Fates by Lanie Bross

swam toward the pier and used it to guide him toward shore until his feet touched bottom. When he was able to stand in the waist-deep water, he looked back at the boat. The sun peeked over the horizon and chased the mist away, revealing the snapped mast, which had crashed across the deck where he’d stood only moments before.
    Christ, I could have been killed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, clearing his head.
    The water glittered like a million diamonds, sparkling in the first stray rays of new daylight. How could it look so peaceful when he’d come within inches of death just moments ago? He stood up, his waterlogged sweatshirt iron-heavy. He took it off and tied it around his waist.
    Masts didn’t just snap like that, like toothpicks. The back of his neck prickled. An accident. A stupid wrong-place, wrong-time near disaster. It had to be.
    The icy water lapped around his shins and thighs, and he shivered. If he didn’t get out of the water, he’d freeze.
    Before he had a chance to turn around, someone slammed into his back, plunging him face-first back under the water. He fought hard, twisting free, using the ground to push himself up and out of the attacker’s grasp.
    The moment he broke the surface, he spun, fists up and ready. He blinked hard to clear the stinging seawater from his eyes, but when he did, he had to blink again.
    Corinthe.
    She’d changed her clothes. She wore faded jeans that hugged her hips, a simple black T-shirt, and a fitted cotton hoodie, unzipped and now soaked through. He couldn’t keep his eyes from running up and over her body.
    Light caught on the dangling crystal earrings she still wore from the party, and they drew his gaze to her neck. To that curve where it met her shoulder. He swallowed hard. She’d looked hot last tonight, but now, against the early morning sun, she was more than that. Otherworldly.
    â€œYou!” she gasped. She’d been the one attacking him, so why did she look so surprised?
    â€œChrist,” he panted. He pushed his cap back off his face. “You almost—”
    A knife flashed in her hand and she lunged at him. Before he could move, his back was pressed against an unyielding wooden pillar supporting the dock, and her knife pushed against his throat. She used her body to hold him there, and he didn’t dare swallow for fear it would force the blade into his skin.
    Heat radiated between their bodies, a startling contrast to the icy water swirling around them. He realized his hands were gripping her waist, holding on to her as if they were about to kiss. He watched the black of her eyes slowly eat up the pale irises. Her breathing came out in bursts of warm air that tickled his chin.
    She moved a fraction of an inch closer. Her lips parted. All he had to do was move just a little bit and … God, he had to be crazy. She had a knife to his throat and all he could think about was how her lips would taste.
    Insanity. It had to be.
    But he wanted to kiss her more than anything right that second. Press his lips against the soft curve of her neck. He pulled her hips forward instinctively, molding them against his body.
    Corinthe made a sound deep in her throat, and his pulse leapt. Fire raced through his veins.
    She moved closer and the knife nicked his throat.
    Luc grabbed her wrist.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” he asked, breathing hard. He tightened his grip and spun her arm around, pinning her with her back to his chest. She jammed her leg back and twisted her foot between his legs, hooking him on the ankle. When she twisted her body left and kicked out with her foot, Luc lost his balance.
    Instead of letting her go, though, he took her down, under the water with him in a tangle of arms and legs. Corinthe kicked out and made contact with his shin, and even underwater, the jolt shot up his leg.
    He fought to keep hold of her, and she fought harder to get away from him.
    His lungs burned. The second