Bay of Sighs

  “Then we’ll get started.”

  “The rest of us will get in some training in the grove,” Doyle said as Bran and Sasha rose.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  Doyle glanced at Sawyer. “An hour, then there’ll be beer.”

  Though Annika didn’t like beer, she trained for the hour. She didn’t like the bruises Doyle gave her when he showed her how to defend against what he called holds and grips.

  But he reminded her she’d like a cage much less.

  She liked wine and helping Sawyer make dinner, so enjoyed both. She got to make something he called bruschetta—cutting the long bread in half, toasting it—while he cooked chicken for the dish he called alfredo.

  “Remember how to mince?”

  “Cut up, very, very small.”

  “Very small, those Roma tomatoes and that garlic.”

  She applied herself to it, imagining how nice it would be to cook with him like this without the bruises from training or the thoughts of fighting ahead.

  “The chicken smells so good.”

  “It’ll taste even better with the fettuccini alfredo. Good job. Now the basil I cut from the herb garden? You need to slice that, really thin, but slice, not chop. Right?”

  “I know what’s slice, what’s chop. If I lived on the land, I’d have a garden of flowers and herbs and the vegetables, too. I’d sit in it every day and drink wine.”

  “Sweet deal.”

  He showed her what else to do, with a little wine, the oil, the vinegar, with cheese and with pepper and salt.

  “That’s just going to sit awhile,” he told her while he made a sauce in a pan. “So the flavors mix together.”

  She liked the way he looked as he stirred things—his body relaxed, his hair catching light from the sun as it came through the windows.

  “In the house on land, I’d have a big kitchen like this, with the windows for sun, the big, shiny box for cold things, and all the pretty dishes.”

  “A big-ass pantry.”

  “Big-ass pantry,” she repeated.

  “A long, wide peninsula, doubles as a breakfast counter.”

  “A peninsula is a land mass with three sides in the water.”

  “Points for you.” Playfully, he shot a finger at her. “In the kitchen it’s a kind of counter. For food prep, and for people to sit, eat casual, or keep you company while you cook.”

  “So you’re not lonely. Do you have this kitchen?”

  “Me? No. My folks have a nice kitchen, and my grandparents? It’s a mix of old-fashioned and practical updates. But we’re building a dream kitchen here, from scratch.”

  The idea of dreaming with him sang in her heart. “What color is it?”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “Oh, there are too many for one to be the best.”

  “Then we’ll go with green, like your eyes. Stainless steel appliances, commercial-grade six-burner gas range. Maybe dark gray for the cabinets.”

  “Your eyes are gray. I like gray.”

  “A lot of open or glass fronts on them—for those pretty dishes of yours. Walk-in pantry, farm sink, big windows. South facing so you can have your herbs in pots through the winter. Good start,” he said as he filled a pot with water.

  “Can it be near the sea?”

  “Hey, dream kitchen, remember? The world’s your oyster.”

  “Oysters are very small,” she began, then understood. “An expression.”

  “You got it. It means you can have anything you want.”

  “I’d want the dream kitchen in a house near the sea. And we would cook in it together every night.”

  He looked over then, and she felt him start to speak. But Riley came rushing in.

  “Malmon’s in London.” She grabbed a glass, poured wine. “My contact says he’s been seen going and coming from this house in Hyde Park, one that belongs to this rich dude and his third wife. And they haven’t been seen for a couple days. More? Malmon’s butler hanged himself. Police investigated—no foul play, straight suicide.”

  “Why the butler?” Sawyer wondered.

  “Can’t say, but no signs of drugs, struggle, force. Word is, Malmon’s making arrangements to rent a villa in Capri, and tapping some of his mercs for the trip.”

  “They know where we are, but with him still in London, putting it together, we’ve got some time yet.”

  “Nerezza knows,” Annika pointed out. “She must know if this Malmon does. She could come sooner.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Sawyer assured her. “And as far as ready, dinner nearly is.”

  “Riley is to set the table.”

  “What? Oh, right.”

  “I’m making brush-etta.”

  “Bruschetta,” Sawyer corrected.

  Annika mouthed the correct pronunciation as Riley grabbed dishes.

  As they ate together, all six, and planned, Annika kept an eye on the sky. Nerezza would send her creatures through the sky.

  Later, she stepped out front and watched the sea. When Sawyer came out, she let herself lean against him.

  “You should try to get some sleep. I really think we’ve got a couple days yet.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I think she’ll use Malmon first, see what he can do, if he can cause some damage. We hurt her last time, and she won’t forget that. And she failed, so it figures she’ll try something else. Malmon’s the something else.”

  “You can’t let him hurt you.”

  “Don’t intend to. What else?”

  “I like to hike. Tomorrow we’ll walk in the hills, but . . . we won’t go into the sea. In Corfu, I could go down to it late at night or very early in the day. Now it’s too far.”

