Bay of Sighs (23 page)

Sawyer plucked his guns out of the air, examined them, holstered them. “That'll be in, what, under thirty-two hours now.”

“Less, I think—feel,” Sasha added as Doyle sheathed his sword. “Less than that. They move in the dark tonight, the mother of lies and her pet. And tomorrow comes the blood. Blood in the water, and the death of men. And one of ours, one of ours, if the choice is wrong. I can't see who. I can't . . . It's murky. And so clouded with pain, and fear.”

“Easy now.” Bran drew her in. “You reach too far.”

“What good is it if I can't
see
?”

“You've seen it's tomorrow.” Doyle hefted his crossbow. “And we'll be ready for it.”

H
e woke with her curled around him, so he drew in the scent of her hair, her skin with every breath.

The coming day, and all it held, was now just a subtle lessening of the dark. So he indulged himself, let himself just be. Breathing her in while his fingers tangled in the dark silk ropes of her hair, while her heart beat, slow and steady at rest, against his.

He could imagine this, waking like this, morning after morning as his life spun out into weeks and months and years. He knew all about time, what it gave, what it took, what it offered. If he could, he would have used his gift, his legacy, for time and space to take them somewhere else, some time else, where they could have this together, as long as they lived.

But they'd both sworn an oath. He knew time, he knew distance. And he knew duty. The compass he carried wasn't a toy, it wasn't simply a tool. It was, would always be, a responsibility.

He accepted it, and all that went with it.

And she, he knew, accepted her own duty, the responsibility that came with her gift. When her time ended—it was always about time—
she would have no choice but to go back to her world, her people, and live her life where he couldn't follow.

He didn't want to love her, didn't want to feel as if he always had, always would. But she'd twined around his heart just as she did his body.

Would time, he wondered, ease the heartbreak he knew would come? He didn't need Sasha's sight to tell him he'd never forget Annika, would long for her and what might have been as long as he drew breath.

Yet what they worked for, fought for, what each one of them would die for, was so much more than one man's wounded heart.

They had time, he reminded himself. They had today, tomorrow, and the weeks to come. He shouldn't waste that precious time mourning the future.

He brushed his lips over her temple, drew her in a little closer. She moved against him, just a lazy slide of skin against skin. It simply lit him up, from his heart out.

Though the dawn had yet to break, the morning birds yet to sing, he saw her smile as she tipped her head back.

“Good morning. It's a very good morning when I wake with your arms around me. Did you rest well?”

“Yeah. You're restful, Anni.”

“I like to be quiet with you like this, before the sky wakes. Before Doyle wakes,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “and everything is loud and fast. I can make you coffee.”

“No. You should stay right here.” Now he touched his lips lightly to hers, felt hers curve.

“You want to wake with sex.” Running a hand down his flank, she wiggled closer. “Your penis is already awake.”

She made him love and laugh and long, so he found it impossible to separate one reaction from the other.

“I want you, Annika.” He kissed her again, soft and slow. “Do you want?”

“When you kiss me, when I feel your body against mine, I'm filled with want. Take my want, Sawyer, and I'll take yours.”

So simple, he thought, and so complete. He sank them both into the kiss, felt that even dawn held its breath to give them this time. This precious time.

Gently, his hands moved over her gently, so he could savor every inch. The soft skin, the subtle curves, the long lines of torso and miraculous legs. Tenderly, his lips followed. Taking her want, he thought, giving her his.

She offered, accepted. Turning to him, melting against him as if everything she was had been waiting only for him.

Every move, every shift, every touch pulsed under his skin. Warmth and light and beauty that captured his heart like cupped hands.

Her breath merging with his in a soul-deep kiss. Her breast, perfect in his hand. Her hips rising up as he glided her over the first peak. In that moment, that hushed moment between the dark and the light, she was, would be, his only and his all.

“Annika.” Overwhelmed, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “I need you.”

His words shimmered through her. She knew poetry, and song and story. But no words she knew had ever moved her so deeply. To be needed by him lifted her heart, sent it soaring. Even as tears blurred her eyes, she laid her hands on his cheeks, lifted his face so she could look at him.

“I would give you all you need. Be one with me, before the sun comes. Before the sun,” she said again, and arched up in welcome.

And if she wept as they moved together, she could tell herself it was only from joy, only from beauty. Only from knowing he needed her.

S
he took the joy with her, through the push-ups and lunges, through breakfast.

She kept it clutched tight when Sawyer brought the recorder out to the table.

“It may not sit well after a meal, but everybody should hear this.”

“Another meet?”

“In a way,” he told Riley. “From the bedroom recorder, just after midnight.”

“If we have to hear Malmon getting it on with some unfortunate working girl—”

“It's Nerezza.”

Sawyer waited a beat, pressed playback.

For a moment, there was a kind of living silence, like a throaty hum. Then what seemed to Annika like a crack in the air. Malmon's voice trembled, but Annika couldn't be certain if it came from excitement or fear.

