After a sleepless night and a long morning spent reading through website after website of pseudoscience, garbage, and flat-out lies, Neridia was no closer to coming up with a plan.

People have been searching Loch Ness for almost a century, without finding anything whatsoever. How can I hope to do any better?

She stirred her tea moodily, glaring out her kitchen window at the placid loch. All her life, she’d lived beside these wide waters. She knew all the moods of Loch Ness; twinkling and cheerful, sullen and clouded, rain-lashed and angry.

Now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the loch was laughing at her. It was a particularly fine summer day, and the water seemed to sparkle extra-brightly in the morning sunshine. It was as if the loch was going out of its way to draw a dazzling veil over the secret hidden in its depths.

How am I going to find him?

She had no idea. She only knew that she had to.

It was more than just the desire to recover her father’s pearl. It wasn’t just scientific curiosity, either. Even more than she wanted to know what he was, she burned to know who he was. Where did he come from? How could he do what he did? Why had he chosen to reveal his secret to her?

Why had he looked at her like she was both the answer to his prayers, and his own personal hell on earth?

The doorbell rang, breaking her fruitless pondering. Shaking her head free of the questions swirling in her mind, Neridia went to answer it.

Her first thought was that her unexpected visitors had to be the world’s best dressed Jehovah’s Witnesses. The two men were immaculately turned out in dark charcoal morning jackets and waistcoats, with ivory cravats and elegant floral buttonholes.

They also wore stunned and slightly disbelieving expressions as their gazes tracked upward from where they’d expected to find her face.

She was used to the latter. The former, however, was new.

“Can I help you?” she asked, warily.

For all their fine clothes, both men projected an intimidating aura of strength and power. Their muscled shoulders strained their tailored jackets. They weren’t precisely frightening, but something about them prickled deep animal instincts.

“Well,” the taller, darker one of the pair murmured in a strong Irish accent. “We’re definitely in the right place.”

The other one—a stocky, square-jawed man with startling golden eyes—cleared his throat, as if he was having to regather his composure. “So it seems. Apologies for bothering you, lass. I’m Griff MacCormick of the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. This is my colleague, Chase Tiernach-West.”

Neridia blinked at them.

Firefighters? I didn’t call for any firefighters. Especially not from the other side of Britain!

“We’re here on behalf of another friend of ours,” Griff continued. He had a local Highland accent, and was wearing a formal kilt under his morning jacket with the unselfconscious ease of a native Scotsman. “Someone you met yesterday.”

Neridia flinched, wondering if they meant someone in the gang who’d attacked her. She sidled behind the half-open door, ready to slam it closed again. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Griff smiled at her, and the warmth of the expression chased away Neridia’s mistrust. “Oh, I think you do.”

Grinning, the dark-haired man—Chase—held up one hand. A thin golden chain dangled from his fingers. At the end of it, her father’s pearl spun, gleaming in the morning light.

“We’d like to talk to you about a sea dragon,” Griff said. “May we come in?”

* * *

“I’m his what?” Neridia stared at Griff.

“His mate,” the firefighter repeated. He sighed, raking his fingers through his thick blond mane of shoulder-length hair. “This is the part humans always have trouble with. But just take my word for it. Every shifter has one true mate, just one person in all the world who is their perfect match. And you’re John’s.”

Neridia rubbed the bridge of her nose, fighting down a bubble of mad laughter. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that a literal sea monster is my perfect partner? A sea monster who’s also some kind of, of medieval knight from a secret underwater kingdom?”

“Sea dragon, not monster,” Griff said mildly. “And, as he’s always keen to point out, he’s a Knight-Poet. I’ve never been able to work out why that’s so important, but apparently it is.”

Neridia threw up her hands. “Oh, good. My perfect match is a pedantic sea dragon-knight-monster-whatever. That’s so much better.”

Chase, who so far hadn’t said a word, let out a muffled snort of laughter. Griff shot him an exasperated look.

“I know it must seem bizarre, but I promise you, John is your mate,” Griff said, turning back to her. “It may not sound like you have much in common-“

“It doesn’t sound like we have anything in common!”

“Well, there’s one thing,” Chase murmured, his eyes flicking over her body from head to toe.

“You can’t base a relationship on height,” Neridia snapped. “What are we supposed to do, bond over a hatred of low ceilings? Love doesn’t work like that! You need shared goals, shared experiences, shared values. That’s what all the relationship advice says. I should know! I’ve made spreadsheets!”

Chase cocked an eyebrow at Griff. “Ask her how well that’s been working out for her.”

Neridia scowled at him. “I am sitting right here. Is there some reason you won’t talk to me?”

“He promised John he wouldn’t,” Griff said, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “Fortunately, John forgot to extract a similar vow from me, otherwise we’d be having this conversation in mime. Anyway. No matter what you may think, you are John’s mate. So we want you to come back with us. We need you to talk some sense into him.”

Even though her head still screamed that all this was pure madness, her heart gave a little skip at the prospect. She didn’t believe in all this talk of love at first sight, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to see him again. She could still remember the fizzing excitement sparked by the merest brush of her skin on his…

Neridia squeezed her hand around her father’s pearl—she needed to find a new chain for it before she’d be able to wear it again—for focus, trying to rein in her ridiculous emotions. More than ever, she wished that her parents were still with her. She could really have used her mother’s keen perception or her father’s quiet wisdom about now.

What would you think of all this, Mom? What would you tell me to do, Dad?

