Forgotten Sea (16 page)

He sat across from her, eating pancakes as calmly as if he hadn’t just electrified her emotions and shorted her brain.

She was dimly aware of stools scraping and people moving behind her. The bell over the door jangled.

She watched his hands on his knife and fork, a sailor’s hands, lean and brown and strong, and remembered him touching her breasts with exquisite gentleness, gripping her hips to help her find her rhythm as they moved together.

Her head swam. Her heart pounded in her chest as if she’d run a mile. She was stunned by her reaction, unnerved by her vulnerability.

If she was not careful, he could break her heart.

“You have butter.”

Disconcerted, she stared at the ruins of the butter plate, decorated with paper confetti. “Sorry. Did you want some?”

His smile was warm and slow. “You have butter . . .” He angled his head, studying her face. “Here.”

He reached a hand across the table. His thumb traced the corner of her mouth, lingering on her bottom lip. The pad of his thumb was rough and tasted pleasingly of salt.

She sucked it into her mouth.

He inhaled sharply. His gaze darkened and dropped to the front of her T-shirt, where her nipples peaked against the soft cotton. “And there.”

She glanced down, and yes, okay, there was a tiny crumb glistening with butter on the front of her shirt.

She looked up to meet his eyes, black as midnight,  brilliant as suns. The heat in them sucked all the oxygen from the room and left her light-headed.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” he offered, his voice husky.

Yes.

She was dry-mouthed, dizzy with excitement. “No.”

Touch me.

He smiled again crookedly. “You keep looking at me like that, babe, we won’t need to have sex to call in trouble.”

Her hands tightened on her napkin.
Skies.
He was right.

She tamped down the excitement rising in her blood, the arousal humming like static along her skin. She needed to think.

“I’m going out to the Jeep,” she said. “To get a clean shirt.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She shook her head decisively. She needed perspective.

Distance. She couldn’t think when he was near. “I’ll be fine. I’ll only be a minute.”

He scanned the diner and then her face. Nodded slowly.

“If that’s what you want. I’ll settle up.”

She slid out of the booth, striding past the now-empty counter, her heart pounding as if she were running away.

Which, of course, she was.

She shoved open the door, disturbing the birds that had now settled onto the parking lot. She rounded the side of the building, passed the truck. A crow flapped from the Jeep’s roll bar to the ground, cocking its head to watch her.

Creepy thing.

But she had more on her mind than a bunch of stupid birds.

The bags were in back, behind the driver’s seat. She sidled between the Jeep and the big eighteen-wheeler, shivering in the truck’s shadow. An odd, stale quiet stole over her. Like walking into a dead zone, like being shut into a closet. Leaning into the open door of the Jeep, she snatched the plastic Wal-Mart bag from the back. Turned.

Three men stepped from behind the truck to block her way.

Flannel shirts. Red bandanna. Tattoos . . . The men from the diner.

Her senses, which had been numb and dumb, crackled back to life. Her heart thumped in panic.

Fight? Or flight?

* * *

“Everything all right?” the peach-haired waitress asked as she rang up their order.

“Fine,” Iestyn assured her.

It was, wasn’t it? Lara had just stepped outside a minute to fetch a shirt, to catch her breath, to set a little distance between them.

He didn’t blame her. This thing—connection—between them spooked her. Spooked him, too. Not the sex. Sex came easy for him and his kind. But the intimacy.

He’d never been tangled up in a woman so fast. He’d liked her looks from the start, those clear gray eyes and the little frown between them, that fall of mink brown hair and the angle of her chin. But it was the whole messy package that appealed to him, her fascinating bundle of nerves, spine, and determination.

He frowned at the curling dollar bill taped over the register.

He wanted her, sure. But for the first time with a woman, he wanted more. Her safety. Her happiness.

It made him antsy, knowing this time he couldn’t walk away without leaving a piece of himself behind. No wonder she needed a minute to herself.

She sure was taking her own sweet time, though.

He threw another glance at the door. The windows were too high, too narrow to see out.

Too much time.
Where the hell was she? His neck crawled. Thrusting money at the waitress, he headed for the door.

