South of Surrender (Hearts of the Anemoi)

by Laura Kaye

“Yes.” Boreas grinned, imagining everyone’s reaction.

  She ran her fingers through the top of his hair. “I’ll leave it longer on top. It’s a style.”

  He chuckled. “If you say so.”

  After a few moments, she stepped in front of him again. She made a few more passes, then lowered the clippers to her side. “Just the beard now. Do you want to—”

  He stood up and rubbed his jaw. “You know what? I want a clean shave.”

  “Owen has razors and shaving cream in the bathroom.”

  He squeezed her arm. “Thank you, Megan.”

  “Um, Boreas?”

  “Yes?”

  Her gaze ran over his robes. “If you’re trying to fit in, it might be time to update the clothes, too.”

  He looked himself over and nodded. “Indeed.” He thought of the clothing his brothers wore and willed the change. His fur robe gave way to a pair of blue jeans and a light gray long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Megan gasped. “Holy wow.”

  Had he done something wrong? He looked himself over again, not seeing anything amiss. “What is it?” Was the denim supposed to be this stiff?

  “You look so different.” She met his gaze. “So good.”

  “Oh. Good. Well, okay, then.”

  “There’s just one thing.” She smiled and pointed at his feet. “You should probably try to keep those on the floor.”

  Boreas had so long ago given up on any pretense of humanity, he usually paid little attention to the conventions of the physical world. “Right.” He settled himself upon the floor, standing just as a man would. “So.” He held out his arms. “How do I look?”

  Her smile was slow but bright. “Very handsome.”

  Footsteps jogged up the basement stairs. “Shall we see what Owen thinks?”

  She nodded, a big grin shaping her pretty face. “Hey, Owen? Can you come here a minute?”

  Boreas faced the passage from the living room into the kitchen. He threw Megan a wink.

  Owen came through the doorway. “What’s up, angel—” He did a double take and froze. His mismatched eyes narrowed on Boreas’s face. Shock transformed his expression a moment later. “By the gods! Boreas?”

  Good humor flowed through him. Since Owen’s marriage and Teddy’s birth, it was an emotion with which he’d been becoming more and more familiar. “Ha! You did not recognize me right away.”

  His mouth dropped open and he appeared to struggle for words. “What…why…?”

  “With all the time I spend here, I need to fit in better with this world. And I was overdue for a change.”

  Owen nodded, his gaze shifting to his wife, nearly bouncing with excitement. “Aw, angel. Did you do this?” He crossed the room and took her in his arms. She nodded against his chest. Intense satisfaction at their happiness filled Boreas’s heart. “You did good,” he whispered.

  “Well, I still require a shave.”

  Owen stepped in front of him. “I am glad you’re here,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Boreas grasped the offered hand and pulled Owen into his arms. “As I am glad to be here, son.”

  And now that his physical appearance was no longer a liability, he could play an even bigger role in guarding this precious family of his. He might’ve failed Ori, but it was a mistake he’d never make again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chrys! Chrys! Laney screamed, barraged from every angle by blinding light and color. No. Not blinding. Because she could see it. Every bit of it.

  She slammed back into her body, swayed, fell into something hard and warm. What the hell just happened?

  “Laney, what’s the matter? What’s happening?” Chrys’s voice, deep and strained.

  She threw herself around him, emotion overwhelming her, and labored to restrain the sobs threatening to tear up her throat. It had been the better part of ten years since she’d last seen light and color so vividly, so fully, coming at her from every angle.

  He spoke in that language she didn’t understand, then, finally, his arms settled around her. He pulled her in tight, one hand petting her hair in slow, soothing strokes. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her breathing to even out or her heart to stop pounding. She was shaking so hard she didn’t think she’d stay on her feet if Chrys wasn’t holding her.

  “Can you tell me what just happened?” he rasped against her hair.

  “I…I…what did you do wh-when you took my h-hand?” she managed, her limited vision filled with his unique aura from standing up against him. The near blindness was so familiar, so much a part of her. That glimpse of sight… So unexpected, it had been as terrifying as it was awesome.

  He pulled back and cupped her face in his big, warm palm. His thumb stroked her cheek, catching tears she didn’t realize had spilled. For a long moment, she felt examined. She inhaled a calming breath and leaned her face into his hand.

  “Come here,” he said. He led her to the bed and tugged her down beside him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve explained it. I just…I suck at this. I never do this.”

  “Do what?” she whispered, trying to focus on his face.

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as he treated her to a series of soft, affectionate touches. “Get…involved. Reveal stuff about myself.”

  His words had her heart thumping for a new reason. “Involved” was a good thing, right? “Involved” meant she wasn’t the only one affected by whatever was going on between them.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. Laney sucked in a breath. Something about the moment felt weighted with a significance she didn’t understand. And, was he shaking?

  She debated for less than a second, then gave in to the urge she’d felt since the first time they’d met. She reached up and caressed his hair. Oh, God, it was thick and soft. Her fingers ran through the golden strands, her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

  He released a halting breath and swallowed hard, light seeming to concentrate around his eyes again. “I pulled you into the elements with me. Out of the physical world and into the wind. That’s what happened when I touched you.”

