Page 178 of Sorrow & Strangers

Rafe and I look around the room in complete awe and a little overwhelmed, but Alice wanders out from her room, already changed. “I’m going to the spa,” she says, reading a leaflet. “I’m craving a seaweed dragon wrap.”

“Want to come to the beach with me?” I ask Rafe.

He shakes his head. “I think I’m going to explore a little,” he says, looking out the windows.

“Okay,” I say, hurrying into the room where my luggage was left, eager to bask in the sun beside that gorgeous sea. At Avalon, autumn has been creeping in, and with it, a bitter cold.

I open my bag, and although I am not actually surprised, I curse Alice a little for unpacking everything I packed and filling the case with new clothes. Choosing a pink bikini, I slip it on to find it has gold chains with a variety of charms draped prettily over my breasts. It’s much more bougie than what I would normally wear, but this place deserves it, though I don’t imagine it’s particularly practical. I wrap the matching cover-up around my hips and fasten it with a clip shaped like a delicate iridescent shell.

I am no less awestruck on my way back downstairs, but the beach outshines even the hotel. It is just as immaculate as the rest of the resort. The sand is white and warm beneath my feet, the fine grains tickling as they filter through my toes. The water looks crystal-clear, and it’s difficult to tell whether the sea or the cloud-free sky is bluer.

It is breathtakingly beautiful, but it makes me feel even farther from ­Connor.

I shake my head, pushing that thought away as I weave through the sand-colored beach loungers. Many are already taken, and people of every species lie basking in the intense sun. Some chairs have towels strewn over them as their owners swim in the sea, explore the area, or linger at the bar.

Finding a vacant sun lounger, I look around as I remove my cover-up. Anticipation entwined with dread has my nerves on edge, and whether I want to admit it to myself or not, I know I have been looking for him since his message last night. I really need to try to relax. He didn’t even know I was coming here, so perhaps I was wrong, and he was planning to come see me at the house.

Fuck. I really need to stop thinking about him.

I lie down on the lounger and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun seeping into my skin. My mind is still buzzing with what-ifs, but I eventually relax into the in-between, unconsciousness hovering but not taking me.

The sun makes the darkness behind my eyelids glow a warm orange. I frown as it grows darker, the warmth against my skin interrupted when a shadow falls over me. I blink my eyes open, using my hand to shield them from the sun, and my gaze is met with a hard, taut body. My eyes travel up, following flawlessly tanned, hard muscles, rippled abs, prominent pecs, broad shoulders, and a chiseled jaw. Sensual, full lips are pulled into a smirk, and then my gaze collides and locks with deep blue eyes.

“You took my lounger,” he says, running his large hand through his thick, wet, dark hair. His voice is deep, sending a thrill through me, and the way his paper-white teeth flash when he smiles is nearly mesmerizing.

“I didn’t see your name on it,” I say. Snark fills my voice, but I can’t stop looking at him, at the way his muscles flex with his every movement.

He pulls his gaze from mine, flicking it to the sand and then back to me, one eyebrow lifting. I look down and find a towel now covered in sand.

“Well, it looks like you called that patch of sand.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, filthy sound that makes me want to moan. He leans down to pick up his towel and shakes the sand from it before spreading it on the lounger next to mine.

That voice . . . It can’t be.

I can’t pull my eyes away from him, fascinated by the way his muscles move and ripple as he lies down, stretching out his large body and tucking his arm behind his head.

“See something you like?” he asks, all smug arrogance.

It can’t be.

“No,” I say, forcing myself to look away.

He chuckles again and begins to apply sunscreen. It’s a show that I would love to watch, but instead I roll onto my front. Making a point of looking away from him, I reach back and untie my bikini to avoid a bad tan line.

“Do you need any?” he asks, his voice igniting something inside me once again.

I glance at him. “I have some, thanks,” I say, nodding to my bottle of sunscreen sitting next to my lounger.

“You should reapply,” he says, sitting up on his lounger and picking up the bottle.

I quirk a brow and lift my sunglasses, huffing softly when his face is even more fucking handsome without the rose-colored tint of the lenses. “Do you offer this service to all the guests? Because I think there is a reptilian shifter down the beach who desperately needs some.”

“No. Just you,” he says, kneeling next to me. He opens the sunscreen and squirts some onto his palms.

I watch him over my shoulder, barely breathing as he glides his strong hands over my skin. They are so big that they almost completely span the width of my back.

“And why do I . . .” I swallow, trying to clear the obvious pleasure in my voice as he massages the lotion into my skin. “Get the privilege?” I manage to choke out the rest of the question, but I can hear the obvious raspiness in my voice.