“Wait! Your change.”

The crows in the parking lot yammered like gulls.

“Keep it,” he said, and broke into a run.

* * *

Black birds ringed the parking lot like spectators at a boxing match. Or vultures.

Iestyn’s heart jack-hammered. The three men from the diner had Lara trapped between a big rig and the Jeep.

At least this time none of her attackers was possessed by a demon.

That he knew of.

A chill chased over his skin. Briefly, he met Lara’s gaze, blazing in her pale face. “Get inside.”

She opened her mouth to argue before she figured out his order was for the benefit of their audience. Pressing her lips together, she took two jerky steps toward him.

Tattoos took the toothpick from his mouth and pitched it to the ground. “I say she stays.”

“Let her go,” Iestyn said evenly.

The stocky man with the weary eyes met his gaze. “Or what? You’ll call the cops?”

Duck into the diner, leaving her alone? Risk having the cops run a make on their stolen Jeep?

“We don’t want trouble,” Iestyn said again.

Tattoos laughed.

The man in the red bandanna crossed his arms over his chest. “Then call off your spies.”

Spies?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iestyn said.

“Call ’em off, or your girlfriend’s going back to Heaven ahead of schedule.”

But Lara was easing between the Jeep and the truck, retreating toward the diner, securing herself space and a wall at her back.
Smart girl.

Iestyn started circling with Bandanna Man and the stocky guy, hoping to buy time to let her get away, get inside, trying to keep one eye on Lara and the other on his new dance partners, watching their hands, watching their eyes. Hoping nobody had a knife or, Jesus, a gun.

Tattoos realized Lara was slipping away and made a grab for her. The flock of birds burst from the ground, a feathered explosion of black wings and raucous cries.

Lara dropped out of sight behind the Jeep.

Fuck.

Bandanna Man swung. Iestyn grabbed his arm, blocking his punch, spinning him into the back panel of the truck. Metal shook and clanged. Iestyn muscled in, but the second man jumped him from behind, driving a fist into his kidneys. Pain erupted. Pain and rage. Bandanna staggered around, pushing off the truck, and the two men converged on Iestyn in a blur of knuckles, boots, sweat.

The world swam in a red haze of hate and fire. He jammed his knee up into a groin—grunt,
good
—jabbed his fist into a gut. Bandanna folded, but the other guy kicked Iestyn from behind, hard in the back of his knees.

Instant collapse. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, stocky guy on top. The blacktop scraped Iestyn’s back as meaty hands dug for his throat.

The heth blazed. Burned.

Stocky Guy froze, his face twisted in surprise.

Iestyn heard fabric rip, heard Lara cry out, and a bubbling gush of fire and fury surged through his veins, washed his brain. Power, fierce and unfamiliar, filled him.

Possessed him. He bucked, throwing off his assailant, rolling with him over the hard ground.

A voice—not his voice—hissed in the back of his mind.

Die, son of air.

Rage flooded him. Hate consumed him. He pinned the son of a bitch to the ground, straddled the struggling body on his knees. Leaning his weight on his forearm, crushing the man’s throat, Iestyn reached with his free hand for his knife.

“Iestyn!
No.
” Lara’s voice, ringing in his ears.

He tugged the blade free.

“Stop!”
Lara’s touch on his shoulder.

He growled and shook her off.

“Iestyn, please!”

Her voice, clear, calm, insistent, reached through the blaze of pain and rage crackling inside his head.

He eased slightly on his enemy’s windpipe, feeling the flood of hate ebb. The man gurgled, his chest heaving as he dragged in precious air.

Iestyn tightened his grip on his knife.

“It’s all right.” Lara’s small hands alternately tugged and patted his arm. “Let him up. They’re flyers.”

Iestyn’s head was raging, his limbs on fire. Lara’s voice trickled in his ears like water, abating the fury that infected his blood. He didn’t understand her words, but he trusted that voice.

Trusted her. Only her.

He turned his head so her hair brushed his cheek. She stooped over him, her dark hair falling around them, her gray eyes wide and anxious. He inhaled her scent, creamy sweet as lilies at night.

