Daybreak (25 page)
Damp summer air cooled their skin as they lay together, using her cloak as their bedding. Feeling soft and free of gravity, Pen idly stroked his abs. He radiated so much of his lion strength and grace that she almost expected a fine down beneath her hand, like an echo of his pelt. But his skin was smooth, warm, beautiful.
“You’ll make me blush with thoughts like that,” he murmured.
“I don’t mean to,” she said defensively. She hadn’t realized she was broadcasting pictures again.
“Keep it up, and I’ll insist you say it out loud.”
Pen ducked her face against his side, hiding a broad smile. “May I ask you something? About Danni?”
Although his respiration increased and his stomach tensed, he gathered her close. “You can ask
,
Pen.”
,
Pen.”
She heard the quieter message, that he might not answer.
More than fair.
More than fair.
“You said you married in the skinwalker way. What did you mean by that?”
“We made a commitment, made promises like we were standing before a holy man. I gave her a necklace I’d found on my travels. She gave me a jade figurine her mother brought back from some trip to China decades earlier.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t find either in the aftermath of the attack. Looted, I think.”
“I’m sorry.” She pushed up to her palms and looked down at his stricken face. “I know you think I don’t understand love, and that . . . well, I wouldn’t argue too much. But I do know grief. And empathy.”
“Too well, I think. You feel for the whole damn world.”
His gentle teasing didn’t hurt so much now. Maybe their time together was easing her back from the rigid defensiveness that kept her so closed and tight. If only that were true.
She found a lopsided smile. “The world doesn’t make me feel like you do.”
They both stilled. Pen’s heart thudded, realizing how vulnerable her words left her. This was Tru. But who was he, exactly? She had become obsessed with a man on the verge of just as many changes.
He shared her grin, which melted another layer of ice. Such a thaw promised pain, but she felt as if she could move and flex and run for the first time in years.
“What shall we to do tomorrow, Queen Penelope? More pleasure? Or back to work?”
“Work, I think.” She flicked her gaze eastward, where the moon sparkled white light over the calmed waves. “Someone tried to kill me last night. If I can get closer, I’ll know who. Zhara said there was a traitor on the island. I can’t help but think the two are one and the same.”
“You won’t be safe.” His voice gained a sharp, intimidating edge. But rather than shrink from it, Pen absorbed that fortifying sound.
“Yes, I will,” she said softly. “Because I have a plan.”
“Oh? Now that sounds dangerous.”
Pen tugged him off the sand and back into the shelter. The quiet was soft and enveloping, with the waves a distant rush. She pulled Tru down to lie upon her cloak, kissing, touching with more assurance. The path from intention to action was becoming easier to navigate.
“What about your plan?” he asked against her throat.
I
adore
your neck.
She shivered at the memory, then tipped her chin back to offer more. “Tomorrow, I think. There’s nothing to be done till then.”
adore
your neck.
She shivered at the memory, then tipped her chin back to offer more. “Tomorrow, I think. There’s nothing to be done till then.”
“I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“Nope.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because it will mean trusting Arturi. Completely.”
Tru stiffened. “I don’t think I can.”
“I know,” she said, touching his face. “All I need you to do is watch my back. And keep that lion of yours at the ready.”
His nasty, gorgeous grin was barely visible in the dim light, but it covered Pen in exquisite goose bumps. “That I can do.”
TWENTY-SIX
Just before daybreak, scouts from the mission found them. Tru wouldn’t have heard their approach without feline senses. Mary Agnes had been right. The girls were good. Clearly, they’d been searching for Pen and him. There could be no other reason for their presence. He stepped into sight, frowning when they trained their blowguns on him.
“Don’t make us kill you,” Bethany said.
“Why would you want to?” He made sure to keep his hands in sight.
“One of the boats never made it back to the island. All aboard are missing, including Zhara.”
“Shit.”
