not, he was on constant alert. And though she appreciated it, Shea would have given anything for the two of them to really be able to forget about the world for a while and just be together.
Well, when he wasn’t giving her orders, that is.
She glanced around at the amazing suite. Booking at the last minute and paying cash for their tickets, Torin had reserved the Balmoral Suite on the tenth of thirteen decks, at the very tail end of the enormous ship. They were secluded from everyone else, in their own little world. Exquisite paintings on the walls, comfortable chairs and couches. An incredible view out the wide windows to the sky and sea.
It was a duplex suite. Upstairs were the bedroom and a marble bath with a sea window and a Jacuzzi; downstairs featured a living room, dining room and a private terrace where you could sit in deck chairs high above the other passengers. The suite was almost twenty-three hundred square feet. Almost twice the size of her old apartment.
He’d been right about this, Shea thought. At first she’d insisted that he was making a mistake by booking the most expensive suite on the ship. She’d thought they should hunker down in a tiny cabin in the bowels of the boat. Incognito, sort of.
But Torin had insisted that the rich were rarely bothered. They had access to twenty-four-hour room service and could elect to stay locked away in their suite and never see another passenger or member of the crew if they wished. When the maids arrived every day, Shea and Torin merely stepped onto the wide private verandah until they were gone again. Safer all the way around.
And a luxury she wished she could enjoy more thoroughly.
Still, it was annoying that he seemed to be right so often.
“Again,” Torin said from across the room.
She frowned at him. “Moving flowers from spot to spot isn’t exactly honing my skills, you know.”
“Controlling your power is the most important thing right now, Shea,” he said, and pushed up from the comfortable sofa to walk toward her.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Shea said when he was only a step away. “I sort of think it’s more important to remember where the hell we’re going and why.”
Torin grinned at the impatience in Shea’s tone. And it suddenly struck him how very seldom he had smiled in the recent centuries. But these last days with Shea, despite the danger, despite the constant threat of attack, had changed him. The mating had touched something inside him that he wouldn’t have believed existed.
Their matching tattoos were nearing completion and every time he saw his mark spreading over her shoulder and back from its beginning on her breast, Torin experienced a sense of rightness that he had hungered for all his long existence. His need for her increased by the day and he could barely manage to be in the same room with her without touching her. Tasting her. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. But mostly he simply wanted her.
Now she stared at him through narrowed eyes and he felt a flicker of pride rise up in him. These days on the cruise ship had been intense. For both of them.
They were hiding. True, in lush surroundings, but knowing that she was unable to so much as step out onto their terrace without first making sure she was alone was wearing on her. He could see it daily. Tension was ratcheting up inside her along with her powers and the mixture was difficult to bear. For both of them.
And yet, his witch stood tall and proud, refusing to surrender. Refusing to lie down and cry about her fate or what was expected of her. Her entire life had changed over the last couple of weeks, and yet she continued on, working toward the inevitable test that lay ahead of her.
Her powers were growing more quickly now. Since drawing down the moon and unlocking the door to her memories, she had triggered the release of her many gifts. Torin sensed her abilities developing at a staggering rate and knew that she fought daily for the control she needed. Her own need for knowledge was feeding her magical growth. And the mating sex was deepening those abilities, stirring to life old embers, echoes of past lives.
She would need every ounce of strength and will she possessed, he told himself solemnly. His mind raced ahead. To what they might face when they finally reached England’s shores. There were still too many unknowns before them. They had to locate Haven. They had to find the Artifact. And, they were running out of time. There were so many things that could go wrong.
“You’re worried,” she said.
“Some.”
Shea nodded, and walked to the windows that overlooked the sea, stretching out in front of them. At the horizon, sea and sky melded together into a seamless blue that seemed to slide into infinity.
“So am I.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I still don’t know everything that I should and we land in three days.”
“It will come,” he assured her. “Once we’re in England, the sense memories will become thicker, more distinct.”
“Maybe.” She turned her back on the window to face him.
Backlit by the sun, she appeared to be gilded by a glowing golden light. Her dark red hair shone and though her green eyes were in shadow, he could have sworn he saw them flash with purpose.
“You need to tell me, Torin. What do you remember from that last night?”
Frowning, he started to argue, but she cut him off.
“We’re running out of time. My magic is growing, I know. But I still feel like I’m in this blind. I need more information and I’m just not sorting through the opening memories as quickly as I’d like.”
He pushed out of the chair and walked to her. “You’re right,” he admitted and caught the glint of surprise in her eyes. He smiled. “You thought I would argue with you.”
Nodding, she said, “Well, you’re the one who’s been insisting all along that my memories had to come in their own time.”
“True,” he said, sliding one hand along her arm, hearing her breath quicken at his touch. How glorious it was to know that his woman felt everything he did when they came together. That the magic they created affected each of them with the same sense of eager anticipation for their next joining.
Taking a breath, he said, “But you managed to awaken your memories, Shea. Perhaps telling you now will help you sort through them at a faster pace.”
He swept her up into his arms and carried her easily across the room toward the stairs.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, linking her arms around his neck.
“I’m going to tell you all I know,” he said, continuing on up the curving staircase to the luxurious bedroom on the second floor.
“And you have to tell me in the bedroom?”
He glanced at her and gave her a half smile. “It will take a while. You should be comfortable.”
“Uh-huh. You’re only thinking of me.”
“You are my mate, Shea,” he said softly, meaningfully. “I always think of you.”
Cora Sterling looked at her daughter and felt a surge of pride. Deidre Sterling was everything a mother could have hoped for. Brilliant, beautiful and strong-willed, she was, in essence, Cora told herself, a younger version of her mother.
Even a simple family dinner became an event at the White House. The Secret Service was always close at hand and the waitstaff from the kitchens tended to hover nearby, always ready to be of service.
But Cora didn’t want any distractions when her daughter was there for dinner. As soon as she was able, she got rid of everyone so that she and Deidre could talk. Once the room was empty, she broached the subject that had been worrying her for days.
“The RFW has been in the papers a lot lately.” She speared a bite of excellently prepared salmon.
“I know.” Deidre pushed her chin-length blond hair behind her ears and smiled. “It’s really exciting, Mother. Rights for Witches is growing faster than any of us had hoped.”
Cora nodded and took a sip of cold white wine. “But there was trouble yesterday on the Mall.”
A protest march at the National Mall had been scheduled for months. At most, people guessed there would be several thousand attendees. But more than fifty thousand people had shown up to march on the capital. The D.C. police were still sorting out all of the arrests they’d made. Even the most peaceful of protests somehow tended
