Shadows Before the Sun (25 page)

“Stop that,” he said, slowly—and, sweet Jesus, the deep rumble of his voice drenched me in a wave of lust. “Or I’ll take you up on it.”

Those were words he’d used once upon a time in
another pool far, far away. I couldn’t help but smile. I had a witty comeback on the tip of my tongue, but when I opened my mouth to deliver it, nothing came out. I didn’t have anything to say. Warmth spread over my cheeks.

His grin grew into a blinding white smile. “Lost your train of thought, did you?”

Normally that would’ve gotten a rise out of me. But I just stood there like an idiot, my blood thumping thick and hard through my veins.

As we stared, the mood went heavy and significant and highly charged. I began to wonder if siren staring could cause a mini-orgasm, because I sure as hell was getting hotter by the minute. And, Hank, damn him, must’ve sensed it because he had to go and make things worse.

“Drop the gown and get in the pool, Charlie.” His hot gaze swept over me. “But leave the jewelry.”

Oh boy.

The devil is back,
I thought, catching a topaz blue glint in his eyes. He just had to go tempting me, putting images in my head that left me reeling. Hell, all I could see for a second was the material sliding off my body, leaving me naked, the jewels around my ankles and biceps glittering.

This was the Hank I knew, the one who liked to confound me and rib me every chance he got. Like now. But was it real?

Dream or not, wherever the hell we were, I had a
decision to make. One that every ounce of my physical self screamed I make in the affirmative.

I walked around the corner to the short side of the pool where steep steps led into water. I gestured to the shenti loincloth he wore. “I see you haven’t dropped trou.”

He swam over, the water licking his chin, his eyes dancing. “Just wanted you to stay conscious until you got in the water.”

I laughed at that, but quickly sobered up because he stood again. He moved closer to the steps, and I was transfixed by the water swirling around his navel.

“Charlie.”

I blinked, dragging my attention back up. “Huh?” His eyes had gone diamond blue. “Where are we? What happened?” I croaked out.

“Panopé’s realm. Her . . .
gift
to us. To heal. In peace. The Circe are dead. Time is slower here, much slower . . .” He gazed at the gown again and I was pretty sure he liked what he saw. “The gown, I imagine, is her attempt to play matchmaker.”

“Ah.” I meant to say more, but that was all that came.

He waited, wondering what I’d do. What choice I’d make.

The choice was clear, though. No point in denying that. So much had happened, so much pain and hurt and heartache, and I wanted to wash it all away, to make something better. With him.

The last time I’d seen Hank—the Hank that
I knew, not the Niérian whom the Circe had tortured—was back at the station when the sirens from Fiallan had shown up to apprehend him. And before that we’d been running for our lives in Charbydon.

We hadn’t had a chance to just . . . be. And, hey, if time was slower here, we were out of danger, and Hank was standing there in the flesh, you’d better believe I was going to take advantage of it.

Okay, then. Decision made.

When I reached up to move the gown off my shoulder, a faint note of surprise swept across his expression and then was gone, replaced by a hunger that flashed raw and tense. There was a desperation in that brief flash, and it made my heart hurt. He needed this. I needed this. Something good to banish the pain and grief.

The gown fluttered to my feet.

Hank’s eyes immediately went to my breasts. I smiled, feeling shy, but loving the fact that his response was so male, so normal. A groan rumbled in his chest and it was in that moment that I left any self-critical thoughts behind. He devoured me with his gaze, stopping to linger and torture himself over all the parts that had been hidden from him before. Then, finally, he met my gaze and rubbed a hand down his jaw.

I quirked my lips. “Lose your train of thought?”

He laughed and held out a hand. “Hell, no. My train of thought hasn’t deviated since you walked into the temple.”

Hot water closed over my skin as I stepped down.

Sliding my hand into his felt . . . right. And then suddenly my emotions shifted from anticipation to an overwhelming sense of relief and intense emotion. Hank dragged me off the step and into his arms.

He was okay. Alive. Not executed. Not a casualty. A survivor.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and just hugged him, my nakedness totally forgotten as all the fear and grief and pain flooded back. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck and just held on. My heart pounded. I couldn’t speak if I’d tried.

