Chapter 3
TARIAN
W hen Tarian had been imprisoned with the Sirens beneath the ocean of his home, the only thing that had saved him was his dream of seeing Seris.
He’d replayed their eventual reunion a million different ways inside his mind: on a mountaintop, on the beach, in front of people, all alone—he’d turned his great intellect and his seemingly infinite time to the task.
It was the only thing that had kept him alive under the perpetual onslaught of the Sirens’ maddening magic and cruelty.
Their songs had shredded his mind, their claws had torn at his skin, but he had clung to the image of Seris’s face, as lovely as the setting sun.
The feel of her soft lips on his, the curve of her body nestling against him—thoughts of her had been his anchor in the dark.
But not a moment of his dreaming had prepared him for this reality now.
He had never once considered that she might reject him.
He stood beside his Jaguar, reeling, one hand braced on its hood. No part of him was able to comprehend what had just happened.
The girl in the orange long-sleeved shirt was Seris. He was sure of it, once her blonde friend had run away.
But she didn’t remember.
Not like he did.
He was the same person he’d been eight hundred years ago.
She was . . . not .
Who knew how many lifetimes she’d lived since then?
There had been no spark of recognition in her eyes when she’d seen him.
He hadn’t even been this upset at seeing her—not her, but some false magic-made version of her—in a coffin eight hundred years ago. He’d known then that she wasn’t truly in that cold stone box—if she had, the fragment of his soul he’d given her would have returned.
But this was her, and her rejection . . . broke him.
He heard the sound of an engine as a car slowly neared.
The driver rolled down their window and leaned slightly out. “Hey, are you going to give up that spot?”
Tarian looked at the driver, then back at the café where his mate was still inside.
“Never,” he growled.
The driver’s eyes widened, and he hastily rolled up his window before speeding off.
Tarian parked two businesses down, near a green dumpster, where a scrappy-looking dog was snuffling through spilled food containers.
The air reeked of sour milk and rotting vegetables, but Tarian barely noticed as he paced back and forth, keeping an eye on the distant café door, his boots crunching on the gravel.
How was he going to make her understand?
What could he say or do to make her remember her past—and recommit to their shared future?
Every minute he was away from her now, having seen her and breathed in her undeniable scent, was intolerable. The faintest trace of orange blossoms still lingered in his mind, filling his chest with a painful ache.
He could show her his powers—but that was as likely to scare her as anything. His brother Rax had warned him this world was magic-less, and there were too many people around to consider. If the café hadn’t been so crowded, he might have just grabbed her hand anyway, desperate to make himself known.
Surely, if he touched her—skin on skin—it would summon some deep memory to the surface of her mind.
It had to.
Because what else did he have to prove his cause?
He stared at the café’s door, willing her to emerge, just so he could see her again.
A low growling sound pulled him from his thoughts. For a moment, he thought it was his own voice vocalizing his pain, but then he noticed the dog behind him, its matted fur bristling as a uniformed man approached, with weapons holstered at his hips.
“Is that your car?” the man asked gruffly.
Tarian straightened to his full height, looming half a head taller than the man. The temptation to reach for his powers burned beneath his skin. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remember Rax’s warnings.
“Why?” Tarian asked with a low voice.
The man craned his neck, trying to peer around Tarian into the tinted windows. “I’m going to need to see a license.”
In the distance, the café doors opened, and Tarian tensed. A gust of air carried the faintest whisper of orange blossoms his direction, and his attention snapped fully to the entrance.
“Again, why?” he asked distractedly, barely glancing at the man.
“We had reports someone looked like they were going to cause trouble. Near as I can figure, that’s you—and I don’t think you own this car.”
Two figures emerged from the café’s open door. A blonde and a brunette.
Tarian’s breath caught, suffused with longing. He had to follow her immediately, plead his case, make her understand.
The two women got into a car, the brake lights flashing as it turned on.
She was disappearing. Again.
“Hey!” the man in blue barked, resting a hand on something at his hip. “I’m talking to you!”
Tarian took a step toward his car to follow, ignoring him—and the man whipped out his weapon. It was shiny and black, trembling slightly in the man’s hand, as he waved it as though it ought to mean something to Tarian.
“Step back!”
“Get out of my way,” Tarian growled. The dog echoed the sound behind him, adding a snarl of its own. Tarian’s voice dropped lower, becoming dangerous. “No one will divide us again. Not in this Realm, or in this lifetime.”
The man kept his weapon raised and tapped a device pinned to his collar. “Officer Martinez, calling for back-up.”
“Move, or I will move you,” Tarian threatened, his voice thick with fury.
The car she was in was leaving the parking lot. The faintest trace of her scent, orange blossoms and sunlight, lingered in the air. She was getting further away with every second.
“I said step back!” the man yelled.
The weapon snapped. A sharp sting bloomed in his chest. Curious, Tarian glanced down—to find green blood leaking between his ribs.
He looked back at the man, who was shaking, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Your blood,” the man stammered. “What the hell are you?”
“You are not very good at that.” Tarian moved faster than the man could track, disarming him with a single twist of his hand. The weapon clattered to the ground before Tarian kicked it beneath the dumpster.
The man’s eyes darted to Tarian’s chest, then back to his face. “It’s green,” he whispered.
Tarian ignored him, scanning the horizon for Seris’s car. He could still feel their connection, a faint pull inside him, but it would take him all afternoon to find her again. The thought burned him more than the projectile the man had shot him with.
He waved a hand at the man, his voice sharp. “Be quiet now. Forget you were here.”
The man blinked, his expression going slack, before turning back to his black-and-white ride.
Tarian cursed under his breath. He should have used his magic from the start rather than trying to follow Rax’s warnings. He turned to the dog, who had watched everything unfold.
“You,” Tarian said, crouching. He waved a hand, empowering the creature to speak. “Why did he do that? What happened here?”
The dog twisted its shaggy head, his voice as rough as he appeared. “You look scruffy. Like me. He didn’t trust you.”
Tarian looked down at himself.
Behind the Gate, in perpetual conflict with the Sirens, there had been no time or reason to attempt to appear presentable—he’d barely been able to survive.
After his brother had rescued him, he’d availed himself of showers and shaving again...but once he’d started hunting Seris, such affectations had seemed pointless.
Out among humans now, though . . . the dog was right.
No wonder the girls had been scared of him.
He’d been so sure everything would be easy. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he needed to try .
The little dog sat on its haunches, wagging its tail just a little. “You don’t smell like a person.”
Tarian grabbed the bottom of his tank top and tore a strip off, stuffing it into the wound the human had given him, knowing his draconic magic would heal it shortly regardless. “Because I’m not.”
The dog’s ears perked up, its tail wagging faster. “What are you? Are you from around here? These six blocks belong to the Shadow Tail Pack. Do you know them? Whose territory is beyond?”
Tarian opened the Jaguar’s door, ignoring the creature’s questions. “Thank you for your help.”
The dog looked around frantically. “Wait, wait, wait! Are you the only one that can understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming along.”
The dog bounded over Tarian’s lap and onto the passenger seat, beating his tail against what his brother had told him was expensive leather. The creature was scruffy, relentless, and stubborn—qualities he could respect.
He shrugged and closed the door.