Firefighter Sea Dragon (Fire & Rescue Shifters Book 4)

by Zoe Chant

  It felt like only a moment before John was gently shaking her shoulder. “Only a little further now, my mate. Take up your courage for just a while longer.”

  Heartsick and sore in every muscle from the long, jolting journey, Neridia stumbled after him in a daze. She barely registered the short taxi ride from the station. She stared blankly out the window, not really seeing the lights of the buildings flicking past. It was evening now, and it felt like they had been traveling forever.

  “Here, my lady.” John opened the taxi door for her, holding out his hand. “We are here.”

  Stepping out of the taxi, Neridia’s spirits lifted a little. There was a sharp, clean tang in the air that cleared her muzzy head. It was nothing like the sweet scent of the Highlands, but there was still something strangely familiar about it. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

  Somehow…it smells like home.

  Opening her eyes, she found that John was watching her, his own blue gaze deep and clear. “It is the scent of the sea, my lady,” he said softly. “We are very close to it here. Have you truly never visited it before?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never been to the seaside. My father avoided water so thoroughly, it never occurred to me to go myself, not even after my parents passed away.”

  John had been leading her towards a small Victorian townhouse, but now he hesitated with one foot on the front step. “I had thought to rest here on land for tonight, but if you are impatient to see your true home…?”

  “Oh God, no.” Neridia quailed at the thought of adding more stress to this exhausting day. She didn’t share John’s unshakeable certainty that the ocean would unlock her dragon form at last. “I’m in no rush. I’d rather see your house. Is this it?”

  “Yes.” John unlocked the front door, ducking his head as he entered. “My territory is humble, my lady. But it is yours.”

  John wasn’t kidding about the humble part. The house was spotlessly clean, and also terribly empty. There wasn’t a single painting or picture on the walls, though holes marked where some had once hung. Dents in the worn carpet suggested that there might have once been a sofa and armchairs in the front room, but now it contained only a single hard, straight-backed chair and a crate full of battered books.

  It was about as far as it was possible to get from her own colorful, art-filled home. If she didn’t know that John lived here, she would have sworn that someone had just moved out.

  “It’s, um…” Neridia struggled to conceal her dismay. “It’s very…well, there’s a lot of space.”

  “It used to be my oath-brother Griff’s dwelling. He generously shared his territory with me when I first came to the land, needing a place to stay. He has since moved in with his mate, of course.” John gestured around at the empty room apologetically. “I am afraid that most of the furniture went with him. I did not feel the need to replace it. Human dwellings feel very claustrophobic to one used to the open ocean.”

  Neridia peered into the box of books. It was a wild assortment, everything from bodice-ripper romances to history textbooks. It looked like John had just swept an indiscriminate armload up from the shelves of a charity shop and bought the lot.

  “I thought you said sea dragons didn’t have books,” she said.

  “We do not have paper under the sea, but we do learn to read and write your human tongue.” John unwrapped his sword from its concealing blankets as he spoke. “I must confess, I have acquired a fondness for books during my time on land. Human minds are endlessly inventive, if frequently rather mysterious. I learn a great deal from your literature.”

  Neridia noticed that John was currently reading Fifty Shades of Grey. She decided not to ask what he was learning from that particular book. Nonetheless, she was strangely comforted by the eclectic collection. It was a tiny touch of normality in his otherwise alien lifestyle.

  John hung his sword up on two hooks placed where an ordinary person might have a television. “You are hungry, my mate. I shall prepare food.”

  “Food sounds good.” Neridia followed him into the kitchen. “What can I do?”

  “You can rest,” he said firmly, shooing her back out again. “Allow me to take care of this task. Go, settle into the territory. It has been a long day, and I can sense your exhaustion.”

  Neridia would rather have helped him cook, but she had a hunch he didn’t want her company at the moment. Her sense of him down the mate bond was strangely elusive, as if he was trying to keep his distance from her mentally as well as physically.