  “I can take you down.” He drew out his compass.

  “You would?”

  “Sure. You can get in a quick swim, then you need to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a hot, hard climb. The pool’s going to have to do after that. Go ahead, get your suit.”

  When she smiled, sliding her gaze up to him under her lashes, he nodded.

  “Okay, I get it. That kind of swim. Well, it should be late enough for it.”

  “I don’t change the legs until I’m in the water and away from the shore.”

  “All right. Ready?” he asked and took her hand.

  “Oh, yes.”

  She held tight as they flew.

  CHAPTER SIX

  With her hand still in Sawyer’s, Annika found herself on a little pebbled beach. Sheltered by rocks and cliff walls and lit by only the light of the waning moon, it struck her as both romantic and beautiful.

  “Oh! This is so nice. It’s like closing the door to the room. Private.”

  “I scouted around a little, in case you needed a spot.”

  How could she not love him? How could she not give her heart to such a heart?

  “You’re kind. Kindness is a strength, so you’re very strong. You’ll swim with me.”

  “I’ll keep watch.”

  “You said we had time before they come.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you can swim.” She took his hands, drew him closer to the water. She would never use the siren’s song to lure him, but her eyes seduced. “It will help you sleep, too.”

  “I don’t have any trunks.”

  “You have the something else? Under your pants. If you’re shy.”

  If that didn’t make him feel like an idiot, nothing would. “Yeah, I’ve got them.” He pulled a chain out of the compass, locked it around his neck before he pulled off his T-shirt.

  Annika simply slithered out of the dress, stood naked in the silvered light.

  “Blin! You could warn a guy.”

  “What is that word? Blin?” she asked, and picked up the dress, tossed it over a rock.

  “It’s . . .” Where did he look? Where did he look? Well, Jesus, he was a man. He looked at her. “Russian, something you say when you’re surprised.”

  “I like be
ing blin.” She ran into the sea, vanished under the dark, frothing waves.

  He’d just stay on shore—that was smarter, safer. But her head rose up, above the waves. “Come swim with me! It’s wonderful.”

  He hoped it was cool, he decided as he pulled off his jeans, toed off his sneakers. He could use cool after that long hot look at her, pale and perfect gold in the moonlight.

  He waded in, nearly to his waist, got a jolt when he felt something wrap around his legs. When she tugged—he realized quickly she’d coiled her tail around him—he went under.

  He couldn’t resist stroking a hand over the sleek curl of it. Then she used it to propel him to the surface, rose up beside him.

  “Now you’re wet all over.”

  “You, too.”

  She did a slow roll so that gorgeous, glimmering tail shimmered up into the light, slid under the surface again.

  “We can swim as far as you like,” she told him. “I can bring you back to the land.” When he tapped the compass, she nodded. “Yes. You can bring us back, too.”

  Facing him still, she glided away.

  “Not for too long,” he reminded her, and kicked to keep pace.

  She went under, then speared up to do a playful dive over him. Maybe he let her lead him out farther than he’d intended, but he had to rank swimming with a beautiful mermaid in the moonlight of the island of Capri top of his personal list.

  “Hold your breath,” she told him, and taking his hands, pulled him under, then took him speeding through the dark water.

  She pulled him up, into the night, into the air and moonlight, a foot away from the rock.

  “Seriously cool.”

  “It was fun?”

  “E-ticket. Yes. Best fun ever.”

  “You swim very well. You’re strong in the water, but still tire. We can sit on the rocks until you’re ready.”

  She laid her hands on the rock, boosted up as smoothly as a gymnast, and smiled down at him as she squeezed water from her hair.

  Maybe he was a little winded, he decided as he hoisted up beside her. Besides, if he sat beside her, he wouldn’t face those bare and beautiful breasts.

  “So mermaids really do like sitting on rocks, watching the sea, the ships, the shore?”

  “Yes. We’re of the water and the air. We need time in both to be happy. Humans can have the land, the air, the water. Long ago, there were some jealous of this who lured the men in ships to the rocks, or pulled them into the deep to drown. This is shameful. We take oaths never to harm our own or people of the land.”

  “Like Riley’s pack takes an oath.”

  “Yes.” She lifted her face to moon and stars. “I have a question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

  “What?”

  “Today you kissed me here.” She touched a finger to her forehead. “But this doesn’t count. I’m allowed to ask why you don’t want to kiss me.”

  “We’re teammates.”

  “Yes. Bran and Sasha are teammates. I don’t think that’s the why.”

  “It’s part of the why,” he insisted. “And look, you haven’t been on—in . . . You haven’t been in this world very long. You’re still learning how things work.”

  Her chin jutted up; her shoulders shot straight. “I know how kissing works! Have you stopped learning how things work? I think it’s never okay to stop learning.”

  “Okay, that’s true. Even profound. But we’ve got a lot going on, and . . . priorities. And it’s like Sasha said once, there’s this purity to you, so I don’t want to change, you know, the balance of things.”

