“What if I fail?” Layla breathed, a quiet terror rioting through her now at how powerful she might become if she cracked like Fury. All around, the wind whipped, and Fury’s sculptures surged in the ocean as if responding to Layla’s unrest. “What if Hunter pushes me so hard that I lose it and go black?”
“That’s why you have the Bind.” Reginald finally smiled, gentle but determined as he reached out, corralling her around the waist and drawing her close. “Adrian, Dusk, Rhennic, and myself – to remind you of what the gold in life feels like, rather than the black.”
Still feeling that darkness deep inside, Layla shivered, chilled with everything that had been revealed today. “But what if my darkness and yours compound each other through the Bind? What if that’s part of what Hunter wants?”
“You’ve Bound stronger men than you know, Layla Price.” Reginald countered, drawing her close and pinning her to him with an indomitable strength. “We will not let you fall to Hunter’s machinations. Not now, not ever. Though it deeply disturbs me to learn I am his son, it changes nothing. My birth may have been a manipulation of Hunter’s and his darkness may run in my veins, but I am my own person, Layla. Though part of me wonders if Hunter saw all this from the beginning – having a son who would become part of the Bind – I wonder also if he knew just how fiercely independent his pushing made me.”
“But aren’t you worried there may be something in your bloodlines that Hunter can manipulate? Like this inner darkness?” Layla asked, frowning.
“Though some small part of me worries about potential weaknesses I may have against Hunter, that might affect the Bind,” Reginald spoke quietly, “another part of me knows who I am. As much as you, Adrian, Dusk, and Rhennic, I am a rebel, Layla. And nothing makes me more pissed off and rebellious than being manipulated.”
“You give me strength, so much more than you’ll ever know.” Layla spoke as they stood together, her heart suddenly swelling with a bright love for him. “You know what I was thinking when Adrian, Dusk, and I got into that bad pickle with King Markus Ambrose? I was thinking,I wish Reginald were here.You are without a doubt one of the strongest people I know. And I cherish that about you. Your pain has made you strong. Without diving into the blackness.”
“Thank you.” Reginald spoke as he closed his eyes and set his forehead against hers. “I cannot tell you how much that means to me. I do not believe in the impossible, Layla. Whatever Hunter wants of us, whyever he’s been pushing each of us so hard since our births, I know deep in my heart that we can overcome him.”
“And that’s why I love you.” Layla spoke with a smile now. “Because you know there is always a way back from the blackness.”
“I do.” Reginald nodded. Pressing his lips to hers, he at last pulled away. “I should go check on the yacht. Would you like to come? Fury’s wave lashed it and I need to make sure everything is sound for our return journey.”
“Sure.” Layla smiled. Turning back the way they’d come, she wrapped her hand around Reginald’s arm and they set out. But even as they walked, Layla yawned suddenly; she hadn’t felt this emotionally and physically drained in a while. As if her body and magic were constantly aware of Fury’s Dragon coiling all around the island, she just felt like she needed a deep re-charge. Blinking away a sudden fatigue, she shook her head, trying to stifle another yawn behind her hand.
Reginald saw it. Turning, he gathered her in his arms and without hesitation, poured a bright wave of bolstering harmonies through her. The sensation instantly set Layla on fire deep inside, and her drakaina came to alertness, snarling up with a glorious passion for her Bound sea-drake. Before Layla knew it, she and Reginald were kissing as the chill wind whipped them and the ocean crashed far below, but she wasn’t even aware of the waning day and the temperature drop it brought. Warm and safe in Reginald’s arms, she blazed as he kissed her.
Drawing it out until they were both breathless upon the cliff-walk.
“Better?” He murmured as he drew back, stroking her hair tenderly from her face.
“Better.” Layla breathed, smiling at his lips as that fire-bright passion surged all through her now. Slinging her arms around his waist, she pulled back, gazing up at him. Frowning at the way she watched him, Reginald cocked his head.
“Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to say that even though Hunter is your father, you are nothing like him.” Layla spoke from her heart, feeling that it was something her Royal Siren needed to hear. “He’s a royal dick, and if I could un-Bind him from your bloodline, I would.”
