Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

name?”
     
    That one was easy. “Margred.”
     
    “Last name.”
     
    She shook her head.
     
    His mouth tightened. “Address?”
     
    She stared at him blankly.
     
    “You had to come from somewhere. You were born in Scotland, you said.”
     
    She was foolishly pleased that he remembered. “That’s right.”
     
    “Do you have friends there? Family?”
     
    “No family.”
     
    “Anybody likely to come looking for you?”
     
    She thought of Conn. “I . . . It’s possible.”
     
    “Who?” The word cracked like an ice floe.
     
    She recoiled. “I don’t remember.”
     
    122
    Caleb drew in a quick, frustrated breath, and released it on a sigh.
    “Look, Maggie, I can protect you. I want to protect you. But you need to trust me.”
     
    “I do,” she protested. To a point .
     
    She pressed her fingers to her aching head. In truth, the attack last night had come out of the dark, a blaze of hunger and pain, too quick to defend against or identify. But she had not imagined that whiff of demon.
    Expecting a mortal to take her side against an elemental was insanity.
     
    Caleb could not protect her.
     
    And she was oddly reluctant to see him fall, a human casualty of a skirmish between Fire and Water.
     
    He captured her other hand and held it against his chest. “Then let’s make a deal. From now on, I won’t badger you for answers. And you cut the sex-and-games crap and tell me when you honestly don’t remember something and when you’re just not going to say.”
     
    His offer was so unexpected she gaped at him, her mind whirling. It could be days before the dolphins carried her message to Conn, days before the prince responded. Until then, she was on her own.
     
    Or not entirely on her own. She could feel the beat of Caleb’s heart against her fingertips.
     
    She lifted her chin. “We could try that.”
     
    Caleb’s lips curved. He leaned down to brush her mouth with his, a hint of pressure, a whisper of heat, promising, tantalizing. Her toes curled into the damp sand in anticipation.
     
    And then . . . nothing.
     
    She opened her eyes. “What was that?”
     
    He was still smiling down at her, all heavy-lidded, satisfied and sexy. “A kiss. To seal the deal.”
     
    123
    She slid her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, pulling him closer. Seeking pleasure. Seeking to forget. “This,” she told him, “is a kiss.”
     
    His lips were warm and firm. She bit them, wanting more of him, his textures, his flavors. He opened for her, and then his hands were in her hair and his tongue was in her mouth and she was gasping, reaching for him, the whisper of heat sparking and spreading, warming her from the inside out. She wanted to crawl inside him and be warm all over, forever.
     
    His hand fisted in her hair, making her wince. “I want—”
     
    “Yes,” she said, ignoring the pain.
     
    He kissed her again, harder this time. She wiggled closer, fitting their bodies together. He grunted—in pleasure? in pain?—and staggered.
    Through her wet dress, she could feel everything, the bite of his buttons, the cold edge of his buckle. Him. She could feel him, hot and hard against her. She wriggled again in pure delight, twining her arms around his neck.
     
    He half dragged, half stumbled with her a few yards up the beach to the privacy of the rocks. Crowding her into a recess in the cliff wall, he covered her with his broad, hard body, his warm, urgent mouth.
     
    The rush was like diving—the plunge into sensation, the immersion in feeling. Her hands gripped his shoulders. She could have this. She could have him.
     
    “Touch me,” she demanded.
     
    He yanked up her dress. She was already wet and ready for him. He made a sound, or she did, as she arched to meet his hand, as her head dropped back against the rock with an audible thump.
     
    She saw stars.
     
    “Jesus. Are you o—”
     
    She grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand between her legs. “ Don’t stop .”
     
    124
    He didn’t stop. But he cupped the back of her head with one hand, protecting her from the rock, and stroked her with the other, his fingers parting her, rubbing her, making her breath catch and quicken, making her writhe and rise on tiptoe, almost there, almost . . .
     
    Ah . Relief came like a burst of tiny bubbles rising quickly to the surface, releasing in her blood.
     
    “Well.” Caleb’s voice was strained with lust and laughter. “That was quick.”
     
    Margred opened her eyes,