Chapter 13
Analia slid down, down, down, her arms wrapped around Gwendolen, her hand still gripping the bow.
Rocks pinged against her face, leaving small cuts and bruises. Above the sound of her pounding heart and the slide and crash of dirt and rock, she heard shouts and cries of pain.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, for her own benefit as well as the child’s. “It’ll be okay.”
But how many would end up dead? Gravely injured?
Some of the logs rolling downward were as tall or taller than the tallest grig.
Against her neck, the smallest grig whimpered, mouthed Papa, over and over again.
By some miracle they reached the path she’d seen from above. Its flatness stopped their descent.
Shaking, Analia scrambled to her feet, saw more logs bearing down on them and ran forward.
Tree trunks rocketed past her, crashing into scrub or young trees, close enough she felt the vibration through the soles of her feet. Pebbles and small rocks hit her legs and torso, bouncing as they struck harder dirt.
Above them, grigs continued to cry out, and some lay horribly still.
“Papa,” Gwendolen sobbed, “Papa.”
Analia searched. She didn’t see the girl’s father, but she did see Dugald, lying motionless and bleeding, his scraped arms crossed over the pouch containing the crystal.
In front of Analia, a tall, black-haired woman charged out of the dense brush. She was a shocking apparition wearing a long black gown.
Slits down the sides exposed legs that weren’t human. Her canine teeth formed short, gleaming tusks.
Gwendolen screamed and clutched Analia tightly.
Baoban, Analia thought, heart thundering harder as the woman scrambled up the hill toward Dugald.
“I’ve got to put you down,” Analia said, prepared to peel Gwendolen away if necessary.
But the child was more afraid of their enemy gaining possession of the crystal than she was for her own safety. She released her vise-like hold, allowing Analia to set her on her feet.
Breath coming in loud pants, Analia grabbed an arrow from the quiver that miraculously still contained arrows after the long, rough slide down the steep hillside.
She nocked it, steadied herself by imagining Kellen’s arms around her, Kellen’s hands on hers, his warm voice murmuring in her ear, “Feel and release.”
“Feel and release,” she whispered, letting the arrow fly.
It struck, sinking into a boar-like leg and eliciting a high-pitched squeal.
Analia blocked her mind to the woman’s pain, blocked out any thought but doing what needed to be done.
She grabbed another arrow.
Nocked it.
Pulled back the string and let it go.
With a thwack it stuck higher, into a human thigh.
The baoban shrieked, but didn’t stop climbing.
She reached Dugald and bent over him. Grunted like a rooting boar as she tore at the pouch.
Another squeal, this one like a high-pitched trumpeting, and she stood, turned, sunlight hitting the green crystal.
“No!” Gwendolen cried, and charged forward, her bravery and courage a death sentence.
Analia nocked another arrow and sent it flying.
And then another.
And another.
And another.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
They struck the nightmare apparition in rapid succession. One after another sinking into her chest.
The baoban fell face forward and hit the ground, sending the crystal tumbling toward the trail.
On hands and knees Gwendolen scrambled upward, reaching the crystal. She grabbed it, turned and cried out.
Above them, warriors shouted and lobbed arrows between Analia and Gwendolen. They hurried down the hill, firing more arrows, sliding and standing, sliding and standing.
The arrows fell far short but they sent Analia’s heart thundering up into her throat.
Too late, she understood the source of their fear and efforts.
A noose tightened around her throat from behind.
She had enough presence of mind to hurl the bow as far as she could, upward, toward the advancing grigs.
The noose jerked, and she felt her attacker’s fury at having been thwarted. A hissed, female voice said, “I’ll make you wish they’d killed you where you stand. I’ll carve you apart limb from limb and then hang what’s left of you alive over the cooking fire. Come willingly with me.”
A savage tug pulled her backward though her feet were already obeying the baoban.
Breath sawed in and out of Analia’s lungs, the hair around her neck restricting her airflow. The stench of blood and offal and evil made her stomach threaten to heave even as the rest of her fought for air.
She glimpsed a silver-haired woman out of the corner of her eye as she was swung around and shoved forward. She had enough will to rid herself of the quiver with its remaining arrows.
That gained her another savage, twisting jerk of the hair around her neck. It gained her another hissed threat. “Maybe I’ll allow the hound bitch to maul you before I begin my feast preparations. Now run! Run fast!”
And Analia ran.
Fast.
She ran even when her sides and legs screamed for her to stop.
She ran even when her lungs burned.
