced.
Rosana flung up her hands. “So this is because I’m a female? I made warrior with the rest of my cohort. You trained me yourself.”
“No. Yes.” Dion shook his head. “It’s just…” He muttered a curse, then shot a contrite look at a wide-eyed Brisa. “If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
“For Deus’s sake, I’m going to the beach, not a war zone.”
“There are people out there who would love to get at me through you.”
“Like Adric,” Tiago muttered.
Rosana stopped tearing her bread into pieces and reached for her orange juice.
Calm, controlled.
She itched to defend Adric, but her brothers weren’t stupid. It wouldn’t take much for them to connect her conversation with him last night with this sudden desire to go away on her own.
Cleia set a hand on Dion’s arm. “I can give her a protection charm. One that will deflect both physical and magical attacks.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. When he’d mated with the powerful fae queen, he’d made it clear she wasn’t to interfere in his governing of Rock Run, however well-meaning. He hated asking her for anything. But to Dion, family was everything.
“Bom,” he agreed. “But only if you wear the charm all the time. And one day only, understand? I want you back here by tomorrow night.”
Rosana shot Cleia a grateful look. “Sure,” she said calmly, while inside, she was doing a full-out happy dance. “I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“You’d better be,” he returned, but his lips curved in a reluctant smile.
Cleia rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back with that charm.”
The air around her brightened and contorted so that it hurt your eyes to look straight at her. When Rosana glanced back, she’d ’ported out of the hall.
Brisa removed the chunk of bread she was gnawing on from her mouth and waved it at the spot where Cleia had just been. “Mama?” Her small brow knit uncertainly.
“She’ll be right back.” Dion set a cup of apple juice to her lips. “Here, drink.”
Brisa took a sip and then wriggled off his lap to make her way around the table to Alesia and Rosana, one hand on the bench for balance. When she reached Alesia, she handed her the half-eaten piece of bread.
“Here, Tia Yesa.”
“Thank you.” The dryad gravely accepted it and set it on her plate. “I’ll just keep it for you in case you want it back.”
“Okay.” Brisa continued to Rosana. “Up, Tia Wosa.” She lifted her arms.
Rosa swung her up. “Well, hello, there.”
Children were the one group she wasn’t afraid to touch. She might get a glimpse of a possible future, but their lives had so many possibilities that it was like looking down a hall with a thousand doors.
“What’s under here? A belly button?” She lifted her niece’s striped skirt to blow on her stomach.
Brisa chortled with glee. Then Alesia tickled one of her tiny pointed ears, and she giggled even harder.
Cleia ‘ported back with the charm, a silver Celtic knot inscribed on a plump heart. “It’s not one-hundred-percent foolproof,” she warned as she clasped the delicate chain around Rosana’s left wrist. “But it should at least buy you time to get away.”
“I love it.” Rosana turned her wrist from side to side, admiring the shiny charm. She beamed at Cleia. “It’s beautiful—thank you.”
“What if she has to shift?” asked Dion.
His mate’s smile was smug. “I’ve had my people working on that. This is a new design that will magically adjust and attach itself to her tail fluke.”
“No kidding? We may have to buy some of those from you.”
“You know I’d give them to you for free.”
“But we’ll pay the same price as anyone else,” Dion returned.
Cleia sighed. “Pigheaded, that’s you.” But her eyes laughed at him as she reached for Brisa and set her on her hip.
“Come here, you.” Dion pulled the two of them down on his lap and gave her a hard kiss, while Brisa flung pudgy arms around both their necks.
Cleia nuzzled Dion’s cheek contentedly. She wore a yellow top and a short pleated pink skirt the same colors as Brisa’s stripes. The two of them could have posed for a mother-daughter photo in a fancy human catalog. Once, Rosana might’ve rolled her eyes at their matching outfits. But Cleia had waited a long time to have Brisa, and the look she turned on her daughter was so loving that instead, Rosana’s heart constricted.
She dimly recalled her Irish mom looking at her like that. Before that summer when her parents had left—and never returned.
They’re alive. That’s something.
For a long time, they hadn’t known if Ula and Nisio were alive or dead, although they’d suspected King Sindre of the ice fae was behind their disappearance. Then their brother Nic had confirmed it, but it was Adric’s sister Marjani who, on a mission to Iceland, had seen them at the ice fae court. Ula and Nisio were under a geas that bound them to Sindre himself.
But Rosana still couldn’t see them, because apparently each time Dion or any of the do Rio brothers had come to court asking about Ula and Nisio, the king had punished their parents.
Rosana’s throat worked.
