Forgotten Sea

He held her tight, and the water closed over their heads.

Water singing in his blood, rushing in his ears. They plunged down, down, into the shock of cold, the relief of wet, the welcome of the river. A thousand silver bubbles burst with them into the dark. Pain gone. Heat gone. Only water, al around.

Water was his element.

The realization burst in his brain. He was a child of the sea, a creature of the water, elemental, immortal.

Or he had been, once.

His mind churned. He floundered. He remembered. A broken castle on the cliffs. A man with eyes like rain, a girl with hair like straw, a dog . . .

Sanctuary.

A profound sense of loss speared his chest. The river roared in his head.

They had sent him away, he remembered. To save him, they said. And then . . . And then . . .

Against him, Lara struggled, and he realized abruptly she couldn’t breathe.

He kicked to the surface.

The night exploded around them as they broke into the air.

The fire beat at his back. Rain pelted his head. Smoke bil owed black against the flames, gray against the night sky. Lara coughed and clung to him, the one solid thing in his universe. He hauled her toward the bank, swimming strongly against the current.

River and sky blended together in the slashing, splashing rain. His feet touched bottom, silt and stone and weed.

F o r g o t t e n s e a 109

He waded toward the dark shore, water sloshing around his thighs.

Lara staggered hard against him. He lugged her with him up a bank slick with mud and grass. They col apsed together on the slope like a couple of shipwreck victims.

He turned his head.

She lay beside him, her dark hair plastered in rivulets against her skul , rain streaking her delicate, determined face.

Here. Real. Alive.

A smear of mud decorated her cheekbone. She watched him without moving, her gray eyes the color of smoke, reflecting the light of the fire. Behind them, another section of bridge crashed into the river.

“Wel .” He grinned to hide the churning of his gut.

“That’s one way to make sure they can’t fol ow us.”

A laugh escaped her, a smal , surprised chuckle like a bird’s.

He inhaled sharply and cupped her face. The laughter faded from her lips and eyes, leaving only that faint, arousing surprise. With his thumb, he traced the angle of her cheek, the ful ness of her lower lip. Her skin was cool from the river. Her mouth was warm. He rose on one elbow to kiss her—softly, but a real kiss this time, with tongue and intent. She tensed and then melted under him like sugar in the rain, sweet and wet and warm. Her kiss anchored him.

Calmed him. He shifted, hooking one leg over hers to pul her closer, moving his hand down to palm her slight breast, to feel her breath catch, her heart beat, her nipple push against his palm.

He needed this, needed her, solid and real against him, wet and open and under him.

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V i r g i n i a K a n t r a

Lara.

He rol ed with her on the muddy bank, his body heavy, hot, on fire for hers. He nuzzled her throat, inhaling her scent, clean rain and wet woman. Her hand rested on the back of his neck, the brush of her little finger like a trickle of rain at the edge of his col ar.

She murmured, acquiescence or protest. “Justin . . .”

He raised his head to look her in the eyes. He wanted to give her something. A piece of himself. “Iestyn,” he told her.

“My name is Iestyn.”

*

*

*

She didn’t think, didn’t want to think. No time to consider, no opportunity to be afraid. Only this, his mouth, his touch, his broad shoulders over her like wings. Only now, lying on a riverbank in the rain, free from the Rule and its consequences. She was submerged in sensation, her senses brimming with him, his tang in her nostrils, his taste on her tongue.

His leg was heavy over her thighs. His erection pressed hard and urgent against her hip.

This. Here and now.

He said something—his name?—and she raised her hand to trace the shape of his lips in the dark.

She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to feel. To feel him.

He said it again, softening the J, swal owing the vowels.