Essa kicked off her slippers and traipsed along the shore of the lake, ignoring the rough pebbles digging into the soles of her feet. The moon hid behind the clouds and the stars somehow seemed less bright than yesterday. She sighed and wished she could return to dancing with Nazrin.
Before Kai had dragged her away, she’d observed Nazrin playing with Amaya. The child had called him uncle.
The gentleness in his eyes and in his manner had struck her. Who was this warrior who softened in the presence of a youngling? Why did the image of him and his niece breach the defenses of her mind and tug at her heart?
A tail splashed in the water. She waved to Kai and pretended to head toward her cabin. He waved back and dove under. She spun about and roamed in the opposite direction.
Essa leaned against a long, flat boulder and let the waves lap at her toes. In the stillness of the night, with nothing around her except the hushed waves and the foaming water, she found peace. She closed her eyes and savored the luxury of not thinking. Perhaps, her problems might wash away with the waves. Finally, it was time for bed. At the cabin, she cracked open the door.
“Where have you been?” a low voice growled. Nazrin stood by the fireplace, his wings sopping wet. Droplets trickled down his bare, muscled back. Despite his sour mood, he was the most delectable sight she’d ever beheld. Her tongue flicked across her lips as she imagined sipping the salty water from his hard, hot flesh.
He cast a scowl at her approach.
“I was taking a stroll by myself.” She crossed her arms. “I was unaware that was against the rules.”
His tone softened. “You should have told someone where you were going.”
“I did. I told Cassie.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat and his anger seemed to lose its foundation.
“Why does it matter?”
Nazrin glared at her and she scented him. Not spice and sunshine. Salt. Ocean. There was only one reason he’d enter the lake. To look for me.
Why had he been searching for her? Something told her there was no emergency. She swayed closer and studied him. A slight gash split his right cheek.
“What happened?”
A low rumble vibrated in his throat. “Kai.”
Ugh. She narrowed her eyes. “Pray tell me, he isn’t worse off than you, is he?”
“He still breathes.” Nazrin snorted. “He’s not my equal, though, in many ways.” His gaze drifted to his clenching hand, black tips of his talons fading in and out. “You shouldn’t be here,” he flicked his penetrating stare to her, “with me.”
***
Nazrin steered his attention to his wings. They dripped with salt water, soaking the fur rug beneath him. Guilt replaced his relief at seeing Essa. Shame over what happened with the myrman joined in the dance of misery inside his chest.
He had no right to fight the male. No right to touch him. In this moment, Essa’s presence was an unmerited recompense for his beastly behavior.
What would she think of him if he told her the truth?
Not only the truth about tonight, but about everything? Himself, Hades, Kai, her father, the amulet, and the prophecy. He shook off the urge. They each possessed something to gain from Essa. And everything to lose if she spurned any of them.
They’d keep their secrets. He was certain Kai would. The bas—male, the male perceived his chance with Essa rested in not revealing the truth yet. The myrman wouldn’t disclose any of Nazrin’s secrets either, because Kai’s own would follow. Where Essa would place the blame—was anyone’s guess.
“I’m rather tired of everyone telling me what I should and should not do.” She broke the silence and treaded closer with outstretched hands, the way one might approach a feral animal. “Here, let me help.”
Fiery siren. He lightened his foul mood and managed a smile. The last thing he wished was for her to fear him.
She stroked his wing. “Hold still.”
Not a problem. Nazrin froze at Essa’s willing contact. Her hands shimmered blue as she passed them over his feathers, beginning at his shoulder and working downward to the tips. Whether the heat came from her powers or this spark between them, his body didn’t care, hardening at her sensual strokes. Twenty years of celibacy and now the one he’d craved for so long stood before him.
She finished one wing and shifted behind him to dry the other. Yearning shot through his blood. All he need do was lift his hand and he’d caress her. Whirl around, and he’d envelope her in his arms. Fighting the desire, he raked a hand through his hair, slicking back the thick strands from his eyes. Nothing would obscure his view.
As he watched her from the corners of his eyes, a blush crept up her cheeks. She bit her lip and fluttered her sultry lashes. “Why do you hate getting wet so much?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured over his shoulder. “I can’t fly.” Being unable to fly made him vulnerable. Prey instead of predator.
“Hmm.” She dried his other wing and stepped to the side.
He flexed his wings, stretching and flapping them, his back to her. Much better. “Sirena, forgive me. When I couldn’t locate you, I worried. You do have a talent for placing yourself in dangerous situations.” After spinning to face her, he grinned, and his earlier torrent of emotions dissipated. His mate was here, with him. Not with Kai. He prowled toward her.
