The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the water-stained ceiling of the infirmary. The second is Daniel. He’s sitting forward in the chair beside me, eyes like cobalt.
‘What were you thinking?’
He’s quiet, controlled.
‘That I could take them.’ It comes out croaky, but at least I can form words again.
‘Three Gatekeepers and only two of you?’
I falter. He thinks Rafa was with me from the start. No wonder he’s relatively calm. Daniel would be apoplectic if he thought I’d taken on Bel and Leon on my own. I lift my hand—it works!—and find my head wrapped in a bandage. I touch my neck. More dressings.
‘Did they attack first?’ he asks.
I fiddle with the bandage on my neck, avoid eye contact.
‘Gabe…’ A tiny sigh. ‘I expect that sort of recklessness from Rafa, but not you and not now.’
‘You’ve been out of the field for too long, Daniel. You forget how hard it is to cross paths with Gatekeepers and turn the other cheek.’
‘It’s our mandate—’
‘To defend ourselves, not attack. Yeah, I know.’ I lift my weight onto my elbows and wait for the brain-crushing pain.
It doesn’t come. There’s only a dull throb at the base of my skull. The sword hilt struck with enough force to crack bone. Rafa must have shifted with me more than once on the way back. I look around for Brother Ferro, find him restocking his supply cabinet. I breathe in familiar smells of antiseptic and disinfectant.
‘How long was I out?’ I ask him.
The monk pauses, a box of syringes in his hand. I notice how grey his cropped hair looks under the fluorescents and try to remember how old he is. I’m sure he’s barely fifty.
‘You had a bad concussion so I gave you a sedative,’ he says. ‘You’ve been sleeping for about an hour.’
‘How’s Rafa?’
‘Exhausted from healing you; otherwise uninjured.’
I prod at the dressing, feel the lump beneath it. What made Rafa go back to the island? What would have happened if he hadn’t? For a second I’m on the beach, sand in my mouth, bleeding, helpless as Bel pushes his sword into my neck. I shudder.
‘Do you want to shift again?’ Daniel asks.
‘With you?’ I don’t hide my surprise. Daniel’s one of the Five. He hasn’t made that offer in years—that’s what the rest of us are for.
He watches me closely. ‘Yes.’
I’m well aware he’s offering more than healing: this is the start of something else, officially. Something we’ve been dancing around for weeks now. Jude would be rolling his eyes behind Daniel’s back if he was here right now. Actually, where is Jude? Maybe he doesn’t know about Bel and Leon. But that would mean Rafa didn’t go back to San Francisco—
‘I take it that’s a no.’
Oh. I give him a quick smile. ‘I’m fine, really.’ I haven’t worked out how I feel about Daniel’s interest in me, and I’m not quite ready to explore it.
He nods, moves back. ‘Is your brother thinking more rationally?’
I push aside the sheet and sit up. I’m still in cargoes and a t-shirt, the front caked with my blood and Leon’s. ‘Mya’s the one you should be worried about.’
‘Jude is responsible for his own actions.’
‘Can you honestly sit there and tell me he’s being unreasonable?’
Something crosses Daniel’s face: he’s disappointed with me. ‘I think it’s unreasonable to question Nathaniel. I think it’s unreasonable to accuse him of fabricating our destiny.’
I bristle. ‘But that’s not what Jude said.’
‘Your brother wants proof of our commission to hunt and find the Fallen. That’s no different than calling Nathaniel a liar.’
But Nathaniel is a liar.
I don’t say it out loud. Instead I say: ‘You need to let this play out.’
‘To what end?’
‘I don’t know. But it needs to happen.’
He studies me for a moment. ‘And where do you stand in all this?’
‘You really need to ask?’
Daniel exhales. ‘With your brother, of course.’ He rises. He rests his fingertips on the bed, close to my thigh but not touching. ‘I truly hope Jude is as smart as you think he is. Your loyalty is admirable, but it should never be blind.’
I watch him walk out of the infirmary, his designer shoes quiet on the cracked lino. Daniel’s a strategic thinker. A deep thinker. He must have questions about our existence, but he’s never said so. And he won’t start now, not with Jude driving the push for answers.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Brother Ferro shuts the supply cabinet and comes over. ‘May I?’ He gestures to my head. I nod and he unwraps the bandage. ‘I would have preferred to stitch this, but the healing was too progressed by the time Rafa brought you here.’
I reach up and touch hair stiff with dried blood.
‘Yes, Gabriella, it is all there.’
