Neridia’s nerves failed her right at the entrance to the reception room. Clasping her father’s pearl—safely strung round her neck once more—she tried to summon up the courage to push open the closed door and take that final, irrevocable step. She could hear fiddles and drums playing a bright, lively tune inside, and what sounded like hundreds of people dancing and laughing.

I can’t. I can’t do this. They’re all going to stare at me.

“Hi!” said a bright voice behind her, from somewhere around the level of her thighs. “Are you Sir John’s sister?”

Neridia nearly leaped out of her skin. Whirling round, she saw a small blond boy of about five or six beaming up at her. From his adorably miniature morning suit and waistcoat, Neridia guessed he had to be part of the bridal party.

“Wow,” the boy added, leaning back and craning his neck. “You’re really tall. Are you a sea dragon knight too?”

“Um, no.” A little awkward in her one good formal dress, Neridia crouched down on her heels. “I’m not. A knight, or a sea dragon, I mean. I’m…Griff invited me.”

The boy beamed at her. “That’s my da. What kind of a shifter are you? You smell funny.”

“Danny!” A muscular blond man had appeared around the corner, evidently just in time to catch the boy’s words. “Don’t be rude.”

“I didn’t say she smelled bad!” Danny protested. “Just different. I was only asking, Daddy.”

Daddy? Neridia stared from one to the other. Danny’s features were definitely a tiny version of the older man’s. But I thought he said Griff was…?

“Apologize to the nice lady, Danny,” the blond man was saying firmly. He had a slight Scandinavian accent to match his Nordic cheekbones and hair.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I apologize for my son,” the man said to Neridia. “He’s still learning proper shifter manners. Do you—hold kæft den er stor!”

Neridia had no idea what language he’d just lapsed into, but—given that she’d just risen to her full height—she would have placed money on the translation being, "Holy fuck you’re huge." She flinched.

“I-I’m looking for John,” she said, trying to sound dignified and not like she wanted to flee like a frightened rabbit. “John Doe?”

“Yes,” the man said faintly, still staring up at her wide-eyed. “Yes, I imagine that you are. He’s in there.”

Neridia licked her dry lips, glancing at the indicated door. “Could you possibly let him know I’m here?”

The man’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Ah. Sorry, but no. Apparently I dishonor him with my mere presence. If I tried to speak to him, he’d probably challenge me to a duel on the spot.”

He really means it. What kind of medieval barbarian would assault someone just for speaking? Oh, this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.

“You don’t need Daddy to find Sir John,” Danny chirped up. “You really can’t miss him.”

Before Neridia could stop him, the little boy flung the door wide open. At least a dozen heads turned at the sudden motion—and did double-takes, gawping up at her. Neridia froze like a deer in car headlights.

“See?” Danny said happily. “There he is.”

Neridia didn’t need his pointing finger. John’s gigantic form towered over everyone else in the room. He was in profile to her, slightly stooped, apparently arguing with the knot of people around him. His hunched, defensive posture made Neridia think of an animal at bay, searching for an escape route as hunters closed in.

Then he looked up, and saw her.

Time froze. The room, the crowd, everything seemed to fall away. In all the world, there was only him, and her.

He started to walk toward her, the crowd parting before him like water. Neridia moved forward too, matching his pace. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She could no more not move toward him than the tides could resist the pull of the moon.

They halted at the same time, barely a foot apart. Before, he’d just been a silvered silhouette in the night. Now, she could finally take in every detail.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been practically naked. Now, fully clothed, he was if anything even more jaw-dropping. His perfectly-tailored morning suit clung to the planes of his chest and accentuated the astonishing breadth of his shoulders. Although his massive arms would have made any bodybuilder cry into his steroids with envy, he actually had a swimmer’s build, with long limbs and a wedge-shaped torso narrowing to slim hips. He was just all scaled up, to the point where his sheer physical size became overwhelming.

His eyes were the deep liquid indigo of the ocean depths, mysterious and unfathomable. With a start, Neridia realized that his hair was blue too, perfectly matching the shade of his eyes. There was no question of it being a dye job; even his eyebrows and eyelashes were the same alien hue.

He isn’t human. He really isn’t human.

His dreadlocks swept back in intricate braids along the sides of his head before falling freely down his back in a thick, textured mane. Small golden charms were strung onto the narrow strands, gleaming like sunken treasure. They chimed and clicked as he gracefully sank to one knee, taking her hand and pressing it to his forehead.

“My lady,” he murmured, in that glorious cello-deep voice that sent thrills through her very bones. “You came.”

“Is he proposing?” someone whispered off to the side in delighted, scandalized tones.

Neridia was abruptly aware of the circle of fascinated stares and murmurs surrounding them. Face flaming, she grabbed hold of John’s suit lapel, awkwardly tugging him up. He appeared totally unselfconscious as he rose again, as if what he’d just done was as normal as shaking her hand.

“All right, people!” Heads turned as Griff’s firm Scottish voice cut over the whispers of the crowd. The griffin shifter jumped up onto the band’s podium, clapped his hands together briskly for attention. “Next dance is the Circassian circle! Ladies on the right, gentlemen on the left, if you please!”