Lara.

Unbloodied.

Unhurt.

His gaze shot behind her to her attacker, standing back beside the man in the red bandanna, their hands uncurled and empty at their sides. The younger man’s shirt was ripped at neck and shoulder, exposing his tattoos.
Lara’s
doing?

The tightness in Iestyn’s chest relaxed a notch.

 “Come on.” Her smile encouraged him. “Stand up.”

He didn’t stand. Couldn’t. But he sat back on his heels, clutching the knife, adrenaline and something unnamed, foreign, still burning in his blood.

Lara gestured to the men behind her, performing introductions like a nice child at a party. “These are Fremont and Max, flyers out of . . . Where did you say you were from?”

The man in the bandanna, Fremont, wiped blood from his mouth, casting a wary look at the roofline. Crows perched in a solemn black line against the sky, like priests at an execution. “We didn’t say.”

Awkward pause.

Lara cleared her throat. “And the man you’re sitting on is Soldier.”

The young guy rubbed the tattoo on his neck and then the bruise rising on his jaw. Iestyn observed his battered face with satisfaction. Too bad Lara hadn’t broken his neck.

“Where are you from?” the young man asked.

“Rockhaven,” Laura said.

A grunt from the ground. “I thought I recognized the work.”

Iestyn blinked down at the man he’d been trying to kill a minute ago. His ears rang. His hands trembled. He shook his head slightly, to clear it. “What . . . work?”

The man called Soldier pulled on the neck of his T-shirt, exposing a white scar circling his throat and a square purple burn mark just under his collarbone. “The glass. I wore a heth once. Took me by surprise, seeing one on you.” His smile was sharp as glass. “Or you wouldn’t have thrown me.”

Iestyn’s simmering rage flared, quick and hot. “Don’t bet on it.”

Lara touched his shoulder, in warning. Reassurance.

“Soldier saw the birds and thought we were Guardians sent to bring them in. But now that we know we’re in the same boat—”

“How do we know?” Iestyn interrupted. “We don’t know anything about them.”

“You’ve seen Soldier’s neck. And Max wears the runes,” Lara said. “I saw them when I, um . . .”

“Kicked me in the head and tore my shirt,” Tattoos said dryly. He grinned, which made him look even younger and much more handsome.
Cocky son of a bitch.

The young man turned his head, revealing the blue quartered circle inked into his neck. “The tet for luck.” He pushed up his right sleeve. “The taw for protection.” He rolled back his left, where a simple circle adorned his inner wrist. “The ayin for sight.”

“Fat lot of good that did us,” Fremont muttered. “You thought they were demons.”

Max flushed. “I said they could be. There is a taint.”

“It’s this one,” Soldier said. “He’s not one of us.”

“He’s selkie,” Lara said. “One of the children of the sea.”

“Where’s his sealskin, then?” Fremont asked.

Irritation ignited in Iestyn, running along his veins like a match set to paper. They knew him. They knew what he was. But they were talking about him as if he were deaf or stupid. As if he wasn’t there.

“Lost,” he growled.

Soldier met his gaze. Held it. The flyer’s eyes were faded blue, like worn denim. “Convenient.”

“Not for him,” Lara snapped.

Her quick defense delighted him. Her hand still rested on his shoulder, her little finger barely brushing the back of his neck above the collar of his shirt, that small touch of skin to skin soothing and inflaming him.

 “We’re trying to find his people,” she continued, “so they can help him.”

“Going to World’s End, are you?” Fremont asked.

Iestyn went very still . His pulse pounded in his head like the sea. World’s End.

Lara’s fingers dug into his shoulder. “Where?”

“The island. That’s where you fish folk hang out, isn’t it?”

“How do you know?” Iestyn forced the words from his raw throat.

“Because we stay the hell away, that’s why. We’ve got enough trouble. We don’t need to borrow any more.”

Iestyn’s head felt stuffed with cotton, his thoughts hazy, his mouth dry. “What kind of trouble?”

Soldier’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I thought you were one of them.”

“I’ve been . . . away. Demon trouble?” he persisted.

