Chapter 2
Kael
From Nightfall to the Jersey Shore
The veil thins at water’s edge, and I follow it—through a seam of storm light, into a place that reeks of salt and chemicals.
An aquarium, they call it.
A mockery of the ocean.
But she is real.
Phoebe.
Phoebe Sewell.
Knee-deep in a pool, laughter spilling like sunlight as she coaxed a sleek sea lion to nuzzle her hip.
Golden skin, curves kissed by the sun, sand-colored hair tucked beneath a cap, crystal-clear blue eyes full of warmth.
And when she smiles? My runes start to burn.
The tide inside me shifts.
For the first time in months, power answers.
She doesn’t see me at first, cloaked in shadow, horns catching only faint reflections in the glass.
For a second I envy my brother, Alaric, for his use of illusion and disguise. I have no such power.
She will see me as I am, and my stomach clenches at the thought.
Will she think of me as a monster?
Will she scream at the sight?
My skin is tanned from the sun, my scales ripple beneath it, coming out only when I’m long in the water.
My horns are curved, and my tail is forked.
Raging tides, fathomless whirlpools, and majestic oceans are reflected in my irises. Sea storms and weather, the knowledge of all the seas connecting each universe—things I’ve studied for centuries echo inside my mind.
I am the Lord of Water, and I have earned that title through blood, sweat, and countless ages—not just inherited or seized.
My title is mine by right, and the idea it is being pried from my grasp is more than vexing.
It is unacceptable.
Magic, power, and determination flow through me in a current all its own, and I use that now to my advantage, increasing the water within the pool, using it to bring her to me.
It seems unfair, taking this creature from her home and using her as a means to an end.
But whoever said ‘life is fair’ was lying.
And when the currents stir, curling unnatural around her calves, she gasps and spins.
Those cerulean eyes of hers collide with mine—and I am undone.
“You—you can’t be back here!” Her voice trembles.
Not with fear. With knowing.
“No,” I reply softly, stepping from the shadows. “I shouldn’t be. But you called out to me, Telya.”
She shakes her head, backing a step.
The water clings to her, rising with her panic.
“Telya? That’s not my—I mean, what? I don’t know you. I didn’t call—”
“It’s the word my people use for a strong current. And yes, you did call out to me. I heard you, felt you over oceans of time and space, Telya. Now, I am here to answer that call.”
I lift my hand. The whirlpool blooms, the veil peeling open with a roar of water.
“I didn’t call,” she whimpers.
“You did. And now I’m calling you back.”
The pool surges, and my heart pounds.
Foam climbs her thick thighs.
She stumbles, catching herself on the rim of the tank, but the current drags her toward me. Just like I command.
“Wait—stop!”
Her voice is the sea itself, wild and unwilling.
My chest aches with it.
I have no business doing what I am doing, but nothing in this world or any other can make me stop. Because when I started this search, I didn’t do it like I told the others—to fake a bond. I did it to find my true viyella.
And I think I just have.
“Please,” she whimpers, eyes wild as the water rushes around us both. “What are you doing?”
I cant my head, catching the way the pulse at the base of her throat moves rapidly as she tries to understand what’s happening.
She can’t.
I know that. But I’m doing it anyway.
She reaches for me—out of instinct, out of terror, out of something deeper—and our hands meet just as the whirlpool swallows us both.
“I’m taking what’s mine, Telya.”
Salt and shadow wrap her body.
“I’ll drown!”
“You won’t,” I try to reassure her.
The glass, the lights, the sea lion’s bark—all shatter in the cacophony of magic rising around us in the swirling pool where the portal opens and closes at my whim.
I try to ignore the feel of her, so warm and soft, against me, but that requires a strength I do not possess.
Phoebe is—well—she is perfect.
But I must focus. I’m not doing this to satisfy a carnal itch.
Ahead, Castletide waits on the brink of ruin.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because my homeland is drowning, Telya, and we need you,” I tell her, and it’s not a lie. Not exactly.
That I need her—am desperate for her—is something I simply need to keep to myself for now.
“Why me?” she gasps, clinging as the water swells above her shoulders.
“The sea has chosen.”
And so have I.