Something about his no-nonsense tone demanded obedience. Neridia breathed a sigh of relief as their unwanted audience broke up, drifting away. Still holding John’s lapel, she retreated, drawing the sea dragon shifter back with her to the edge of the dance floor.

“You are upset,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together a little. He turned his head to glare out at the crowd, one hand clenching into a fist. “Has someone here caused offense?”

“I’m all right. It’s just that they were all staring.” She looked at him hopefully, searching his chiseled features for any sign of understanding. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

From his quizzical look, he didn’t. “It is natural that they stare. I am a sea dragon. Dry-landers cannot help but marvel at my presence.” His matter-of-fact tone made the words a simple statement of truth rather than a boast.

Neridia wrapped her arms around herself, hunching her shoulders in the habitual, futile attempt to make herself look smaller. “Well, I hate it.”

His oceanic eyes darkened. “I am sorry. Yet again, I am the cause of your distress. It was I that attracted the unwanted scrutiny.” He sighed, looking away from her. “Even after nearly two years on land, I still cannot fit in.”

She peeked up at him, drawn to that strong, noble profile with a hunger that scared her. It was more than just appreciation for his physical looks. Something about him, some vital essence, pulled her to him as if she was caught in a riptide.

This is ridiculous, she tried to tell herself. I know practically nothing about this man, and everything I do know just highlights that we have nothing in common. For pity’s sake, every word out of his mouth makes it clear that we’re from completely different worlds!

And yet, and yet…

“I will never fit in here.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear him over the sound of the band striking up a sprightly tune. He was still looking away. “I must go.”

“Must you?” She felt as if she balanced on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a gleaming, beckoning sea; a reckless inner voice whispering jump, jump even as common sense held her back.

He met her eyes again at last, and the naked longing in his took her breath away as surely as water closing over her head.

“I should,” he whispered.

They stared at each other, yearning, yet separated by a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

Out of the corner of her eye, Neridia noticed an elegant, middle-aged woman with ebony-black skin staring in their direction as she whirled past. Abruptly, she broke away from the other dancers, striding with firm steps straight toward them.

“Rose,” her abandoned partner called, a note of warning in his voice.

The woman took no notice of him. She had the wisest eyes Neridia had ever seen, calm and kind in her soft face. Neridia found herself unable to resist as the woman took hold of her left wrist in one hand, and John’s in the other.

A shock went through Neridia as the woman closed John’s calloused fingers over hers, and she felt his swift, sharp intake of breath. Without pausing, the woman moved the two of them into a ballroom hold, as briskly as if positioning a couple of mannequins.

“There,” the woman said, stepping back and surveying her handiwork with satisfaction. “That’s better.”

Without another word, she went back to her previous partner, grabbing his hands. The two were quickly swept up again in the swift, energetic dance circle.

Her hand clasped in his, and his broad shoulder under her palm…it was like an electrical circuit had been completed. Neridia found that she couldn’t let go again. She didn’t want to let go again. Not ever again.

His long fingers tightened on her waist fractionally. She could feel the strength in his grip, and how carefully he controlled it, and how his hand trembled as he pulled her closer. She could feel the heat radiating from him, warming her to the core. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, perfectly echoing her own.

“What are we doing?” he whispered, his breath soft against her ear.

“I think we’re dancing.” Neridia wasn’t quite sure when they had started, but they were definitely swaying gently, in such perfect unison that it wasn’t clear who was leading and who was following.

She felt more than heard the noise he made, a deep rumble of longing that vibrated in her own chest. “When a sea dragon meets his mate, they dance. Circling ever closer, twining together, in the heart of the sea.”

They were spinning now, circling around a point between their two bodies. “Like this?”

“Like this.”

Neridia closed her eyes, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She felt weightless, his strong hands bearing her up as if she floated on the surface of the ocean, gently rocked by the waves.

“Neridia,“ he murmured, his musical voice turning her name into a melody of longing edged with discordant pain. “We must-“

“Shh.” She tightened her fingers on his. “Let me pretend to be a sea dragon, just for one dance. Just while the music still plays.”

All the breath sighed out of him, ruffling her hair. “Just one dance,” he agreed, softly.

Round and round, so gently, so sweetly. It wasn’t remotely in time to the music, but Neridia didn’t care. Her feet moved to a different tune, the hidden currents of desire, the secret song of her heart.

“John,” she said, after a timeless while.

“Mmm?”

“Are you humming?”

“Yes. Do you wish me to cease?”

“No, I like it.”

Neridia was silent for a few more minutes, listening. Somehow he was able to hum chords, and notes that she could only feel in her bones rather than hear with her ears. It was as if someone had transcribed whale song into a duet for bassoon and cello; haunting, alien, beautiful.

“John?”

“Mmm?”

“The musicians stopped playing some time ago, didn’t they?”

“I had hoped you would not notice,” he confessed.

