The Wicked (A Novella of the Elder Races)

Then other people splashed into the water alongside them. They shouted at Sebastian and worked to tear the two men apart. Sebastian recognized members of his crew from the yacht. Only then did he let go of Steve.

 

The symbologist lolled half-conscious as Sebastian’s crew dragged him onto the yacht. A couple of them hauled on the line to draw up the container. Ignoring the chilly air, Sebastian climbed up the ladder, issuing orders like a spray of bullets.

 

“He murdered Dendera and sabotaged our equipment. I need suits and tanks. Guard the hell out of that container. I think he was working with somebody who wants the contents badly. He had to have expected to disappear fast otherwise he never would have tried to pull this stunt. Call Carling, Julian and the tribunal, and update everybody. Get someone to comb the tunnels underneath San Francisco. Trace every step that fucker made when he went into the city during shore leave. In fact, trace every step that fucker has made in the last three months.” He took a deep breath and roared, “Where’s my equipment?”

 

They came running with two spare suits and tanks. Then Brendan, who was captain of the yacht in his absence, said, “Just so you know, all the research teams have reported back. Their reports are sitting on your desk.”

 

“What?” Sebastian stared at him, for a moment not connecting at all to what the other man was saying. “Forget about all that.”

 

He hooked his arms through straps on the tanks, grabbed the suits and dove into the water again. He had to get back to the island as fast as he could.

 

His mate needed him.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

When Olivia opened her eyes, she lay in her bed in the manor house. Faded sunlight streamed into the window, touching the edges of things inside the room one last time before disappearing for another night. A bright fire crackled in the hearth.

 

Sebastian slumped in an armchair beside the bed. His head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed.

 

She was quite free from pain, clean and warm, and tucked under blankets. Then she tried to move, and her heart leaped into a rapid, skittish tempo. Her mouth dried out, and her head swam. A saline bag hung from one of the bedposts, the line running to an IV taped to the back of her left hand.

 

Sebastian’s eyes flared open. He straightened and leaned over her.

 

She had grown used to the strange black-and-amber pattern in his eyes. He looked so tired, worn and worried. “Don’t try to move around too much,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

 

“Dendera,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry.” He stroked her face.

 

Moisture flooded her eyes. She nodded and turned her face away.

 

The chair creaked as he shifted. Then the bed tilted as he sat on the edge. He planted his hands flat on the mattress on either side of her head and leaned closer. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

 

As always, he pulled her to him. She could never turn away from him. She looked up. His hard face looked even more haggard at that angle, the fire throwing strong, flickering bands of light and shadow across the room.

 

He told her softly, “You know we need to talk, don’t you?”

 

Her mouth shook. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nodded again. Why would he bring that up now, of all times?

 

He stroked her hair. “In fact,” he said, “I’ve been planning on talking to you for a while. I was just waiting for the right time. And this is not the right time at all, so naturally I want to take full advantage of that.”

 

She blinked several times. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

 

He smiled. There was something remarkably patient, clear-eyed and ruthless about him in that moment. “I love you,” he said. “And I believe you love me.”

 

She whispered, “Yes.”

 

Gently, gently he bent down and brushed her lips with his. “Then this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to marry me. We’ll winter in Jamaica and live the rest of the year in Louisville. You will work part-time at your job. I will work part-time running my company, and Bailey will take over the rest. We’ll have children—I think two would be nice—and we’ll have plenty of time to take care of them. And we’ll travel sometimes, but mostly we’ll stay at home, and if I go blind, I will find an avian Wyr who will fly with me sometimes—”

 

“That’s not going to happen,” she interrupted.

 

“I understand, but if it does…”

 

“It won’t.”

 

He cocked his head and looked exasperated. “I am trying to make a point here.”

 

In spite of everything that had happened and the dizziness that still swam in her mind, she had to smile. “And what point is that?”

 

“That we can meet every challenge ahead of us if we do it together.”

 

Her smile turned into a chuckle, while happiness began to take root. “Is that what you were saying underneath all of those orders?”

 

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