Chapter 9
Valrek scented her before he saw her.
The morning wind shifted, carrying salt spray and something else, that warm honey scent that made his beast prowl restlessly beneath his skin.
He straightened from where he’d been crouching near the tide pools, his heart hammering in a way that was entirely undignified for a warrior of his age and experience.
She emerged from the waves like something out of an old legend, water streaming from her dark hair as she pulled herself onto the rocks. Her skin shimmered with soft blue light, and the webbing between her fingers caught the morning sun like stained glass. Beautiful. Otherworldly. Mine.
Not mine, he reminded himself savagely. She can never be mine.
But telling himself that didn’t stop the surge of fierce satisfaction that flooded through him when she spotted him and smiled.
It didn’t stop the rumble that built in his chest when she started making her way towards him, moving across the slippery rocks with the easy grace of someone who’d spent her life dancing with the tide.
“You came back,” he said, and cursed himself for how rough the words sounded. Like he’d been counting the hours since she left. Which he had, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I said I would.”
“People say a lot of things.”
She tilted her head, and he watched the morning light play across the pearlescent skin covering her cheekbones. “Is that your way of saying you’re happy to see me?”
“It’s my way of saying you should be more careful,” he said roughly. “The cliffs are dangerous. The currents are unpredictable. If something happened to you—”
He stopped, realizing he was revealing too much.
Her expression softened. “I was born for the water, remember?”
“That doesn’t make you immortal.”
“No.” She reached his side and looked up at him, and something in her eyes made his breath catch. “But some things are worth the risk.”
His beast roared its approval. Every instinct screamed at him to reach for her, to pull her close, to claim her with his mouth and hands until she understood that she belonged to him. Instead, he turned away, jaw tight.
“Lilani’s still sleeping,” he said. “She wore herself out yesterday, asking every five minutes when you were coming back.”
“She’s very sweet.”
“She’s relentless. Once she decides she likes something, she doesn’t let go.
” He paused, feeling the weight of the warning he needed to deliver pressing against his chest. Tell her, his rational mind urged.
Tell her that Lilani is getting attached.
Tell her that you’re getting attached. Tell her that this can only end in pain.
But when he opened his mouth, different words came out.
“I could use your help with something.”
She blinked. “Of course. What do you need?”
“There’s a solar array on the cliffside, just above the cave. I’ve been meaning to repair it for months, but the position requires someone smaller to reach the damaged panels.” He glanced at her slender form. “Someone with nimble fingers.”
“A solar array?”
He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips when he saw her surprised expression. “Did you think I lived entirely like a primitive? Without any technology at all?”
“I… Well, yes. Honestly.”
“Most of the time, I prefer it. The old ways are simpler. But there are some things that require power.”
“What things?”
“I need to send a message to the elder I mentioned. The one who might know about the echo-pipe.” He started walking towards the cliff path, and she fell into step beside him. “I wasn’t anxious to restore power to the communicator since I had no intention of requesting help from my past.”
“But you’re willing to do it now?”
He stopped and turned to face her. The morning sun backlit her figure, turning her wet hair into a dark halo and making her skin glow softly. She looked like something sacred. Something precious.
“For you,” he said quietly. “Yes.”
Her breath caught, and he watched a flush of violet ripple across her skin.
“Valrek—”
“Come. The array is this way.”
He turned and began climbing before she could say whatever she’d been about to say. Before she could ask questions he didn’t know how to answer.
The path up the cliffside was steep and narrow, carved by centuries of wind and rain into a treacherous ribbon of stone.
He climbed it easily, his claws finding purchase in the rough rock, but he kept glancing back to check on her.
He needn’t have worried. She moved with the same fluid grace she showed in the water, her webbed fingers gripping holds he wouldn’t have trusted with his full weight.
“You climb like you were born to it,” he said.
“I climb like someone who spent her childhood escaping from a laboratory.” There was a bitter edge to her voice that made his chest tighten. “When your father sees you as a test subject, you learn to find places where the monitoring equipment can’t reach.”
