"I can leave so you can get undressed."
"Mmm. I've got it." She squirmed around under the covers, and a moment later a hand emerged with her jeans in it. She shoved them under the bed for lack of a better place to put them.
Dane felt his face turn hot, and his cheeks got hotter, the blaze spreading down his neck, when her sweater followed the jeans. What did she still have on under there? It couldn't be much.
"Mira," he began.
"Dane." Her voice issued sleepily from the pile of blankets. "Either come under here and join me, or let me sleep."
Dane hesitated, torn in an agony of indecision. It was an open invitation, and one that he desperately wanted to take her up on. But first he needed to have an awkward conversation that he had no idea how to start.
Mira, I turn into an orca and you're my fated mate. Just say it.
"Mira," he said cautiously.
There was a soft snore from under the covers.
"Mira?"
No answer. She had gone out in moments.
Dane smiled softly. Well, it looked like the conversation was deferred until tomorrow whether he wanted it or not. He leaned down and gently adjusted the covers over her.
And then, leaving Mira sleeping soundly, he went out into the night.
The wind was rushing through the trees, making a sound like flowing water. Dane didn't often swim at night, but he knew the path and the diving place so well that he was in no danger. He jumped, and was an orca before he touched the water, his long black-and-white body slipping effortlessly into the sea.
As he swam away from the island, he felt an unexpected surge of nervousness at leaving Mira alone, sleeping—helpless. It would only be for a short time, he reassured himself. Soon he would be back with her books and could reassure himself of her safety.
There was nothing dangerous on the island. He told himself that his anxiety was only the result of a longtime habit of paranoia. Nothing could possibly happen to her in the short time he would be gone.
He found the boat again easily. As he had thought, the darkness posed no problem for his orca. It had been dark on the seafloor even at noon, so nighttime was no different. Dane swam around the wrecked boat, contemplating the issues facing him.
It might be possible to shake the locker out of the boat. He bumped the hull with his nose, first gently, then harder. He found that the boat's weight had sunk it deep into the sea bottom, and it was resistant to being moved. Dane was forced to wedge his nose under the edge of the hull and thrust with his powerful body.
The entire time, he had a growing sense of uneasiness. His nervousness at leaving the island had only grown worse. He felt as if he had made a bad decision. If he didn't obtain the books soon, he decided, he would go back.
He rose to the surface to gulp another breath, then dived again. This time the boat yielded to his efforts, rolling on the sea floor and dislodging a great cloud of silt. It settled again, listing forward, on its other side.
But no locker of books was produced. He was going to have to go in.
It would be good for training, he thought, swimming aimlessly around the boat. He used to push himself, holding his breath for long periods of time underwater, seeing how deep he could dive and how much cold and pressure he could endure. Then the mercenary years came, and he shied away from thinking of the various ways in which they had forced his shifts and pushed him to do things he would never have done on his own.
Now the dark water, ordinarily a haven, felt as if it was closing around him. He swam hastily to the surface and gulped breaths. Just the idea of going into the enclosed, underwater cabin of the boat made him feel as if he was drowning.
It's a gift for my mate,he reminded himself.It's not truly dangerous for me. If I can do this, push myself this much farther, I will be better able to protect her.
Thinking of this, he inhaled deeply and dove again. He swam to the boat, and before he could allow himself to consider what he was doing, he shifted.
The world suddenly became pitch black and crushingly cold. His ears rang from the pressure as he groped for the door of the sunken boat's cabin. He had failed to take into account the difficulty of navigating in the dark water without his orca's echolocation.
In the back of his mind, his orca was instantly agitated.Let me do it. You are so small, so easily drowned. This is my world.
You,Dane thought at it,don't have hands. That's the problem.
Holding his breath was effortless as an orca. As a man, it was a constant struggle, and he was already feeling the painful pressure in his lungs. He had been neglecting his human breath training, and it showed.
You are going to drown us!