He held me just as tightly.

We stayed like that for a long time. His heartbeat strong against mine. I wanted to tell him how glad I was that he was okay, that we’d made it. But there were no words.

Then he pushed me back, his expression stark and serious, haunted. “I know I got lost. I know what I did to you.” And it was killing him inside, that he had struck me with the whip, had walked away from me when Sachâth had me. “And that is something . . .” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, looking for the right words as his Adam’s apple slid up and down. Then he seemed agitated, refocusing on me. “Why the hell did you drop the gown?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?” Embarrassment filled me. “You asked me to!” I said in accusation.

“I didn’t think you’d do it.” I tried to pull away
from him, but his arms were like steel. “But I’m eternally grateful you did as that image is now burned onto my brain for all time.” His hand cupped my face. “You take my breath away, Charlie. You always have.”

“Hank. Did you or did you not want me to lose the gown? And why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I fucking hurt you, that’s why.”

And he needed absolution, maybe even retribution, some kind of punishment to assuage the guilt he felt. So I closed my eyes and kissed him as gently as I could on his warm, wet lips.
There. Absolved.

My heart knocked hard in my chest. I pulled back a fraction, lips just touching, sharing breath, savoring the sensations of being this close, this intimate. He smelled clean and male. I kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, flicking out my tongue to taste him.

His fingers dug into my skin. Then we looked at each other. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and then rested his forehead against mine as if pained. “I hate myself for saying this . . . I don’t think there are condoms in Deity Land.”

Sirens didn’t carry disease nor did they contract or carry human diseases, but pregnancy between races was possible. “I’m on the pill, the latest and greatest . . . And I haven’t been with anyone since the divorce.” Heat filled my face, but I pressed on honestly. “I don’t want to stop. Do you?”

He lifted his head. “You sure about this?” If I was even the slightest bit unsure, he’d back off. I nodded.
A slow, crooked grin built on his face. “Because you do realize . . . once you go siren, you never go back.”

I laughed, joy filling out all the dark corners. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Your fault. You make me crazy.” He gave me a squeeze and nuzzled my neck. “I like seeing you smile, hearing you laugh . . .”

I pulled back slightly and waited until he lifted his head, then I cupped his face and kissed him hard, speaking against his lips and grabbing him through the shenti. “It’s not laughing I’m wanting to do, siren.”

“Christ. You’re killing me . . .” His tongue slid into my mouth, deep and hungry and so carnal, I nearly lost it right there.

He pushed me back, pinned me against the side of the pool with his size, and kissed the daylights out of me.

His hands roamed, rough and hot as his mouth moved to my neck. He hiked my leg over his hip and held it there. The shenti was gone—didn’t know when that happened—and I felt him hot and hard against me. My pulse pounded so quick, I could barely speak. “Do it. Please.” Him. Inside me. Now. I pulled him close, wanting to meld into him, become so close that there was no distinction, nothing separating us.

If he didn’t do it now, I’d go over the edge without him.
Next time,
my frantic brain promised,
next time we’ll go slower
.

He chuckled, and I realized I said that last part
out loud. Didn’t care. I urged him, snuggling my hips closer, trying to—

And then he spoke.

His lips moved against my neck and his siren voice flowed out of him like warm honey, tugging on every pleasure nerve I possessed, magnifying . . . everything. At the same moment, he slid into me. One long stroke, all the way, and the world as I knew it shattered, replaced by one of mind-altering pleasure.

He didn’t move until my spasms ceased and I came out of my stupor. He was still inside of me, hot and hard as a rock. I kissed the tense muscle in his jaw and said breathlessly, “Okay, now I’m ready. Go.”

He groaned and thrust.

•    •    •

“I think you short-circuited some of my brain cells.” Hank lay with a towel around his waist on the lounge near the pool, his eyes closed and his fingers linked over his bare stomach.

I lay similarly on a twin lounge next to his, so sated my body was a useless lump. “I think I overdosed on endorphins.”

His deep, satisfied chuckle made me smile. “You did lose consciousness a couple times.”

