20. Chase
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chase
“Dude, you’ve got it bad.” Tanner splashed me as we waited for the next set of waves.
“Got what?”
“Heart eyes, dude.” Diego this time. “You gonna be able to focus for the comp, or is your little local witch gonna distract you?”
“Hell, with how RipTide’s setup is coming apart at the seams, there might not be a comp. Oh, mine.” Tanner paddled over the crest of the wave and was gone before I could respond.
They’d had to move the tents off the north shore last night.
With no geotechnical report to go off and another tent collapsing, insurance had made the call.
Derek had been ripping out his hair, while I’d sat in the back of the meeting with my smile bolted on, thinking about the messages I’d sent her that morning.
el_tiburón
have those pics you wanted
beachbruja
i didn’t ask for pics
I sent her the selfie I’d taken in the surprisingly flattering light of the motel bathroom, showing off my back muscles and the scratches she’d left all over them.
el_tiburón
your canvas is ready
I’d greatly enjoyed watching the three dots pop up and disappear multiple times before Tanner had called me out to the waves.
Diego was still looking at me. Could dolphin shifters read minds?
“Thought you’d be happy to have a chance at winning this one,” I shot back.
He shrugged. “You’ve been different since we came to Crescent Cove.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know…happy?”
“Nothing like a comeback to cheer a guy up.”
He shrugged again, but then a visible shiver ran up his spine.
“You good, man?” I asked.
“I know we’ve got that witch’s magic in the waves, but…something doesn’t feel right.” He cocked his head at me. “You feel it, right?”
I had. When I’d first swum into this cove, it was charged, the old magic beneath it permeating every drop of the ocean.
Now, floating in the lineup waiting on a set, there was a new feeling, like static.
Low, easy to ignore at first, but it was getting louder—a noise I’d never heard in the deep before.
At first, I’d passed it off as all the competition traffic and maybe a shipping lane moving too close.
It might have been Selena’s mother’s magic, but…
No, the ocean wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Crescent Cove had pulled me in with Selena, the taste of her blood, the power sleeping in it. Now her power was turned up to eleven, but it was different than that first night. Like it wasn’t slotting into place properly.
“It’s like something is out of alignment with this whole damn place.”
Diego nodded. But another set came up, and he took it before I was even moving. Fuck, I was distracted. I waited through one, then two more, before taking the wave, ignoring the static licking at the edge of my board.
We came in from the waves on the north shore, and I saw three sets of cones with bright red flags marking the turtle nests again. Just beyond, near the boardwalk where there was the most foot traffic, was a new regulation beach volleyball net.
A small chalk sign had been erected, covered in handwriting I now associated with smoothies and ornery seagulls.
Sign up for Crescent Cove’s annual Beach Volleyball Tournament! All proceeds go to preserving the local turtle population. $500 grand prize.
A QR code had been slapped on below.
Sneaky little witch. For the turtles, my ass. Okay, so this was still supporting the turtles, but I had her number now.
A few moments later, I felt that familiar hum, and my gorgeous witch walked over the dunes, struggling to roll what looked like a folded-up set of bleachers across the sand.
She was followed by an annoying buff seal—no, sea lion shifter.
The dude smelled like prey. He was wearing a faded rescue-org tee, purposefully tight across the chest and biceps.
I would know. That was my MO when I was forced to wear a shirt.
He saw her struggling, took the entire bleacher frame off her hands as if it weighed nothing, and said something that made her laugh.
He made her laugh—on the first try, with no visible effort.
The shark surfaced, slow and unreasonable. The shark had opinions about shifters who carried things and made witches laugh.
I crossed the sand. Selena saw me coming, and her posture armed itself, which was flattering. The meathead saw me coming and set the bleachers down like he might need his hands.
“Chase Perez.” I offered my hand to him. He looked at it like I’d offered him a flyer.
“I know who you are. I surf.”
“Yeah? Where do you—”
“Mavericks, at nineteen. Name’s Elliot, and I was on the rescue crew the year after.
” His jaw set. “The hurricane year. We pulled three groms off the rocks that season because they watched El Tiburón chase a storm swell and decided that’s what surfing is.
You make the ocean look like a stunt. Some of us have to live with the consequences of that. ”
Ouch. So, a You ruined surfing guy.
“Chasing the storm is what surfing is. But knowing that is why I’m pro and you’re what…craft services?”