  It’s been a long day for him too, she told herself, squelching down her own feelings of rejection. He probably just needs some space to decompress.

  Leaving John to it, she wandered upstairs. The upper floor of the house was just as barren as the rooms below. The master bedroom was completely empty, even the wardrobe. Neridia guessed that must have been Griff’s room. From the looks of things, John hadn’t used it at all since his former housemate had moved out.

  Somewhat to Neridia’s relief, the second bedroom did actually contain a bed. She’d been starting to fear that John slept on the floor, if he slept on land at all. At least here he wasn’t a complete ascetic. The bed dominated the small room, clearly custom-made for his immense height.

  Plenty of room for two.

  Despite her tiredness and homesickness, the thought sent a thrill through her. She ran her fingers over the soft coverlet, scarcely able to imagine that tonight she’d be curled up underneath it. With him.

  I hope sea dragons don’t only mate in water.

  A shriek split the air, sending her heart leaping into her throat. She cast around wildly for a weapon, but there wasn’t anything sharper than a pillow in sight.

  Empty-handed, she ran for the stairs. “John! What-?”

  The hellish noise cut off abruptly. John looked up at her sheepishly from the hallway, lowering his hand from the smoke detector in the ceiling.

  “I am sorry to alarm you.” Acrid fumes curled around his head, drifting from the kitchen doorway. “The matter is under control now.”

  “That’s not what it smells like.” Wrinkling her nose, Neridia ducked round him into the kitchen. Whatever John had been trying to cook was completely unidentifiable, just a black mess welded to the bottom of a pan. “What happened?”

  John gazed mournfully down at the cremated remains. “Me. We do not have fire under the sea, or cooking. My oath-brother has done his best to teach me the basics, but I must confess that I still struggle with the techniques.”

  “Sea dragons don’t cook?” Neridia said incredulously. “What do you eat?”

  “Fish, mainly.” John dropped the ruined pan into the sink. “Or squid. Shark or kraken, as a delicacy. We hunt and eat in dragon form. For us, the pleasure of the meal comes in the catching of it more than the consuming.”

  Just when I think he can’t get any stranger…

  “I shall try again.” Squaring his shoulders as if he was facing off against assassins, John opened the fridge. “This time it will go better, I assure you.”

  “This time, I’m helping,” Neridia said firmly. “What have you got?”

  John rummaged in the fridge, as if hopeful that something new might have miraculously appeared in it within the past ten minutes. “I have…chicken eggs, miscellaneous plant parts, butter, and some surprisingly solid cow milk. Do these things together make a meal?”

  “It makes omelets.” Neridia disposed of the carton of milk, which was practically about to walk away on its own. “Without the milk.”

  It felt good to take charge, to at last have something that she could do. The familiar motions of chopping vegetables and whisking eggs soothed her frayed nerves. John followed every movement with the fascinated concentration of someone trying to work out a magic trick.

  When they finally sat down to the end result, his delighted surprise at the first forkful sparkled down the mate bond. It heightened her own appreciation of the flavors, as if she too was tast
ing it for the first time.

  “How do you do this?” he said, staring at the simple omelets as though she’d transmuted lead into gold.

  Trying to explain the concept of seasoning turned into a broader discussion of herbs, which somehow led into him quizzing her in detail about the best meals she’d ever eaten, and what had made them special. For the first time since her house had burned down, Neridia found that she was actually enjoying herself.

  “You have a great passion for this art,” he said as they finished the meal. “And you are a true master of it.”

  The warm glow of his respect filled her even more than the food. “Hardly. I’m just an amateur. But I’ve always liked to cook.”

  One more thing I’ll have to give up, if I learn to shift.

  The thought ruined the pleasure of the moment, tensing her shoulders again. John’s eyebrows drew together a little as he picked up on her change of mood. For a second, she thought he started to reach out a hand to her—but then he abruptly stood, gathering up the plates.