  “None of these are real answers. And I’ve made you awkward,” she said, stiffly now. “I’m apology—I’m sorry. You were kind to bring me to the sea. We should go back now.”

  “Look, look, look. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “Not giving true answers is hurtful.”

  Frustrated, he shoved his fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to say to a hurt, pissed-off mermaid? “I’m trying to give you true answers. And I’m trying not to hurt your feelings, or anything else. I didn’t expect the question.”

  “So you couldn’t think of better answers that aren’t real?”

  And sometimes she got things entirely too well. “Not exactly. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you, it’s—”

  “How do I understand that?” she demanded, and faced him with eyes of stormy green. “Does ‘not-that-I-don’t-want’ mean ‘I want’?”

  “No. Maybe. Yes. Hell.”

  He grabbed her shoulders, managed to rein himself in enough to touch his lips very lightly to hers.

  The storm died out of her eyes as she nodded. “You want to kiss me like the brother of my father. This is an answer. Thank you. We should go back now.”

  Before she could slide off the rock, he tightened his grip on her shoulders. “It’s an answer. It’s not the truth.”

  “You can’t tell me the truth?” Distress moved over her face as she touched a hand to his heart. “It’s an oath? I would never ask you to break an oath.”

  “No. No, it’s not an oath. It’s a . . .” Hang-up, a situation, a . . . “Mistake, maybe a mistake. Or maybe this is. I guess we both need to find out.”

  His hands glided up from her shoulders to cup her face. She drew in a breath, held it with her heart drumming as for a moment, forever, he just looked into her eyes.

  And he looked into her eyes still as his lips touched hers, lightly as before. But not as before. Soft, so soft, light as the butterfly on the flower.

  She wondered if the flower felt this stirring, this yearning.

  Then his lips rubbed hers, pressed. And worlds opened.

  Her breath released; her eyes closed as he took her so slowly, so gently into those worlds. Worlds of sweet pleasure, of new tastes, of quiet wonders.

  Her lips parted, answered his, and it was like sliding deep and deeper into the warm and the lovely.

  He’d known, somehow known, he’d be lost if he ever took this step. No compass could ever guide him back to solid ground again. She gave, absolutely, her hand pressed to his heart as if to hold it, her mouth, her tongue gliding with his as if created for him.

  The scent of the sea, her scent, mixed together, enchanted him. And always would. The sound of water against rock—that constant mating—the sound of her sighs, blended like one. Bewitched him, and always would.

  Everything good and right and worth fighting for coalesced in that single kiss. And still, he wanted more.

  But he remembered what he could never allow himself to forget. Honor. And so he eased back.

  “Annika.” He kept his hands on her face because, oh boy, how they wanted to wander down. While he struggled for the right thing, the honorable thing to say, to do, she smiled. All but blinded him with the light of it.

  “Now I can kiss you.”

  “You just did.”

  “No, no—first. Before I couldn’t, but now—”

  Her arms came hard around him. Her mouth took his in an explosion of passion that blew the sheer concept of honor all to hell.

  She burned against him, a torch on the water, impossibly hot and bright. He dived into the fire, letting himself take, be taken. Her skin, soft as velvet. Her breasts, firm and perfect and finally filling his hands. The miracle of her tail, sleek and wet and fascinating as the texture changed.

  He knew he should slow things down, knew he should stop, but she coiled and curled around him while her upper body arched to offer until all he heard was the beat of his own blood.

  Desperate now, driven to taste those perfect breasts, he shifted to lie her back on the rock. She turned with him, just as eager, and they slid off the rock, into the water.

  Dazed with lust, he went under, started to push to the surface. She pulled him straight up, laughing.

  “I got too happy.”

  Once more she curled around him, and with her arm circling his neck,
kept him afloat without appearing to move at all.

  It struck him he was in over his head, in more ways than one.

  She laid her head on his shoulder, nuzzled there.

  Lust didn’t cool so much as melded with affection so he found some balance.

  “Can’t be too happy,” he said, stroking her hair.

  “I feel so full of it, I think I could stay like this and never run out.”

  But they couldn’t stay, he reminded himself. They’d already been away from the house, from the others, longer than was wise.

  “I know we can’t,” she said before he could. “But one minute more. Here, now, the darkness is precious and good. Soon it won’t be.”

  “One minute more.” He let himself enjoy the minute, floating on a moonlit sea, buoyed by a mermaid.

  She didn’t press for more. He felt the way her tail moved the water as she leaned back, drew him along.

  “What did you mean, you couldn’t kiss me before, but now you could?”

  “We’re not allowed.”

  “To kiss?”

  “No, that would be sad, wouldn’t it?” Her hair flowed over the water, black silk against indigo. “We’re not allowed to kiss a land person first. To ask for the kiss, to take it. It has to be given, by choice. Then we can give back.”