“Arturi thinks we did it?” Pen strode from the rocky outcropping with a pleat between her brows.
“We were instructed to find survivors if there was a shipwreck. You’re the only two we’ve encountered.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re guilty,” Tru snapped. “That storm was terrible. They could’ve sailed south to find safe harbor.”
Bethany shook her head. “Zhara would have predicted such possibilities on her runes.”
“Only if she thought to cast for it,” Pen said, taking a step toward them.
The girls trained their weapons on her. If one of them spooked, the poison would be quick and lethal. Without thinking, Tru stepped in front of her to shield her with his body.
She flashed him a surprised look. He wanted to smile, despite the mess they were in. Perhaps spending her life protecting other people—and atoning for the lives she’d taken—left her unable to imagine anyone risking his safety on her behalf. But Tru didn’t need the protection of the Orchid. Eventually she’d figure out that he needed
her
.
her
.
“What are your orders?” he asked Bethany.
“To bring you back to the rendezvous point, where Arturi’s guards will take you both in for questioning.”
Tru glanced at Pen, brows raised.
Do we go with them?
She cocked her head, thinking. Then she nodded. He hadn’t been able to do that with anyone since Danni. With a gentle pang, he remembered how they’d discussed the little one with a tilt of the head.
Laurel wants another sweet. Can she have one?
Brow creased in thought, then a negative head shake.
She’s had enough.
Do we go with them?
She cocked her head, thinking. Then she nodded. He hadn’t been able to do that with anyone since Danni. With a gentle pang, he remembered how they’d discussed the little one with a tilt of the head.
Laurel wants another sweet. Can she have one?
Brow creased in thought, then a negative head shake.
She’s had enough.
With his start in life—a druggie mom who let him raise himself on TV, junk food, and video games—he shouldn’t have survived the Change. That he had sometimes mystified even him. The fact that he’d landed, at fifteen, in a better home than he’d ever known was also inexplicable and astonishing. He’d found a place more than once, and he believed in magic. It was impossible, the way it sparkled all around him. Particularly in Pen. So if lightning could strike a man like him, it could strike again. It had, in fact, despite his reluctance.
Because Pen nodded at the girls, he stood down. From Mason he’d learned that a man could listen to a woman without being weak.
“Very well,” he replied. “Escort us. We won’t resist.”
It should have been absurd when the scouts surrounded them, three in front, three in back, but their movements revealed brisk purpose. This wasn’t the first time they had served as Arturi’s mainland enforcers. They marched down the beach; he gauged the distance at a couple of kilometers.
Mary Agnes had some means of communication with the island—she’d proven that once before—so he wasn’t shocked to find a small boat waiting. The men on board wore green armbands. He’d seen them around the camp, hard-faced military types with more scars than he’d had hot dinners. Of course, if Pen wanted to scramble their brains like eggs, they couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her. He wondered if Arturi knew the truth about her powers.
“Report?” the leader asked Bethany.
“We found no trace of anyone else. No signs of wreckage either.”
“Is there much trouble with piracy around here?” Pen asked.
It was a good question, but the guard still growled. “Shut up. Speak only when spoken to.” He gestured to his men. “Apprehend the prisoners.”
Two men leaped from the boat and splashed toward them. Within seconds they twisted Tru’s arms behind his back, binding his wrists. They treated Pen likewise, just as roughly, and the lion snarled. Tru didn’t realize he was making the sound low in his throat until the leader cuffed him on the side of the head. Not a real blow or he’d be dizzy. More like a bad parent would give to his noisy kid.
“Is that all?” Bethany asked.
The girl no longer looked so sure of her mission. Nor did Gretchen. For all their poise, they were young and Tru had worked beside them. Surely they didn’t believe he’d kidnapped Zhara, stolen a boat, and hidden the evidence so completely that nobody could find a trace.
Pen seemed wary now, too.
This isn’t how Arturi would do things,
her blue eyes said.
