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What can be.

Water was not her element. But she traced the sign of it Water was not her element. But she traced the sign of it careful y on his skin, standing between his thighs, conscious of his blood pulsing below the surface, the ebb and flow of his breath. She imagined water, glasses and buckets and tubs ful of water, quenching, cooling, soothing.

Iestyn’s skin sizzled. Heat flared.

She gasped. But Iestyn reached up and covered her hand with his, pressing her fingers deep into his blistered skin.

His thought swel ed and supported hers. Water. Briny, cold, and clear, erupting from the rock to race rejoicing to the sea, bursting from the Creator’s mind, the deep salt dark, moving, utterly free. What must be. Power flowed, his magic, hers, pouring out of her into his flesh.

He shuddered, a deep, hard spasm like orgasm, his grasp on her hand almost painful. The reverberations shivered from his body to hers, every tremble and quake echoed deep inside her, the aftershock of power like the release after sex.

Lara sagged.

Iestyn wrapped his arms around her, almost as if he were protecting her from something. For long moments, neither of them spoke. The ship engines rumbled. A seabird cried and plummeted into the water.

“That did it,” Iestyn said final y, his voice muffled. His warm breath seared her breasts.

She eased away from him, far enough to see his face.

“Do you feel any better?”

He laughed.

She caught herself grinning foolishly back at him. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m good.” He pul ed down the col ar of his shirt to show her the burn. Stil red, but the frightening blisters had subsided.

His gaze was steady on hers. “We’re good. We’re more together than we are apart.”

Her heart thrummed. “It’s magic.”

“It’s more than magic.”

He cupped the back of her head and drew her down for his kiss. She trembled as their lips met, as his mouth nudged and searched and caressed hers. He kissed her as if he were inside her, as if he knew her, soul kisses, sweet, wet, consuming.

She pulled back, dazed.

He smiled into her eyes. “We’re good together.”

“For how much longer?” The words escaped before she could snatch them back.

So much for her determination to live in the here-andnow.

Annoyed with him, with herself, she said, “Forget it.

I shouldn’t have asked.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she heard boots climbing the metal stairs. She sprang back. The cable repairman emerged from the lower deck, approaching them with a curious look and a bottle of water.

“Thank you so much,” Lara said.

Iestyn dug for his wal et to repay him.

The cable guy tucked the money into his front shirt pocket.

“Ferry’s pul ing in,” he observed with a nod toward the approaching dock. Green metal towers and concrete pilings overshadowed a strip of parking lot. “You need any help? Like on the stairs?”

“I’m fine. This helps.” Iestyn raised the water bottle.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” The repairman picked up his bucket and, after another busy glance between the two of them, clomped down the stairs.

Vibrations rose from the deck through the soles of Lara’s feet as the ferry chugged and churned into the harbor. A broken line of weathered gray buildings climbed the hil overlooking the water. A big white house stood on the crest of a cliff. There were gul s everywhere.

Lara shivered, reminded of the crows.

Iestyn offered her the bottle.

She shook her head.

He drank. “You have every reason to ask,” he said, capping the bottle.

“But no right.”

He rubbed his jaw, looking out at the water, where strings of buoys bobbed against the blue. “You ditched your people, you left your home and your job, to get me out of there. To bring me here. That gives you the right to ask me any damn thing you want.”

“I guess I wondered where you see this going.”

Us going.

“That depends on what we find here.”

“That’s a nice, noncommittal answer.”

A trick of reflected light made his eyes appear to gleam.

“After three days together, you want commitment.”

Yes.

“Of course not.” She swal owed the lump in her throat.

He was male. And merfolk. What did she expect? “Just a little communication.” To start.

He nodded slowly. “You want things clear.”

She nodded, relieved.

“I get that. You’re an angel. Everything’s light or dark for you, black or white.”

“I’m not asking you for promises,” she began. “I don’t make promises, ” he’d told her thirty-six hours — a lifetime — ago.

He made a rough sound. “This isn’t about promises. It’s about guarantees.”

The ship jolted into dock.

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“Because in your world, if you do the right thing, you get rewarded. Fol ow the rules, and everything wil be fine.

My world, the real world, isn’t like that. I can’t tel you everything’s going to be al right because I don’t know.”

Hurt bloomed in her chest. Swam in her eyes. But when she blinked, it wasn’t impatience she saw in his face. It wasn’t irritation that ripped that ragged edge in his voice. It was doubt.

Sympathy moved in her, for the boy he had been, for the man he had become, struggling to steer an honorable course without compass or bearings.

“I don’t need guarantees,” she said gently. “I’l settle for good intentions.”

The first car rumbled off the ferry.

Iestyn smiled wryly and stood, carrying the plastic bags that held al their worldly possessions. “Paving the road to Hel?”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Babe, you’re living proof of that. We both are. We’ve both made what we thought were the right choices for the right reasons. You turn back the ship, or you tie yourself to the fucking mast. You try to save something, a dog, a kid, a sailor you found hanging in the rigging. You put yourself out there, take a stand. And you fail.” His voice rang with quiet intensity. “You Fal.”

Beneath the sunlit surface, his eyes were deep and bitter as the sea.

Her heart wrenched with pity. This was what he believed.

This was why he was drifting. Lost. Not because he was selkie, but because he had lost faith in himself and his choices. Even his loss of memory was another layer of defense between him and what he perceived as his failure.

“So we’re not perfect,” she said, preceding him to the stairs. “We don’t have perfect knowledge. Sometimes we make bad decisions. And maybe sometimes things happen as part of a larger plan, and we just can’t see it yet.”

“What happened to you as a child wasn’t part of any plan.”

Oddly, the fury pulsing in his voice made her own pain and anger easier to accept. But then, she’d had years of therapy that made it possible to say, “What happened to me as a child wasn’t my fault. Or God’s wil. I don’t blame myself or Him for the actions of one sick, evil man.” She drew a steadying breath as they emerged into the sunlight of the lower deck. “But sooner or later, my choices led me to you. This may not be the reward I was looking for at the time I expected it. But I think I was always meant to find you somehow. To bring you back where you belong.”

* * *

“Lara.” Iestyn stopped, at a loss for words. Her confidence shook him. Her strength awed him. “I don’t have your faith,” he said quietly. “But I admire the hel out of you.”