She was lucky and she knew it. She’d had a brother who’d stepped in as a father, Isa to mother her, Tiago as a playmate. And then later, there’d been Cleia and now Alesia and little Brisa.
Ula and Nisio had never even seen their granddaughter.
But that didn’t mean Rosana didn’t feel an emptiness, a ragged hole in her soul that no one else could fill.
She
rose to her feet. “I’d better get going.”
Cleia smiled up at Rosana. “Have a good time, darling.”
Their eyes met, and Rosana knew that the sun fae had guessed exactly where Rosana was going and with whom. But she also knew Cleia wouldn’t tell Dion unless absolutely necessary.
“Thanks, I will.” She blew a kiss at her niece, who puckered her small mouth back, and then strolled out of the dining hall.
Not hurrying, because that would make her brothers suspicious.
She waited until she was out of sight to speed up.
Back in her room, Rosana threw off her clothes. Fortunately, Isa had already left for the creche. Although officially retired, the former nurse still helped with the pups most mornings. With her round, comfortable body and graying hair, Isa might look like everyone’s idea of a grandma, but she was nobody’s fool.
Rosana shimmied into an ivory chemise and matching boy shorts, a birthday gift from Cleia. Soft and silky, the fae-made fabric magically molded itself to her body. Next were a black Henley, skinny jeans and the red kitten-heel boots, another gift from Cleia. She donned the matching leather jacket and headed to the clan garage.
The good news? There was a car available. The purple sportbike was too noticeable, and besides, she didn’t want to leave it overnight at a busy rest area.
The bad news? The car was in for an oil change and wouldn’t be ready for an hour.
By the time Rosana drove out of the garage, it was nearly noon, and she had no way to contact Adric, because she didn’t have a cell phone. No one in the clan did. Something about a water fada’s physiology shorted out small electronics.
He’ll wait, she told herself as she raced the twenty minutes south to the rest area.
But she didn’t relax until she saw him standing next to a sporty blue Mazda in a T-shirt, black jeans and combat boots, scanning the incoming cars. Their gazes met. His shoulders eased, and he gave her his trademark cocky smile.
But she’d seen that tense expression. He’d been worried she wouldn’t show. She smiled to herself and pulled into a nearby parking space. Adric was right there, opening the door for her.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You’re here.” He stopped her apology with a kiss. “That’s all that matters. This all you brought?”
He reached for her canvas overnight bag while she locked the car.
“That’s it.”
He set a hand on the small of her back and steered her to the Mazda. She dragged in a breath, released it.
“Trouble getting away?” His smile was knowing.
She lifted her chin. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Good.” He dragged her to him for an open-mouth kiss, and while she was still catching her breath, helped her into his car.
He drove one-handed, wending his way through the Sunday afternoon traffic with ease. His mustard-colored T-shirt clung lovingly to hard, rounded deltoids. His forearms were dusted with soft dark hair, his hands strong, capable.
Anticipation churned in her. Those hands would be on her in just a couple of hours, and she could hardly wait.
But her stomach was jumping with nerves.
Her first time with a man. And she had the added worry of wondering if sex would set off her Gift.
Because sex was the most intimate touch there was.
She stared down at her gloved hands.
Adric reached across the console to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek. A soft touch that shuddered through her like a promise.
She swallowed hard. You want this, she reminded herself.
Because she did want it, bad. If she had a vision, well, Adric would just have to deal with it.
She stripped off her gloves and shoved them into a pocket.
“Do you know Lewes?” he asked.
“Yeah. I go there with my—” She stopped, bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to bring up Dion and Tiago. Adric didn’t like her brothers any more than they liked him.
“So you like it?” Adric prompted as if he didn’t know why she’d halted.
She nodded. “It’s a pretty little town. But we go to swim in the ocean. Delaware has some of the cleanest beaches on the East Coast.”
Some of her best memories were going to Lewes with her brothers and spending a few days cruising as their dolphins off the coast, following the currents and snacking on fish.
Adric took her bare hand, the one with the protection charm, and lifted it to his lips. “I like the beach this time of year. It’s cold, but there’s almost no one else out. You have it all to yourself.”
She smiled at him. She hadn’t expected tenderness, not from the hard-ass Baltimore alpha. But his lips were warm and soft as he pressed them to her skin, and his smile had a sweet, almost tentative edge.
He set her hand on his leg but kept hold of it. She tensed, but her Gift was quiet. Maybe, just maybe, she could get through the next twenty-four hours without freaking Adric out by going full Seer-mode on him.
