He couldn’t think of any acceptable reason to grab her again, so he said, “Just tel me the truth. What is this place?”
“A school. A private boarding school.”
“For what? Wayward girls and boys? The criminal y insane?”
“Nephilim.”
He forced his gaze from the pale swel of her breasts.
“Neff . . .”
“Neh-fil -eem,” she pronounced careful y.
He tested the word against the echoes of his dreams like a man dropping a stone into a wel to test for depth. But there was no ripple, no memory, nothing.
“What’s that, like a cult?”
“The Fal en children of air.” She searched his eyes.
“You real y don’t remember? Anything?”
8 4
V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
When she looked at him like that, with those clear, dark-lashed eyes, he wanted to say yes. To a drink in a bar, to a ride in her car, to sex on her narrow white bed . . .
“Justin?”
“I remember the sea,” he said.
The sea and a sense of loss.
“That’s it?”
“A dog.” A flash of memory, tal as a wolf, graceful as a deer, with a thin whip of a tail and a narrow, bearded muzzle. Justin smiled. “I remember a dog.”
Lara frowned, apparently not amused. Or satisfied.
“What about your life before you went to sea? Your family?
Your childhood?”
Fatigue and pain and the echo of Zayin’s voice, prying, sliding into his dreams, needled his temper. But Lara was his only al y. His only hope.
“I don’t have a family.” Or want one. He didn’t want to be tied down.
Except in his dreams . . .
“What happened seven years ago?”
“Shipwreck.” Beneath the towel, she was naked. He forced his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I was the only survivor.
Norwegian freighter captain found me tied to a mast and fished me out of the North Sea.”
“And since then?”
He grinned. “Sweetheart, I’d be happy to tel you the story of my life some other time. Right now, I just want to get the hel out of here.”
“You can’t leave.”
He looked her up and down. “You going to try and stop me?”
F o r g o t t e n s e a 85
“N-no,” she said slowly.
“Good. I need your help.”
“I can’t—”
“A car.” He interrupted before she had the chance to say no. “I figure you owe me a lift.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere there’s water,” he said firmly. “A shipyard, a marina. I’ve got contacts, I can get a berth.”
He needed to be at sea. Assuming he could find a boat captain wil ing to hire a crew member with a broken skul and a hex burning around his throat.
She shook her head, her damp hair sliding like water over her bare shoulders. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’l be okay. I’ve had practice flying under the radar.”
“You have very good shields.”