I laughed at the joke. But who knew? I might have. There were moments I . . . I couldn’t even put into words, didn’t even know a body could experience that
much
. I’d barely had enough strength left over to get
out of the pool, dry off, and pull the gown over my head.

He rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and rested his head on his hand. “I thought your cavewoman demands were . . . adorable.”

Oh, yeah, Hank was back and giving me hell.

I slapped my hands over my face. “Oh my God.”

“I was particularly fond of
Move. Now
and
Go
.”

I glared over at him even though I couldn’t stop grinning. “You know, I’m not even going to try to improve my sex talk,” I said, “because you’ve got the market cornered in that department.” I lifted my nose in the air and said airily, “I’ll just work my magic . . . elsewhere.”

“Explain,” he said, deadpan, and then smiled widely.

God, if he didn’t stop looking like that I was going to jump him. Again.

I was . . . happy. And it was more than simply getting my universe rocked multiple times. Hank and I, we got each other. We had the same offbeat sense of humor, the same love of the good fight. I trusted him. I knew he had my back. He always had.

I tried, I really tried to lie there and not let the worries creep in, but I couldn’t help wondering how things would be once we got back home. If we could be partners, friends,
and
lovers. If it would alter our perception and our actions at work, under fire, under pressure.

If Emma would accept this new direction in our relationship.

“We’ll figure it out,” Hank said, sensing my shift in mood. “Whatever comes, we’ll deal with it. As fast or slow as you want to take it, Charlie. I’m not going anywhere.”

I sat up. “I’m sorry I left you at the station.” I’d hated that moment, and I had to say that, to get it off my chest. When I’d had to choose between running after Bryn and fighting against the sirens who had come to take Hank back to Fiallan. I wanted him to know it hadn’t been an easy decision.

He sat up, swung his legs over the lounge until our knees were touching. “I seem to recall telling you to go.”

I frowned. “Yeah, but . . . still. It wasn’t easy and you’re my partner, leaving you was . . .”

“The right call.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “But I’m glad it matters. And I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know what they did to you, Hank. I saw it. I knew about the NecroNaMoria before Ephyra mentioned it.” I regarded him for a long time, studying his face, his expression, trying to see for myself that he was truly healed. “Is it gone, the spell? Did it end when she died?”

He toyed with my hand. “It’s over.” He smiled and shrugged, then plowed his fingers through his hair, releasing a deep sigh. “The Circe are gone, that’s all that matters. They made me crazy for a while, fucked with my head, but I know what they did and I’ll get over it.” Which was putting it mildly, but I decided to leave it alone.

And what else could he do? I’d been through horrors I’d never forget, ones that still lingered in my psyche. Putting one foot in front of the other, as cliché as it sounded, was what had gotten me through. People who were there for me, who never pushed me to heal, but gave me time and let me know they were there, they cared.

I’d be that person for Hank and I wouldn’t push.

He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”

I slid my hand into his and together we walked toward the pool, where Hank retrieved his clothes and dressed. Just dropped towel and bared ass.
Nothing to be shy about,
I thought, smiling.

He sat to pull on his boots, regarding my gown. “You’re keeping the gown.” He glanced up, eyes sweeping the room, raising his voice. “And the jewels.”

“Are you telling me this or Panopé?”

“Both.” Done with his shoes, he stood, then reached behind the bench and lifted a sack.

I went still. “Please don’t tell me that’s Sandra.”

“Okay. It’s not Sandra.”

“Hank!”

“Well, what did you expect me to do with her? Set her on the table? She’s a
head,
Charlie. A
talking
head.” A wave of weariness hit me and I sat down in a slump as Hank regarded me for a long moment. “What the hell was she doing in Fiallan?”

“She showed up at the terminal. She . . . helped me. Said that this was her path, that her fate was tied to ours.” I thought of our time in Fiallan, before things
went wrong, and felt the rise of grief again. My fingers twisted the gown. “I actually liked her. Can you believe that? She was a good person, Hank. Really good and . . .” I couldn’t finish, couldn’t go down that road, so I drew in a deep breath and went another way, one less painful. “She made me promise to bring her home, said Tuni would know what to do. Thank you,” I said, “for going back for her.”