I let out a relieved laugh. Not that I haven’t had patches of my head shaved for stitches before, but I’m happy to avoid it.
‘Something else I need to thank Rafa for.’ I drag my fingers through a tangled clump and retie my ponytail. ‘Did he say which bar he was hitting for a drink?’
‘I know you believe Rafa’s stamina is limitless, but I don’t think he was going anywhere but his room when he left here.’
I wait until Brother Ferro returns to sorting instruments before I reach for my phone. And even then I hesitate. Not sure why. Embarrassment? I should never have put myself in that situation on the beach. If anyone else had done what I did tonight, I’d kick their arse. But I’m going to hear about it from Rafa sooner or later, so I may as well get it over with. I tap out a text.
Where are you?
He responds a few seconds later. My room.
You decent?
Rarely.
Put some pants on. I’m coming up.
I wait a couple of minutes and then shift to the hallway outside his room, knock twice.
‘It’s unlocked.’
I walk in, find him standing in the bathroom doorway, towel wrapped low around his hips. His hair is still wet and steam wafts around him.
‘Pants?’ I shut the door behind me.
‘Next on my list.’
‘Brother Ferro said you were a wreck. You don’t look so bad. Who’d you shift with?’
His eyes drift to my blood-caked hair. ‘How about you tell me how you ended up facedown in the sand with three Gatekeepers arguing over who was going to decapitate you?’
An icy finger brushes the nape of my neck. I shrug it off. ‘When I felt them arrive I thought I could take care of it myself.’
‘Three of them? You might need to check that ego, Gabe.’
‘There were only two when I attacked.’
‘It didn’t cross your mind they weren’t alone? Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?’
I don’t know what to tell him. I let my eyes wander around the room to buy myself time. The walls are crowded with katanas, poleaxes, sais, broadswords, all neat and ordered in racks, but everything else is a mess. His bed is a tangle of sheets, motorcycle magazines and tattered manga paperbacks. Boots and running shoes scattered on the floor, the desk buried under a pile of dirty clothes and crumpled towels. There’s a box of empty beer bottles by the door and I catch a faint whiff of bourbon.
‘Why didn’t you call?’ He’s not angry; he’s genuinely curious.
I reach for his favourite katana, sheathed in an antique hand-carved saya, run my fingertip over the leather-bound hilt. I can’t look at him. ‘I needed a distraction.’
‘From what? This crap between Jude and Nathaniel? Fuck, Gabe, it’s not that big of a deal.’
‘It is.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Jude’s prepared to walk out the door over it.’
A beat. ‘No he’s not.’
‘He is, Rafa. Doesn’t it bother you that everything’s on the brink of turning to shit here?’
‘Apparently not as much as it does you.’ He watches me for a second and then crosses the carpet, stepping over shoes without looking. He stops less than an arm’s length away and a hint of sandalwood reaches me. I wait for him to tell me how it doesn’t matter if the Sanctuary tears itself apart, wave it away like he does everything else. But he just stands there watching me, searching for…something.
Finally he rubs the back of his neck. ‘A few seconds more and they had you.’ His voice is rough. It brings a strange sensation to my chest. I’m aware of how close he is. Of the water dripping from his hair to his shoulder, running down his collarbone. The contours of his arms and his chest, the trail of hair low on his stomach. I’ve seen Rafa shirtless a thousand times, wrestled with him half-naked on the training mats just as often. I’ve always known how fit he is, but I’ve never been distracted by his bare flesh before. It must be the towel. We watch each other for a few more seconds.
‘What made you come back?’
He shrugs with one shoulder. ‘The European history majors weren’t doing it for me tonight.’
‘But why the island?’
Rafa doesn’t take his eyes from me. ‘You were twitchy. I wanted to check you weren’t going to damage the first tourist who hit on you.’
‘And then what, repeat your offer to distract me?’
‘Would your answer have changed without an audience?’
‘You wouldn’t offer without an audience. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To get a reaction?’
His eyes drop to my lips. ‘There’s no audience now.’
I try to read him. For once, I can’t. I feel a flush creep up my neck. Get a grip. It’s Rafa.
I push past him. ‘I don’t know what this is, but it’s not helping.’ I walk into the bathroom. I wet a face washer, dab at my crusty hair. The steam in here smells of apples. It throws me further off-kilter. I don’t know if it’s the tension between Jude and Nathaniel and knowing where it might lead, or the fact I was bleeding out on a beach two hours ago, but I’m off balance. Undone.
