Destiny Kills

was a wash, as I said.”

Trae clicked one of the photos, enlarging it, then pointed to the ceiling area above the ornately curtained French doors in the picture. “See that disk mounted onto the ceiling?” I nodded, and he continued, “It’s an infrared motion detector. Probably has a glass-break detector installed, too, seeing as it’s positioned near the French doors.”

“Well, breaking in through a window wouldn’t have been advisable anyway. I really don’t want them knowing we were there, if we can help it.”

“Which means you can’t actually steal the plans and codes.”

“No.” I hesitated, and yawned. “Sorry. Egan was going to buy a digital camera and photograph them.”

Trae glanced at me, concern suddenly bright in his eyes. “You look tired. Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll search the Net and see what else I can find about our Mrs. Marsten.”

I nodded, grabbed my T-shirt, then headed for the living room and the sofa in which I’d woken. I was sleepier than I thought, because I could barely even remember my head hitting the padded arm rest.

When I finally woke, wisps of moonlight were filtering in through the windows, not only washing the room with its pale light, but highlighting the footprints in the dust-covered floorboards. Trae had been in here more than once to check on me.

I smiled and pushed upright. Like before, waking on the plastic-covered sofa was painful, only this time my whole body was itchy. Infuriately so. I scratched at my side, my legs, my arms, then got up with a semi-growl. Moving didn’t help any. In fact, it only seemed to make the itching worse.

I walked into the hallway, then stopped. There was a light in the kitchen, but it was faded, like a flashlight that was rapidly losing battery power.

Part of me wanted to go down there, see what Trae had uncovered, and grab something to eat.

But as tempting as that might be, the reality was, I needed to get to water.

Fast.

Chapter Seven

I swung around, walked back into the living room and over to the French doors. The moonlight flooding in through the dusty glass was as cold and as distant as I felt deep inside.

But through the hush of the night came the call of the sea.

It was a call I could not disobey.

I unlatched the French doors and walked out into the cold night. Paving gave way to grass, then grass to sand as I made my way though the overgrown gardens and onto the path I’d spotted earlier.

The wind swirled around me, sharp with the scent of the sea, tugging at my hair and at the hem of my T- shirt, as if trying to hurry me along. I all but ran down the path, my speed making my shoulder ache, and yet the ache getting lost in a growing sense of urgency. Fear even.

I had to get down to the sea. Had to.

I scrambled down the old steps that lined the cliff face, the occasional loose stone digging into my feet but causing no pain. The night had once again stolen such sensory details, leaving my skin cold and, for the moment, unfeeling. Leaving me the same.

I strode out across the sand. Waves rushed toward me, reaching with foamy fingers for my toes. When those fingers raced up and over my feet, a shudder that was part pleasure, part relief, ran through me. I stopped and stripped off the T-shirt, then the bandages, tossing them both back up on the beach. The wind caught them, flinging them backward, well out of the reach of the sea.

The waves roared as they rolled toward the pristine sands, the sound seeming to hit the cliffs and spin back, until the night was filled with the cry of the ocean. I flung my arms wide, breathing deep, filling my lungs with the cold, salty air, feeling it wash through every muscle, every cell, invigorating, renewing. There was power in the sharpness of the night and in the chill of the water, and my sudden laugh swirled across the waves, mingling joyously.

I was home. Maybe not my actual home, but the home of heart. My soul.

I continued on into the water and, when I was deep enough, dove under the waves. The icy water caressed my skin, a lover’s touch that soothed and healed. The itching vanished, replaced by a feeling of wholeness. The sea replenishing what the day had taken away.

I played in the waves, diving under and over, a fish who had no fins or tail. I have no idea how long I stayed there, but it must have been hours, because the moon was losing its strength by the time I began to make my way back to the shore.

Only then did I realize I was not alone in the cold, starry night.

I hesitated, but a wave hit my butt, forcing me on. I smiled, half wondering if the ocean was sick of my presence, but took the hint and kept moving.

Trae rose as I approached the sand, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight, filled with heat, filled with desire. His gaze slid down my body as I left the grip of the waves, and my skin prickled and warmed.

I knew in that moment that no matter how much I wanted to honor Egan’s death by showing a little bit of restraint, I wouldn’t. Not if the opportunity now arose. The night and the sea were filled with magic, and the longing to share it all with another was very much a part of who I was, what I was.

His gaze rose, annoyance warring with desire in those rich blue depths. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to come down here? I just about had a heart attack when I walked into the living room and found you gone.”

I stopped several feet away from him. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind, and it should have.”

He contemplated me for a few moments, his spicy, masculine scent swirling around me, teasing my senses, stirring desire.

“That water is icy, and yet you come out of it glowing with warmth rather than cold. A gift of your heritage, I gather?”

I nodded. “We don’t have to change in the water—except if we want to go deep or stay under for longer periods. And my skin is always cold at night.”

“I noticed.”

A smile teased my lips. “So the thief has stolen a caress or two?”

His own smile emerged. “The thief has. And he has no regrets.” He took several steps, closing the distance between us before raising a hand, lightly brushing strands of hair away from my cheek, his fingers so warm, so tender against my skin.

“Why is the water so important to you? Besides the fact that you’re a sea dragon, of course.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did no one teach you about your undersea cousins?”

“My family barely even taught us about the other cliques. Draman may not be killed, but they don’t get the same sort of education as full bloods.”

“Ah. Well, it’s because if I do not immerse myself under some form of water every twenty-four hours, I will die.”

“So it doesn’t have to be seawater?”

“I survived eleven years in that facility without seawater, so it doesn’t seem like it.”

But even as I said the words, doubt crowded my mind. What if there were side effects, and I just didn’t know about them? After all, my mom had been insistent that I get away from that place quickly. So what if it wasn’t just because of Dad, but because I was reaching the end of my limits, sea-wise?

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Trae immediately took off his coat. “Here, take this.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay naked and cold and a part of the night and the magic, but there was something in his eyes—a steel that would brook no arguments. And why stand here and argue when there were many more interesting things we could be doing? So I slipped my arms into the sleeves, breathing deep the dual scent of leather and man, then let him slide up the zipper. His hands lingered near the top, his fingers brushing oh- so casually across my breasts.

“I notice the bullet wound is almost healed.”