Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (46 page)

"Is that what this is about? About tonight?" I scoffed. It sounded fake even to me. "You think I can't do it?"

"Stop deflecting. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

More than anyone else.

"Do you believe I worry about you? That I don't like seeing you hurt?

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

Answering his questions were too hard. They kept prodding at the broken yearning I wanted to get past.

"So why won't you tell me when something is bothering—"

"Because it hurts!" The admission tore from my throat. "When I spend time with you or share something with you, it's just a reminder of what I can't have, okay?"

His face remained stony. "Do you want me to never speak to you again?"

That was impossible. We had to work together.

"No, I just...I don't..." Frustration flared. "Tell me what you want!"

Did he want me to be his political partner? A fellow warrior? His friend?

Velvety dark eyes held mine for a long moment.

Slowly, carefully, his gaze swept over my cheek, my jaw. Lingered over my mouth.

Neckline, heavy with water, had slipped over a smooth shoulder.

Eyes dropped to the exposed bare skin.

Awareness tingled and a slow, insistent heat uncoiled between us.

His fingers brushed the curve of my shoulder and my insides tightened.

Oh, God.

"I want you to be safe."

They continued up the slope.

"I want you to receive what you need."

Traced the line of my collarbone.

"I want you to be whoever you want to be. I want..."

Followed the curve of my neck.

"You." Fingertips rested on my fluttering pulse. "I just want you."

Breath caught at the raw longing shining in his eyes.

It was the way he touched me. The careful deliberateness of it as if he'd thought about this, the parts he wanted to caress and put his mouth against.

He took his hand off my skin and I almost cried out at the loss of warmth. He braced his hands against the wall on either side of my face.

The space between us felt too close.

His hair caressed my cheek. "You need to go now."

Wet clothes clung to my body, heavy weight pressing down on my skin.

Suddenly all I could think about was the need to feel light and unweighted.

I didn't want these clothes cutting me off from everything.

I wanted to feel like me. Not for forever, but just for a moment.

"Kendra." A ragged whisper now. "Leave."

There were so many reasons to go.

Run. Run now.

Alarms wailed in my head. Instincts, experience, and everything I'd ever learned screamed at me to head in the opposite direction.

It was clear what I should do.

Fuck the shoulds.

"No."

One. Two breaths.

We lunged.

Lips met, a searing kiss that demanded and ached and needed all at once. Slick skin rubbed against each other and heat exploded through me.

I opened my mouth and let him in.

Tristan's intoxicating taste flooded my senses. He was the ocean and rain, an indefinable masculine combination of salt, heat, sensuality, and power.

Bones melted, intense pleasure scorching through every nerve ending.

I wanted him so much it hurt. I wanted to sink into his mouth, the hard length of his body.

I wanted to get lost in him.

Strong arms lifted me and my legs wrapped around his waist. Tongues and limbs tangled and stroked. A low noise reverberated deep in his chest, a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, deep and vulnerable, and it made the flame inside burn hotter.

Nails dug into the muscles on his arms. Fingers edged under my shirt, skimming my waist, the indentation of my spine, the arc of my shoulder blades.

Hands supported my thighs and he carried me to the slope of ebony rocks.

Everything smelled like him, the water, the cavern walls, the air. Drizzling rain fell through and bathed our bodies, drops blending with shafts of light and mingling with the moisture on our skin.

He lay me down and paused, just long enough for me to know this was in my hands. No matter the hunger and need driving us, he would stop if I wanted him to.

I twined my fingers in his hair and directed his mouth back to mine.

"Don't stop."

A soft, deep murmur from the back of his throat.
Pedaillon
dangled, skimming my collarbone, intimate and tender.

"So beautiful." Lips grazed over heated skin, lingering over my tattoo, finding the sensitive nerve in the curve between my shoulder and neck.
 

With each breath and every heartbeat, another layer dissolved and my body grew lighter.

Pulse
. Tugging my shirt off, cool air rushing against damp skin.

Inhale
. The snap of my jeans, wet denim peeling off my legs.

Pulse
. Tangle of arms, unhooking my bra.

Exhale
. Hips lifting, tossing aside my underwear.

Until we were simply looking, breathing and holding each other, skin on skin.

His head bent, mouth against my throat.

"Kendra, I want..." Voice muffled against my skin, shaking with intensity. "So bad."

Body arched. "Please."

More than anything, I wanted him to know how he made me feel. How he was the one I came back to again and again, through the rising and falling cadences of Bach or the coarse sand and roiling waters of the cove.

How I trusted him to always find me.

Take
.

All the things I could never say surged, the words again stuck in my throat except for the one that always made it through.

I whispered his name over and over, tethering him to that deeply hidden crevice Magic couldn't find.

And what I couldn't express with my voice, I said through the language of movement.

Touch
.

Frantic hands roamed, fascinated at the contrast between us: the edge of his cheekbone, the steely muscles and smooth skin of his back, the hard ridges of his stomach.

Taste
.

His mouth burned everywhere: the column of my throat, the curve of my breast, the hollow of my stomach, the flare of my hip.

Eyes closed at the crinkle of foil, the slight catch in his breathing. Secure in how he always protected me.

Low, lyrical voice whispered in his language, touch smoldered, the overwhelming heat of his body wrapped around me until he was in my mind and blood, etched in my skin, drumming deep in my bones, and burning behind my eyes.

Memorize
.

He learned what made me gasp, what made me shiver and clench and cry out for more.

And I discovered what made his chest hitch and his breathing rough. What made him growl and lose control.

Shadows dappled across our skin in a patchwork of light and dark, the lines and curves of our entwined bodies mirrored on the water's surface.

It was then.

It was in the way my chest tightened when those dark eyes took their time, focusing on every part of me; how each touch peeled inner layers away, stripping me to the bone.

