I’m stunned as I watch all this unfold.
This isn’t me. I’m not the one doing this.
I glance at Amelie, but she seems just as dumbfounded as I am.
Then the four remaining soldiers all seem to see the same thing. Their eyes grow wide, mouths agape as they retreat farther. Farther.
Grasping Amelie’s hand in mine, we whirl around.
There, coming down the steps from the cliff is the most terrifying yet beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
My mate.
His arms are outstretched, his feet barely touching the stone steps as he glides down, drawing nearer. His blue-black hair swirls wildly around his face, pupils so dilated, his eyes look black. His golden skin is paler than I’ve ever seen, every vein visible beneath his flesh, lips peeled back from his teeth. He flicks his fingers this way then that. Behind me, I hear another gun explode, then another. Then the sound of waves rising to a roar. A gurgling scream. Despite my curiosity about what’s happening to the soldiers, I can’t take my eyes off Aspen.
Aspen in all his terrifying, haunting glory.
This is the creature I was raised to fear.
And I’ve never loved him more.
At the base of the cliff, his feet meet sand. I watch in awe as he stalks across the beach, past the bodies of the dead soldiers, to the edge of the shore. There he pauses, water lapping up his legs as if in praise of him. Not too far out I see two figures, frantically swimming out to sea, making a desperate bid to reach the warship which appears to be retreating as well.
Hands raised toward the water, palms facing the sea, he thrusts outward. In answer, the water recedes, gathering in a wave. It swallows the two swimming men, drowning them in its depths as the wave grows higher. Higher.
All reason tells me this wave can only crash back into us, but instead, the water shifts, rising, twisting, lurching in an impossible direction. Away from the shore. Toward the warship.
An eruption of sound startles me, and Amelie squeezes my forearm. What follows is a deafening crash into the face of the cliff, rocking my feet beneath me. Ducking from flying debris, Amelie and I scramble to the far end of the shore, to the abandoned barricade built from large bags of sand. We kneel behind it as another blast strikes the cliff.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I hazard a glance over the top of the barricade, seeking Aspen. Once the rubble clears, I find him, still at the edge of the shore. His wave continues to build, rushing toward the warship.
Another blast.
Biting back a scream, I duck, covering my head with my hands. Amelie’s arms wrap around me. But as soon as the trembling begins to fade, I leap back up again, eyes darting immediately to Aspen.
Still unharmed, his arms tremble as if pushing an incredible weight.
He opens his mouth in a scream that doesn’t reach my ears over the raging wave. Gathering speed, his wave finally reaches the warship, dousing it in a roaring crash. The ship goes under, disappearing beneath the sea. To my horror, it reappears seconds later, rocking erratically. It has ceased firing its enormous guns, but the ship remains whole.
Aspen staggers his legs and thrusts again, gathering another wave. The ocean grows wilder, darker. His arms, however, begin to tremble more, his shoulders starting to sag.
That’s when I notice the blood dripping down his torn calves, the puncture marks in his side, his arms.
He looked so strong when I first saw him coming down the side of the cliff; I hadn’t seen how wounded he’d been.
Without a second thought, I leave the safety of the barricade and run to his side.
“Evie, stay back,” he shouts through his teeth. The veins in his face and neck are more visible than they were before, and even worse than that—black tendrils spiral up the skin on his arms, and dark threads mingle with the blood that seeps from a few of the lesions. He has iron embedded in him.
A painful lump sears my throat. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Go!” he roars, sending his newest wave crashing over the warship. Again, the ship goes under, only to reappear.
I don’t know why he’s so adamant about destroying the ship, especially when it clearly taxes his strength. I want to argue him away, force him to abandon his mission so I can tend to his wounds.
But something stills my heart, fills me with a profound calm.
I do know why he’s doing this. Safety. Protection. Love. Vengeance.
