His beat stops, as if it just choked on a breath.
He stares at me for long enough that I start to sweat, so I grab his hand and stuff the rock into his palm, then watch my own hands mash together. “To get the right tone of red, I had to use a little blood. A bit archaic, I hope you don’t mind. And the paint is actually waterproof. You know that tree milk I told you about? The stuff that leaks off the wood when I peel the bark off a rubber tree? I mixed some of that with my regular blend. So yeah, the paint repels wa—”
He clears his throat and I glance up, getting caught in the glaze of his eyes.
My rambling thoughts stutter to a stop.
He’sneverlooked at me with such reverence before ...
“Kai?”
“It’s ... the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he whispers, turning his attention to the rock.
He once spoke of an island he holds close to his heart—said it’s made up of big, iridescent rocks with millions of smaller ones crumbled around the shore. That a geyser leaks a ribbon of blood-red liquid into the mirror of water surrounding the place.
“I hope I got it right.”
“It’s perfect.” He traces the glittery shore with the tip of his finger. “Thank you, Orlaith. Truly. It would have taken days to paint such a treasure ...”
I roll the hem of my pants and swing my legs into the chilly sea, tilting my face to the sun, eyes closed. “You’re my best friend.” My nonchalant tone masks the fact that I’m speaking around a lump in my throat the size of an acorn. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Be right back,” he calls, and I open my eyes to see him disappear with a splash, leaving me alone with the warm, sleepy day that’s reflecting off the ocean in fractals.
I smile, remembering the many times I’ve heard those three words before Kai’s darted below the surface to stash something away. Being an Ocean Drake, he can’t fight the urge to bank his treasures at his earliest convenience, even if it means momentarily breaking away from such riveting company.
He’s like an ocean broom—the ultimate collector of things that’ll probably never see the light of day again. I picture a large, underwater cavern brimming with a king’s bounty, and the mental image of him dusting all those trinkets clean with his long, billowy tail has my grin widening.
Kai’s head breaks the surface, and he lifts a hand, smiling. “I have something for you, also.”
My brows knit.
Pinched between his thumb and forefinger is a dainty shell that twists around itself in a delicate swirl of pink and opaline. It has a silver ring pierced through its lip, and attached to that is a latch no bigger than my pinkie nail.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “What sort of shell is it?”
The only ones that wash up here are gray, rugged cups the size of my hand, their inside scoop a dazzling mix of purples, blues, and pinks. Ground down, I use them to make a metallic paint that glimmers like a haunted rainbow.
“A baby conch,” he answers with glee, washing me in his rich, briny scent as he glides forward. Clipping the charm to the silver chain around my neck, he settles it next to the big, black stone I’ve always worn. “The small ones usually get broken against the rocks, so this was a rare find, Orlaith.Veryrare.”
I look down, toying with it, loving the way it tinkles against my gem; two treasures, opposite yet so perfect together.
“They’re sea whisperers. If you speak into the hollow, the ocean will carry the message. So if you ever need me ...”
“I love it,” I blurt, catching his stare. A smile splits his face like the crest of a glistening wave curling toward the sun—there one minute ... gone the next.
His nostrils flare, gaze dropping to my right leg. “You’re bleeding,” he murmurs. “What have you gone and done this time?”
Why all the men in my life seem so caught up on my lacerated skin, I’ll never know.
“Cut myself during training.” I shrug, still toying with my shell. “It’s not major. I was supposed to get it looked at, but I got busy with other things.”
His smile is all teeth—sharp canines exposed in their full, feral glory. “Lucky for you,” he purrs with a mischievous lilt to his words, “I’m somewhat gifted at healing wounds.”
I lift a brow.
He rolls my hem further, revealing the messy slice across my thigh, only barely missing my heart-shaped birthmark.
Well.
