The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(13)

“It gets tiring,” he said. “You can have too much of any one thing, and then it all runs together into sameness.”

Ah, she recognized the emotion in his voice. Resignation.

“I think so too, which is why I want to make a point of traveling a bit more. I don’t want to look back on my life and have any regrets.”

“Good for you,” he said. His head turned as he looked out over the rippling water of the Bay. “You should make a point of doing things that you want to do. Regrets can be a bitch.”

She remembered her bottle of beer, finished the last few swallows and set the empty bottle at her feet to dispose of later. Then, because he seemed halfway approachable, and she enjoyed standing beside him and talking, she confessed, “I’ve been so excited at this trip, I don’t think I’ve slept a full night in months. As much as I love my job, I spend most of my life in a library. I’ve never traveled down a crossover passage or been to an Other land.”

He turned back to her, frowning slightly. “If I recall correctly, none of you have much experience scuba diving.”

She knew he was talking about all the symbologists, because his crew was highly trained for everything they needed to do. He hadn’t been present for any of the evening’s activities, so either Bailey had briefed him or he remembered that detail from their individual files.

She said, “That’s right. I went into a practice tank a couple of times to get ready for the trip, but I’ve never actually been diving.”

His frown deepened. “It’s too bad that this will be your first time for both diving and crossovers. They can both be terrific experiences, but I don’t think you’ll be getting the best of either this time around. Travelling underwater through the passageway will probably be disorienting. It’ll be dark, and the magic will shift as you travel. You might find it uncomfortable.”

Bailey had said the same thing earlier. Olivia shrugged. “I’m not claustrophobic, and I think the buddy system for the crossing is a good one. And the actual underwater trip isn’t supposed to last long. This trip is more than worth a brief amount of discomfort.”

He turned to lean back against the railing, arms crossed. He said, “I’ll partner with you for the crossover.”

Once again she reacted physically, as surprise throbbed through her.

Surprise, and something else.

They would be swimming together in dark water with magic swirling all around them. She thought of his forceful, steady presence alongside hers. His hard, powerful body would move through the water with the same effortless grace he had bounded up the stairs with before. Her mouth went dry.

She managed to clamp down on the, “Yes, please,” that was ricocheting around in her head. Instead, more or less calmly, she replied, “Thank you.”

And, damn him, he picked up on her reaction for a second time, despite the wind blowing off the Bay and the indirect lighting from the yacht and the lampposts that dotted the length of the slip.

His attention sharpened on her. She could see it in the shift of his expression, and the change in his body stance. His already forceful presence became so intense she could not take a steady breath. It shuddered out of her, another telltale reaction.

She did not feel that she was in control of her own body.

He was.

He pulled this response out of her without ever touching her.

Her composure started a long, slow slide down an unknown hill, to an unseen destination. Still facing the railing, she leaned against it to steady herself as she huddled in her blanket, averted her gaze and pretended to look out over the water. Every nerve in her body turned on until she felt ablaze with some kind of light.

In a liquid glide filled with predatory grace, he turned fully toward her and moved closer until he stood at her shoulder, and a shiver ran along her skin. Angling his head, he pushed into her personal space. Not much, not so that their bodies touched, but just enough.

Speaking quietly, almost in a whisper, he asked, “Are you warm enough now?”

The warmth of his breath curled against her chilled cheek, and her shivering turned convulsive.

This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing, each movement choreographed down to the millimeter. That should have turned her off. It always had before. But it didn’t this time. Where was her turn off switch?

With lightning speed, her mind tried out and discarded several answers in an effort to find one that sounded normal. The problem was, they all sounded suggestive.

I’m warm enough now. Oh, thank you. (Don’t even.)

I could be warmer. (No. It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth. Just NO.)

The decision was too difficult. She couldn’t figure out what to say, and the mounting pressure of the passing seconds got to her. She muttered, “I—I don’t know.”

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, the grip punishingly tight. It jolted her so much, she jerked her head up and stared at him.

He wasn’t looking at her. His attention had turned to the dock. She looked in the same direction.

Several Nightkind creatures walked toward the slip where the yacht was moored, including two trolls, four ghouls and five Vampyres. Ten of the Nightkind, including the trolls, wore black Nightkind uniforms. The last of the Nightkind strode at the head of the group.

Even for someone like Olivia, who did not live or socialize in elevated circles, he was a very recognizable Vampyre. He wore tailored evening clothes that fit his tall, powerful frame superbly. He had short black hair that was streaked at the temples with flecks of white, a rough-hewn, aquiline face and a piercing, wolfish gaze.