“Maybe. What do you care? I thought your lot didn’t take sides.” Resentment simmered in Soldier’s voice.

Iestyn shrugged. “Things change.”

He’d changed. The balance of power was shifting, sliding.

Anything—everything—could have changed in seven years.

The thought seeped like ice through his veins, cooling the fire that seethed inside him.

“Can you help us?” Lara asked.

The three men exchanged glances.

“No,” Fremont said.

“Why not?” Iestyn demanded.

Soldier ignored him, speaking to Lara. “Well, for starters, he’s still crushing my ribs.”

Lara’s full, soft lips flattened in irritation.
With which
one of
them
? Iestyn wondered.

 “Iestyn, get off,” she ordered.

Reluctantly, he complied, offering a hand to the man on the ground.

Soldier brushed him aside, climbing unaided to his feet.

“I don’t need your help.”

 “Fine. I don’t need yours either.” Iestyn drew a ragged breath, holding on to his temper with an effort. “But she does.”

Lara’s brows snapped together.

“What kind of help are we talking about?” Fremont asked before she could speak.

Iestyn’s head throbbed.
Everything could have changed
in
seven years.
He had no right to drag her with him into whatever trouble awaited on World’s End.

“Your protection,” he said.

Max’s face split in a grin. “Absolutely.”

“Absolutely not,” Lara said. She rounded on Iestyn. “What are you thinking? You need me to find your people.”

His people. Assuming he was even merfolk anymore.

Assuming they would take him back, take him in, without his pelt.

“Not anymore.” He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and turned to Fremont. “Where is this World’s End?”

“About three hours north by road, another hour or so on the boat. You can take the ferry from Port Clyde.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Lara said.

She couldn’t depend on him. He must not depend on her.

He steeled his heart against the look in her eyes. “You belong with them.”

“I’m not a flyer,” she said flatly.

Another silence.

“Then they’ll take you back,” he said. “To Rockhaven, if that’s what you want.”

To fucking Axton
, he thought. His jaw clenched.
Stupid.

It’s not like he could offer her another option. Selkie or sailor, he didn’t have the kind of life he could share with a woman.

Fremont scratched under his bandanna. “Now, hold on. We didn’t agree to anything yet.”

“You don’t want to go back there,” Soldier said.

 “There are other communities,” Max said unexpectedly. “Other schools.”

Iestyn felt a quick clutch in the pit of his stomach. But it was the option he’d wanted for her, wasn’t it? Freedom and a future away from the stifling walls of Rockhaven. He looked at Lara. “Is that true?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes dark with doubt. “I’ve heard of them. Amherst in England, Amarna in Egypt. But . . .”

“You’d be safe there,” he persisted. “Right? With other nephilim.”

“If they’ll take her in,” Soldier said.

“If anybody will take her,” Fremont said. “Travel’s risky.”

Lara regarded him with disdain. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t go with you to the end of the parking lot, let alone out of the country.”

The knot in Iestyn’s gut loosened. Like it made a difference whether she was three hundred or three thousand miles from here. Either way, he’d never see her again. “It will have to be Rockhaven, then.”

“I don’t like it,” Soldier said. “It could be a trap. A trick, to get us to the school.”

“Don’t be paranoid,” Lara said.

Exasperation clawed Iestyn. He was trying to protect her, damn it. Trying to do the right thing. Why couldn’t she shut up and go along?

But he knew. She’d told him last night.
“I’m getting
pretty
tired of other people deciding what’s best for me
.
”

He made an effort to soften his voice. “You’ll be safe with them. Safer than with me.”

Her brows lifted. “Will I?”

Wouldn’t she?

What did he know about them, after all ? They were flyers, drifters, outlaws. He had too much in common with them to trust them. They didn’t care about her the way he did. He was willing to fight for her. To die for her, if need be.

But not to stay.

Sooner or later, Lara would go back to her old life, and he would get on with his.

Such as it was.
The thought chilled him.

If she’d just go, leave now, it would save both of them time and heartache.

“Safer than on your own,” he amended.

Something flashed behind her eyes before they cooled.