  For a long moment, Laney tried to absorb the meaning of his words. Into the elements? “How?” She stroked his hair harder, loving the feel of it against her sensitive fingers.

  He shuddered. “It’s just part of me, part of my nature. But we don’t have to—”

  “I could see,” she whispered.

  He lifted his head from hers and, from the way the light shifted and focused, she knew his eyes were right in front of hers. “Are you saying you could—”

  “Totally see. As in”—she shook her head, amazement and more than a little fear flowing through her—“no more blindness.”

  “Almighty Zeus. Are you okay? Did it hurt?”

  “No. No, it didn’t hurt. It just scared the shit out of me.” She gave a small laugh despite the way her head was spinning. “It was incredible.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  Laney’s heart squeezed, and her chest filled with the pressure of her competing emotions. Total wonder at the return of something she thought she’d never again have, even if for only a moment. Sadness at the thought of being reminded of exactly what she didn’t and couldn’t have. Anticipation of doing it again, seeing it again.

  Screw the fear. This was a “dare to know” moment if she’d ever had one. It might hurt like hell to be plunged back into the dark again, but in the meantime, she was embracing this amazing, magical opportunity to see the world in all of its full, bright, glorious detail. “I’m ready now.” She nodded. “I want to try again.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Please?” she whispered. “I can do it.”

  For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Finally, he grasped her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “When we shift, just think your words. I will be able to hear you. If it’s too much, just say so, and I�
�ll pull us right back out. You will be totally safe.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “At first, we’ll stay right here. If you can…see, just take a moment to study your surroundings. Get grounded in your sight. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” The pressure in her chest shifted, now filled in part with intense gratitude for his compassion and thoughtfulness. His concern for her was clear in his words, his touch.

  “Here we go,” he said in a low voice.

  She sucked in a harsh breath as they shifted. Her soul trembled.

  Talk to me, Laney.

  She heard his voice, just as he’d said she would, but the return of her vision was so monumental, so overwhelming, that she couldn’t divert one iota of attention from soaking in the details of the world around her. It was just her room, but it was her room. Her bed with its molded headboard and purple comforter. Her shelf of trophies and ribbons from her high school equestrian club. The evening sunlight pouring through the sheer lavender curtains and throwing rainbow prisms off of the crystal teardrop hanging in the window. A million shapes and colors flooded her brain, bolstering her memories and restocking her imagination.

  Laney?

  I’m okay. I’m…better than okay. It was, perhaps, the most amazing moment of her life.

  What does it look like?

  Just like I remembered, only more. More colorful, more detailed, more…alive. So, now what do we do? How do we get where we need to go?

  I’ll guide us. It won’t take long.

  It could take forever, as far as she was concerned. All right. I’m good to go.

  The next thing she knew, she was looking down on the roof of her house. She squealed.

  I’ve got you.

  I’m okay, I’m okay. Oh, my God. She scanned all around, and her awareness fell upon the setting sun. She gasped. Somehow, that incredible emotional pressure filled her, even in this form. The sun. I haven’t been able to really see it in years.

  I’ll help you see anything you want to see.

  She would’ve sworn he brushed her face. But how could that be? She looked around, to the barn and the fields beyond. Sappho!

  Yes. Slowly, they moved over the house, the yard, and toward the barn. The horses were grazing in the field.

  Oh! She’s even more beautiful than I’d remembered. The Friesian’s black hair normally made it difficult to see her details. But now, Laney could see the whole of just how gorgeous and majestic she was. For a long moment, she lingered.

  She visited each of the other horses and committed to memory their colors and markings and mannerisms. Chrys brought her to Rolly last.

  What happened to him? Chrys asked.

  Someone shot him a couple weeks ago. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people do to horses. Growing up, my grandfather was involved with rescue organizations. He always said, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” So I kept up his work after he died. When I heard about Rolly, I couldn’t resist.

  The Appaloosa shook its head and stomped.

  You never cease to amaze me. Before she could answer, he spoke again, I have never liked to see something hurting. He pulled her around to the surgical wound on the horse’s lower belly. And there’s no reason this guy has to.

  What do you…

  The question fell away as Chrys’s presence beside her seemed to change, focus, narrow. A warm wind blew around them, from them. She gasped as, before her eyes, Rolly’s wound started to change, too.

  Are you doing that? That’s amazing.

  For several long moments, he didn’t answer, but the steady healing—the kind that would’ve happened over the next couple weeks—continued right before her until all that remained was a scar. The horse nickered and trotted off a few paces as if trying out his new healthfulness.

  When Chrys’s voice came, it was low and soft. If I can’t heal you, I’ll heal something you love.

  Emotion overwhelmed Laney. He’d healed him, healed the thing she’d always loved most in the world. Another Kant quote came to mind: “We can judge the heart of a man by how he treats animals.” And by that measure, Chrys had proven himself in spades. Thank you, she managed. I can’t believe you just did that, but thank you.

