by Nora Roberts
He waited until after the evening meal, after the decision to wait one more full day before diving again. He wouldn’t argue that, because with what he hoped to do, he might need that extra recovery day.
“With any luck when we do go out, I’ll have a location, or at least a direction. We’ll know where we want to be,” Riley concluded.
“Good enough. Now, Annika needs the sea.”
Bran nodded at Sawyer. “I’ll take her down later.”
“No, I’ll take her.” As Doyle shook his head, Sawyer aimed a pointed look. “I wouldn’t say I’d take her if I wasn’t sure I could, and it won’t be here, where Nerezza may sniff us out. I’ve got a place she can have some freedom.”
“You’re not a hundred percent, Sawyer,” Riley began.
“No, but I’m closer, and this is something I’ve been doing for a while now. I know what I can handle. I wouldn’t take chances with Annika, with any of us.”
“The pool is very nice. I’m happy with it.”
“You need the sea. You’ll be stronger for it. And I need to work muscles other than biceps. I need to tune up, and this is a way to do both. Can you trust me for this?”
“I do. I trust you for anything,” Annika said.
“We need to know where you are, and a time frame.” Bran glanced around the table. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
“Two hours. That gives Annika plenty of sea time, and me some recharge time if I need it. I don’t feel like I will, but if I do, that’s enough. And where?”
He blinked away, and seconds later, blinked back with a map.
“Show-off.” But Riley grinned.
“Just demonstrating I’m coming off the DL. We’ll be here.”
“But . . . the South Pacific?” Sasha looked at Bran, worry in her eyes. “It’s so far.”
“It’s one of my places—it’s . . . like driving home.”
“Can you get there?” Sasha asked Bran.
“If needed, yes.”
“And how’s this? If I think or feel hard enough, will you be able to read me? If I can try to let you know we’re there safe.”
“I can try.” Sasha nodded. “I can try. Bran can help. It’s just so far away.”
“It’s one of my places,” Sawyer repeated, and slid a small duffle out from under the table.
“What’s in there?” Riley demanded.
“Nothing much.” He held out a hand for Annika’s. “Ready?”
“It’s nine. Curfew’s eleven. Sharp,” Sasha added.
“Yes, Mom. Let’s go.”
When they vanished, Doyle picked up his beer. “So do you think he’s going all the way to the South Pacific to bang her?”
“Not just, but it’s a factor.”
Sasha poked Riley’s shoulder. “He needs to do this, needs to rebuild his confidence. He nearly died, and he’s been weak and shaken. Anni needs the sea; he needs to give it to her.”
“The sex is just the bonus round,” Riley decided.
“They’ve two hours for the sea, for confidence building, for sex.” And to make the point, Bran flicked his wrist. An old-fashioned hourglass sat in the center of the table. “It’s on two hours. Last grain of sand falls through, I go.”
“I like it. I already set the alarm on my watch,” Riley added as she studied the glass. “But this is much cooler.”
“He’s taking his moments,” Sasha told him, then went still. “I . . .” She reached for Bran’s hand, drew from him. “I feel them. I feel them. They’re safe.”
Sawyer brought them right to the verge of land where the surf rolled, smooth and gentle under star-struck skies. It felt as if he’d taken a good, solid jog—and that worked for him.
“Oh, Sawyer.” In absolute delight, she spun, then stood, one foot in sea, one on shore.
“Great spot, huh?”
“It’s wonderful. I’ve been here before.”
“Really?”
“Yes, with my family. Many times.”
“How do you know?”
“I know the water—the sea—like you know a road. It’s the best I can explain. This place, these waters, we come on . . .” Annoyed with herself she shook back her hair. “I can’t remember the word. A journey to a special place. A holy place.”
“Pilgrimage?”
“Yes! Pilgrimage, pilgrimage,” she repeated to fix the word in her mind. “We believe Annika—I was named for her. She was holy and powerful, and swam all the seas to spread kindness and love.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Then you’re well named.”
“It’s an honor to be named after one so beloved. It’s said she was nearly captured, and badly injured by seamen who hunted these waters. But one found her, helped her, tended her until she was well again. He saved her, and she saved him. He was lost, you understand? And she helped him find his way home. She gave him a gift so he would never lose his way again, on land or sea.”
Sawyer set his duffle down on the beach. “That’s pretty similar to the story passed down in my family, about the compass. But that was in the North Sea, so . . .”
He looked down at the compass, still in his hand. “Unless it wasn’t. The sailor and the mermaid, saving each other. The gift of direction. That’s a lot of parallels. Maybe it is the same, but the locations in your version or mine changed in the telling over the years. You’re Annika.”
“Yes, I’m Annika.”
“I’m Sawyer Alexei King—Alexei was the name of the sailor who was given the compass. So I’m named for him. Parallels, or maybe just fate.”
“This sacred place is where your grandfather brought you?”
“Yeah, we camped right here, on the beach.”
