by Becca Andre
“The usual.” The bartender shrugged. “Older man and a skinny fellow. I didn’t pay much attention. They left before Rich did.”
Seeing that the man had no more information to offer, Briar thanked him and led Eli outside.
“What now, Miss Briar?” Eli asked. “Should we hang around and see if this Richard guy shows up?”
“He doesn’t seem like a particularly bright fellow, but I wouldn’t think he’d show up at a tavern where everyone knows him. Not after being identified at that sawmill.”
“What about these strangers? Someone gave him the name of our boat. You reckon it was them?”
Briar rubbed a hand over her face. “It seems likely, but who the hell were they? It wasn’t Andrew and Owens.”
Eli frowned, but didn’t have an answer.
“We’ll have to remain vigilant.” She patted his arm. “Let’s head back to the boat. I could do with some supper.”
“Aye, Captain.” Eli seemed cheered by the prospect. “It’s been a rough day. A meal is just what we need.”
Briar smiled at his enthusiasm, wishing the solution could be so simple. Who were these strangers who had sent a disgruntled drunk to sabotage them? Believing it was Andrew had made the problem…manageable. She preferred the enemy she knew. Now she felt lost. Continued vigilance was not a solution, but at the moment, it was all she had.
The lock was cleared of logs the next morning, and after a brief visit with the sawmill foreman, the Briar Rose was once more underway. Unfortunately, Richard Haskins hadn’t been found, nor had anyone at the mill known about the two strangers, but with Solon’s deadline hanging over her head, Briar had no choice but to continue on. The identity of Richard’s drinking buddies would remain a mystery. For now.
After breakfast, Perseus introduced Jimmy and Zach to a new variant of dice, and the aft cargo hold was soon dominated by the rattle of the dice cup.
Leaving them to their boisterous competition, Briar took her notebook to the bow deck for a little quiet. It was too stuffy in her cabin, but with the fog shrouding the sun, and the early morning temperatures, the bow made a nice alternative.
She had filled a couple of pages when a throat cleared. She glanced up to find Grayson standing over her.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you might like some refreshments.” He gestured with the covered basket he held.
After the hearty breakfast, Briar wasn’t starving, but she couldn’t help but eye the basket. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a surprise. May I join you?”
“As if I’d turn down a man bearing gifts.” She patted the deck beside her.
“I’ll file that for future reference.” He took a seat beside her. Lifting the cloth, he revealed a small bowl of blueberries, each berry dipped in—
“Is that chocolate?” she asked.
“Yes. I came upon some in Akron. I’ve been debating on what to make with it. Your pantry is a little limited, so I went with simple.”
“I like simple.” She winked.
“Careful. If you’re calling me simple, I might take back the berries.”
“If I did, I’d be lying. You are quite complicated.”
“Mmm.” He lifted out the bowl and held it before her. “Ever had a chocolate-covered berry?”
“No, never.”
“The flavors complement each other beautifully. Try it.”
Amused, she selected a berry and brought it to her mouth. It seemed an odd combination, but like her crew, she’d learned not to turn down any of the unusual dishes Grayson made them.
She bit into the berry, tasting the rich chocolate first, then the juicy burst of fresh fruit. “Oh, wow,” she said around the mouthful. She pressed a hand to her lips and stared at him. “That’s amazing.”
“Told you.”
She grinned, then popped a second blueberry into her mouth.
He leaned back on his elbows and watched her select another berry. “They’re better enjoyed with wine in a secluded location. But since I had access to neither, I thought I’d give them to you while the berries were still fresh.”
“So had the circumstances been different, that’s what I could have expected from you?”
“First, I would have taken you somewhere that required you to wear more formal attire, like a certain green gown.”
“You and that dress.” She laughed, then ate another berry. Wow, that was good.
“It has become something of an obsession.” He lay back and folded his arms behind his head, studying the nearly cloudless sky now visible through the diminishing fog. “Well, that and what you were wearing in the hotel room.”
“I wasn’t wearing anything,” she whispered.
“Oh, I know.”
She swatted him in the stomach.
He rolled onto his side, away from her, with a laugh. Reassured that she wasn’t going to hit him again, he returned to his previous position. “I guess I got you back for the time you invaded my bath,” he said, keeping his voice soft.
“I might have invaded your bath, but you’re the one who… showed me your wares,” she finished in a whisper.
“My wares?” He lost himself to another laugh.
“I was trying to phrase it politely,” she said when he got control of his mirth.
He eyed her from where he lay on the deck. “I could give you some words.”
“Grayson!” She whispered the admonishment, glancing toward the rear of the boat. Eli was at the tiller, Molly on the rail beside him. Briar assumed the rest were still at their dice game in the aft cargo hold.
“I swear you say things like that to watch me blush,” she whispered.
“I do.”