She ran even when her heart pumped so hard it sent spasms of pain through her chest and threatened to explode.
But at least her mind wasn’t fogged.
At least—running aside—her will hadn’t been stolen.
Kellen would come for her. She had to believe that he’d survived the ambush.
She refused to believe otherwise.
Refused to dwell on the possibility he’d be too late.
But if he was…
Her only regret was in not having the courage to tell him she’d fallen in love with him.
It was sappy…
Tears leaked from her eyes as she remembered using that same word on the beach, when she’d told what she thought was an Irish Wolfhound that the first kiss with Kellen had made her think he was the one.
There’d be another chance. She had to believe there would be another chance for them to find their happy-ever-after.
* * *
Kellen abandoned the hunt when Deidra, traveling downhill, crossed the trail they’d been on a couple of miles before the place where the ambush had been staged. She’d pay for her actions, he silently promised, whether in the grig realm or the one she called home or in the human world. He’d see to it that she paid.
Turning toward the burned area, the heat of the chase gave way to fear for his mate. He raced forward, covering the distance in a fraction of the time it’d taken the procession journeying to the sacred lake.
When he reached his traveling companions, his throat tightened and burned at not seeing Analia. Crew’s eyes held an answer, but it was one Kellen refused to read.
He shifted to human form, asked, “Where is she?” uncaring that his voice vibrated with pain and fear.
“Taken.”
Gwendolen began crying, her tear-streaked face testament that she’d only recently stopped.
Her father, bruised and bloody, his trousers ripped and one arm secured by a sling gathered her up in his other arm. “She kept the crystal from falling into our enemy’s hands.”
“She killed one of them, a black-haired baoban,” Crew said, pointing downward, to where a corpse was visible halfway up the steep, burned terrain.
Jaw aching with the force required to keep himself from howling, Kellen forced the words out, “Was she taken alive?”
“Yes,” Crew said.
Gwendolen’s lip quivered and tears fell more quickly. “Herr—our enemy put a leash around Analia’s neck.”
Kellen spared a glance at the grigs gathered on the trail, only a few of them standing. “How bad?”
Crew said, “No losses, but between the injured and the able-bodied needed to help carry some of the others home, only the elders and the descendants remain. Some of the elders would be better off returning—”
“We will go on,” the woman who’d lifted a flute to her lips and led them away from the burrow said, determination in her voice, though like Dugald and Gellawin, her clothing was bloody and torn, her face and arms scratched.
Kellen’s gaze met Crew’s. “They need to continue the journey.”
Crew nodded, expression grim. “The artifact has to be taken out of play. Go. Find your mate. I’ll provide their protection.”
Kellen went, shifting to hound form and hurling himself over the edge of the trail.
He went down, down, down, past the dead baoban, the scent of his mate reaching him, lingering on the arrows protruding from the hag.
The bow Analia had borrowed was on the hillside. He snatched it up between hound teeth and kept going, finally reaching the place where burn ended and brambles began.
Analia’s scent was there, along with one that reeked of boar and blood and charred flesh. A glint out of the corner of his eye had him turning his head and spotting Analia’s quiver of arrows.
He padded over to it, shifted long enough to position the bow across his chest so he could carry it, then returned to hound form and snagged the quiver with a savage snap.
She was still alive.
He couldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise.
He breathed in Analia’s scent and the stink of the baoban.
And then he ran. Ran toward his mate.
Crashing through brambles and trees.
Traveling on game trails, briars grabbing at his fur.
He ran as if his life depended on it.
And it did.
He couldn’t lose her.
Refused to contemplate that such a thing was possible.
When he caught up with her…
After he’d dealt with the baoban and Deidra…
He better understood the agony Taine experienced every time he was forced to separate from Saffron.
Refused with each footfall to imagine anything other than finding Analia and fetching her home.
Eventually the trail led to a cave.
From the scents he’d encountered leading to and from the area, only Deidra and one of the baoban remained.
They’d be expecting him. But delay wasn’t an option, not with Analia’s life at stake.
He’d gladly die for his mate. Life wouldn’t be worth living without her at his side. He regretted not telling her they were mated, regretted she hadn’t felt the same happiness he had each time he glanced at her, each time he inhaled her scent and thought, my mate.
He shed the hound’s form and readied an arrow, not letting himself linger on the memory of Analia in his arms as he’d taught her to line up her shots beneath the night sky.
He refused to believe it was too late, that their future together was already lost.