“So, we’ve both been here before. This place is important to us both. That’s also parallel?”
“In my book, yeah. Go on in. It’s a great night for a swim.”
“Swim with me.” And in her carefree way, she pulled off her dress, tossed it aside.
She raced into the water, dived into the roll of surf. Her tail flipped up, fluid as the water itself, then slid under the indigo sea.
Seconds later, she rose up, just to her shoulders, her smile brilliant. “Swim with me!”
“Be right there.”
He needed to set things up first, and did so quickly as she slipped under the water again. Then he stripped down, and as she had, dived into the surf. He swam out beyond the breakers, pleased his shoulder didn’t twinge, his side didn’t ache with the movement.
Then he let himself float in the cool with the white moon sailing above and stars like scattered diamonds. And he realized as everything in him eased, he’d needed this as much as she had.
Like Sasha had needed to paint, he’d needed something bright and beautiful.
And the bright and the beautiful arrowed up, head back, hair streaming. She seemed to bump the moon before she folded herself and dived in again. Her tail wound around his waist. When he started to laugh, he found himself propelled up, toward the sky. And he heard her laugh as he managed to tuck in, hit the water again in a ferocious cannonball.
“You make such a big splash.”
“I’ll say. Do it again.”
“It was fun?”
“Completely.”
This time, prepared, he pulled off a jackknife. His entry would never match hers, but he figured he rated a seven-point-five.
They played, diving, leaping, splashing, gliding.
Then floated.
“Does this hurt your arm, your side?”
“No. Almost a hundred percent all around now.”
“You’re strong.”
“Getting there.”
She turned in the water, put her arms around him. “You’re strong,” she repeated. “Sasha and Bran are strong healers. So you can be well again. I was afraid. In the cave, even after.”
“Me, too. But here we are.”
“Yes.” She brought her lips to his. “Will you touch me? I miss having you touch me when you want
me.”
“I always want you.” He ran his hands over the sleek hair that fell past her waist, and under it to skin, over the strange and marvelous transition from skin to scale. Both smooth, both beautiful.
Automatically, he kicked his legs to keep them above water, then her tail curved around him and kept them both afloat.
“I wanted you the first time I saw you.”
She stroked his cheek. “This is truth?”
“Absolute truth. You were just a drawing in Sasha’s book, but I wanted you.” He found her lips again. “And when I saw you on the beach in Corfu, in the moonlight, in the white dress, I wanted you.”
“But you were only my friend.”
“I am your friend, but it wasn’t easy to stay only your friend.”
Her heart sighed, her body shivered when he cupped her breasts. “Why did you?”
“I thought it was the right thing for you. You had so much to learn. I didn’t want to confuse you.”
“I’m not confused.”
She rose higher in the water, offered her breasts to his lips. When he took them, she let her head fall back. Her hair flowed over the water—a black silk pool over the dark sea.
Strong, she thought again, and how she’d needed those strong hands on her. His mouth tasting her, feasting now in a way that showed her he desired.
The thrill poured into her, had her streaming up with him, to circle and spin on the surface.
She clung tight, pressed his head to her, spilled down again on a sighing moan. There she circled, circled slowly so the water flowed around them while their lips met, their tongues met, in a kiss gone suddenly urgent.
Her hands ran over him, her fingers tracing the healing wounds. “Does this hurt?”
“Nothing hurts.” But his blood pounded everywhere. “We need to go in to shore. I want to cover you. I want to fill you. God, I have to have you.”
“Would you have me here?”
“Yes. Yes.” Half mad for her, he ravaged her mouth. “Closer in. I need to be able to stand.”
“No, here.” She took his face in her hands to draw him back. She read the desire, the need, a mirror of her own. But . . .
“Would you want me, like this? Would you have me in my true form?”
“I want you, Anni. It’s you.”
“I can open for you.”
“Open for me.” Over his head, out of his mind, he pulled her back to him. “Take me in.”
It was a gift, a truth. She looked into his eyes as she opened. Looked into his eyes as she took him in. And then the meaning of the moment, of the gift, was so radiant, she let her eyes close as the light pulsed against her lids.
It ripped through him, that stunning, sumptuous sensation of sliding into her. Of feeling her close around him, tight, for a moment, tight like a fist.
She trembled against him, and still they floated, lovers cradled in the sea.
He moved in her, slowly, slowly, aware of the wonder of her belonging to him—absolutely—the magic of that beat of time. A time not to be rushed. Buoyed by her, he brushed kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips, all the while stroking, stroking, matching his rhythm to the easy dance of the sea that held them.
Love swept through him, a warm breeze scented with her.
Trapped in her own bliss, she rose up again, circled with him. And down, taking him under, her mouth fixed on his to give him her breath with the kiss.
Covered by the dark sea, he moved in her, felt her peak, drew her breath into him to give her more. And knew, when love all but shattered him, if he could find the miracle he would have stayed with her, would have made her world his own.
