Chapter 21 #3
Aaaaand now he felt bad. “Sorry, Kellan. I know it’s not your fault.”
Ciaran cupped Sawyer’s face, their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. “You’re okay?”
Sawyer nodded. “Am now. Much better. I tried to ignore it. Until I couldn’t.”
“Same.”
Someone scoffed distastefully, and Sawyer glanced over in time to see Tobin roll his eyes and walk back inside. He didn’t miss the way Fray flinched, but Ciaran didn’t see it because he had his forehead against Sawyer’s neck.
Then he sighed, and Sawyer felt the ache in Ciaran’s hearts, and he realised then that Ciaran hadn’t missed it at all.
His consortium had discord within itself, and Sawyer knew it was because of him.
Was Tobin pissed that their leader wasn’t as focused or devoted as he used to be?
Because Sawyer was a distraction, their mating bond an inconvenience.
He remembered the few comments about “the worst timing” or whatever they’d said, with this threat that may or may not be coming.
But it wasn’t Ciaran’s fault. He couldn’t help it any more than Sawyer could.
Sawyer ran his hand through Ciaran’s hair. “Are you okay?”
He drew his forehead from the crook of Sawyer’s neck to rest it on his shoulder, and he nodded. “Yeah.”
Then Sawyer’s phone rang again. He’d forgotten he was still holding it. He looked at the screen and groaned. Hadeom. He had to answer. He’d missed too many calls....
He sighed loudly and hit Answer. “Sawyer here.”
“Nice of you to answer. Should I call off the search party?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You fucking answer when I call. You got that?”
Ciaran growled, clearly having heard what Hadeom said. It made Sawyer smile.
“Like I told you before,” Sawyer said. “I said I’d report back when I had something to actually report back about.”
“So there’s nothing,” Hadeom said. “Nothing out of the ordinary?”
Sawyer smiled at Ciaran. Hell, he damn near laughed. “Not a thing. I can’t even issue parking tickets because no one here drives.”
Hadeom was silent for a second. “You weren’t sent there to issue traffic citations.”
Sawyer was tempted to ask him exactly why he was sent here, just to make Hadeom say it out loud, but he knew better than that.
“I requested a briefing on each member, and you failed to do that,” Hadeom said.
Member?
“Member of what?” Sawyer asked. “Don’t you mean resident?”
Silence.
“Anyway,” Sawyer added. “Time moves differently here.”
He actually had no clue what day it was.
Hadeom was quiet for a second. “How, exactly? How exactly can the construct of time move differently? Maybe that’s something you could put in your report that you’re still going to send me.”
Sawyer wanted to say so much—so, so much—but he knew if his plan of drawing out his five years was going to work, he had to be patient and placate the man. “Sure.”
“And I want profiles,” he added.
“Sure. I’ve uh... I’ve been spending some time with the locals,” Sawyer said. “Fishing.”
Ciaran smiled, and it made Sawyer’s whole chest grow warm.
“Getting to know them better. It’s been... fun, actually.”
“Fun? You sound like you actually like it there. Jesus.”
Sawyer couldn’t help but smile, meeting Ciaran’s copper-coloured eyes. “I love it here.”
Hadeom made a displeased sound, no doubt sneering. “I shouldn’t actually be surprised. Everyone else can’t wait to leave, said it creeped them out, and you love it. Figures.”
Sawyer knew Hadeom was basically calling him a freak, and from the way Ciaran’s jaw clenched, he thought he had, too, but Sawyer decided to take it as a compliment. “Thanks.”
“And you have nothing unusual to report?” Hadeom asked again. “No crazy stories like every cop before you swore was real? You’re saying that Tenebrae Cove is just a sleepy little village where nothing weird ever happens?”
Sawyer met Ciaran’s gaze, and he knew the other guys were watching and waiting for his reply. Oh, there was a hundred things he could, and probably should, report.
The fact that the entire town’s population wasn’t exactly human, that shapeshifting cephamorphs walked amongst them, that time here did in fact not move as it should, that he’d soul-bonded with the leader of a consortium of octo-men. That he’d moved to a town where nothing was normal....
Ciaran shrugged, eyes alight with humour, waiting for Sawyer to answer, but all Sawyer could do was try not to laugh.
“No, sir. Nothing to report on at all.”
Sawyer stood beside Ciaran as he, Kellan, and Fray finished talking outside Fray’s place. The meeting had basically been over when Ciaran had begun rubbing his chest, too, saying he was fine, until he wasn’t.
Until he had to find Sawyer.
It was weird, this having to be near each other. Kellan said it would subside in time, and while Sawyer hoped it would, he also kinda hoped it wouldn’t.
And as they stood there, Ciaran and Kellan and Fray murmuring about whatever the hell Tobin’s problem was, Sawyer found himself looking at the water. Just off the jetty, the dark water sparkled like the night sky and moved the way water shouldn’t.
Not swirling, exactly, but moving... as if it were alive. Breathing.
Beckoning.
Calling to him.
Not his name. Not anything he could hear. But he could feel it.
He went for a closer look to see if he could find anything, see anything at all.
Ciaran was just a few metres away, and he was busy talking about consortium matters, and oh my god, the water was so beautiful.
The grey skies overhead couldn’t have reflected that much light, yet the water was glinting like diamonds, pulsing, calling.
He felt it in his bones. No... he felt it in his blood.
He needed to get closer.
He needed to be submerged in it, far beneath the surface. He needed to feel the weight of the water all around him, holding him.
He needed to drown in it.
He couldn’t hear Ciaran calling out to him. He couldn’t hear anything at all.
Just the old god at the bottom of the Cove speaking to his bones, to his soul.
And then he answered the call. Not even shocked by the freezing cold water, not shocked at all.
It was so pretty down there in the deep. He longed to go deeper, to sink to the bottom.
And then green tentacles were around him, hauling him so hard up to the surface, his lungs lost all air, and he instinctively inhaled. His lungs filled with water, and the surface wasn’t coming quick enough.
But he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t panicked.
He looked, then, at the green octopus who was holding him, and he knew, he knew from the green eyes who it was. And the scowl, and the annoyed look on his octopus face.
It was Tobin.
Sawyer smiled at him just as red tentacles came around him, firm and strong, hauling him onto the pier. He knew these arms. He loved these arms.
But not the look of sheer panic on his face or the distressed copper eyes. Ciaran was saying something, but his voice sounded so far away. Sawyer tried to say hi. He tried to smile and tell him he was fine. He needed to tell him what he’d heard.
But he was cold now, and with all the coughing and teeth chattering, it was hard to speak. He wanted to sleep, and he could barely keep his eyes open. His ears were ringing, and he only caught the end of Ciaran’s frantic tirade.
“... hell were you thinking?”
He laughed and coughed and did his best to speak before sleep claimed him. “I heard her. She called to me.”
“Who?” Ciaran asked, eyes wide. His hand was warm on Sawyer’s face as he gave him a gentle shake. “Sawyer, stay with me. Who called to you?”
Sawyer could feel his concern, his stress, and he really wanted to tell him it was all okay. He just needed to sleep for a bit.
“Sawyer!” Ciaran barked, and the fear billowing out from him made Sawyer open his eyes.
“I’m here,” he mumbled.
“Get him inside,” Kellan said.
Ciaran looked distraught, and Sawyer hated that. He wanted to make Ciaran’s pain go away.
What had he asked? A question. Yes, he’d asked a question.
Right.
Who had called to him? In the water? The lure he felt in his blood?
Ohhh, yeah. Her name.
“Lusca.”