She shook her head and turned to her berries. “Then you should remain silent until you can think of something polite to say.” In truth, she didn’t mind the banter, but she didn’t want him to think her so coarse as to enjoy it.
“We could discuss the weather,” he said.
“Something interesting and polite.”
“Well, I had interesting covered, but you had to go and spoil that.”
She stuck out her tongue and selected another berry.
He sat up beside her. “How goes the journal writing?”
And he accused her of spoiling the fun? “I’ve filled up quite a few pages,” she admitted.
“Do you find it helpful?”
“I’ve only just begun, but to tell the truth, it is helpful. I’ve made a list of several key incidents and described them as best I could.”
“Key incidents?”
“The times when I seemed to return your humanity. Your final casting, your fight with Eli, and when I called you off that man yesterday.”
“Ah.” He picked at a seam on his pant leg. “And what have you determined?”
“That I need my fiddle or Lock to influence you when you’re cold.”
At the mention of his name, Lock left her pocket and hopped down onto the deck.
“What about the time Lucrezia was holding me in that warehouse on the pier? I believe you kissed me that time.”
“While covered in Lock’s armor—and he suggested the kissing.”
“He does have his uses.”
Lock gave Grayson an indignant whirr, then stuck his nose into the bowl with the berries.
“My point is that Lock was still involved.” She eyed Grayson. “You don’t agree?”
“I don’t know. As I told you, I have a hard time… relating to what’s happening to me at moments like that. But I want to argue that there’s more to it.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you shared your feelings with me even when Lucrezia possessed Lock.”
When she confessed that she loved him. “You weren’t cold. That’s the point. I’m trying to f
igure out how to reliably…” She wasn’t sure how to finish that.
“Control me?” he suggested.
“I don’t like phrasing it like that—even if it is true.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I wish you had more insight to offer about what I’m doing. It would be nice if—” She fell silent as a new idea occurred.
“What?” he asked.
“Would it be possible for you to share with me these sensations while you’re cold? Then I could bring you back and perhaps you’d share that, too.”
He frowned, but didn’t immediately answer.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t like pulling my other side close, and in light of what happened yesterday, I’m not so certain it’s wise.”
“I understand, but—I know I sound like Esme—I need to experiment. How else will I learn? Besides, I’ll have my fiddle ready. You know I can bring you back with it.”
He released a breath. “All right.” He glanced over. “But if this is just an excuse to get me to remove my shirt, I would do that for you willingly—no excuse required.”
“It’s not an excuse. The shirt removal is just a perk.” She winked. “Let’s go to my cabin.”
“I think I’ve just been propositioned.”
“Grayson!” She tried to sound stern, but the laugh spoiled it. “You have a one-track mind today.”
“Oh, it’s not just today.”
She swatted his shoulder, then began to gather her things.
Chuckling, he picked up the empty berry bowl and basket. “It seems my berries did the trick.”
“Still trying to seduce me, Mr. Martel?” she teased.
“I never stopped.” He winked and headed for her cabin.
Briar left her open fiddle case on the table beside Lock, who had taken the form of the silver fiddle. Her notebook and pen lay nearby, handy in case she needed to take a few notes. She turned to face Grayson and found him already shrugging off his shirt.
Molly had commented on how well put together Eli was, but apparently, she hadn’t paid much attention to Grayson. He might not match Eli in bulk, but he certainly looked good without a shirt.
He turned away to lay his shirt on the nearby bunk where he’d already placed his waistcoat. The move gave Briar a good look at his back, and any teasing comments she might have considered faded away.
There was definitely more metal visible, even since yesterday—or perhaps because of yesterday. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to do this. Then too, maybe it would continue even when he did nothing. The fact remained that she needed to figure this out. She had no hope of helping him otherwise.
He faced her once more. There was no metal visible on his chest; only the glaring red scar over his sternum broke up the perfection.
“All right,” she spoke in the silence. “How do we do this? Should you share what you’re feeling now? Connect to me, then go cold?”
“We can try. It might be best to connect first. I’m not sure how dependable I’ll be in a moment. Perhaps you should hold the violin ready.”
She frowned. “You’ve never tried to hurt me.”
“And I’ve never been this devolved.”
God, she hated it when he talked like that, but she didn’t reprimand him. She knew the episode at the sawmill bothered him. A lot.
Wordlessly, she turned and picked up the fiddle. “I’m ready.”
He nodded, then took a deep breath. His blue-gray eyes met hers, and she felt of burst of apprehension and concern. He was worried, but then, so was she.
Nodding, she lifted the fiddle to her chin.
His eyes held hers, and then he blinked. And in the next instant, she was staring into the eyes of the ferromancer.
The change was so abrupt it made her breath catch. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she longed to take a step back. It took her a moment to realize that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He was still connected to her, but if she hadn’t been aware of it, she might not have known. He was nothing but a cold void. She shivered, wondering if that might be the source of her chill.
