Chapter One
Nik dug his toes into the grit that passed
for sand on this miserable island called England. The waves smacked
his rolled-up jeans and sucked at his feet, as if the sea could
draw him in and pull him home. If it were that easy, he wouldn’t
still be trapped in a human body. He sighed through clenched teeth.
Four hundred years of treading land and breathing air, and he still
missed the ocean.
The gray sea swirled around his ankles, and
he couldn’t feel it. Oh, it was cold and wet like water should be,
but he couldn’t feel it. The pulse of the waves no longer
echoed in his blood. The pull of a hurricane half a world away now
passed without his knowing. Currents swept across the globe, but he
didn’t revel in the eddy of power. He felt nothing from the water.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the damp-salty scent of the sea, the
element he had once been.
The wind caressed his cheek, tugging on his
crimson hair until the strands whipped around like seaweed in a
storm. Above him the heavy clouds promised rain. No, too cold for
rain. Sleet. Except for him, the beach was deserted. Sensible
people hid from the wild whims of the elements. But Nik had been
called to the shore by the alien joy and wonder flooding his veins.
Someone had touched the flesh that had once been his tail.
Without his tail he was powerless, an
immortal human, rejected by water. This time he wouldn’t fail. He
would reclaim the book made from his body and be whole. Elemental.
His eyes snapped open, fixed on a point in the distance too far for
him to see.
Once he would have crossed the distance as a
mer with a flick of his tail, or as water, one with the Atlantic
Ocean, depending on his mood. Now he would have to fly to America.
Nik shuddered, but not from the cold. He raised his eyes to the
clouds, and the wind giggled at his dilemma. Air and water didn’t
mix. Nik glanced back over the choppy sea. A ship would take too
long; it might be years before he got another chance at finding the
book. He waded back to the shore with leaden legs. He had a plane
to catch.
Chapter Two
“Hi, are you ready to order?” Isla stretched
her lips into a smile that exuded more energy than she contained.
Her pen hovered over her notepad. She hoped he wouldn’t rush. The
restaurant was packed, and standing still was the closest thing she
was going to get to a break.
The man glanced up from the menu, his eyes
like puddles of ink. “I’m ready.” He closed the menu and handed it
to her. As he moved, the lights shimmered over his hair so it bled
from black to crimson, a color that had to have come out of a
bottle, yet somehow suited his pale skin and dark eyes. “I’ll have
the fish of the day and a glass of the Sémillon.”
Isla nodded and noted down his request, but
her gaze was on the customer. He was eye-catching, like a lure
thrown out to tempt her. The man’s mouth turned up at the corner in
a lazy smile. Her cheeks heated; he’d caught her staring. Though
really, who dyed their hair that color and didn’t expect to get
looked at?
“Will that be all?” She held his gaze.
Looking away would be an admission of attraction.
“For the moment.” His eyes lingered on her
for a second too long.
The chatter of other diners faded beneath the
pulse of her heart. Was he flirting with her? Or was she so in need
of a night off she was fantasizing about attractive customers? He
blinked, and around her the world resurfaced. She turned away
before she lost herself in his eyes again.
She wasn’t the only waitress to notice him. A
man eating alone, no wedding ring on his finger, and a look about
him like he was on the hunt. There would be an argument to see who
delivered his meal. It wouldn’t be her. He was an exquisite piece
of eye candy and a reminder she couldn’t have more. Not without
sacrificing everything she’d worked for.
Another waitress took his meal over, but his
gaze was on Isla. She tried to ignore him, to stay away
Nik dug his toes into the grit that passed
for sand on this miserable island called England. The waves smacked
his rolled-up jeans and sucked at his feet, as if the sea could
draw him in and pull him home. If it were that easy, he wouldn’t
still be trapped in a human body. He sighed through clenched teeth.
Four hundred years of treading land and breathing air, and he still
missed the ocean.
The gray sea swirled around his ankles, and
he couldn’t feel it. Oh, it was cold and wet like water should be,
but he couldn’t feel it. The pulse of the waves no longer
echoed in his blood. The pull of a hurricane half a world away now
passed without his knowing. Currents swept across the globe, but he
didn’t revel in the eddy of power. He felt nothing from the water.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the damp-salty scent of the sea, the
element he had once been.
The wind caressed his cheek, tugging on his
crimson hair until the strands whipped around like seaweed in a
storm. Above him the heavy clouds promised rain. No, too cold for
rain. Sleet. Except for him, the beach was deserted. Sensible
people hid from the wild whims of the elements. But Nik had been
called to the shore by the alien joy and wonder flooding his veins.
Someone had touched the flesh that had once been his tail.
Without his tail he was powerless, an
immortal human, rejected by water. This time he wouldn’t fail. He
would reclaim the book made from his body and be whole. Elemental.
His eyes snapped open, fixed on a point in the distance too far for
him to see.
Once he would have crossed the distance as a
mer with a flick of his tail, or as water, one with the Atlantic
Ocean, depending on his mood. Now he would have to fly to America.
Nik shuddered, but not from the cold. He raised his eyes to the
clouds, and the wind giggled at his dilemma. Air and water didn’t
mix. Nik glanced back over the choppy sea. A ship would take too
long; it might be years before he got another chance at finding the
book. He waded back to the shore with leaden legs. He had a plane
to catch.
Chapter Two
“Hi, are you ready to order?” Isla stretched
her lips into a smile that exuded more energy than she contained.
Her pen hovered over her notepad. She hoped he wouldn’t rush. The
restaurant was packed, and standing still was the closest thing she
was going to get to a break.
The man glanced up from the menu, his eyes
like puddles of ink. “I’m ready.” He closed the menu and handed it
to her. As he moved, the lights shimmered over his hair so it bled
from black to crimson, a color that had to have come out of a
bottle, yet somehow suited his pale skin and dark eyes. “I’ll have
the fish of the day and a glass of the Sémillon.”
Isla nodded and noted down his request, but
her gaze was on the customer. He was eye-catching, like a lure
thrown out to tempt her. The man’s mouth turned up at the corner in
a lazy smile. Her cheeks heated; he’d caught her staring. Though
really, who dyed their hair that color and didn’t expect to get
looked at?
“Will that be all?” She held his gaze.
Looking away would be an admission of attraction.
“For the moment.” His eyes lingered on her
for a second too long.
The chatter of other diners faded beneath the
pulse of her heart. Was he flirting with her? Or was she so in need
of a night off she was fantasizing about attractive customers? He
blinked, and around her the world resurfaced. She turned away
before she lost herself in his eyes again.
She wasn’t the only waitress to notice him. A
man eating alone, no wedding ring on his finger, and a look about
him like he was on the hunt. There would be an argument to see who
delivered his meal. It wouldn’t be her. He was an exquisite piece
of eye candy and a reminder she couldn’t have more. Not without
sacrificing everything she’d worked for.
Another waitress took his meal over, but his
gaze was on Isla. She tried to ignore him, to stay away
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