Steps away from the cave, the stench of blood and charred meat and offal nearly made him vomit as rather than take shallow breaths, he took deep ones in an effort to gain any advantage he could—and find evidence his mate was still alive.
Kellen drew back the bow string and entered the cave, his heart thudding with equal measures of fear and love at seeing Analia.
A silvery-haired baoban stood near a throne of bones. She had his mate positioned as a shield, a strand of hair around Analia’s neck to keep her passive. A knife pressed to her throat to keep him at bay.
His eyes met his mate’s, and his heart soared at finding hers clear, shining with an emotion that had his heart answering with a pounding, melting beat. She might be unable to fight the hair-binding, but her mind wasn’t fogged. She wasn’t enslaved.
Deidra was to the left of the baoban, in fey hound form, and it was all he could do not to release the arrow and send it into her greedy heart. Any number of males might well have considered her a prize, but love didn’t matter to her, only power.
He forced his attention to the baoban, only barely kept the revulsion from his expression at seeing her examine him as if he were a piece of meat, one meant for breeding, and only when that purpose had been satisfied, for eating.
But it played to his advantage. What he wanted with Analia, a future that included a mate and offspring, could be used to defeat their enemies.
Not lowering his weapon, he said, “You’re all alone, with only a single ally, and she has no access to a portal. Nor will she ever be able to bring humans to this realm.”
The baoban licked her lips. She slid the knife back and forth across Analia’s throat, turned at an angle so it didn’t slice through the delicate skin that’d drawn his mouth to it time and time again.
“So you’ve come for this pretty thing. But I’m not one to share my meal. Or maybe you’re going to plead with me to enslave her rather than roast her over my spit.”
A cooking fire burned hot a few feet away from the baoban. It leapt hungrily, as if waiting for an offering of flesh and blood.
Kellen lowered the arrow so it pointed to the ground in front of the hag’s cloven hooves. “I propose a trade. Me for her.”
The baoban’s gaze traveled over him, settling at his crotch. He wouldn’t harden for her—would never willingly harden for her. But he could be compelled and they both knew it—his mind clouded by a collar of her hair or the ingestion of her blood.
“How many of your kind are left? How likely is it that you can capture a human male to serve as a stud? Or another of the fey? Though maybe I’m wrong. Did you already use Tobik for the purpose I propose?”
The hag spat. “That weak fool wasn’t worthy enough be my servant, but I sacrificed some of my blood for the convenience he represented. The grig are useful for only two things, creating portals and filling an empty belly.”
Deidra shifted form. “He’s defective. Any offspring he gives you may well end up deformed, as he was deformed at birth.”
The hag’s laugh was like the high-pitched squeal of a hog. “And yet you want him as a mate.”
“I want to rule a kingdom.”
Kellen loosened the tension on the bow string and stepped closer to the baoban. He had to risk a charge from Deidra, who had the silvery-braid of hair threaded through a belt loop.
Another step was all he dared, and then he made a casual show of tossing the bow and arrow down, close enough so that if Analia could get to it… If she could act…
The quiver he dropped at his feet, and then his hands went to his shirt, peeling it off rather than chance that a slow strip would allow Deidra too much time to act. The baoban’s pupils dilated at the prospect of mating.
“How long has it been?” he asked, forcing a husk into his voice when all he felt was revulsion. “Let the human go. I could take her place. I could sate your appetites far better than she can.”
Could. A possibility. Meaning it wasn’t a lie.
The blade pressed to Analia’s neck slid lower to rest across her breasts. “Let me see all of what will belong to me if I do.”
His gaze flicked to Deidra who’d edged forward, the braid now in her hands. “Your pet hound has other ideas of who I’ll belong to. And she won’t share, or take your leavings.”
“Stop,” the hag ordered but Deidra continued forward, probably hoping her actions would get Analia killed. “Stop!” the hag repeated, anger rising in her voice.
Deidra stalked forward, providing an opportunity for the distraction he needed. Kellen shifted to hound form. He charged toward Deidra, counting on instinct taking over—because the human form was no match for the hound’s.
His gamble paid off. Instinct did overwhelm her reason.
Deidra shifted form and the braid, like her clothing, disappeared.
It was a fight to the death and they both knew it.
He lunged toward her throat. Slashed with deadly canines.
Fury and superior strength were his advantages, while fear and the prospect of death lent savagery to Deidra’s lunges.
He opened her flank with a bite. Tore away a patch of skin and fur at her shoulder.
He used snapping teeth and furious lunges to maneuver her around, closer and closer to the hag, until she was finally in the perfect position.