Anticipation buzzed in her veins. She pressed her inner thighs together and concentrated on keeping her breathing even. But Adric was a fada. He could scent her arousal, spicing the small space.
His lips curved in a slow grin.
There. That was the Adric she knew. Sexy with an edge.
The kind of man your brothers warned you about—which only made you want him more.
She grinned back at him.
He responded with a hum that was almost a purr and released her to whip the little car around a semi.
Traffic was light. It wasn’t long until they entered Delaware and turned south toward the beach. Adric fiddled with the radio while the flat terrain unspooled on either side of them, winter fields of tattered cornstalks and soybeans interspersed with shiny-new housing developments.
As they entered Lewes, the billboards and pizza places gave way to charming wood-shingled homes and hip little shops and restaurants. Crepe myrtle, bare for the winter, arched cinnamon-colored branches in front of painted Victorians with lacy trim. In the summer, she knew, the tiny yards would overflow with flowers and pots of fragrant herbs.
They took the drawbridge over the Lewes and Rehoboth Canal. The B&B was between the canal and the Delaware Bay. Three stories high and painted an eye-popping turquoise, blue and peach, it was as if a piece of Key West had levitated and flown north to Delaware.
Rosana slung her canvas bag over a shoulder while Adric took a leather jacket and a duffel bag from the backseat. The building was on stilts to protect against flooding. To reach the front door, they passed beneath an overhang guarded by a busty carved figurehead like the kind you saw on the prow of a ship, and wound their way through three kayaks, two surfboards and a stand of rusting beach bikes.
Inside, Adric led the way up a stairwell crammed with quirky art—an outsized pig in a red tutu, the head of a laughing cow, a seductive mermaid. They found the proprietor on the second floor in a small, open office, feet propped on his desk, watching a video on his computer.
He came unhurriedly to his feet. Solidly built with salt-and-pepper hair, he was dressed in pink board shorts and flip-flops despite the near-freezing temperature outside.
“Lord Adric,” he said with an easy smile. “You’re right on time. The room’s all ready.”
Adric inclined his head. “Mark. Peace to you and yours.”
“And to you and yours.” Mark turned his smile on Rosana. “Welcome to Lewes,” he said as he took Adric’s cash and noted something on the computer.
She smiled back. “Thank you. And peace to you.”
“You’ve got the Hemingway Suite. Right down that hall.” The innkeeper indicated the hallway to the left as he handed Adric the key. “There’s only one other couple staying the night, and they’re on the third floor. Other than me, you have the second floor to yourself.”
Adric thanked him and, taking Rosana’s hand, led the way down the hall to their room.
&nb
sp; “He doesn’t mind us being fada?” she murmured. Humans tended to be wary around shapeshifters, especially dominant ones like Adric.
“Nah. He says my money’s as good as anyone’s. I don’t bother him and he doesn’t bother me.”
“So you’ve stayed here before.”
“A couple of times. I mind my business, and he does the same.”
Rosana quelled a twist of jealousy.
Who? she wanted to ask. Who did you bring those other times?
But she refused to go down that road. She’d known when she walked into the bar last night that Adric wasn’t celibate.
Unlike her.
The Hemingway Suite was dominated by a king-sized bed covered with fake leopard-skin and flanked by two rattan lounge chairs. A photo of Ernest Hemingway presided over a hutch filled with copies of the author’s books and an old-fashioned typewriter, and the sliding glass door was covered with blinds made of wood slats.
“Nice.” Rosana set her bag on one of the rattan chairs and hung her leather jacket on a hook near the door. “I’m impressed.”
She crossed the room, trying not to stare at the huge bed, to open the blinds on the sliding glass doors. Outside, a small terrace ran the length of the room, with steps leading down to a grassy strip behind the B&B.
“And private.” Adric dropped his duffel bag by the door and hung his jacket next to hers.
She turned to face him. Picturing why they might need privacy made her shove her hands into her back pockets, and then take them out again.
Relax, damn it. You want this, remember?
Adric leaned against the door on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, a small smile on his face. “Want a drink? Mark keeps wine and beer for the guests in the breakfast room.”
“Water’s good for now.”
He nodded, and going to the small refrigerator near the door, removed two plastic bottles and held one out to her.
“Thanks.” She forced her feet to unscrew from the floor. She took the bottle and gulped water, avoiding his eyes.
“Rosana.”
She jerked her gaze to him. “Yeah?”
“It’s okay.” He set his water on an end table. “There’s no rush.”
“There isn’t?” Oh, she was being such an idiot about this. But her insides were a big knot of tension.
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