“I didn’t think.” She extended her fingers, perhaps to cradle his cheek, but lowered her hand at the last second. After rummaging in her bag, she withdrew a jar of ointment. “I have something that might help.”
He plucked the jar from her hands and placed it on the mantle. “I’ll be fine.”
Clasping her hands, he coaxed her closer, his fingers gliding across her cheek. A drip of water trickled down the side of his face and her lips parted. Relishing in her invitation, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her lips were warm and softer than any blossom’s petals. He nudged them open. Compliant, Essa mewled, so sweet and delicate a sound that a groan escaped his own throat. Triumph coursed through him at her surrender.
His tongue swept into her mouth, leisurely tangling with hers while she pressed her body into his. He grunted at how her lush curves fit with perfection against the hardness of his muscles.
Nazrin slid one hand to her back, the other to her neck, tilting her head to better command her mouth. Her hands moved along his chest to his shoulders, skimming to his hair. A low rumble of pleasure vibrated in his throat as his fingers spread across her back. He loved that Essa didn’t have wings.
Beneath his fingertips, the pulse of her heart sped, and his raced to match hers. Grasping her tighter, his stiffness pressed into her belly, demanding. She let out a gasp and melted against him.
Aye, she truly was a siren, entrancing him with her delicate responses. His raptor keened in protest, so Nazrin slowed their kiss. If he didn’t attain some degree of control, she’d be flat on the bed, on her stomach with him thrusting into her in the next few seconds.
Tensing, she pulled away, wonder and dismay in her eyes. He grabbed the back of her head and pressed his lips firm against hers again, branding the sensation of his mouth on hers. What had kindled between them had only just begun to blaze. Hoping she understood that, he scooped his mate in his arms, strode to the bed, and placed her under the covers.
Without a word, he pressed his lips to her forehead and then cooled his lust with a flight through the night sky.
***
Essa stretched in the bed. Had the night before been a dream? She moaned and grazed her fingers across her lips. A lovely, enchanting dream. Where was Nazrin? Had he slept? Rolling over, she found the answer. The other half of the bed was warm. She sank her face into his pillow and inhaled. Spice and sunshine. A scattering of feathers on the sheet made her laugh. Who would have guessed Nazrin molted? She plucked one and clasped the fluffy feather to her cheek.
Sighing, she slipped from the bed and dressed in her brown work clothes. She inhaled a quick bite of bread and gulped a glass of seawater. Apollo forbade his head Oracle from carnal pleasures, but Essa wasn’t the Pythia…yet.
The memory of Nazrin’s kiss still hot on her lips, she sprinted to the training arena, as fast as her legs would allow.
At the arena, she stomped down the urge to race to Nazrin and leap into his arms. Recalling her last session, she decided he’d appreciate more discretion, so she leaned on the fence and waited for them to notice her.
Nazrin was sparring, weaponless, in hand-to-hand combat with the four other recruits. While they were red-faced with sweat beading on their brows, he appeared calm and cool. He dodged them with ease and swiped away their attempts like a cat lazily batting a fly. His movements seemed effortless, yet she’d observed yesterday that those men were good fighters.
Powerful and swift, Nazrin was a skilled warrior. Today, he dressed as one. Over a red tunic, he wore a segmented armor made of iron, and metal studded leather straps hung like a feathered skirt. Even a dagger adorned his side. Although, with those talons, she doubted he had much use for weapons.
She wet her lips as her gaze drifted to his bare legs, tracing each muscle, from his massive thighs, down his sculpted calves, to the sturdy leather sandals on his feet.
In that moment, she developed a new obsession—with his legs.
After a few minutes, Nazrin stopped the skirmish and regarded her. “Today, you’ll be practicing with Celso.” His voice was authoritative—he was the commander here. No trace of a smile, no hint of him remembering last night and their heated kiss crossed his features. Dismay dropped like a heavy stone into her stomach. Their kiss hadn’t meant anything to him. How could he switch from incendiary to frigid with such ease?
Well, he wasn’t the only one. She steeled herself and surveyed Celso. The male wasn’t as large as Nazrin, but still far bigger than she. “How am I supposed to fight him? Aren’t there any women I can practice with?”
“Trust me, you’re not ready to handle any of the Amazons yet.” Nazrin folded his arms. “Besides, if you must defend yourself, it will likely be against someone like him.”
She wavered. This didn’t seem fair. The others were evenly matched—she, not even close.
