“What rules?”
He went over to a cabinet and pulled out two pills. “You take these now, for pain.”
“I feel fine—”
“Because the numbing agent is still blocking the ache. These will take the edge off for the next twelve to fifteen hours, and by then you should be well on your way to healing. I did everything I could to speed the process along.”
Which meant not only had he given me his blood, he’d also drained his reservoir of power trying to heal as much of the damage as he could. “Thank you,” I said again. “I really appreciate it.”
“Well, show your gratitude by staying out of trouble, will you? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again anytime soon. Got it?”
“Believe me, I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now, no shifting for at least twenty-four hours and you should be good to go.”
“No shifting?” I stared down at my tail. “How am I supposed to get back to the water?”
Zarek actually winked at me. “Kona’s got a strong back. Use it. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was, indeed, back in the ocean, along with Kona and the largest contingent of guards I’d ever seen. To keep me from exhausting myself, he had me wrapped snugly in his arms and was using his legs to propel us quickly through the water.
Not taking any chances, hmm? I asked him along our private telepathic link.
Not with you, he answered grimly.
I’m fine.
I’m still not sure how that’s possible, by the way. And just so you know, I expect my ignorance to be remedied very soon.
I didn’t argue with him. Not when I wanted answers as badly as he did. It was strange. I had been in the middle of the shark-men, thinking I didn’t stand a chance—
His arms tightened around me, and I stroked his bicep in an effort to calm him down. I’m fine, I reminded him. Then I went on to explain everything that had happened, including the weird electric current I’d managed to pull from the water.
You really did that? Kona demanded. Pulled electric energy from the ocean?
I think so. That’s what it felt like, at least. Is that a bad thing?
It’s a rare thing. I mean, through the years I’ve heard of some mer being able to do that, but I’ve never actually met one who could.
Yeah, well, I’m not sure I ever want to do it again. Throughout the whole thing I was convinced I was going to electrocute myself.
I bet. He paused. So nothing like that’s ever happened to you before?
Never. I shook my head. I would have told you if it had.
He relaxed imperceptibly. We need to tell Hailana. See what she says.
I paused. Are you sure that’s a good idea?
Of course. Why?
When I didn’t immediately answer, I sensed his attention getting sharper, narrowing in on me exclusively. What’s wrong, Tempest?
Nothing. I tried to shrug off the whole topic. Now wasn’t the time to tell him that things between Hailana and me weren’t quite like he assumed. I guess the painkillers are kicking in. My thinking’s going a little nuts.
He didn’t say anything for so long that I thought he’d dropped it—at least until he replied softly, I thought you knew that you don’t have to do that with me.
Do what?
Front. You always deflect, like you don’t want to burden anyone with what’s bothering you. When are you going to figure out that you’re never a bother to me, Tempest?
I think I was a pretty big bother today, I said with a quick grin.
He sighed. There you go again.
I don’t deflect, I told him. But even as I protested, I sensed the truth in his words. From the time my mother left, I’d hidden most of my concerns or worries. Partly because I didn’t want to stress out my dad—he’d had enough to deal with—and partly because I was embarrassed to be such a mess.
And then, when I got older and the whole half-mermaid thing came up, I felt like I couldn’t talk about it. Not to Mark, who knew something was wrong but who I didn’t think could ever understand if I told him the truth. Not to my friends, because they would have thought I was a candidate for the mental institution. And, except there at the end, not to my dad, because I was so worried about hurting him, of reminding him of my mom, that I would rather bumble through things alone than ask his advice.
Kona didn’t bother to contradict me, but then I figured that was because he had a pretty good idea of what I was thinking.
Can we talk about this later? I asked. The pain medication really is starting to kick in.
Of course. Close your eyes and relax. Let me do all the work.
His words startled a laugh out of me. You know what that sounds like, don’t you?
His lips twisted in reluctant amusement. Only to dirty girls like you. But his arms tightened around me even more, until we were molded together like we had been in the clinic—my back to his chest. Out here, in the water, it felt so much better. Sexier. Even with all the guards around us.
Besides, he continued, when we get to that situation, I am not planning on doing all the work. His teeth nipped at my earlobe. Lively participation is pretty much a requirement, after all.
His words sent crazy shivers through my body. My heart sped up and I could feel a flush spreading through me that had nothing to do with embarrassment. I love you, you know. The words—and feelings—were there, unable to be denied despite what I’d done in La Jolla.
That whole thing had been an aberration, I told myself sternly. A mistake. I’d confused my feelings for home with my emotions about Mark. That was all it could have been, all it would ever be.
I love you, too, Kona said, his voice soft and sweet and sensuous as it brushed against the corners of my mind. Now sleep, baby. I’ve got you.
Giving in to temptation, I relaxed, let myself drift. I knew he would take care of me. I didn’t sleep, though, despite the narcotic effect of the painkillers. There was something so nice about being held securely by Kona as we zipped through the sea that I didn’t want to miss any part of it. With both of our lists of responsibilities, we didn’t get to see each other enough as it was.
Ocean life teemed around us, bold and bright and beautiful, and the deeper Kona took us, the more vibrant the colors became, until it seemed like the whole world was one huge psychedelic kaleidoscope of color. Reds and yellows, pinks and greens, whirling by at an amazing rate.
Fish, octopuses, selkies, mermaids, and even sharks seemed to surround us—to be watching us from every angle. At first, I thought it was the medication, making me see double or triple. But the faster Kona swam, the more of them there were, until they lined the water on all sides of us.
I glanced up at a particularly beautiful school of fish—purple masked angelfish, I think, in shades of canary yellow and violet. I was spellbound by them, the way they darted around one another, spinning and diving, until they all blended together into what looked like one long, glowing rope.
Look, I told Kona, pointing up. You can almost see their halos.
He laughed.
What? I asked. You don’t see it?
I think you’re the only one who sees it, Tempest. You’re hammered out of your mind on painkillers.
No. I reached a hand up to touch the long, glowing line—to show him that I was right—but there was nothing there. You really don’t see them? I whispered, sad for him. Those angelfish were some of the most gorgeous things I’d ever seen, even down here where the waters were filled with one beautiful mystery after another.