  “You should try to sleep, my lady.” He kept his back to her as he started to wash the dishes. “You will need your strength for the coming day. Do not fear. I shall guard the territory while you rest.”

  Her sense of him had gone remote again, as if he’d withdrawn into some deep cave in his mind. His spine was very straight, every muscle standing out in his back.

  Neridia gathered up her courage. Going over to him, she tentatively slid her hands around his waist. He went very still.

  “I, um.” Neridia was sure she was blushing. “I know you take your duties as my bodyguard seriously, but I was kind of hoping you might take some of your other duties equally seriously tonight…Royal Consort.”

  She felt him draw in a deep, shaking breath. This close to him, their skin separated only by the thin fabric of his shirt, he couldn’t hide his emotions from her. She could sense the sharp leap of his desire…and the agonizing effort it was taking him to restrain it.

  “John?” Confused, she stepped back. “Why are you holding back from me? Did, did I do something wrong?”

  “No!” The word leaped from his lips in a vehement chord, like a trumpet blast. “Never think that, my mate. It is not you. It is me.”

  He’d been withdrawn ever since he’d talked to the leader of his Order, Neridia realized. “Is it to do with what you Knight-Commander said? About not letting me into Atlantis if I can’t shift?”

  His hands tightened on the edge of the sink, knuckles white. “Not that. I have no doubt that you will take your place on the Pearl Throne. But…but that is not all that he said.”

  Neridia had a sick feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong. “Tell me, John. Whatever it is, I can feel that it’s eating you up inside. I’m your mate. Please, just tell me.”

  He turned to face her at last. “He corrected my erroneous interpretation of our code of honor.”

  It took Neridia a second to work out what he meant. “You mean he’s angry about you breaking your vow of chastity? But you did that to help me! Didn’t you tell him that you only did it in order to try to teach me to shift?”

  “There can be no excuses for oath-breaking. I understand that now, thanks to the guidance of my Knight-Commander.” Though the mate bond cried out with pain and grief, his face was absolutely expressionless. “My honor has been strained near to breaking point. If I am not to shatter it completely, I must strictly adhere to my vows.”

  Neridia stared at him, too shocked to speak.

  He bowed his head, his indigo hair shadowing his face. “I am sorry.” His voice was the barest whisper. “More sorry than I have words to say. You are my mate, and yet I have done you a worse injury than any shark. This is all my fault.”

  “No it isn’t!” Neridia grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You acted with honor, John. You didn’t have any doubt of that before, not until this Knight-Commander of yours got into your head and twisted up your thoughts.”

  He stiffened, moving away from her hand. “The Knight-Commander is the strongest and wisest among us, and his honor is unquestionable. He is the very heart and soul of my Order. He is the Order of the First Water. He does not twist up my thoughts, as you put it. He provides discipline to keep me on the path of honor, when my own poor judgment would lead me astray.”

  “This isn’t discipline, this is punishment!”

  “This is mercy.” John’s jaw tightened for a moment. “The mandated punishment for oath-breakers is death.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Because as you said, before I did not consider myself to be breaking my oaths. I thought I was following the demands of my higher duty to the Pearl Throne. But I was in error. We are very fortunate that he has graciously allowed me the one indulgence. He will not overlook a second transgression.”

  Neridia felt like she’d been gut-punched. “So we can’t—not ever?”

  John hesitated. “It is probably a sign of my damaged honor that this has even occurred to me, but there is some hope.”

  “How?” She knew enough of him by now to be certain that he didn’t mean he might consider resigning as a knight. “You think the Knight-Commander might relent?”

  “Not precisely.” John raked both hands through his hair, making the gold charms clink together. “I must explain some history to you. The vow of chastity was only added to the Creed of the Knights of the First Water about five hundred years ago, back in the reign of the thirty-eighth Pearl Emperor. One of the Emperor’s knights was coerced by threats against his mate into turning a blind eye to an assassination plot.”

