The Kelpie's Redemption

by Alexa Gregory

  “An agent,” I reply simply.

  “I knew you’d say that,” she says, smiling. “Shouldn’t your father be pleased that you followed in his footsteps?"

  "Oh no. He hates that I'm an agent. He was so upset, he didn't speak to me for months. He’s afraid I’ll tarnish the good Yarrow name with my frivolous naiad brain."

  "Parents can be the ones who hurt us the most,” she whispers.

  I want to erase all the sadness from her beautiful face. Breaking away from her earlier request, I take her hand into mine and bring it to my lips to kiss her knuckles.

  Her eyes hook on mine. The green depths call to me like a peaceful lake. It's the same powerful siren song.

  I want to cup her face in my hand. I want to taste her sweet lips. I want to run my hands all over her body as I strip her out of her sleep clothes. More than anything, I want to lay her down and make her mine. Completely and totally mine. The illicit thoughts cause a reaction in my groin area.

  “Fitz,” the whisper of my name is heady. I kiss her hand again and release it. “I think we should work on the case now.”

  12

  -Fitz-

  "Read me the list of suspects again," Sorcha says.

  She's lying upside down on the sofa, legs up in the air and her head down on the floor. She hasn't changed out of her thin, sleep shorts. The expanse of her thighs is right there, beginning for attention. Her every breath makes the material of her tank top stretch, promising a peek.

  I have to keep my eyes solidly on my laptop's screen. I can't embarrass myself by getting an erection while we're discussing her case.

  That is fucked up. I really don't know what's wrong with me. It's bad form. Even for a randy naiad.

  "The nervous librarian Stewart Grange. The creepy archivist Charles Murray and Campbell’s assistant. His siblings. All three of them. And his ex-girlfriend."

  "Did you ever think that this could be random? What if the person just said a name? Any name to see what would happen before actually getting to their real target?" Sorcha sounds sad and panicked.

  I hate that she has to carry this huge load. It seems unfair. I want to help her so badly. I don't want her to live out the rest of her life hating herself.

  I do have ulterior motives.

  I want to take her out on a date. Romance the hell out of her. The right way. Then I want to take her back to my place. Lay her down on my bed and have my wicked way with her. I want to worship her body with my mouth. I want to make her mine. I want to brand myself on her heart.

  Whoa, Fitz.

  I've got to calm down. She did say she wants me too, but I don't want to scare her away. I know she's been burned. I have to take it slow. But not too slow. Because, damn, she does something to me.

  "If it was random, you'd have gone homicidal again as soon as Campbell's death made the news. No. He was the real target." I'm sure of it.

  There is sense in the choice of victim; I just don't know what it is yet.

  "Well, what if I killed the wrong Stanley Campbell?"

  "Then we would have a few dead Stanley Campbells on our hands."

  "That's valid, I suppose.”

  "Why do you think people do it? Kill, I mean."

  I drop the note I'm holding with a gut-wrenching sigh. That's a heavy question. One I'm not sure I know how to answer. Sorcha eyes me through unshed tears. She swings herself around, hugging her knees to her chest.

  "When Conrad had me do it, I tried to ask him. He never gave me an answer, obviously. He liked to order me to be silent for weeks on end."

  A surge of anger rises inside of me. That asshole muted a living creature for his own purposes. I bite down on the harsh things I want to say. Sorcha doesn't need my ire right now. She needs compassion.

  Leaving the case notes on the table, I sit beside her. I let my hand rest on her naked thigh and catch her eye.

  "That's really messed up, Sorcha. I'm sorry you went through that."

  "It was my fault."

  Her words are barely audible, but they land like a shrapnel bomb in my heart.

  "No." I take her face in my hands stroking her soft cheeks. "No, all right? This isn't your fault. You were young, in love, and someone took advantage of that. He used you. He taught his kids to use you. That's a huge trespass on your personal boundaries. That's abuse."