“Some of us love the ocean for more than the glory she can bring us.” Oh, he was heating up now. I could feel the animal inside him trying to—well, whatever the word was for how sea lions awkwardly moved on the beach—out of him.
“You’re a shifter, huh? Sea lion? As an East Coast guy, I’ve never tasted that before.” I let all my sharp teeth show in my grin.
“You mother—” He raised his fist.
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Selena moved between us and put her hand on his chest. Oh, I did not like that. She turned her head back to me, glaring.
I kept the grin. She rolled her eyes but failed to hide the smirk beneath it. One point for me.
“Anyway,” Whiskers said, recovering, turning his shoulder away from me—to her— “the rest of the bleachers are by the boardwalk. I’ve got it covered. The rest of the rescue crew is up there.” He looked at me pointedly. “The community takes care of its own here. “
“Oh, I’ve seen just how generous the community around here can be. Must take some serious energy. Late nights. Repeated, draining—”
“It was a group effort.” Selena’s teeth showed now, tiny and blunt. Adorable.
“Oh, you didn’t invite me to that.” And, oh, now she was mad too. Perfect.
“Some places just protect themselves.” Elliot hauled the frame up again—flexing, I noted—completely oblivious. “The cove provides. That’s nature. Some things you just can’t fake.”
“Some things you really can’t fake.” I looked at Selena. Selena looked back, more predator than I was.
She leaned in close and whisper-hissed in my ear. “Cut it out. I’m going to kill you.”
“As long as it’s crushing me between those beautiful thighs, I’m okay with it.” I stepped back before she could follow through on her threat.
She was acting mad, but her pulse was hammering in her chest. I could hear it, see it throbbing beneath the skin of her neck. She was enjoying this, and I intended to show her I didn’t lose to marine mammals.
“Anyway, we saw your sign and came to play. Me and Tanner already signed up.”
“We did?” Tanner, once again failing me at critical times.
Elliot scowled. “The tournament is during your finals. You won’t be able to make it.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow at Selena, and she at least had the decency to look guilty about using me to sabotage my sponsor for her pet project. “Well, how about a warm-up set right now? Us versus you two.”
“We’re setting up,” Elliot said.
“Scared?”
It was a cheap shot, but cheap shots were effective. Elliot was a shifter and a surfer and a local, and scared lit him up like a flare. He looked at Selena. Selena looked at me, and underneath all the fury, something else surfaced—feral, that smelled like blood in the water.
“You’re on, Jaws. One set. Twenty-one.”
The court was ready, the net taut and regulation height, the sand raked clean.
“First to twenty-one,” Selena announced, digging her feet into the sand. “My court, my rules.”
“Your rules include a handicap for the devastatingly handsome?”
Tanner stood beside me as we both stretched, but I knew Selena only had eyes for me. I tugged my shirt off over my head, and no matter how sly she thought she was being, I caught her eyes drifting lower and lower.
“My rules include keeping your mouth shut during my serve,” she shot back.
“That gonna give you the edge? Let’s see, between the pull-ups, the seagulls, and the other thing…what was it again? It’s just on the tip of my tongue…” I grinned at her, loving how easy it was to rile her up. “I think the score is four to one.”
I thought she was going to launch the volleyball straight at my face, but Whiskers gave her a confused look and she shook it off.
“You ready, Selena? Or should I get another round of stretching in?”
“I was just giving you some extra time.” She rolled the ball between her hands, hip cocked, giving her body something to do to hide how into me she was from the idiot next to her.
“I know having legs is new for you. Just wish that sea witch you bargained with had followed through and taken your voice.”
“Nah, she and I came to a different arrangement. One I think you’re pretty familiar with.” I winked. I couldn’t help it, especially as her cheeks turned a satisfying shade of red.
“Then show me what you’ve got, Ariel.”
People had gathered on the boardwalk. I saw Diego amongst them, leaning against the railing to watch. I stretched my arms overhead, making a production of it, shooting a few observers the famous El Tiburón grin.
She served first.
The ball left her hand, and she ran and then jumped into the air.
The movement was so effortless I almost believed she was flying. Her whole body uncoiled in a single, violent arc, arm sweeping forward, and her palm connected with the ball with a crack that made my teeth hurt.
The ball hit the sand two feet inside our line before I’d finished processing that she’d served.
“One-nothing.” She flipped her hair back out of her face, triumphant.
Tanner looked at me. I looked at Tanner. Tanner mouthed what the fuck, and I couldn’t disagree.