Page 37 of Crashing Tides

I leap up, start to panic. Unconscious beside me, Duncan Stirling is shivering.

Will he remember going in after me? Or is he going to freak out because he’s totally naked on a beach with a guy wearing clothes that look like they’ve been chewed on by a shark?

I need to mitigate this. Now. After a moment’s consideration, I shrug out of my wet coat, trying not to wince at how obviously tattered it is. I can’t afford another one, so I don’t think about it. Instead, I drape it carefully over Duncan, hoping maybe it will hold heat even soaking wet.

Then I remove what’s left of my shirt and set about trying to preserve my modesty. There’s not a whole lot I can do with the scrap of fabric, so I tie it around my waist. It skims the tops of my thighs, barely conceals my buttocks.

There’s a non-zero chance someone is going to see me like this. Hell, even if I walk back to Halea, someone will probably notice me.

I’m never gonna live this down, but it’s better than being arrested for indecent exposure. At least if someone is traumatized by the sight of me, I can claim I made a good-faith effort to cover up. Under the circumstances, it’ll be enough.

I hope.

There isn’t much left to do. My phone is gone, lost to depths of the ocean. Another thing I won’t be able to replace. Nor, I realize with a sinking feeling, can I call for help.

Somewhere far off in the distance, a tiny light flickers. I think it’s from one of the lamps lining the road, but I can’t be sure.

I won’t leave Duncan behind. Better to wait for dawn, when joggers and swimmers will surely begin to appear, than to try and get help on my own. Not when I’m practically blind, and Duncan is defenseless. If I leave him, I might not be able to find him again. There will be nobody to drag him out of the tide when it rises.

Or—a shudder runs down my spine—what if something tries to eat him? With no weapon and no clothes, I’ll be useless.

OK, but what kind of animal hunts humans on a beach? I can’t come up with anything other than alligators, and I’m pretty sure we don’t have those here. Sharks aren’t able to traverse land. I’ve never heard of crabs eating people, just pinching the occasional stray body part.

I plop down into the sand and drag my fingers over my face. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing?

This is going to look so bad.

I’m already dreading the dawn. We’re going to have to go to the hospital. Talk to the police. We might even end up on the news.

And what then? Will people suspect the truth—that Duncan is a shifter, and I probably am too? Or will they assume that we’ve gone on some kind of misadventure? Maybe that we were fucking or fighting and ended up in the ocean somehow?

I’ve been shivering for a long time. So has Duncan. Slowly, reluctantly, I creep closer to him, lured by body heat, afraid to touch him without necessity.

But I’m so cold, and he’s hidden under a coat, and⁠—

Fuck it. I sit beside him so that we’re hip to hip, and wrap my arms around my knees. Wind thrashes around us.

And then, finally, Duncan stirs. I’m on my feet at once, standing over him. He twitches, groans, blinks.

“Hey,” I say. “You awake?”

He blinks again, unseeing.

“Duncan?”

He moans.

“Oh, thank fuck,” I say, before I can stop myself. But he’s already drifting off, his face going lax, his lips parting.

Frantic, I drop to my knees and grasp him by the shoulders, afraid I’m going to lose him again. Afraid he’s really hurt, and I’m going to spend the night out here with a corpse. I need him to wake up. Now. “Hey, listen, man,” I begin. “You have to wake up. We have to go somewhere warm.”

His eyelids twitch. A strange little rumbling noise emerges from him. Is it a growl? It doesn’t feel threatening, but I don’t know what else it could be.

Still, he doesn’t rouse.

Suddenly, I can’t stand it anymore. “Wake up!” I cry. The palm of my hand connects with his sculpted cheekbone, which is nearly sharp enough to cut glass. I wouldn’t be surprised if it drew blood.

He gasps, blinks up at me with big, gray eyes.