  Sorcha shakes her head, but I can tell by the mournful look on her face that she doesn't believe me. My words have no bearing because they are going against beliefs she’s held for hundreds of years. What’s more, they’ve all been reinforced by her mother and the MacGregor clan members.

  I don't know how to erase all of her bad memories. I feel ill-equipped to help Sorcha move past this. It makes me feel powerless and I hate it.

  I can only imagine how she must be feeling.

  The only thing I can think of to help her is to solve this damned case. I clear my throat, shaking away the sorrow.

  "The three most common motives for murder are greed, power, and sex. Campbell had a lot of money. He had a lot of power. His ex is already dating someone else, so that seems unlikely as far as motives go. Before I can go any further into this investigation, the potential culprits have to be interviewed."

  "Who are you going to start with?"

  "Um..." This is going to be awkward. I can only hope Sorcha understands my actions. "I won't be doing the questioning. My partner, a really good friend of mine, Larsen is coming to do those."

  "What? Why?"

  From the startled look on her face, I can tell that she won't like my plan.

  "Look, Larsen is going to take over the investigation."

  "You're leaving?” Her face goes pale with shock.

  "No, I'm not leaving. I told you I would be on kelpie watch." I give her a wink to appease her.

  "I thought you meant I'd go with you wherever you went. Not that you were going to put your job on the line to babysit me."

  "I'm not babysitting you. I'm protecting you."

  "Oh," Sorcha whispers, her green eyes the size of beach balls.

  "Larsen is a good man. He trusts my judgment. He won't haul you in until we have all the answers. I promise. Using our notes, he's going to find the asshole who is using your bridle. I'm going to stay with you. You won't be made to hurt anyone else."

  Sorcha's breath hitches and she blinks quickly.

  "I'm scared." Her voice cracks under the weight of her fear.

  My self-control, tethering on the edge, collapses. I can't help it. I can't stop myself. I wrap my arms around her slight waist and hold her tightly. I let my hands roam up and down her back in what I hope is a soothing gesture.

  I already promised her that she won't be arrested. But really, that promise goes so much deeper. I won't let anything happen to her. Ever again. No one will use her or hurt her.

  It's chilling to know that she could also cause harm if I'm not there to stop her. It's so unlike her to be violent. I recognize that and believe it to my very core.

  As an agent, I'm bound by duty and law to stop her.

  As a man, I’m bound to protect her. Care for her.

  "I'm here" is what my stupid brain decides to say. I clear my throat, praying for time. "If you leave, I'll follow you and save your next victim before anything happens."

  "Don't say it like that," she says, pulling away from my embrace.

  I look down at her in confusion. Her voice sounds completely dejected and lost.

  "Don't say what?"

  "It's not my victim. I don't want this."

  Guilt rips through me. I'm an asshole.

  "Of course. Sorry, Sorcha. I just... Well, this is complicated. I've never been in this kind of situation before."

  Sorcha nods before letting out a sigh so heavy that her entire body slumps forward.

  "Hey, stop. It's going to be okay." I take her back into my arms. Thankfully, she lets me.

  "I'm not a bad person, Fitz." Tears well up in her eyes, lightening the green depths.

/>   She sobs against my chest and I tighten my grip on her. I rub her back, wishing the motion could erase how she feels. All I can do, however, is hold her close.

  Words fail me. Nothing I could say at the moment would make this better for her.

  My resolved doesn't break.

  It's annihilated.

  I'll protect her. At any cost.

  13

  -Sorcha-

  Lying on the floating dock, listening to the soft sounds of the water lapping at it, I let my mind wander. I'd give anything to jump into this water and let the purifying waves crash into my defenses.

  I need it. I need to feel the water filling every pore of my body. I need to swim, letting my limbs be free of tension. I need to feel like myself again.

  But I can't.

  It's too risky. I know that it is. It doesn't make it any easier.

  I can't shift into my kelpie form. Not right now. Not here. It's not safe. That's when I am at my deadliest.