I'd spent my life searching for something I couldn't name.

And as I drowned in the torrential flow of conflicting desires, caught in the relentless roar of water, earth, blood, and war, I reached out - wildly, desperately - and found it with him.

BREATHS TOOK A LONG TIME to slow.

Tristan pulled me to him, arms wrapped tight around me. Forehead rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as the thrumming in my blood eased.

I lifted my head. His eyes were watchful. Intent.

We stared at each other. Fear and panic bloomed with each passing second.

What did I just do?

Tristan opened his mouth, then closed it.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

Pain cracked my chest.

"Don't be," I said flatly. I pulled away and gathered up my clothes. "I wanted it just as much as you."

"That's not what I meant."

I hastily snapped my bra on and pulled up my underwear and jeans.

"It sounded exactly how you meant for it to sound."

A warm hand shot out and stilled my movements. His thumb rubbed my wrist in slow circles.

"I apologized because you looked sad and frightened. I'm responsible for making you feel that."

I sat beside him, wet shirt hanging limply in my hands.

"It's not you, it's..." I stopped.

It was a hell of a lot of things.

What had I been thinking? Of course this wasn't for me.

I'd wanted to get the constant longing out of my system.

But I hadn't been prepared for the strength of it, for a feeling I already wanted to hold close again.

Everything was wrong. What happened was supposed to ease the ache, not amplify it.

The emotions churning around inside me were supposed to be for a demillir or human.

Not a selkie.

"It's not you," I repeated weakly. "It's —"

His fingers pressed against my lips, eyes alert.

I strained, but couldn't hear anything. Empath sensed the air shift.

Someone was coming.

Virtue reached out. Anxiety and worry. A demillir.

I whipped down, pulled Tristan's folded clothes out, and rolled into the large crevice in the wall. Tucking my legs in, I uncomfortably lay on my side, arms pulled tight to my chest.

Tristan slowly climbed out of the water onto the narrow pathway and pulled on his pants.

A few seconds later another pair of feet entered my field of vision. Black Italian loafers and expensive slacks the color of gunmetal grey.

"Augustin." Tristan picked up his shirt.

"I'm sorry to come like this, Tristan," Jeeves' voice was troubled. "I know you needed time to visit Jourdain —"

"I just finished up. Did something happen?"

"Delegates are agitated. Some are insisting on a review to go over yesterday's presentation and they wish to place Rhian under probation."

"Instigators?"

"The usual cast. Patrice has been raising hell with the European contingent while Marquisa Blanchard has been riling up the Chinese and Russian delegates."

"I'll see if I can smooth things over. We must keep any major arguments from taking place until tomorrow."

That was when my official introduction to conference delegates as Governor-elect would take place. Given the heightened tension, it was shaping up to be a bloodbath.

But if our plan worked tonight, the Aquidae elimination might be enough to draw out the traitor. That would provide me with better ammunition heading into the event.

"I agree." A slight pause. "Have you spoken to Rhian?"

Jeeves' tone remained polite, but there was a slight edge to the question.

"Before I went to see Jourdain." Tristan's voice gentled.

"Did you know? About demillirs? The cause of the war?"

Even for Jeeves, unity was strained. He'd just found out the entire existence of his race was to be soldiers.

"Rumors, superstitious legends. But, no. This is the first confirmation."

"It is...despicable."

"We will change this, Augustin."

Tristan's voice reflected a steely promise that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Yes." Jeeves' answer was no less potent.

I waited a full minute after his footsteps faded to crawl out. It took that long for my hammering pulse to slow down.

"Are you all right?" Tristan's warmth surrounded me.

I nodded, feeling awkward. The earlier moment of intimacy was gone.

Jeeves' sudden appearance was a reminder of the dangers at stake. Renee's empty eyes, imprinted into my memory, flashed before me and I suppressed a shudder.

Empath's strength was in understanding the illusions we presented to ourselves and others. The tiny white lies we told to get through our lives.

I once believed my mother was wrong. I dreamed of a home without Aquidae or war, a place I didn't have to leave behind.

I dreamed that I'd have someone who cared whether I lived or died and whether I hurt or not. That I'd have a life beyond fighting and training.

But those childish illusions were long gone. Life wasn't a fairy tale. It was about survival.

"You went to see Jourdain?" I pulled on my shirt.

He studied my face. "I wanted to see if she'd stop with the rain."

I waited, but he said nothing more.

"I should go." I stepped back and focused on keeping my expression blank. "Someone will be looking for me soon."

"Talk to me."

I suddenly felt the same way I had in Jason's car three years ago. Stupidly vulnerable.

Not because Tristan was anything like Jason.

But because I knew better and had once again foolishly chosen to forget that for a moment.

You can't have what others have.

"Nothing has changed."

Eyes darkened and he stepped closer. "Everything has changed."

He kissed me. Pulse picked up, heat seeping through my skin again.

No
.

I broke away.

What was between us defied everything. It was a depth of mutual respect and faith, an understanding and connection almost impossible to ignore or will away.

But it was also temporary. It had to be.

Jourdain ensured her children followed her demands. I wasn't in a position to defy them.

When the time came, I'd mate with a demillir or human who wouldn't cost me my mortality.

If I hadn't been the
sondaleur
, if I hadn't been the Governor-elect...

But there were no ifs in this world. That wasn't his fate or mine.

"What just happened..." I kept my voice hard so it wouldn't crack. "We both wanted...want this. We can have it, but nothing more."

"I can't do that."

"And you know I can't do anything other than that."

His lips straightened. "This is your choice?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

He didn't reply because there was no answer. He was unwilling to ask. I was unwilling to do.

I turned and walked out of the cave. He didn't follow.

Grey sky swallowed me. The erratic pattering of rain against the ocean was the loneliest sound in the world.