Chapter Fifteen
Thrasher stared at Kaspyn’s profile as she listened intently to Oz’s speech. God, but she was beautiful.
She suddenly leaned over and spoke something quietly to Zyen, who had sidled up next to her, before making her way toward the door.
Pushing away from the wall, Thrasher dropped his now empty plate into a trash can and followed her outside.
He found her standing at the water’s edge, the moonlight reflecting off her cotton white hair.
“You are following me?” she asked before he reached her side.
It surprised Thrasher that she’d sensed his presence over the crashing of the waves and the smell of The Gulf.
“Do you want me to leave?” He would if she said yes.
She shook her head, her gaze still glued to The Gulf. “Your water is different from ours.”
Thrasher stopped next to her, the faint scent of her perfume tickling his nose. Perfume? “How so?”
“For one, it is warmer, paler in color, and supports different life forms than ours does back home. Yet, it still nourishes me and allows me to swim freely and unharmed.”
Though curious as to what she was getting at, he decided to remain quiet, not wanting to interrupt her reflecting.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I wonder if,” she waved her hands between them, “humans and Bracadytes are in some ways similar to the waters. Oceans, seas, and gulfs all have different temperatures, different life forms that dwell within, and yet they all connect somewhere.”
She finally looked at him. “I do not know how to be anything other than what I am. I was taught from birth to hate the land walker. And yet…”
“Yet what?” Thrasher prompted, studying the confusion glittering in her eyes.
Kaspyn took a deep breath, returning her gaze to the water. “It does not matter.”
“It matters to me,” he persisted, reaching out to touch her hand.
She didn’t pull away. “I do not hate you, Thrasher. Nor do I hate the tiny human female who painted this ridiculous color on my face.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth as if to remove her lipstick.
Thrasher hesitantly closed his fingers around hers.
Common sense told him to walk away, to leave her to her reflecting before he did something he had no business doing, like kissing her. She was the daughter of a king. And not just any king, but a king that had taught his people to hate land walkers. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, Kaspyn.”
She continued to stare out over The Gulf, but her fingers slightly moved, allowing him a firmer hold on her hand. “My father would be displeased with me in this moment. He harbors a great resentment for your kind, Thrasher. And I cannot fault him for that.”
Her head finally turned back in his direction. “But I am not my father, and you are not responsible for the humans that came before you.”
Thrasher’s heart began to pound. “I wish the whole world could admit that to themselves. So many hold others accountable for the sins of their fathers. It’s everywhere. Bigotry, racism, discrimination, sexism. No one should be blamed for things they had no part in.”
“How does one stop it?” she whispered, searching his eyes.
Thrasher tugged on her hand, prompting her to turn toward him. “The first step is admitting that you might be wrong, admitting that what happened in the generations before you holds no power over who you are or who you want to be. And then be what you want to see in the world. Take the first step in undoing what has been done in the past.”
“It is not so easily done. My father—“
“Will love you regardless,” Thrasher assured her, effectively cutting off her whispered words.
She stared into his eyes for long moments. “How is it that you know so much about this?”
Thrasher stiffened, not wanting to discuss his own sordid past. “I have my reasons.”
“I gave a little of myself to you,” she pressed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Can you not give back even a little?”
The muscles in Thrasher’s jaws tightened to the point he had a difficult time responding. “It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. I had a shit childhood.”
“Is this one of those instances where shit is used in a different context?”
Thrasher would have smiled if not for the images of his father’s fists flashing through his mind.
And then the unthinkable happened. One moment Kaspyn was holding onto his hand, and the next, she’d stepped in close and had her palms on either side of his head before he realized her intent.
A soft gasp escaped her and her fingers tightened against his temples.
Thrasher moved to step back, but she only followed, gripping him with the strength of a Bracadyte.
He suddenly broke free of her hold, furious that she’d sifted through his memories without his consent. And he knew she’d been in his mind, he’d felt her there as surely as he’d felt her touch on his skin. “Don’t ever do that again.” He strode off before she could respond.
Bypassing his bungalow, Thrasher trailed off down the beach, hoping to walk off his anger. Just because you had the ability to sift through someone’s thoughts, didn’t mean that you should. She’d violated his privacy, slipped around in places he’d have never allowed her to go.
Thrasher wasn’t sure how long he walked before he stopped near a fallen palm tree and lowered his weight onto the sand.
He glanced to his left, wondering how far away Kerik and his men were from his position. How easy it would be to slip into their camp and slit their throats in their sleep. Of course, he’d probably end up with his own throat cut as well.
Unsure of how long he sat there fighting the ghosts of his past, Thrasher noticed a shadow moving toward him. It took him a second to realize it was Kaspyn.
“How did you know where to find me?” He’d walked through the water’s edge to be sure he left no footprints.
She trailed over and took a seat next to him. “I followed your scent.”
That surprised him. “You smelled me? I showered a little over an hour ago.”
A soft smile touched her lips. “I said your scent, not your odor.”
Thrasher didn’t return her smile.
“I am sorry for entering your mind without permission. I have always used my gift as a way to ascertain who I can trust and who I cannot. But that is not why I did it with you.”
“Then why did you?”
Something flickered in her eyes. “To see if you had a mate.”
Thrasher’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected her to say that. “Huh?”
She suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “It became obvious that you were attempting to hide something from me. I had to know…”
His heartbeat kicked up a notch once more. “I’m not mated. And if I were, I wouldn’t need to hide it from you. Nor would I have kissed you back in Aukrabah.” Why had he brought that up?
Kaspyn visibly swallowed. “Your father—“
“Is in prison where he belongs,” Thrasher interrupted, not wanting to discuss his piece-of-shit dad. “And my mother is dead.”
She nodded, lowering her gaze. “Yes, you told me about your mother.”
An awkward silence fell between them, and Kaspyn moved to stand. “I will leave you to your thoughts.”
“Don’t go.” Had he spoken those two words aloud? He was pretty damn sure he did. Especially when she hesitated, uncertainty evident in her posture.
She cleared her throat and eased back down next to him. “I seem to anger you every time that I speak.”
“My anger isn’t directed at you, Kaspyn. I mean, I know it seems that way, but honestly, it isn’t.”
“I saw what your father did to your mother and you,” she stated quietly. “I understand where your rage comes from.”
The very mention of his father turned his stomach. “I’d rather not talk about him if you don’t mind.”
“Humans are more different from us than you seem to think,” Kaspyn muttered.
Thrasher glanced at her profile. “How so?”
“Bracadytes do not attempt to feign indifference. We do not hide our feelings for the sake of our pride.”
“Bullshit.”
She turned to face him, a frown on her beautiful face. “I do not know that word.”
“It pretty much means that I’m calling you out on a lie.”
“I do not lie, land walker.”
Thrasher’s temper flared once more. “Stop calling me land walker, bottom feeder.”
Kaspyn surged to her feet. “I do not feed from the bottom, nor do I need to waste my time sitting out here with you. I have shit to do!” She stormed off.
“You finally used it in the right reference,” Thrasher snapped at her retreating back.
He watched her silhouette move down the beach until she faded from his sight.
Why did she always seem to get underneath his skin? He’d dealt with thousands of men and women on a daily basis in the military as well as the CIA, and he’d never allowed one of them to needle him the way Kaspyn did. And she did it without trying. Damn her…