I've waited
.

When Nerezza spoke, it was somehow cloying, like honey dripping from a nest of bees.
And all is as I wish?

All is as you wish.

No, my pet, all is not as I wish until the stars are mine, and those who keep them from me are screaming.

All is in place so all will be as you wish. Please, my queen. I've waited.

The laugh made Annika shudder.
Will you not offer me refreshment first?

Your cup.

But not yet sweetened.
A moment later, Malmon hissed.
Ah, perfect. The pain only adds to the potency, and the flavor.

“Blood,” Bran murmured. “It would be his blood, freely given.”

Your room here is pleasing. I will stay here an hour with you.

An hour? But . . . You won't live with me here while I find the star for you?

In this place? One for mortals, for
humans
? I make my own.

The disgust in her voice rang clear, then turned to amusement.

Do not sulk, my pet. I'll give you paradise for an hour. Take off your clothes so I can see the progress of your transformation. And then you and I will sate our appetites.

“Transformation.” Riley nodded at Sasha. “You said he wouldn't be what he was.”

“But I don't know, yet, what he's becoming.”

Ah, yes. You, too, are pleasing. Is there pain?

It comes sharply, then passes.

But you like the pain. It tells you you're becoming.

I'm stronger.

And will be stronger still.

I'll be invincible. Immortal. And together we'll rule all the worlds.

Of course.

“She lies,” Annika whispered. “Can't he hear the lie?”

There was a sound, like a whistle of wind, a low growl.

Thudding, harsh grunting, hungry sucking, animal pants, and twice an agonized cry cut off as if sliced with a blade. Slaps sharp and ringing, moans like the damned begging.

Under the table Annika clasped her hands together. “This is not what we do. This isn't sex. It's . . . like the sharks. This is only feeding, without beauty or kindness. Or . . . heart.”

“Sex isn't always kind, but yeah, this?” Riley shifted in her seat. “Be grateful we don't have video.”

More!
There was a guttural sound to Malmon's voice, something not completely human.
An hour. You said an hour.

Did I?
After a laugh, Nerezza said,
Sleep now. Yes, yes, sleep and dream, before you bore me. Soon, my pet, you'll bring me all I
want, all that's mine. Fail, and your blood will more than sweeten my wine.

Again, there was a kind of crack, then silence.

“That's it,” Sawyer told them.

“More than enough.” After grabbing her water glass, Sasha drank deep. “She wanted to see him, so there has to be something physically transforming.”

“Don't look at me,” Riley said when Sasha did. “I'm a hereditary, three-nights-a-month girl.”

“But you said there's pain, when you change.”

“Some. It's just part of it. She's not making him a lycan. That change is rapid, and the moon's not full. My money's on demon.”

“And I agree,” Bran said.

“So we'll be fighting a god, a small army, and a demon.” Rising, Sawyer picked up the recorder. “Awesome. I'll put this back.”

T
hough the recording had shaken her, Annika reached back for the joy of dawn. She held it close through talk of battle—for Sasha felt certain there would be a battle that day—and instead, slipped over the side of the boat to find what Sawyer called a tracker so Bran could send it far away.

She watched Sawyer strap on the special gun for in the water.

“Okay, this location officially takes us more than halfway around the island.” After zipping her wet suit, Riley picked up her gun. “The gods can't accuse us of not being thorough or freaking tenacious.”

“I wish I could tell you I felt something, like I did the day we found the Fire Star.”

“It's not all on you.” Riley slapped Sasha's arm. “Six of us in this. I forgot, with the triple-X Malmon audio, I think I've picked up something on the Bay of Sighs. Need to dig more when we get back, but I think I'm digging in the right spot. So if we don't hit today, maybe
I'll come up with something that helps. Meanwhile? Ready to rock and roll?”

“The first cave's at two o'clock.” As he strapped on his tanks, Doyle raised his chin to indicate direction. “About fifteen feet under.”

“Then let's hit it.” Sawyer sat on the side, rolled back into the water.

No matter how often they'd tried and failed in the search, swimming with her friends always brought Annika pleasure. Today dread clawed at that pleasure, at the joy of dawn.

She would fight if a fight came. She would never, never shirk her duty. But the image Sasha had painted kept floating into her mind.

Today, when she circled the others in the water, it wasn't in play, but to make certain everyone stayed close.

She saw the cave, and quickly, but didn't arrow toward it. Instead she kept pace with the others.

She went into the mouth with Sawyer, and though she didn't need it to see, found herself grateful for the light Bran made. There was a cleanness to it because it came from the good, and illuminated the fanning plants, the small fish that darted among them.

A broken shell, a shattered home, only increased the dread.

They didn't fan out until well inside. Even then Annika watched her friends more than searched. Riley swam up a wall, peering into crevices, small holes, while Doyle went deeper, and Sawyer pulled himself up on a narrow ledge. For a moment she nearly panicked that she wouldn't be able to keep them all in sight.