“You’re not responsible for my safety. Or my choices.”

“I’m not waiting around with my thumb up my ass while you two make up your minds,” Fremont said.

Lara shot him another of those cool gray looks. “So, leave. We’re not stopping you.”

He wagged a meaty finger at her. “Now, little girl, you can’t come with us if you won’t be nice.”

Her face turned sheet white. “I’m not your little girl,” she said through her teeth. “And I’m sick of being nice.”

She looked at Iestyn, her chin lifted in challenge. But it was her mouth that got him, soft and vulnerable. “Whatever I want, you said. What if I want to stay with you?”

His blood pounded. The question rippled through him like His blood pounded. The question rippled through him like the echo of a dream, resurrecting memories and images of last night. Lara, sliding into bed beside him. Lara, holding him close as he dreamed. Lara, rocking above him in the dark, her hair like glory and her eyes like stars.

He met those eyes, and he was lost.

Maybe he’d been lost from the moment she’d found him.

Pretty Lara Rho with her composed face and snug skirt, striding down the sun-bleached dock and into his life.

He didn’t need her.

But damn him to Hell, he didn’t want her to go. He couldn’t lose her. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

The thought should have terrified him.

He bared his teeth in a grin. “Then I guess I’m stuck with you.”

* * *

Lara smiled back, relieved and triumphant. “As long as you realize it.”

Iestyn’s grin sharpened.

She felt a quick quiver of caution. What was she doing, dismissing the chance to return safely home? What would she do when this adventure was over, when Iestyn was gone?

But she silenced the whisper of doubt. She was not a victim or a child. She would figure it out. In the meantime, he wanted her with him.

At least for now.

Fremont shuffled his feet. “Guess you’ll be leaving us, then.”

“Not yet,” Lara said.

Iestyn shot her a quick look. “You want to change your shirt?”

“No, I—”

“You need to hit the road now,” Fremont said. “We can’t leave until you’re gone.”

“Why?” Lara asked.

“Trackers,” Fremont said.

Iestyn glanced at the roofline. “The birds?”

“Guardian spies,” Soldier said. 

“We’ve only got your word for it that they’re not after us,” Fremont said. “I want to watch them follow you out of here.”

“We need something from you first,” Lara said.

The youngest flyer, Max, gave her a tomcat grin. “Name it.”

Iestyn stiffened beside her. But she was too focused on his future to worry about his feelings right now. She turned to Soldier. “You wore a heth once, you said.”

The flyer eyed her warily. “So?”

“How did you remove it?”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to mess with that. You could get hurt.”

Her gaze dropped to the puckered scar around his throat.

“That’s why I need you to tell  me how to do it. I don’t want to cause him any pain.”

Soldier snorted. “It’s not him you should worry about. You want to be careful, girl. He’s not like us. Once that heth’s off, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“I’m not an animal. I don’t need a fucking collar,” Iestyn said.

Soldier’s weary blue eyes met his. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

Iestyn’s muscles bunched. She squeezed his arm, willing him to keep quiet.

“Please,” she said to Soldier. “Tell us, and we’ll  go.”

He held her gaze a moment and then shrugged. “It’s your funeral. You can’t cut the cord without breaking the charm first.”

“Break it, how?”

“Any way you can. Shatter it. Melt it.”

“While it’s on my neck,” Iestyn said.

Soldier rubbed his scar. “I didn’t say it would be easy, only that it could be done. If you have the strength and the stomach for it.”

“If you have the balls,” Max said. He looked at Lara. “You could still change your mind, sweetheart. Come with us.”

“Fuck you,” Iestyn said. He looked down at her, his eyes molten gold. “We’re leaving. Now. Together.”

She blinked at his sudden about-face. She almost didn’t recognize this hot-eyed, cold-voiced stranger. But she trusted him. “Fine.”

Taking her hand, he towed her to the Jeep. If the vehicle had had a door, she thought, he would have slammed it.

The engine choked to life. Iestyn backed out of the parking space, narrowly avoiding the three flyers behind the truck. His face set in grim lines as the Jeep lurched onto the road, picking up speed.