“And you guys think I’m bad messing around with Gianna. Being interested in a human is ten times worse,” Liam scolds them. Brodie just grins, but Hunter looks ashamed.
“Well, there’s nothing that says I can’t enjoy a view with my lunch. Come on, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate. Yesterday, they had polar bear marshmallows,” he cajoles Liam, whose eyes brighten at the idea of marshmallows in the form of his animal.
“Fine, but you’re paying,” he replies as the four of us leave the conference room and head for the doors.
“Hopefully we can finish our meal without another ridiculous false lead on the new royal,” Hunter grumbles. “We’ve already been out to two false alarms this morning.”
“The sooner they find them, the better,” I agree, knowing that Gryffin will have to return home to complete his father’s orders.I hope that will be the last time he disappears on his wild goose chase.
Chapter
Seventeen
Colbie
I’d like to be able to admit that I took to surfing like a dolphin takes to water, but that would be a lie. It was freaking hard work, and the waves were a lot bigger up close than they appeared from the porch. Nox taught me to paddle, but after the twentieth time of being hammered by a wave and dragged around by the leash attached to my board, I gave up. I waded out of the water, my board under my arm.
“Where are you going?” Nox calls from beyond the breaking waves, sitting on his board like he was made for it.
“I think maybe I should wait until the waves are a little smaller,” I tell him. “But don’t let me stop you. I want to watch.”
“Fine, but you almost had it on that last one,” he lies, and I feel a rush of affection for him.
“Pretty lies,” I tease him and continue my journey back to the beach. I run up and set my board on the rack on the porch then strip off my wet suit, wrapping one of the towels there around my waist. I grab another cup of coffee, keeping a close eye onthe feral cat, but he barely cracks an eyelid from his perch on his ridiculous cat tree.
Carrying the mug, I grab Nox a towel and head back to the beach to enjoy the early morning sun and watch the poetry in motion that is Nox on a surfboard. I settle down and sip the coffee as his board slices through a barrel, showing only his silhouette wrapped in the wave’s embrace. He’s laughing with pure, unfiltered joy when he emerges from the other end, and my heart skips a beat. He pushes his hair back off his face before he dives from the board and into the water.
Fuck, I’m getting attached, and that’s only going to lead to more heartbreak. How did this happen so quickly? I’ve only known him for a few days. Maybe it’s because he feels like a kindred soul.
The sun rises in the sky, and the waves fill with more surfers who paddle around the point from the other cove. Soon, there is a congregation of wave worshipers floating just beyond where the waves crest, waiting for the perfect one to call to them. I can hear them talking amongst themselves, but I can’t make out any words. I close my eyes, lie back, and let the sun beat down on my face, knowing this is going to be the last moment of pure peace that I’m going to get for a long time.
I must drift off a little, lulled into a false sense of comfort, because I don’t know how much time has passed when a shadow casts across my face, and I crack my eyes open to find Nox standing over the top of me.
“Hey, pretty girl, you’re going to get burnt if you aren’t careful.” He crouches down beside me as I sit up and blink a couple of times against the brightness of the day.
“Are you done?” I ask him as I watch a bead of water drip from a lock of his long hair, which looks darker when it’s wet and has managed to work itself free from its confines.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll make you some breakfast.” He stands up and holds out a hand. I reach out to grab it, and he freezes, looking at the marks on my wrist which have somehow been exposed. The sleeves of my rash guard are pushed back, so it must have happened while I was napping.
My heart starts to race as his eyes narrow on the marks, which are somehow darker now, the gold almost shimmering in the sunlight.
“Colbie, what is that?” he asks, and I hear the suspicion in his voice. I hurriedly snatch my hand back and tug down the long sleeves to cover the marks, but it’s too late, he saw them, and they have caught his complete focus.
I push up off the sand and brush it off me before tossing the spare towel at him. “Nothing,” I tell him, not waiting for a response before I start walking back to the cabin.
I hear him following behind me and pray he lets it go, but when we mount the steps to the porch, he grabs my arm.
“Colbie?”
When I turn around to face him, his eyes blaze with both anger and more questions.
“That is not a normal tattoo, is it?” he asks, but he already knows the answer, so I don’t bother replying. He ditches his surfboard haphazardly off to the side and reaches for both my arms, pushing up both sleeves. His fingers circle my wrists and the marks that sit there.
His gaze lifts to mine, and I see so many emotions swirling in his—hurt, anger, and confusion. “When did they appear on your arms?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Saturday night,” I admit, and he drops my hands like he’s been burnt.
“You’re the new shifter queen,” he whispers, sounding awed as well as slightly horrified. “That’s what you were so upset about on Sunday.”