Reginald’s face softened as his lips quirked in a small smile. Lifting Layla’s hand to his lips, he kissed it, letting his kiss linger as he devoured Layla with his beautiful gaze. As he stepped away, he curled an arm around her, holding her close to his side as he escorted her by the hand out in front of them, as if they were dancing.
As they returned to their room, then through the sitting hall and back out towards the yacht, Layla felt that small smile remain upon his lips. Even as he helped her step across the yacht’s side, he was still smiling, his beautiful grey-gold eyes flashing in the last of the afternoon sunlight as the spring sun set to the west. Together, they moved around the boat, checking the hull, the decks, and the interior for damage.
Though Reginald never once let Layla’s hand fall from his.
CHAPTER 18 – CHOICES
It was late when Layla blinked awake, all the lamps turned low. The vaults of ice above the bed were dark, and beside her, Reginald breathed softly, fast asleep. Deliciously naked, his sculpted arms were up over his head, his golden hair streaming loose around him on the pillow like an Adonis of the sea. His pearl clip sat on the bedside table, and Layla sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb him. Blinking at a Victorian grandfather clock nearby, she saw it read two a.m. as she gazed around the quiet hall and dark ice above.
Though she’d slept deeply with Reginald after the intensity of their day, Layla came to alertness now, feeling like something had woken her. Frowning, she felt out with her Dragon’s energy, searching the dark corners of the room but sensing no one. Rising, Layla left Reginald to sleep as she slung on the quilted silk robe she’d brought from Deep Harbor, cinching it. Padding over the ornate Persian carpet to her boots, she zipped them on. Moving to the table, she took up a bite of salmon lox to soothe her growling stomach as she listened to the night. She could hear the ice of the hall moving subtly, cracking and groaning. Beyond, she could make out the roar of the ocean, rising up in Fury’s incredible sculptures all around.
Just as she decided to return to bed, though, Layla felt something pull her again. Spreading her senses wide, she suddenly felt what had aroused her; a deep, coiling movement from Fury’s Dragon out beyond the island. Like a tendril of the leviathan stroking her, she felt its sweet, dark tides lick slowly through her magic. Shivering, Layla crossed her arms over her robe. She suddenly knew Fury was out upon the pinnacles of ice above, watching the moon over the ocean and making his Dragon roil.
And that he was calling her.
With a frown, Layla glanced to Reginald in bed, then to her pearl jewelry taken off before sleep, now on the bedstand. But Fury’s energy pulled her like a sleepwalker, and though Layla knew the smart thing to do was to get her jewelry and wake Reginald to have him come with her to see what Fury wanted, she found herself moving out of her and Reginald’s room like a dream, up a flight of ice-steps instead. Fury’s Siren-song called her with impossible tones and lulling harmonies as Layla ascended to another hall with the lights turned low, set with Victorian dining furniture. Taking a passage through a kitchen and a pantry, she wound her way up through the ice.
Corkscrewing up and further up, Layla felt like she was going to come out on top of the world, when she suddenly arrived at a half-dome of vaulted ice at the very top of the island. Before her was a wide promontory, and stepping out upon it, Layla curled her arms into her robe’s sleeves against the midnight sea-wind. Venturing out over the ice, she could see the sky above bright with stars, the ocean crashing below. The moon was out, just a high white sickle in the midnight sky. But beneath that sparse glow, she saw something shine over to her left.
It was Fury’s long silver hair that had caught Layla’s attention, blowing in the sea-wind as he sat on the ice-promontory with one boot out in front of him and his elbow slung around his knee. His other hand was down, pressed bare to the ice behind him as if its coldness didn’t matter. Straight-backed, Fury watched the water with a quiet intensity, as if called by it. As Layla watched, she saw his tableau of sea-delights rise and fall, curling and swaying in their hundred-foot figures. They moved to his tides, and Fury needed do nothing to control their sculpting.
Only watch the sea.
The vast power of Fury’s Dragon worked without him as it danced and cavorted out in the waves. As if he could feel Layla’s gaze, Fury glanced over, meeting her eyes. His deep blue eyes were dark beneath the moonlight, but even from twenty paces she could see the shine of his Dragon in them; watchful and intrigued. He moved his hand slightly, changing his posture from contemplative to welcoming, and Layla felt his invitation. Moving over, she sank to a seat upon the ice beside him – and found it was warm to the touch.
