“I don’t know. I haven’t met any lately.”
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised and a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I could play nice, if you want.”
“I know the sort of nice you’re talking about,” I replied dryly. “But if you want that ring, we’d better behave. The sea doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Later, then.”
“Much later.” When this was all over, and everyone was safe.
Silence fell again, and day grew around us, bringing houses and the bay to life. I dragged my knees close to my chest, watching the water, watching the dance of sunlight across the waves. Feeling the growing sense of power rumbling underneath them.
Eventually I tossed off the blanket and walked back into the water. The sense of power grew stronger, swirling around my legs. Farther out in the bay, a long plume of water became visible, its silver droplets twinkling and gleaming like rainbows as something rushed toward me.
I held out my hand, palm up, as the plume of water drew ever closer. Then there was a flash of silver, the warm kiss of water across my palm, and the ring was returned.
“Thank you.”
The quick dance of sparkling droplets said the words had been accepted and acknowledged by the deeper energy of the sea, then they, too, were gone.
I glanced at the ring sitting in the middle of my palm. The dragon’s jeweled eyes still gleamed like blood dripping from a wound, and the ring itself remained heavy and cold against my skin. Reluctantly, I closed my fingers around it, then turned and headed back to the beach.
“Here,” I said, holding out my hand. “I hope it helps you find your sister.”
He opened his palm and I dropped the thing into it. The red eyes seemed to gleam ominously before he closed his fingers around it and shoved it in his pocket. As if he, too, felt the coldness in the thing.
His gaze met mine, the rich depths gleaming brightly in the sunlight, as if lit from behind. “Thanks.”
I shrugged, trying for casual, knowing there was no other choice. “If you’re no longer going to use the car, can I take it? I can’t swim in the bay at this hour in either form—there are too many boats and people about.”
He took the keys from his other pocket and dropped them into my hand. “It’s the red Ford with the white top. You can’t miss it.”
I clenched my fingers around the keys, pressing them into my palm, using the pain of it to help stop the tears that were threatening to spill.
“This is not the end for us, Destiny,” he said softly.
My gaze rose to his, and something in my soul sighed at the determination I saw in those bright depths. “Good, because I don’t want this to be an end for us. But I also don’t want to be responsible for your death. Egan was enough. Go find your sister, do what you have to do, and maybe we can meet up at your big old house a month or so down the track.”
“Egan made his choices, Destiny. You’re not responsible for what happened because of them.”
“Egan died because he chose to escape with me, and no amount of prettying it will change that fact.” I half turned away, then added, “Good-bye, Trae. Good luck with your sister.”
“Damn it,” he said, then stepped forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me backward, into his arms. His mouth claimed mine, and it was all heat and intensity and raw emotion. It was a kiss that said everything that remained unsaid between us, a kiss that held so many promises that my heart ached and my stomach churned.
Because I couldn’t afford to hang on to those promises, I really couldn’t. There was just too much uncertainty in my present.
He broke the kiss as suddenly as he started it. He stared at me for several seconds, his breathing harsh and blue eyes stormy, then simply said, “A month, then. Make sure you’re there.”
“I will be.” I turned and walked away. But as I began to climb the steps to the parking lot, I looked back. I thought I saw a muscle tick along his jawline. Thought I saw his fingers twitch, and then clench. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and I didn’t stop.
When I finally reached the parking lot, I gave in to the urge to look around again.
Trae was gone.
Chapter Eleven
It was a lonely drive to my dad’s. But as the miles slipped by and I got closer to home, tension began to crawl through my body. Tension that was an odd mix of excitement and anxiety. I hadn’t seen my dad in nearly eleven years, and I had no idea how badly he’d been ravaged by the diabetes.
Part of me didn’t actually want to see what the disease had done to him. I wanted to remember him as he was back then, not as he was now. Which was selfish of me, I guess.