Reagan jerked his chin toward the opposite shore, and they began trudging there, passing the elves. “We’ll see you there.”
“Resistance is hard to build,” Eldar remarked, as if taunting him.
“Iqbal said there’s only one rule to your challenge,” Reagan reminded him. “Make it to the end.”
The moment he placed his hand on Jane’s lower back, eyes fixed on a landing point on the distant island, Reagan flung them.
Vassar Island was so dark he could barely see her, at least near the water. He loosened a sphere of magelight above them, illuminating the empty stretch of beach. Farther up the sand,a blur of lights and the low sound of chatter marked their destination.
“Thank you,” she breathed, water dripping from them both.
And then Jane’s face fell, eyes lowering toward his grip on the back of her dress. The thought of releasing her now was unthinkable, so he didn’t. Especially when her breathing quickened, and she began panting through her mouth.
“What is it?” he murmured, brushing hair from her face, looking for an injury.
She shook her head, clutching his arms and drawing in a deep breath.
Understanding struck him then. She had forced the panic down, held herself together until she felt safe, and only now allowed the calm to slip.
“Breathe, love.” He kept his voice soft, steady. She obeyed. “You did well.”
A sharp inhale shuddered through her. “I thought…”
When she didn’t finish, he cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Her eyes were too bright.
His hands slid into her damp curls, coaxing warmth back into her skin. A whisper of his mana skimmed her neck, and he felt her pulse begin to slow.
He dried her, his power warming her inch by inch as it swept down her body.
Reagan didn’t remember lowering himself, but suddenly he was kneeling, examining her calf. Bruises marred her ankle, like the imprint of fingers.
She’d been caught.
He touched the marks, massaging around them until the charm dulled the ache and soreness.
“How did you do it?” he asked, looking up at her.
Her hand rose to her chest. There was nothing at her neck now, but she held the truth-telling hairpin in her fist. “My necklace. It distracted her. And then I struck her gills with this.”
No pride in her words, even though she should have felt some. He just kept staring at her, letting himself admire her and trying to—
Fuck trying.
Gently, he lifted her ankle and pressed his mouth to the bruise, feeling the hot skin, pressing another kiss to her calf, to the inside of her knee.
Jane exhaled, steadying herself on his shoulders. He mastered himself before letting his mouth move higher up her leg and was rewarded with the steady pace of her pulse.
“Why didn’t you rub the necklace?” he asked quietly. The location relic would have pinpointed her location to him.
“There was no time.”
Swearing under his breath, Reagan set her bare feet back onto the sand and made quick work of drying himself, summoning his shirt with a flick of his fingers.
The salty wind offered him clarity he wished he didn’t need.
“We haven’t even started talking yet,” she murmured, tucking the hairpin away, under her skirt.
“No, we haven’t.” He nodded toward the dark ocean. “But now we can. I want to find out what would be worth trading for those spies.” He couldn’t help but take her in again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