“He hurt you?”
“Sometimes, but not because he was cruel. The operations he did saved my life.” She paused, pressing herself flat against the rock face as a gust of wind tried to tear her from the cliff. “He just… never saw me as a person. I was always Project Siren first, daughter second.”
His claws dug into the stone. The urge to protect her—to find her father and show him exactly what happened to those who hurt what belonged to a Vultor warrior—threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to keep climbing.
“You’re so much more than just a project.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“Don’t.” The word came out as a growl. “Don’t let them make you small, Ariella. You’re amazing.”
Silence. Then, so softly he almost missed it: “Thank you.”
They reached the ledge where the solar array was mounted—a small platform of rusted metal and cracked panels that jutted out from the cliff face like a broken wing.
He had salvaged it several years ago, jury-rigging it to power a few basic systems when necessary.
The communications device. A heating unit for the worst winter storms. A water purifier for when Lilani was too sick to drink from the spring.
“It’s not much,” he said, watching her examine the damaged panels with curious fingers. “But it’s enough.”
“This is incredible.” She traced the edge of a cracked solar cell, her expression filled with wonder. “You built this yourself?”
“Modified it, mostly. The Vultor don’t put a lot of emphasis on technology, especially here, but I learned what I needed to survive.
” He crouched beside her, pointing to a tangle of corroded wires.
“That’s the problem. A storm shorted out the main connection.
I can splice the wires, but my hands are too big to reach the junction box.
I would have to take it apart completely. ”
She peered into the narrow space he indicated, then nodded. “My hands will fit. What do I need to do?”
Her brow furrowed in concentration as he talked her through the repairs, her teeth catching her lower lip in a way that made his beast rumble with appreciation.
She was so different from the Vultor females he’d known—softer, and infinitely more fascinating.
And yet there was a core of steel in her that resonated with everything he admired.
She would make a formidable mate, his beast whispered. Strong enough to stand beside you. Fierce enough to protect your daughter. Tender enough to heal the wounds you carry.
She’s not for us, he reminded himself. She belongs to another world. Another life. We are merely… borrowed time.
“I think I’ve got it,” she said, pulling her arm free. Her fingers were smudged with grease, and a strand of damp hair had escaped to hang across her face. She looked rumpled and beautiful and entirely too appealing. “Try the connection.”
He flipped the switch on the main panel, and a green light flickered to life. Power hummed through the ancient system, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Now he could contact Torrath and hopefully get some answers.
“Well done.” He reached out without thinking and brushed the strand of hair from her face. Her skin was cool and smooth beneath his fingers, and her breath caught as he traced the edge of her jaw.
“Valrek—”
The sky chose that moment to open up.
Rain came crashing down without warning, driven by a sudden squall that howled up from the sea. Within seconds, they were both drenched, the wind whipping water into their eyes and threatening to tear them from the exposed ledge.
“This way!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a narrow crevice in the cliff face—a gap barely wide enough for one person, let alone two. But it was shelter, and shelter was all that mattered when the coastal storms turned violent.
He pushed her in first, then squeezed in after her, his massive body filling every inch of available space.
The crevice was tight, forcing them together from shoulder to hip.
Her back was against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, and with every breath she took her body brushed tantalizingly against his. He was suddenly, achingly erect.
“Sorry,” he rasped, shifting slightly to create some distance between them, but there was nowhere to go.
“It’s fine.” Her voice was breathless, her skin flickering nervously beneath her damp suit. “It’s just… close in here.”
He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent—cold sea and warm honey and the fresh, clean smell of the rain. He could feel her heart beating against him, a frantic little rhythm that matched the pulse that was pounding in his own blood.
“Are you all right?” he managed, his voice rough.
“Yes. Just…” She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, and the movement ground her hips against him in a way that made stars explode behind his eyes. “It’s a bit cramped.”
“Hold still.” It came out as more of a command than he intended, desperation bleeding through the words. “Just… hold still for a moment.”