Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

his shirt front. Her blood thrummed. Do not look up, do not . . .
    She focused on his tie, silver gray with a thin blue stripe and the luster of silk.
    Lucy frowned. Just like . . .
    She peered more closely. Exactly like . . .
    Her head cleared. She took a step back. “That’s Dylan’s tie.”
    Dylan’s suit. She recognized it from Caleb’s wedding.
    “Presumably,” the stranger admitted coolly. “Since I took it from his closet.”
    Lucy blinked. Dylan had left the island with their mother when she was just a baby. Four months ago, he’d returned for their brother Caleb’s wedding and stayed when he fell in love with single mom Regina Barone. But of course in his years away Dylan must have made connections, friends, a life beyond World’s End.
    Lucky bastard.
    “Dylan’s my brother,” she said.
    “I know.”
    His assurance got under her skin. “You know him well enough to help yourself to his clothes?”
    A corner of that wide, firm mouth quirked. “Why not ask him?”
    “Um . . .” She got lost again in his eyes. What? Crap. No. No way was she dragging this stranger home to meet her family. She pictured their faces in her mind, steady, patient Caleb, edgy, elegant Dylan, Maggie’s knowing smile, Regina’s scowl. She blinked, building the images brick by brick like a wall to hide behind. “That’s okay. You have a nice . . .”
    Life?
    “Visit,” she concluded and backed away.
    Conn was affronted. Astonished.
    She was leaving him.
    She was leaving. Him. Sidling away like a crab spooked by the rush of the water. As if his magic had no power over her. As if he would pounce if she turned her back.
    His lips pulled back from his teeth. Perhaps he would.
    He had not exerted the full force of his allure, the potent sexual magic of his kind. Why should he? He had felt her yield, smelled her arousal. Her eyes, the soft gray-green of the sea under a cloudy sky, had grown wide and dark. For a moment, as he held her gaze, Conn had felt a twist in his belly, a click of connection like a barely audible snap in his skull.

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    And then she blinked. When she met his eyes again, her own were shallow and bright.
    Frustration tightened his gut.
    He concentrated until his head pounded, bending his gaze and his will upon her, seeking . . . what?
    Surrender? Or a vision, a sign, something to guide him.
    Nothing, he acknowledged wearily.
    Nothing but her face, pale between the curtains of her straw-colored hair, and his own reflection, trapped within her eyes. The magic that had goaded him here had drained like a wave from the rocks, leaving him high and dry.
    Conn set his jaw. He wished, not for the first time, that he had the old kings’ power—or shared his father’s disregard for anything beyond his own pleasure. But he was not his father. He had not left Sanctuary for the first time in centuries to satisfy a need as simple as lust.
    “Come with me,” he urged.
    She jerked. “What?”
    He would deal with her resistance later. What he would not do, now that he had found her, was let her get away. Both his magic and his glands were clear on that score.
    “To see your brother,” Conn improvised smoothly.
    The girl shook her head, making her pale hair fall forward like a veil. “Dylan and I see enough of each other, thanks.”
    Conn’s face must have revealed his surprise, because she added, “He moved back home a couple of months ago. Didn’t he tell you?”
    “No. We lost touch,” Conn said grimly. Another reason Conn had been forced to leave Sanctuary and seek out the woman of his visions. Dylan was on World’s End at Conn’s command. But Conn had expected him to report back to Sanctuary weeks ago.
    She tucked her hair behind her ears, regarding him with confusion and a hint of challenge. “Then what are you doing here in his suit?”
    Conn stiffened. He was not accustomed to having his actions questioned. To avoid explanations, he had donned clothes. Uncomfortable, modern clothes, the best in Dylan’s wardrobe, befitting Conn’s rank.
    And now this girl was challenging his selection.
    “Perhaps you would prefer I take it off,” he suggested silkily.
    She had very fair skin. Every blush showed. But she did not back down. “I just think you should have asked before you raided his closet.”
    “Very well. Take me to him.”
    She bit her lip. “I don’t know if . . . He’s probably at the restaurant at