  The simple truth is that I'm terrified that if I shift, I'll be called to commit another murder. Logically, I know that doesn't make sense. I know that even if I'm in my human form, the power of the bridle controls me. But there's no way that I'm making things easier for the murderous asshole. I am done being a personal assassin.

  Fitz's faith in me is like a balm on my soul, on my heart. I've spent over a century firmly believing that I am a horrible person. That I don't deserve any sort of kindness.

  Forty-eight hours with him in a small cabin and I'm questioning everything I have ever believed about myself.

  Is that what happens when someone sees you for what you could be, instead of what you have been? Because I want more of it. It feels like I've just stumbled on one of the best kept secrets of the universe.

  When someone believes in you, hope springs. Not quite eternal, but at least there is some there.

  The dock shifts with the weight of steps.

  "Is everything okay?" Fitz comes to stand above me.

  "As best as can be expected."

  "Don't you want to go in?" he asks, gesturing toward the water. I just shake my head. "Well, I guess that's understandable. Do you mind if I do a few laps?"

  Again, my only response is to shake my head. My brain stops working when Fitz pulls his shirt over his head. With a few swift movements, he’s wearing nothing but board shorts. I sit up and I tell myself that it's not to get a better view of his insanely fit body.

  But I'm lying.

  Fitzroy Yarrow is all sinewy muscle and tanned skin. The ripples of his abs make my fingers ache. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something and sit on my hands before the traitorous limbs reach out to touch him.

  "Take a few laps for me," I say. I try to sound teasing, but my voice is too breathy.

  Fitz braces himself for his dive, the muscles on his back working. Droplets of water land on my legs when he jumps in. I blame my shiver on the coolness of the water, not on the desire sparking inside me.

  My eyes are trained on him as he swims away. The shift from man to naiad is subtle. I see the color of his skin changing. His speed increases and then he's gone.

  I can only imagine how amazing it must be for him to be completely submerged in water. I'm insanely jealous because the water gets to have his presence. His warm, caring, sexy presence.

  If I was another woman, a better woman, I would throw myself at Fitz. He's the best kind of man there is. I could really see myself trusting him. Caring for him. Maybe even loving him. I'll take his faith in me, but nothing more.

  I can't. It would be too cruel, for both of us.

  His beautiful head pops out of the water. His black hair looks like ink. He shakes his head from side to side, getting the wet strands out of his eyes. These are no longer that pure hazel color I've come to dream about.

  They look lighter. Greener.

  He gives me a mischievous wink and swims out farther and farther into the lake. His speed is impressive. The length of time he can disappear underwater is also remarkable. Aside from being a water creature, it's clear Fitz is an athlete.

  As I watch him swim back to the dock, I have to consciously remind myself that I cannot jump in. I don't trust myself to be in the water with a nearly naked Fitz.

  "That was amazing." Fitz laughs, swimming up to the side of the dock. His powerful arms slicing through the water. The muscles in his forearms and shoulders working in tandem to drive me crazy.

  The showoff doesn't even use the little plastic ladder to exit the water. He hoists himself, using the side of the dock as leverage.

  I try to look away, but my attraction to Fitz seems to be in control of my eyes.

  His swim trunks are glued to him, sculpting out everything I can't have. If I thought his trunks were tight before, then I don't even comprehend what I'm seeing. Forget a second skin. He may as well not be wearing a damn thing.

  "You don't know what you're missing," Fitz teases.

  Bet you I absolute do, my evil lustful brain whispers.

  "That was absolutely glorious. I wish you'd let yourself jump in." His words feel like they carry more than one meaning. It makes my aching heart soar.

  He shakes the water out of his hair and runs a hand on his drenched body. Beads of water roll off of him and I have the biggest urge to track all of the drops with my tongue. Specifically the ones that disappear at the waistband of his swim trunks.

  "How about we grab some dinner," he asks, holding out his hand for me.

  With a nod, I put my hand in his. As it always does when Fitz touches me, my skin burns with want.

  "Food sounds good, if you're making it," I say. He winks at me and I feel myself about ready to swoon.

  "Don't worry. I'll feed you something with more sustenance than ice cream."