Then she took him up, into the air, into the light of moon and stars, into the sounds of water rolling to shore and back. And there, caught between worlds, she once more tightened around him. Said his name against his lips.
And there, did shatter him.
She held him close, her head on his shoulder, the marvelous symmetry of her body pressed to his.
“You’re not disappointed?” she murmured.
“Annika, I’m . . . I don’t have the words, but I’m everything that’s the opposite of disappointed.”
“There is more to do with legs.”
“Annika.” Once again undone, he brushed his lips over her hair. “You’re a fantasy come true. More beautiful, more miraculous than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“You’re the same to me. The same.”
Rolling onto her back, she smiled up at him all the way to shore.
When she stood with him in the shallows, she laid a hand on her heart. “You brought a blanket, and candles and wine, even flowers. It’s so pretty.”
“You’ll make it prettier.” Now he tugged her to the beach. “Are you cold?”
“No, are you?”
“I feel pretty close to perfect.” After fishing a lighter out of the duffle, he lit the little candles, and used his multitool to open the wine.
“We have time?”
“We’ve got some time left.” He pulled her down to the blanket, poured the wine. “You-and-me time.”
“I like you-and-me time, very much. But I have to use it to tell you something. I didn’t give you the truth.”
“About what?”
She dropped her gaze. “You believe I saw you, as you saw me, for the first time on the beach in Corfu. But it’s not the truth.”
“No? What is?”
“When I was training for the quest, the sea witch took me to another island, and I saw you there, on the beach, under the moon like we are now. You were alone, but you didn’t look lonely.”
Intrigued, he tipped her face back so their eyes met. “What island?”
“I was told to remember what the land people called it. Isle au Haut.”
“Maine? I haven’t been there in . . . that had to be at least five years ago. How long did you train?”
“Until I was chosen, then longer, then until I knew, because I was chosen, to come to you.”
“Did you see the others before?”
“Only you. The sea witch said only you, and you would be enough to tell me when and where I should come to begin. You were enough. Are you angry I didn’t give you the truth?”
“No.” To prove it, he threaded his fingers with hers. “I’m not angry.”
“I wanted you then, but it wasn’t time, and I had to wait.”
And he’d thought the weeks he’d waited had been endless. “Five years. That’s a chunk of waiting time.”
“Not when I have this.”
She snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, her gaze—as his—on the sea. He’d meant to give her that sea, and some romance, some time out of time in a place that mattered to him.
Without knowing it mattered as much to her.
He hadn’t intended to give more, ask more. But it felt right, there in that place that mattered to both of them, in this time belonging only to them, that he give her more. With no regrets.
“I didn’t give you the whole truth either.”
“What isn’t the whole truth?”
“I want you, but that’s not all. I’m your friend, but that’s not all.” He screwed the stem of his glass into the sand so he could take her hands, bring one, then the other to his lips. “I’m in love with you.”
Those eyes, those eyes that mesmerized him, went wide. Her breath caught, then released on what sounded perilously close to a sob. “You love me . . . Do you mean the way you love Sasha and Riley?”
“No. I love them, like family. Like sisters. But I’m in love with you. It means—”
“I know. I know.” Her eyes glinted with joy, with tears. “I know,” she said again. “I love, but you are the only one for me to be in love. I couldn’t tell you.” She threw her arms around him, pressed her cheek to his. “It’s like the first kiss. I couldn’t tell you unless you told me. Unless you were with me.”
“I am with you.” He shifted, took her lips. “In love with you,
Annika. I know we can’t—”
“No, no. Please. Don’t say can’t with love. We have love. You’re my love, my only. I swam through the Canal d’Amour, and you came to me.”
“The canal. In Corfu?”
“I loved you when I saw you on the beach before, and I waited. And when you pulled me to you, to begin, I swam through the canal. It’s said you do this, and will meet your one true love. And I did, and you came for me. But I couldn’t tell you.”
Her fingers traced over his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth. “I knew your face, and your smile, but not your name. Until that night. And still I couldn’t tell you. Not when you fought beside me, or kissed me, or mated with me, or saved me from death. But I can give the words back to you. I’m in love with you.”
She spilled her wine, but it hardly mattered, as she flung herself at him, tumbled them both back on the blanket. The kiss went from gentle to deep, from tender to strong.
“I wanted to give you a gift, in the sea.”
“You did.”
“But you’ve given me a gift.” In reverence, in joy, she laid her hand on his heart. “There’s no more precious gift than love. I’ll keep yours safe, always. Can you be with me again? Is there time? I want to celebrate the gift.”
“We’ll make time. We’ll make our own time.”
They’re late.” Restless, Bran pushed up to pace under the pergola where they’d all gathered in a kind of vigil.
“They’re safe,” Sasha assured him. “Give them a little longer. They’re safe. They’re happy. We all have to face what’s coming soon enough.”
“If the man can’t get it done in two hours—”
“Put a sock in it,” Riley advised Doyle. “Not everybody just wants to knock one out and be done.”