  “Oh. So that’s the reason for the vow? It was introduced to make sure no knights could ever be blackmailed that way again?”

  John nodded. “The Emperor survived the assassination attempt, and afterwards persuaded the Knight-Commander of the time to instigate the vow of chastity. The Knight-Commander dismissed the knights who already had mates, and subsequently only accepted new novices who were proven mateless. It was somewhat controversial at the time.”

  “I bet.” Neridia caught her breath as the reason he was telling her this became clear. “Wait. You said the vow of chastity was the Emperor’s idea?”

  The corner of his mouth twisted slightly. “Perhaps what an Emperor persuaded a Knight-Commander to do, an Empress might persuade a Knight-Commander to undo.”

  Neridia’s heart plummeted right down to her socks. “Oh.”

  John’s expression softened as he sensed her dismay. “I know that it sounds like a difficult feat. The Knight-Commander is cautious, thinking only of the safety of the Pearl Empire, and will not easily be persuaded to change our traditions. But the Knight-Commander will be sworn to your service once you ascend the Pearl Throne, and Compassion is one of our most important Knightly Vows. He will not wish to see his Empress miserable. I believe he will relent in the end.”

  “But…all that can only happen if I take the Pearl Throne. If I’m Empress.”

  “You will be Empress.” He took her hands, squeezing them in his own. “You will shift, my mate. I will take you to the sea, and you will find your true form, and together we shall go to Atlantis. I promise you, you will be Empress.”

  Neridia didn’t answer. She looked down at their joined hands, unable to meet his eyes. With his utter certainty blazing down the mate bond, there was no way she could say out loud the terrible question in her heart.

  But what if I don’t want to be Empress?

  Chapter 18

  It was a day made for rejoicing. John had spent some hours during the night communing with the clouds, and as a result the morning dawned bright and clear. The brilliant summer sunlight made the old, pale buildings of Brighton gleam like fresh-polished shells. Seagulls wheeled across the azure sky in exuberant flight, their raucous voices filled with joy.

  The sky, the wind, even the small minds of the birds; all things connected to the sea knew at some level that this was a historic day. Fo
r today, for the first time, the Empress-in-Waiting was coming home.

  Even ordinary humans seemed to have picked up on the mood. It might just have been the unusually fine weather, but a sense of giddy delight permeated the entire city. Children jumped and skipped with just a little more energy than usual, shrieking as happily as the seagulls overhead. Lovers walked just a little closer to each other, laughing in the sun. Everyone was smiling.

  Everyone, that is, except the Empress-in-Waiting herself.

  As they made their way toward the seafront, John couldn’t shake the feeling that he was escorting a prisoner to her execution.

  Neridia had been withdrawn and quiet ever since the previous evening. She hadn’t touched her breakfast, despite the fact that even his culinary skills couldn’t render dry cereal inedible. Their mate bond was pale and subdued, her thoughts drawn back like a snail into a shell.

  Alone in the happy crowd thronging Brighton’s main street, she walked with head bowed and shoulders hunched, as if the bright sunshine were a howling gale. Though the broad road ran downhill, she was going slower and slower. John kept having to check his own stride to avoid outpacing her.

  This isn’t right, John’s inner human fretted. This isn’t right at all. This should be one of the happiest days of her life. We have to do something.

  For once John was in full agreement with his inner human, but he was at a loss as to what to do. Though his poetry could move sea and rain, he had no idea what words might lift Neridia’s mood. So far, he could not exactly claim a string of victories when it came to talking to his mate.

  His inner human rolled its eyes in exasperation. So don’t talk.

  John clenched his jaw. It would be so natural, so right, to reach out to her, to stroke away the tension in her shoulders and kiss smooth the lines of worry furrowing her brow…but his vow of chastity kept his arms at his sides. His honor bound him like a net of gossamer threads—easy to break, but irreparable once broken.