This isn’t how Arturi would do things,
her blue eyes said.
But he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t have her faith in the little man. If someone stole his woman, Tru would definitely bind and beat some motherfuckers. More surprise from Pen. Had she caught that mental image?
Now wasn’t the time to explore why they could share pictures in each other’s heads. They had trouble to deal with—and he didn’t want to involve the girls.
Once they rowed out of range of the blowguns, they could mutiny. Was she there, seeing the plan he laid out? He couldn’t feel her. Couldn’t see any of her mental images. But she inclined her head. Warmth swelled within him both at her faith and her willingness to fight.
If Pen believed these weren’t Arturi’s men, he’d kill them.
Without protest, they climbed in the boat. The craft was small enough that they should be able to crew it by themselves, provided she could find the fucking island. Provided they weren’t executed as soon as they landed without guards. A lot of ifs, but he would follow her, Penelope Sheehan, not the Orchid.
Waves and oars swept them from shore. Tru sat quiet while the men rowed. There were four of them, front and back, all armed. The weapons wouldn’t help. A couple minutes later, Pen caught his eye. It was time.
She struck. Her mojo distracted the others because one guard screamed, his hands clawing the sides of his head. The men leaned in. Stopped rowing. “What’s wrong? What the hell . . . ?”
Precious seconds elapsed while the guards argued about what to do. That delay gave Tru the chance to execute a partial shift. Most skinwalkers didn’t possess such fine motor control, but he’d been shifting for a long time, and he’d learned some tricks. His forearms changed. He slashed the ropes with his claws. Partial shifting required less energy, and it was good sense not to go full-lion in a small boat.
The claws, however, kicked ass. He tore out two throats before the bastard realized he was free. Pen killed the screaming man cleanly; she’d prolonged his agony only to keep the others occupied. The last guard flung himself over the side. Tru slashed his hamstring before he hit the water. Blood drew predators, and the idiot’s flailing would attract them even faster.
“If he makes it to shore,” Pen said calmly, watching his progress, “he’ll die of infection.”
“Probably.”
With a deep breath, Tru let the claws melt away, brought back human skin and fingers. He flexed to relieve the ache, and his stomach growled, but it was no worse than a hard workout. He’d be fine until they found food. When he glanced up, he found Pen watching him.
“Weird?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen anyone partially shifted since . . .”
“The Change?”
“Yeah.”
Memories flashed of bestial men with half-canine, half-humanoid features. Likely, she remembered that terrible trip through the woods as well as he did. Better, maybe, because she hadn’t been running on pure adrenaline. Tru recalled monsters, sure. But when he thought about that day, he only remembered making Mason proud for the first time. Despite his bad attitude, it had meant so much when the big man gave him a rifle and acted like he believed Tru could save somebody.
“I can control it,” he said.
“I know you can.”
“I don’t know how many people enjoy shifting as much as me. I experimented a lot, early on. Wanted to see what I could do, how far I could push it. Did I freak you out?”
“No, I wasn’t scared.” She paused. “And . . . you weren’t either.”
He arched a brow. “Why would I be?”
“I told you about how I lost control. I could hurt you.” Her expression was grave.
Tru laughed, waving a hand in dismissal. “Don’t be dumb. I trust you.”
Some of her ideas were ridiculous. If she’d spent half the time he had, playing with her powers instead of worrying about them, she wouldn’t worry about going supernova. But this probably wasn’t the right moment to offer his opinion on the subject. Pen took things so seriously . . .
Finally she said, “I don’t know if you should.”
Ignoring that, he took up the oars. “Now which way, cap’n?”
After a moment of contemplation, she pointed. “It’s a fair trip without sails. We can take turns.”
“A fair trip” turned out to be an understatement. With four men rowing, it might not have seemed so long, but with only Tru and Pen to pull the boat through the waves, the journey felt endless. His arms burned like brands by the time Pen glimpsed the rise of land behind him.
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