Her mom had been an energetic force of nature, always throwing herself gleefully into any new experience. She would have doubtless have told her to go, without a second thought. But her father had been a cautious, thoughtful man. He would have warned her to be cautious now. He wouldn’t have wanted to see her get hurt.

She’d wanted to get her pearl back, and she had. She’d wanted to know who and what the mysterious stranger had been, and now she did. Could she really hope for anything more? Was it worth the risk of being rejected, right to her face?

I don’t think I could bear it, if he looked at me coldly and turned away…

“From what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like your John wants to talk to me,” she said. “How can I really be his mate, if he’s so determined to stay away?”

Chase spread his long-fingered hands. “Tell her that her mate is very noble, very honorable, and occasionally very, very stupid.”

“Chase is right,” Griff said. “Like I said, John’s a sea dragon knight. He follows a strict code of honor, oath-sworn to uphold certain Knightly Vows. And, unfortunately, one of those vows is chastity. He thinks it would be dishonorable for him to take a mate.”

“And you think I can change his mind?” Neridia said incredulously.

“You have to.” Griff grimaced. “Not that it’ll be easy. John is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. He’ll stick to what he thinks is the right path, even if it leaves him just a hollowed-out husk. But we’re his friends. We can’t stand by and let him destroy himself.”

“I lost my mate for a few years,” Chase addressed empty air, as if just talking to himself. “Not being with her nearly drove me out of my mind. And I was doing everything in my power to actively get her back.”

“Your mate?” Neridia stared at him. “Wait, are you a, a dragon shifter too?”

Chase’s black eyes lit up. He started to push himself to his feet, but Griff grabbed his arm, shaking his head. Chase sat back again, looking a little disgruntled.

“Never provoke Chase to show off,” Griff told Neridia wryly. “Especially not in a room this small. He’s a pegasus shifter. I’m a griffin, by the way. Half lion, half eagle.”

He said it so casually, as though it was no big thing. Neridia’s head spun. “How many different types of shifter are there?”

Griff shrugged. “I don’t think anyone really knows. Britain’s a bit of a magnet for the more unusual types, though. These isles have a long history when it comes to mystical matters. Hence why John’s here. He was sent to look for a sea dragon who was last seen on England’s south coast.”

It was like she’d been living in a dark cell all her life, thinking that was the whole world. And now someone had opened the door, and she saw how much she’d been missing…

“How-“ she started, but Griff raised his hand, forestalling her.

“Much as I’d like to give you a full history of shifterkind, not to mention tell you more about your mate, I haven’t got time.” He stood, checking his watch. “I’ve got somewhere to be in-oh, shit. Twenty minutes.”

“Well, I can fly that fast,” Chase said with a smirk, also rising. “Pity I’m not the one getting married.”

Neridia’s jaw dropped. “Griff, you came to tell me all this on your wedding day?”

“I hope that gives you an idea how important it is,” Griff said, mouth quirking even as he hastily struggled back into his morning jacket. “Don’t worry, I cleared this trip with my mate, the bride-to-be. She’s just as worried about John as we are. So, will you come?”

“With you? Right now?” Neridia looked down at her too-short men’s trousers and unflattering t-shirt. “To a wedding? Like this?”

“I’m the groom, so I get to set the dress code.” Griff held out a hand to her. “And anyway, it wouldn’t matter if you were wearing a sack. John would still think you were the most beautiful woman there.”

Neridia shook her head vehemently, backing away. “I…I can’t. I need time. I need to think about this.”

Griff opened his mouth, but Chase tapped him on the shoulder. “If you don’t move your furry ass, my feathered friend, all of this is going to become academic. It’s traditional for the best man to marry the bride if the groom doesn’t show up, after all.”

Griff blew out his breath, but didn’t argue further. “Here” He handed Neridia a hotel business card. “This is where we’re having the reception. John will be there this evening. That’ll be your last chance to talk to him before he leaves forever. Please, promise me that you’ll come.”

Neridia bit her lip. “What if he’s angry that you went behind his back like this?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely certain he’s going to be utterly furious with me. But with you?” Griff smiled at her over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Impossible. You’re his-”

He paused abruptly, mid-sentence and mid-step. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his golden eyes narrowing.

Neridia followed the line of his gaze, and saw that his attention had apparently snagged on one of the paintings on the far wall. It was just a small watercolor study of Loch Ness at sunset, rendered in misty hues. It was nearly lost amidst the larger, bolder artworks surrounding it, yet Griff stared at it as if there was nothing else in the room.

“My dad was an artist. That’s just one of his commercial pieces.” Neridia gestured at the whimsical silhouette of the Loch Ness Monster her father had painted in the background. “He always complained that he was selling out to the tourist trade, but they sold like hotcakes. He must have painted hundreds like it. Why?”

“Huh.” Griff’s eyebrows drew together. “You said he ‘was’ an artist?”

“He passed away,” Neridia said, as levelly as she could. Even after four years, it still hurt her throat to say the words. “But if you really like the piece, the local art gallery probably still has-“

“Is this really the time?” Chase interrupted. “Griff, your mate is a lovely and patient lady, but I suspect even she may become somewhat miffed if you’re late for your wedding because you were too busy critiquing art. What’s so important about an old painting?”

“Maybe nothing.” Griff shook himself, turning away…though his gaze lingered thoughtfully on Neridia for a moment longer. “Or maybe you have more in common with John than you think.”