She didn’t have a clear view, but she glimpsed the dorsal spines along his upper back emerge. A moment later, those amazing silver wings settled against his back.
“Can you tell me what you feel?” she asked.
“Feel?” he asked in that cold monotone.
“With regard to me. Can you feel your connection to me?”
A faint frown darkened his brow as he appeared to think about that. “Your soul is knotted with mine, holding a piece of me apart.”
Lock. Oddly, he didn’t seem upset by the fact. It was only a detail to share.
“But you feel my soul, too?” she asked. “Now?” She wasn’t doing anything—at least not consciously.
“Yes.”
“Huh.” She didn’t know what that meant. Was it just evidence of her connection to him? She took a breath, then returned the silver fiddle and her bow to the table. “I’d like to try an experiment.” She faced him.
“I know.”
She stepped closer, watching him watch her. Swallowing her unease, she reached up and laid a hand on his chest. “I want you to share with me what you feel.”
“I am aware of what you want. We have already discussed it.”
“I was making certain you hadn’t forgotten.”
“How could I forget when we discussed it a moment ago?” he asked, his tone cool and sounding almost bored.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just… feel like you’re a different person when you’re like this.”
“It is only a shift of perspective, and an absence of the demands of the flesh.”
“Can you share that?”
“Share what?” He looked puzzled.
“Share what you’re feeling, or thinking, or whatever. When you are more in tune with your flesh, you share the sensations you’re experiencing. Can you do that now?”
He regarded her with no change of expression.
“Grayson?” It felt odd to call him by name. He was so very different from her Grayson.
A wash of… something swept over her, pulling a startled gasp from her lungs as if she’d been punched. The sensation was so foreign, so other, that she had a moment’s uncertainty as to what it truly was. Yet at the same time, she knew it was Grayson.
She wanted to shove him away, to run from this thing that had taken her Grayson, but she forced herself to stand her ground and remain in contact with it. Her skin chilled, and it seemed her insides turned to ice. The sensation was very similar to getting hit by ferra soul fire, but ten times more powerful.
The thing that was Grayson watched her with alien eyes, a detached interest in his intelligent gaze. He might not feel, but he had no trouble thinking. Something about this exchange had caught his attention.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“You are so powerful,” he said, his voice soft. “But that power is bound in flesh.” He reached up to wrap a hand around the back of her neck, cradling the base of her skull. It seemed so wrong that his fingers were warm.
“I am mostly human, you know.”
“It’s more than that.” He considered her for a moment. “Your power is your humanity.”
Goosebumps rose once more as she remembered Esme saying nearly the same thing. “Share what you sense?” she asked. If he could help her understand that—
The coldness washed over her once more, silencing her. Then it changed. The first true touch of emotion brushed her. Longing. He wanted, he craved the warmth, the life he felt in her.
So much life. With the emotion, he was now able to truly share in a way that translated into words for her.
Beneath his hand, her skin tingled.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I wish to understa
nd.
She pulled in a breath. “Grayson, stop.”
The tingle intensified.
Instinctively, she reached up to grip the medallion, but she wasn’t wearing the necklace. Lock was still the fiddle, lying on the table several feet away.
Chapter 10
Grayson’s hand tightened on the back of her neck.
“Let me go, Grayson,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm and not reveal her panic. “Be human.”
A faint frown wrinkled his brow. “But I’m not human.”
Why didn’t that work? Perhaps she really did need to be in contact with Lock. But Grayson had implied that there was more to this. He’d suggested that the connection lay in her affection for him. Hadn’t Esme believed something similar?
Ready to call Lock to her if this didn’t work, Briar rolled up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She sensed confusion from him. He stood almost frozen, not understanding her actions.
She ignored his lack of response, focusing instead on her love for him. She imagined wrapping him in her soul—which was what he said she did when she brought him back. She kissed the corner of his unresponsive mouth, then his jaw while her hands slid down over his bare chest. Trying to ignore the embarrassment, she dropped the barriers between them and shared her attraction to him. The physical attraction. After all, the point was to remind him of what it was to be human.
Feeling a bit brazen, she shared the excitement of exploring his bare chest and how the hint of stubble beneath her lips made her very aware that he was male and she was female. With that thought, her mind immediately jumped to the bath scene where he’d left none of that in doubt.
His hand tightened on the back of her neck.
Alarmed, she started to reach out to Lock when he crushed her lips beneath his own. She didn’t need to open her eyes to verify that he was human once more. He opened himself to her with the same abandon, sharing not only his love, but everything else. And unlike her, he wasn’t remotely shy.
She blushed at his open appreciation for the feel of her body pressed to his and the warm wetness of her mouth. He didn’t bother to rein in his imagination as he took things further, picturing a scene with a distinct lack of clothing and a position more horizontal than their current one.