Kellen launched himself at Deidra, exposing throat and chest for the instant before he was on her.
The two of them became a mass of writhing, furious energy.
They slammed into the hag with enough force to send her stumbling away from the throne of bones and toward the fire with its waiting spit.
The baoban couldn’t keep both her balance and her shield. She released Analia, but not soon enough to understand Kellen’s true objective.
The long gown caught fire and she shrieked, as the black-haired hag had shrieked when struck by dragon flame. And Analia, freed, grabbed up the bow and arrow and fired it into the baoban’s chest. Following the first arrow with a second, and a third—forever silencing the hag.
Kellen separated from Deidra. Shifted form and grabbed the hag’s dropped knife.
Deidra leapt, intent on tearing out his throat. But he dodged her deadly canines and drove the blade into her heart.
She was dead before she hit the cave floor.
Relief and satisfaction surging through him, he closed the distance between him and his mate—or she closed the distance. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was alive, safe, back in his arms.
With the hag’s death, the collar around Analia’s neck withered into particles like fine ash. It fell away from her throat as his mouth slammed down on hers, and he swallowed her cry even as he gave her his own.
The cave and the dead and the stench faded. There was only the two of them, lost in a world of their own making.
Mine! Everything inside him shouted. Mine!
His tongue forged into her mouth, rubbed and twined with hers. He wanted to lift and carry her to a secluded place. Strip her of clothes and tumble her onto hands and elbows then cover her, thrusting into her and locking inside her forever.
Minutes passed, his lips fused to hers, before he found the strength to leave her mouth. His arms tightened around her and he rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I will never lose you again. Never.”
“The others?”
“No deaths, but there are injuries.”
“Gwendolen?”
“She’s fine.”
He touched his forehead to hers, his heart climbing up his throat, his mouth going dry though thankfully his palms didn’t grow damp against her back. “We need to talk.”
She tensed, eliciting a reactive growl. “Do not ever think I’m going to let you go,” he said, only barely suppressing a snarl.
“Okay, I’m listening.” But the tension didn’t leave her.
“There are things you need to know…”
Her hands glided over his back, sending heated need shivering through him and nearly derailing him from keeping the promise he’d made to himself as he’d raced to reach her.
“What things?”
That we’re mated.
But he needed to get the rest of it out first.
Breathing in deeply and releasing that breath slowly, he spoke the easiest truth. “My sire rules the dominant fey hound pack in our realm. I am his only heir.”
She worried her bottom lip, held his gaze and said, “You’re telling me he’s the equivalent of a king, and you’re a prince.”
“In so many words.” He took another deep breath. “It matters only in that you need to know I will never rule. I will never willingly allow you to meet my sire and dam.”
Her gaze softened with caring, not pity. “You’re estranged.”
He shrugged, his throat momentarily locking. Centuries later, all of them spent in the human realm, and he still didn’t like to remember his life among hounds.
“Deidra didn’t lie; I was born with a withered arm.”
“That’s what you meant when you told me that you were born an embarrassment. That’s why you were kept isolated,” she said, eyes shimmering with unshed tears on his behalf.
“The fey come in many shapes and forms, but there’s a distinction between different and imperfect. I was handed off to a nursemaid who was provided with an isolated place in which to raise me. When I was old enough, she returned to the pack and I was left to fend for myself, living or dying as the fates willed.”
“Oh, Kellen,” she said, hugging him tightly, her mouth seeking his to offer comfort.
He allowed himself the barest of kisses, afraid that if he surrendered to the need to take everything she offered, he’d never get the rest of it out.
She didn’t need to know about Cosette and the things he’d overheard her say to Cason so long ago. It no longer mattered.
“I survived. I grew stronger. I gained enough magic that my arm healed but…”
“You’re afraid it’s a genetic trait that will be passed on?”
“No.” He’d never been afraid of that despite what the women who’d tried to become his mate said or thought. What he was really afraid of was not being wanted for himself, of discovering he was a means to an end, that any affection given to him was feigned.
Most terrifying was the prospect of opening himself up to a mate and by doing it, giving her the power to tear out his heart and sunder his soul.
“I’ve always sworn I would never take a mate,” he said, “I…”
“Am afraid of being hurt,” she finished for him. “It comes with the territory. I’m afraid of being hurt, too. But love is worth the risk. When the baoban forced me to run here, I promised myself that if you came after me, if we survived, I’d tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“I promised myself the same.”
