But…
She closed her eyes briefly, diving into the depths of her mind as though she could find peace there. The sort of peace she used to find in the ocean. Before her shark appeared.
Every part of her connection to her shifter magic came with a price. Why would she expect finding her mate to be any different?
“Fresh water,” Moss announced. She jumped, opening her eyes. He’d clambered back down the other side of the hill and was crouched near a crack in the rock. “Fresh-ish, anyway. All that rain was good for something.”
Carol followed him down. Whether the water was a spring from some sort of miracle aquifer or just the rainwater seeping through the rock, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
Maggie didn’t wait for an invitation. She slithered down off Carol’s shoulders and flattened herself beside the trickle of water, slurping greedily.
Carol cupped her hand and scooped up some water. It was cold and tasted like dirt—but it was fresh.
She rinsed the taste of dried salt out of her mouth and scrubbed her face, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. Thenormal sort of thirst, not the kind that sent her head spinning whenever she looked at Moss.
“Better than seawater,” she said.
“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience.”
“With seven shark shifter brothers? When we drank gross stuff, it was out of stupidity, not desperation.”
“Sounds horrifyingly familiar.” Moss drank and wiped his face, then stood. “When I was, what, twelve? Some idiot passed around a rumor that drinking seawater could make you hallucinate cool crazy things. And some other idiot believed them.”
“That first idiot must really get around. We heard that one, too.”
“Any luck?”
She snorted. “I’m sure my brothers wished that all the vomiting was a hallucination, but no. I think you need to be properly lost at sea for more than a few hours if you want to see mermaids pop up by the side of the boat.”
His eyes softened, their warm brown deepening. “We’ve got the first bit sorted.”
“And now we wait for a mermaid to turn up?” She grimaced. “The way my luck is going, she’d probably have a tail made of chainsaws.”
“Aw, hey.” Moss leaned against a rocky outcrop. “No need to ruin my line like that.”
She blinked, confused. “Your line?”
“I was setting up to say that I think the mermaid’s already here.” He smiled, slow and beguiling and with a hint of embarrassment.
It was that hint that undid her.
“Oh,” she said, her tongue and her brain both fumbling for how to respond while her body made a strong argument for saying nothing and just plain jumping him. “I. Um—”
“Pree ee? Ee!”
Maggie was finished drinking. She sprawled on the ground, belly-up, and a hazy vision of steaming baked salmon wafted into Carol’s head.
Moss laughed. “I’m getting the feeling it might be time for breakfast, eh?”
“Eeee!”
“That’s us told.” Moss straightened and brushed himself off. Carol stood, feeling slightly wobbly, and he held out a hand to steady her.
Maggie scampered ahead, searching for salmon steaks under every loose stone. Moss didn’t let go of her hand, and… well, she didn’t let go of his. That was normal, right? There were a lot of loose stones.
Then he leaned in close, and the touch of his mind was like dipping into a layer of cooler water beneath the sun-warmed surface. *I meant it,*he said.
*Meant what?*
