Shadows Before the Sun

He pushed me back, pinned me against the side of the pool with his size, and kissed the daylights out of me.

His hands roamed, rough and hot as his mouth moved to my neck. He hiked my leg over his hip and held it there. The shenti was gone—didn’t know when that happened—and I felt him hot and hard against me. My pulse pounded so quick, I could barely speak. “Do it. Please.” Him. Inside me. Now. I pulled him close, wanting to meld into him, become so close that there was no distinction, nothing separating us.

If he didn’t do it now, I’d go over the edge without him. Next time, my frantic brain promised, next time we’ll go slower.

He chuckled, and I realized I said that last part out loud. Didn’t care. I urged him, snuggling my hips closer, trying to—

And then he spoke.

His lips moved against my neck and his siren voice flowed out of him like warm honey, tugging on every pleasure nerve I possessed, magnifying . . . everything. At the same moment, he slid into me. One long stroke, all the way, and the world as I knew it shattered, replaced by one of mind-altering pleasure.

He didn’t move until my spasms ceased and I came out of my stupor. He was still inside of me, hot and hard as a rock. I kissed the tense muscle in his jaw and said breathlessly, “Okay, now I’m ready. Go.”

He groaned and thrust.

* * *

“I think you short-circuited some of my brain cells.” Hank lay with a towel around his waist on the lounge near the pool, his eyes closed and his fingers linked over his bare stomach.

I lay similarly on a twin lounge next to his, so sated my body was a useless lump. “I think I overdosed on endorphins.”

His deep, satisfied chuckle made me smile. “You did lose consciousness a couple times.”

I laughed at the joke. But who knew? I might have. There were moments I . . . I couldn’t even put into words, didn’t even know a body could experience that much. I’d barely had enough strength left over to get out of the pool, dry off, and pull the gown over my head.

He rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and rested his head on his hand. “I thought your cavewoman demands were . . . adorable.”

Oh, yeah, Hank was back and giving me hell.

I slapped my hands over my face. “Oh my God.”

“I was particularly fond of Move. Now and Go.”

I glared over at him even though I couldn’t stop grinning. “You know, I’m not even going to try to improve my sex talk,” I said, “because you’ve got the market cornered in that department.” I lifted my nose in the air and said airily, “I’ll just work my magic . . . elsewhere.”

“Explain,” he said, deadpan, and then smiled widely.

God, if he didn’t stop looking like that I was going to jump him. Again.

I was . . . happy. And it was more than simply getting my universe rocked multiple times. Hank and I, we got each other. We had the same offbeat sense of humor, the same love of the good fight. I trusted him. I knew he had my back. He always had.

I tried, I really tried to lie there and not let the worries creep in, but I couldn’t help wondering how things would be once we got back home. If we could be partners, friends, and lovers. If it would alter our perception and our actions at work, under fire, under pressure.

If Emma would accept this new direction in our relationship.

“We’ll figure it out,” Hank said, sensing my shift in mood. “Whatever comes, we’ll deal with it. As fast or slow as you want to take it, Charlie. I’m not going anywhere.”

I sat up. “I’m sorry I left you at the station.” I’d hated that moment, and I had to say that, to get it off my chest. When I’d had to choose between running after Bryn and fighting against the sirens who had come to take Hank back to Fiallan. I wanted him to know it hadn’t been an easy decision.

He sat up, swung his legs over the lounge until our knees were touching. “I seem to recall telling you to go.”

I frowned. “Yeah, but . . . still. It wasn’t easy and you’re my partner, leaving you was . . .”

“The right call.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “But I’m glad it matters. And I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know what they did to you, Hank. I saw it. I knew about the NecroNaMoria before Ephyra mentioned it.” I regarded him for a long time, studying his face, his expression, trying to see for myself that he was truly healed. “Is it gone, the spell? Did it end when she died?”

He toyed with my hand. “It’s over.” He smiled and shrugged, then plowed his fingers through his hair, releasing a deep sigh. “The Circe are gone, that’s all that matters. They made me crazy for a while, fucked with my head, but I know what they did and I’ll get over it.” Which was putting it mildly, but I decided to leave it alone.

And what else could he do? I’d been through horrors I’d never forget, ones that still lingered in my psyche. Putting one foot in front of the other, as cliché as it sounded, was what had gotten me through. People who were there for me, who never pushed me to heal, but gave me time and let me know they were there, they cared.

I’d be that person for Hank and I wouldn’t push.

He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”

I slid my hand into his and together we walked toward the pool, where Hank retrieved his clothes and dressed. Just dropped towel and bared ass. Nothing to be shy about, I thought, smiling.

He sat to pull on his boots, regarding my gown. “You’re keeping the gown.” He glanced up, eyes sweeping the room, raising his voice. “And the jewels.”

“Are you telling me this or Panopé?”

“Both.” Done with his shoes, he stood, then reached behind the bench and lifted a sack.

I went still. “Please don’t tell me that’s Sandra.”

“Okay. It’s not Sandra.”

“Hank!”

“Well, what did you expect me to do with her? Set her on the table? She’s a head, Charlie. A talking head.” A wave of weariness hit me and I sat down in a slump as Hank regarded me for a long moment. “What the hell was she doing in Fiallan?”

“She showed up at the terminal. She . . . helped me. Said that this was her path, that her fate was tied to ours.” I thought of our time in Fiallan, before things went wrong, and felt the rise of grief again. My fingers twisted the gown. “I actually liked her. Can you believe that? She was a good person, Hank. Really good and . . .” I couldn’t finish, couldn’t go down that road, so I drew in a deep breath and went another way, one less painful. “She made me promise to bring her home, said Tuni would know what to do. Thank you,” I said, “for going back for her.”

After twisting the fabric some more, I continued. “The worst part about it is that she knew. She knew what would happen to her and still she went.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever totally understand why or get over the look on her face the last time I saw her alive.

Hank held out his hand, his voice gentle and understanding. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go home.”

I let him pull me up. And just like that, I was gone, weightless. One second physical, the next, nothing but energy particles. Then I was whole again, my weight settling hard down into me.

17

We stood on the cliffs of Fiallan, facing the sea.

Far across the bay, the tower was gone, large blocks of it scattered or submerged into the sea below along with a good portion of the cliff itself.

Behind us was the left cliff tower, which still stood, its top blazing with the setting sun’s light. If I had to guess by the amount of activity going on across the bay, only an hour or two had passed since the collapse.