  As if the gift of her sight wasn’t enough…

  If Laney had been in her body, she was sure her heart would’ve grown too large for her chest.

  …

  Chrysander was on full-out sensory overload.

  First, there’d been Laney’s desperate embrace in her bedroom. He’d forced himself not to pull away. She’d needed him, and he’d wanted to be strong enough to be there for her in any way—in every way. When was the last time someone had hugged him? He couldn’t even recall the last time someone’s hands had surrounded or held him. The normal breath-stealing panic had been there, but he’d focused on Laney, on her warmth, on the comfort she seemed to receive from his touch.

  Then, she’d dragged her fingers through his hair. Electricity had shot through his nervous system, skittered down his spine, and settled into the sudden steel of his cock. He always blocked a lover’s grasp from his face or his neck or his hair. It was too intimate, too familiar. But ever since he’d curled himself around her on the barn floor and realized what she’d risked to tend to his wounds, Laney Summerlyn had slowly but surely been slipping around defenses he’d built up eons ago.

  Now, her absolute wonder at the return of her sight in this form… It slayed him. He hadn’t even thought such a thing might be possible. That he could do this for her, give this to her, and that she trusted him to share this experience with her—it might’ve been the most meaningful thing Chrysander Notos had ever been a part of.

  He hadn’t planned on the detour to heal her horse, but hearing her talk about rescuing horses, and thinking of what she’d done for him as he’d laid injured in his sacred animal form, he suddenly had to do something else, just for her. The incredible gratitude that flowed through their intertwined energy? It was the greatest, most unexpected reward.

  We should head out to meet my family now, if you’re ready?

  Yes. I think I am.

  Chrys willed them up, up above the fields, but low enough that Laney could still study all over which they passed. As they chased the westward-moving sun, Chrys swooped down to race along a train, sailed just over the slow-moving waters of the Potomac River, and weaved in and among the buildings of Washington, D.C. As they flew, Laney exclaimed, laughed, gasped. He anticipated each reaction, honored that she shared them so freely. When she asked if he could take her to see this or that more closely, he couldn’t have denied her if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t. Each and every detour was for Laney’s benefit and pleasure.

  Chrys would’ve gone anywhere. He wanted her to see everything. And he wanted to be at her side when she saw it.

  And, gods, how the gratitude and the joy and the absolute delight poured off her. He’d never felt more touched—nor derived more comfort and satisfaction from such closeness with another being—as he did while they soared through the darkening summer sky toward his brethren’s home.

  After all the pain he’d caused, after all the conflict and discord his very existence had wrought, learning he had the capacity to create something so good and so pure and so righteous threatened to remake him at the most fundamental level.

  And it was all because of Laney.

  As her energy twirled and twisted with his on the wind, Chrys wasn’t sure he would ever truly feel content without her warmth and courage and strength at his side.

  It was a sobering thought, given who he was and the current crisis, not to mention that tolerating one hug was a helluva long way from proving able to provide the kind of emotional and physical support Laney required—no, deserved.

  He took a moment to pull himself together, regret filling his gut at what he needed to tell her. We’re almost there.

  All right. Isn’t it all so beautiful? I mean, I knew it was. Bu
t I just didn’t remember it quite like this.

  Chrys pictured her face. Almost too beautiful for words.

  He navigated them toward the neighborhood and brought them in along the cozy street of well-kept houses on which Owen and Megan lived. Knowing Laney would need a moment to collect herself when they returned to their bodies, he circled into Owen’s backyard and brought them down under the cover of an old tree with broad, sprawling branches.

  You might be disoriented for a few minutes, but I’ll take care of you.

  I know you will.

  Four simple words. Her trust shot straight to the center of his being, opened his defenses to her a little wider.

  And then they were corporeal again.

  Laney sucked in a gasping breath. Her fingers dug into his biceps when she swayed. “I think I need to sit down,” she rasped.

  He guided her to her knees, so they knelt facing one another. “How are you?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, resting her forehead in her palms.

  Watching her, Chrys’s gut tightened. Worry clawed through his chest. Had it been too much?

  Her shoulders shook. Intense emotion rolled off her and slammed into him. And then she launched herself at him, the movement so sudden and unexpected that Chrys lost his balance and toppled backward. She landed on his chest and crawled up his body. Kisses rained down on his neck and face. Her hands plowed into his hair.

  Pinned down. He was pinned down. He grunted, every muscle in his body rigid with anticipation over whether his fight-or-flight response would win out.

  And then her words sank into his consciousness.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” A litany of gratitude spilled from her lips and covered him in kisses and caresses that punctuated the outpouring of her affection.

  Chrys’s mind froze, waited, debated. Then he groaned, his body demanding things his mind was fighting against. Taking her in his arms, he rolled them in the soft grass. His fingers found her hair. His lips found her lips. His body settled into the cradle of her thighs.

  “Chrys,” she rasped around the edge of a kiss, her hands still grasping and tugging at his hair. “Thank you…for everything.”