  Before my mind can catch up with what he's doing, Fitz cups my face in his large hands. I swallow a moan as he runs a thumb over my lips. The touch is light, but I feel it everywhere. It's reverent. It's sweet and I don't know why I deserve it.

  "Sorcha," his voice is a gravelly question. “Can we give in now?”

  All thoughts of food and ice cream have evaporated in the heat of my need. I look into his hypnotizing eyes and silently plead with him to kiss me. To touch me. To do something to relieve the impossible ache that he's awoken in me.

  Fitz drops his lips to my forehead. His lips skim over my nose, then to my cheek. I moan my desperation. I think he answers with one of his own before capturing my lips with his.

  It's not a kiss.

  It's so much more. It erases all my doubts. It eradicates all my fear.

  It feels like nothing I've ever experienced. His lips move against mine with soft, but sure movements. I wrap my arms around his neck and crush myself into his hard chest. Fitz dips his tongue inside of my mouth, intensify our kiss. The entire world begins and ends were our bodies meet. But it's not enough. I want more. I want all of him.

  "I see why you had to call me in," a voice laughs behind us.

  With a gasp, I pull away from Fitz, feeling caught. A tall, lanky, blond man stands by the edge of the dock. I try to disentangle myself from Fitz, but he clicks his tongue, keeping his arms solidly around my waist.

  "It's about time," Fitz calls out.

  "I'd say I'm about an hour early," the stranger says, echoing my own dirty thoughts.

  Taking my hand in his, Fitz walks us toward who I can only assume is the other agent.

  "I have a room at the motel a few minutes from here. I'll just take your case notes and be on my way. You seem to be quite busy here."

  Fitz places his mouth next to my ear and whispers, "That kiss wasn't enough."

  His words are a guarantee. A vow. A promise. A shiver runs up my spine and I keep my hand in his, giving it a small squeeze of agreement.

  As we walk to the cabin, Fitz fits me into his side, his hand lying possessively on my hip.

  Something has changed. I feel it in the air, it brushes on my skin with impossible
possibilities that maybe - just maybe - a kelpie can find happiness.

  14

  -Sorcha-

  As soon as the cabin door closes behind us, Larsen tries to ask me all of the same questions Fitz has already covered, but my kissing buddy - how else am I to describe him at the moment - takes offense to it.

  "Your judgment is compromised. I just want to make sure you're not being..."

  "You better not finish that thought," Fitz growls, interrupting his friend. "I trust her. She's clear."

  "That's fine, Fitz, really. But when I present this to Sabrina, I want it to be above board. Unless you don't care about your reputation as an agent anymore?"

  "Are you going to be in trouble because of me?" I ask Fitz, feeling my heart drop.

  "Of course not," he answers as Larsen says,

  "He might."

  "Well, which one is it?" My pulse jumps in my ears with adrenaline.

  I want to kiss Fitz again. Actually, I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss him. But I won't take this any further if he's going to lose his job because of it. I won't be responsible for any more loss, no matter how small and inconsequential it may seem to be.

  "It's going to be fine. Right, Larsen?"

  "Look, it could get ugly. Especially if we can't find the culprit in a timely manner. I'm going to do my best. Fitz is recusing himself from the case because of your relationship." Larsen eyes Fitz but I don't know the new agent enough to garner his meaning. "Now, it's my case. You just need to stay out of trouble. Both of you."

  "So this isn't Fitz's case anymore?" I ask, feeling naive and lost.

  "It can't be," Fitz answers.

  "He can't be objective," Larsen confirms.

  "So how could you get in trouble?" I'm still grappling with everything.

  "We could both be in trouble because we aren't going through our boss. We're keeping it on the down low," Fitz explains.

  "Even if Sabrina would have understood and been more than accommodating." Larsen's tone has lost all of its playfulness.

  "I don't want this to get back to my dad. Not yet."

  "I'm causing so much trouble," I whisper, sitting on the sofa. I hug my knees to my chest to rest my chin there.