Opening her eyes, Neridia peered over John’s shoulder. They were the only ones still dancing. Wedding guests chattered and mingled nearby, throwing occasional curious glances in their direction.

Neridia sighed deeply. “I guess we have to stop,” she said reluctantly.

“Yes. We should.”

Despite his agreement, John didn’t loosen his grip. Neridia too found that she couldn’t bring herself to let go.

It was possible that they would have still been dancing at daybreak, except that a large white and pink bundle abruptly came flying out of nowhere straight at the back of John’s head.

“Look out!” Neridia yelped, shoving him aside.

Reflexively, she caught the bundle—and found herself holding a bouquet of roses, slightly the worse for wear.

“Wow, you certainly hurled that, Hayley!” A laughing auburn-haired woman in a beautiful leaf-green bridesmaid’s dress pushed her way through the crowd, searching. Chase followed in her wake, a broad grin on his face. “Come on, who has it?”

Belatedly, Neridia realized she had just caught the bridal bouquet.

Hastily, Neridia shoved it at the nearest person, who turned out to be the blond man she’d met before. “Here!” she called, waving at the bridesmaid. “He’s got it!”

The blond man spluttered in protest, but Neridia pushed him forward. The bridesmaid’s gaze fell on him, and she let out a whoop of laughter.

“It’s Reiner!” she announced, nearly unable to get the words out through her giggles. “Reiner caught it!”

“Yay!” Little Danny hopped up and down next to Reiner, beaming up at his father. “You’re getting married next, Daddy!”

“I most certainly am not.” Reiner turned, lifting one hand as if about to point Neridia out. “It was-“

John stepped forward, coming between him and Neridia. The sea dragon’s broad shoulders bunched ominously.

“-me,” Reiner finished. “Yes, I caught it. Apparently.”

“Well, that’s certainly…unexpected.” Griff appeared through the crowd, his golden eyes dancing with amusement. He clapped Reiner on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Let’s hope that this means you’ll meet your mate soon.”

“Like that’s ever going to happen.” Reiner held the bouquet between finger and thumb, flowers dangling, as if it was a bundle of dead rats. “This is just adding insult to injury.”

“I wasn’t aiming for Reiner,” Griff’s bride complained, coming up to take her new husband’s hand. Her white lace dress clung to her voluptuous body, accentuating the unmistakable curves of mid-pregnancy. “I was trying to hit—um, never mind. Where’s your mate gone, John? I’m dying to meet her.”

Chase was looking worried, glancing around as if he’d lost something. “She’s not here. John, don’t tell me you let her slip away again.”

They couldn’t see her, shielded from view as she was behind John’s tall form. It was a novelty to be able to hide behind someone. John’s hand reached behind his back, opening toward her in silent inquiry.

He remembered that I hate to be stared at. If I want him to, he’ll protect me, get me away from all this attention…

Nonetheless, Neridia took his hand, allowing John to draw her forward. Chase started violently as she stepped into view, as if she’d appeared out of thin air.

“How are you doing that?” the pegasus shifter demanded of her.

Neridia shrank back from his outburst. “I’m not doing anything.”

“But-but-you aren’t there.” Chase pulled at his curly hair, staring at her somewhat wild-eyed. “I can see you, but you aren’t there! Is nobody else bothered by this? Is it just me?”

The auburn-haired bridesmaid, who Neridia guessed had to be Chase’s mate, firmly took the champagne glass from the pegasus shifter’s other hand. “And that’s enough alcohol for you, evidently.”

“Hello again,” Griff said to Neridia with a warm smile. “I’m glad you decided to come. This is Hayley, my wife.” He lingered on my wife, clearly savoring the words. “Hayley, this is-“

“This is the treasure of my heart.” John’s deep voice was very quiet, but every word rang like some great, solemn church bell. “This is the moon to the sea of my soul. Pearl-bearer, hope-carrier, burdened but unbowed. This is my lady Neridia, who bridges worlds with a touch, whose courage I cannot capture in speech nor song.”

“Um,” Neridia said, into the echoing silence that followed. “Hi?”

John turned to address Griff and Chase, his words coming slower now, as if he was having to force each one out. “And if ever I have served you, if ever I have earned your friendship, I beg that you will grant me one last boon. If ever she is in need, come to her call. Protect her, as I cannot.”

The breath froze in Neridia’s lungs. She felt as if a great weight of water crushed her down, squeezing her chest.

He’s leaving. This is goodbye. Forever.

“Well, yes, of course we—wait, what?” Chase cut off his apparently automatic agreement. “John, you can’t be serious. You’re still intent on leaving?”

Rather than answer Chase, John looked down at Neridia. “The dance is over.” All music drained from his tone, leaving his voice as bleached and bare as washed-up bones. “And you are human again, and I still am not. I do not have the strength to bear this further. Please. Release me. Let me go home.”

She wanted to cling to his hand. Every part of her soul cried out to keep hold of him, to never let go. But she could not deny the truth in his words. She could not ignore the agony in the depths of his indigo eyes.

Slowly, she opened her fingers, and let him go.