“He’s bigger, but slower,” Nazrin coaxed. “You’re slight and fast. No one would view you as a threat. Use that to your advantage. Surprise him. Take this.” He prowled toward her and handed her a wooden dagger. “Go ahead, attack him.”
Essa took a tentative stride toward Celso. She had no experience sparring, not against a warrior like him. Plus, she still wobbled on her humans legs.
Since this was her lesson for today, she charged, dagger in the air, and aimed at his heart. He sidestepped her, grabbed her knife hand, twisted her arm, and threw her to the ground. She landed with a thud.
Nazrin and the others laughed.
She craned her neck in Nazrin’s direction, the hurt in her heart worse than in her body. Why was he mocking her? She pleaded with her eyes, but he shook his head. “Try again.”
Gathering the last shreds of her pride, she pondered other tactics. If rushing at him hadn’t worked, what would? She rose and approached Celso halfway, beckoning him to attack her. He flew around her and seized her arm, his chest to her back, and pressed the knife into her throat with her own hand.
As the men chuckled again, Celso released her.
She rubbed her hand across her throat. They were having a good laugh at her expense. It wasn’t reasonable for them to expect her to combat such a warrior. Her resentment flamed and an idea formed in her mind. Surprise him, Nazrin had suggested. There was more than one way to fight.
She was a siren, after all, wasn’t she?
This time, Essa sauntered toward Celso, her hands at her sides. She smiled coyly at him through lowered lashes. “Hello, Celso.”
“Ah, hello, milady.” A flicker of confusion registered in his frown.
Good. She padded closer and placed her left hand on his muscled forearm. “I was hoping you might help me with something.”
“Uhh,” he stammered, “of course. What would that be?”
Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his cheek. He jerked, but not before she raised her right hand behind him, the knife tip pressing into his back. “Besting you.”
Blushing and stammering, he retreated from her and glanced with apprehension at Nazrin.
Now, she was the one to laugh. “Satisfied, Lord Nazrin?”
Instead of praise, he clenched his fists at his sides. “That’s one method of doing it, I suppose,” he rumbled, his voice low and gruff. He cleared his throat and became the collected leader once more. “Evaluate Essa’s performance.” Authority rang in his tone.
Gagan stated, “She concealed her weapon.”
“She only had one stab at him and she missed,” Ermir countered.
“Aye.” Nazrin nodded to both of them and then focused on Essa. “Never reveal your weapon to anyone. They won’t be expecting you to have one. You’ll have one chance before they overpower you, so your aim is crucial. Celso, show Lady Essa where she should have stabbed you.”
Celso, cheeks bright red, grasped Essa’s knife hand and pretended to jab it into the side of his lower back, twisting the knife before pulling it out. “There,” he grunted. “That’s a kill hit, either a kidney or a lung—both if you’re lucky.”
“Good.” Nazrin folded his arms. “Practice sparring. This time, Ermir, you attack, and Lady Essa, you dodge his blows. If you get the chance, Lady Essa, kill him.”
***
Again and again, Ermir beat Essa. It took every ounce of Nazrin’s control to stand by and watch. Each time she landed, on her side, on her bottom, on her hands and knees, he’d catch himself lurching toward her. Nay. She had to learn. This was the only way.
Soon, dirt and bruises covered Essa, but she performed well. Every time she glanced at him, she tilted her chin a fraction higher.
After their training session finished, he drew her aside, under a roof overhang of one of the buildings. He handed her a leather sheath with a strap attached. Inside the case was a slender dagger—its hilt green, the blade jagged.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” She scowled at him, clearly still upset over her training.
Nazrin snatched the sheath from her, bent, and lifted her skirt. She jolted, her hands swatting at him. “What are you—”
He grabbed her closer, yanked up her skirt again, and tied the strap around her thigh. She froze with her hands on his shoulders while he rested his hand against the smooth skin of her inner thigh.
She glared at him with pools of green fire, but he detected the tremors beneath her skin. “Why are you wearing such heavy armor? Afraid my arrow might actually pierce your heart today?”
There it was. Nazrin frowned as a deeper meaning to Essa’s words registered. How had she stumbled upon a truth he’d not dared to acknowledge? An echo of a sentiment he’d long relinquished hope of ever attaining vibrated deep inside his chest.
Love.
An emotion so foreign to his race they didn’t even possess a word for it in their tongue. So powerful, it was said to be the only force which could purify their souls.
This wasn’t about her being his mate. This was about her claiming his heart. His chest tightened with a new and strange awareness.
By the gods, he just might be falling in love with her.
“Always.” He tugged the strap. Content it was tight enough, he murmured, “Never take this off.”