He found her mouth, plundered it with the pressure of his lips against hers and the thrust of his tongue. Kissed her until they were both breathing hard.
There was no easy way to break it to her. No reason to delay.
“We’re mated. Bound together by magic.”
Analia’s heart soared. “Last night?”
She’d thought something was different.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t imagine it, did I? The craving? The need to be touching you, as if my survival depends on—”
“Soaking in fey magic,” he finished for her, guilt in his expression. “I should have asked you. I should have—”
She stopped him with the press of her lips and the twine of her tongue against his, conveyed with a multitude of kisses the depth of happiness at finding herself mated to him.
Long moments passed before she lifted her mouth from his. “Fair warning, I’m still going to expect you to show up for our wedding.”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And speaking of missing things, as much as I’d like to find a spot and make love to you, I don’t want there to be any regrets on your part. Shall we catch up to the others at the sacred lake?”
She rubbed her mouth against his and smiled. He already knew her well.
She’d never regret a moment spent with him, but to have accepted the charms from the old man and embarked on this journey, she would regret not seeing it to its conclusion.
“Let’s catch up to them.”
“I think I can get us there faster by traveling a different route, though it’ll be a steeper climb.”
“Faster is better.”
The heated look he sent her expressed his agreement.
He guided her back into what soon seemed like an endless orchard.
This time, instead of winding, upward paths, they traveled along paths used by wild animals.
The air grew crisper and the foliage thinner the higher they got.
Slowly Analia saw more and more of the sky. And finally, there was only sky above them.
They emerged onto a lush plateau. It stretched out in front of them, a velvety green carpet dotted with clusters of purple and white, pink and orange and yellow flowers. It made her think of an immense altar. But she frowned and said, “I thought there’d be a lake.”
“It’s ahead of us.”
Sudden fear made her ask, “Where are the others?”
He took her hand and squeezed. “There’s too much ambient magic for me to sense or scent them, but there’s no need for worry. Crew will have ensured their safety.”
The two of them crossed the plateau at an angle. In places the grass reached Analia’s knees.
Each inhalation brought the smell of flowers. And occasionally they startled flocks of birds.
The small blue birds flew up from the ground like bevies of quail on Earth. And if she and Kellen skirted too close to the clusters of yellow flowers, iridescent dragonflies sped away.
Analia breathed deeply and tried to imprint everything about the place into her memory. And even though she believed Kellen when it came to the others, she still felt a surge of relief when they reached the edge of the plateau and she looked down and saw them sprawled out, as if sunbathing on crystal that reflected the color of the sky and lake.
Some were splinted and bandaged, their clothes torn and bloody, but they were alive. Gwendolen scrambled to her feet and waved. Shouted, “They’re here! They’re here!”
Analia’s heart smiled at the welcome, expanding so wide it filled her chest and momentarily blocked out the splendor. But then she took in the view and could only say wow, though that was a vast understatement.
The sparkling crystal that Gwendolen and the others stood on was actually a wide ledge, one of many that formed steps.
Toward the right, the steps led to a serene lake. Toward the left, they led across the cliff wall to a waterfall.
It cascaded downward, defying the physics of Earth with its placement and silence.
Its origin was the lip of the plateau, as if the magic in this world fell as rain on the plain they’d just crossed, then flowed to this particular spot to pour quietly into the lake. Quietly, because there was no rush and crash of water against cliffsides, no pounding impact when it reached its destination.
“When I first saw the charm,” Analia murmured, “I thought about plunging waterfalls and serene lakes set high in the mountains.”
Kellen pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’ve got a hint of psychic ability, or perhaps some genetic connection to this world.”
Analia felt a little thrill. “A descendent of Edea?”
“Possibly. Who knows? Shall we join the others?”
She squeezed his hand in reply and took the first step toward the ledge where the others waited, wishing for safety railings. She’d probably survive the plunge to the lake, probably—it wouldn’t be so much a dive from an Acapulco cliff as the drop from an Olympic platform.
She stayed against the wall, close enough that every few steps her shoulder rubbed against the smooth crystal. Kellen grinned, taking up the outside position and walking only inches from the edge.
“Showoff,” she muttered.
“Just protecting my mate. If fear gets the upper hand and you pass out, I’m here to catch you.”
My mate. She loved the sound of that, then had to laugh.
“I didn’t do too badly when it came to acquiring a supernatural mate. I got one for twenty-three-dollars, the price of the two charms. That’s a bargain compared to the grand Saffron kept me from putting on my credit card at another vendor’s stall.”