‘You took on three Gatekeepers on your own.’ Rafa is behind me now, watching in the mirror. ‘That’s a whole new level of aggression, even for you.’
‘Fine. Get dressed and we’ll go a few rounds.’
‘I don’t want to spar with you.’ Rafa drags his fingers through his hair, looks away for a second. When his eyes meet mine again in the reflection, they’re dark, serious. ‘I thought you were going to die tonight. Do you know what went through my head?’
‘Same as usual, right? Nothing.’ I’m trying to keep the mood light, but I’m warm in places that haven’t felt heat for a long time. I turn around and he’s barely centimetres from me. I should move away. Palm him in the chest. Headbutt him. I don’t do any of those things.
‘That’s right,’ he says quietly. ‘Nothing. I was about to lose you and I couldn’t form a coherent thought.’
I lean back against the sink. ‘That’s a good line, Rafa.’
‘It’s not a line.’
‘What do you call it, then?’
‘An attempt to drop the bullshit between us.’ I can see the pulse in his throat.
‘And do what?’
He waits, and when I don’t push him away, he moves even closer. Our hips touch. I feel the heat of him. He rests his hands either side of me on the sink. ‘Don’t’—his lips are almost on mine—‘hit me.’
The kiss is soft, tender in a way that surprises me so completely I don’t even think about it. I just respond. The kiss instantly deepens, but he doesn’t take his hands from the sink. For the moment I’m distracted enough by his lips and tongue. I’m losing myself and he’s barely touched me. Is this what I want? Is Rafa what I want?
His hand slips under my shirt. His fingers climb my back and then trace a light path down my spine. I shiver with pleasure. I’m still kissing him. He wraps his free arm around me and I let him lift me onto the vanity, position himself between my thighs. My body thrums with want and need. Heat everywhere.
He crushes me against him, fingers in my hair now, cradling my head against the force of his lips. I match him for intensity, getting a grip on his towel and pulling him closer. I’m struggling for breath, but I’m not breaking contact first. Rafa finally drags his lips from mine. He kisses my throat, his breath hot. Ragged. He unhooks my bra with one hand. I tug on his towel, let it drop to the floor. Run my hands over his bare hips and the muscle of his backside.
‘Gabe…’ His voice is raw. Our hearts thump together, racing each other.
‘The door,’ I manage.
His mouth covers mine again and I feel the vortex. I let him take me across the room. The sensation of kissing though the shift is obscenely intimate, deepening every sensation as the maelstrom tears and compresses us. I materialise with my back against the door, legs tight around him. He flicks the lock with one hand and presses into me, kissing me harder.
I’m lost in a storm of pleasure and wanting. I pull at my t-shirt and we break apart so I can drag it over my head. He waits for a beat, breathing fast. And then his fingers find the button on my jeans. My zip slides down.
Our lips crush together, more urgent now. I loosen my legs from his hips and drop to the floor so I can step out of my boots. Rafa pulls my jeans over my hips along with my underwear, stopping to kiss my breasts and my hipbone on the way. I kick my clothes away and Rafa lifts me against the door again and in a single, assured movement he’s part of me. We pause for a second, share a moment of astonishment. Chests rising and falling, checking ourselves.
Rafa doesn’t hesitate when I pull us back into the vortex. The sensation is exquisite. I take us across the room, pinpoint our arrival so that his legs strike the bed and he has to topple backwards onto the mattress.
Rafa smiles against my lips as he steadies himself. ‘What a surprise,’ he whispers. ‘You want to be on top.’
He flips me around so fast I’m almost not ready for it. But as soon as I hit the mattress I tighten my legs and use his momentum to roll him onto his back. It’s almost like sparring. I straddle him, triumphant. His hands are on my hips. As he calculates his next move, I start to push against him. He closes his eyes, slowly, guides me with his hands. ‘Unfair tactic.’
‘Why?’ I ask, trying not to lose myself too quickly. ‘You think I might be better than you at this, too?’
Rafa smiles, dirty and sexy. ‘We’ll see who lasts longer.’ He pushes himself up into a sitting position and wraps my legs around his hips. And then he runs his tongue up the side of my neck and grazes his teeth over my earlobe, arms tight around me.
‘You can’t tell anyone about this,’ I whisper, pressing my cheek against his hair, want and need building, hips moving with purpose. ‘And I’m not moaning.’
He laughs and it reverberates through every part of me. ‘We’ll see.’