Just fucking great.
Ciaran hadn’t meant to follow him up to the store. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t stop himself.
He’d seen him walk past the store, and before he knew it, Ciaran was walking up the street after him. He’d ducked into the café in some lame attempt to not obviously follow him, then tried to distract himself by talking to Kellan, but then he’d heard Sawyer say he’d be here for five years. Ciaran had dropped the stupid sugar container.
Ciaran had never dropped a thing in his life.
Ciaran had fought his hold on his stupid human form, and Kellan had gripped Ciaran’s arm, concern in his eyes. “Leave, now,” he’d said.
Ciaran had fled back to his store, and that’s where Kellan found him a short while after. He was pacing, tugging at his hair and trying to get air into his stupid human lungs.
Ciaran felt strung too tight, the need to shed this stupid human skin the strongest he’d ever felt.
The pull of the ocean was only dulled by the pull of Sawyer.
And that scared the fuck out of him.
“Talk to me,” Kellan said, his tone calm yet serious.
Ciaran liked Kellan. He was a great doctor, a steady hand, and a voice of reason. Ciaran trusted him, but he didn’t want to speak to him right now.
He didn’t know what to tell him.
The voice in the back of Ciaran’s head, telling him what this thing with Sawyer was, was screaming at him... but Ciaran didn’t want to say it out loud.
“The new cop,” Kellan hedged.
Ciaran’s gaze shot to his. He stopped pacing and ran his hand through his hair. “We need him to leave. I need him gone.”
Kellan studied him in that quiet, unassuming doctorly way he had. He put his fingers on the side of Ciaran’s throat and studied his eyes. “Your hearts are racing. Pupils dilated.”
Ciaran didn’t need a doctor to tell him that.
He shook his head, his mouth dry. Actually, he felt dry all over. His skin.... He needed water.
Just then, Fray burst in through the front door, his eyes locking on Ciaran. “What happened? Otis said?—”
“Nothing,” Ciaran snapped. Christ, if they could stop talking about it, he might be able to get himself under control. “Nothing happened.”
Fray looked him up and down. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Ciaran groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “I need water.”
And then, because it all wasn’t bad enough, Detective fucking Sawyer happened to walk past, his arms full of groceries.
Ciaran hissed, having to grip the counter to stay where he was—to stop himself from following him.
Touching him.
Ciaran felt his body morph and snap back, as he blinked his eyes back to human.
“Take him,” Kellan ordered Fray. “Get him into the water. Now. Now!”
It was only the mention of water that had Ciaran willingly moving in the opposite direction of Sawyer. Not the urgency in Kellan’s tone, not the grip of Fray’s hand on Ciaran’s arm.
He didn’t care if anyone was watching. In that moment, it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered but the call of the ocean. They were across the street now, barely touching the pier before diving in.