Kellen turned and trapped her against the cliff wall with arms on either side of her. He leaned in, growled against her throat. “It would have ended very badly for any other male. I already had your scent.”
A quick sucking bite to her neck and he released her to continue downward. A few minutes later they reached the others.
Analia was immediately engulfed in Gwendolen’s enthusiastic hug. She closed her eyes rather than lose her nerve at the proximity of the drop.
Crew said, “Now that you’ve arrived, we can get this task finished.”
Analia opened her eyes, assuming they’d go to the right, down to the lake. But Dugald, the pouch at his waist bulging with the returned crystal, went left, toward the waterfall.
It might defy physics when it came to location and sound, but not so much when it came to energy. The closer they got, the more Analia felt as if a force pushed against her like a silent roar.
They reached the edge of the waterfall and Dugald didn’t hesitate. He led them through the curtain of water.
The ledge was wider, and if they’d been on Earth, there would have been initials with plus signs inside of hearts carved into the stone behind the waterfall. But here, crystal that reflected sky and water became translucent green, and there was only a heart-shaped hole carved from the cliff.
It made sense, Analia realized as soon as she saw it, that Nizzo and Edea would have taken the crystal from a place not readily seen.
Dugald removed the heart-shaped artifact from the pouch. He touched it to his lips as he had when he’d held the two charms at the fire circle.
He murmured words Analia didn’t understand, then passed it to a son, who duplicated his father’s actions.
The artifact was passed from person to person, from generation to generation until finally Gwendolen held it. She hugged it to her chest, then touched it to her lips, offering one final invocation before standing on tiptoes and sliding the heart into the cliff wall.
Water immediately ceased to hide them from the lake below. It was as if by inserting the missing piece of crystal, magic had damned the waterfall.
Analia’s hand tightened on Kellen’s, and though his expression didn’t reveal it, she felt his sudden tension and knew he didn’t expect this particular outcome.
The crystal fused together to become all of one piece.
Analia breathed a sigh of relief, though her relief was short-lived.
Gwendolen pointed and said, “Look.”
Analia looked and felt her stomach lurch. The ledges that had formed steps across the face of the canyon wall leading to the waterfall were gone, as were those leading from the plateau down to the lake.
“Sentient magic,” Kellen murmured.
Gellawin nodded. “When the elders convened last night, several us thought access to the lake might be denied us, at least for a time.”
Gwendolen took Dugald’s hand. Her voice quavered just a little bit when she asked, “What’s going to happen to us when we jump into the lake?”
Because obviously, that was the only way down.
The elder, who was most likely her great-grandfather, said, “I believe we’ll return to the fire circle, and our guests will return to whatever destination they hold in their mind when they enter the water.”
“Like a portal,” Gwendolen said, clearly awed.
“Like a portal,” Dugald confirmed.
He squeezed her hand then released it to reach into the pouch and retrieve what looked like three apple seeds. The first he offered to Crew, the second to Kellen, and the third to Analia.
When she took it, he clasped her hand between his. “You will always be welcome among us. Plant the seed and tend to the tree that grows from it. When you wish to visit, we will come for you.” To Kellen and Crew he said, “You can now easily find your way here.”
“Which means it’s time for goodbye,” Crew said. “And I don’t mind going first.”
He glanced at Kellen and Analia, then added, “I think I might need a running start, to make sure I’m not the next one to fall into the mate trap.”
Kellen laughed. “Good luck with that. You see how well running worked for me.”
He turned toward Analia, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “My running days were numbered the moment our paths crossed at the supernatural fair.”
“Even if I didn’t see you.”
“Even if.”
“Getting too sappy for me,” Crew said. “Maybe you should tell her about her car.”
He leapt outward from the ledge, arms in front of him so he seemed to glide through the air, and it was easy for Analia to imagine him a dragon.
He hit the water, slicing through it without leaving a ripple.
“What do you need to tell me about my car?”
“There was an incident. But no doubt Maksim has seen to the repairs. And if not, I’ll get you a Hummer. That’ll be far better for my peace of mind.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “Ready to take the plunge?”
She had to laugh. She’d been dreaming about getting married since she first noticed boys. She’d been planning her wedding since high school, but she’d never imagined she’d be taking the plunge into married, mated life—literally.
“Ready,” she said after goodbyes and hugs. And for her self-respect, she managed to suppress a scream as hand-in-hand they jumped off the ledge, plummeting toward the crystalline lake and life together in the human world.