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Perfect, Jarrod gloated. He couldn’t have timed this better. Just like any other susceptible human, Morgan was here waiting for him. Of course she was. Why had he ever doubted himself, or her response? Her leaving him had all been Hunter’s doing, nothing to do with him or this girl’s true feelings. He would crush her, show her how meaningless she was.
But he couldn’t even speak. Her green eyes, so vivid and open, met his, and every cruel thing that filled his mouth turned to ashes. There was no warmth in those eyes. Only pain and fury. For an inexplicable, fleeting moment he felt ashamed and sad in a way he couldn’t understand. It vanished in seconds, his lip curling in an amused sneer, in control once more.
“If it isn’t sweet Morgan,” he purred, “I can’t tell you how good it is to...” Pinned by her eyes, his voice faltered and died along with his thoughts.
“Well, I can tell you,” her voice shook a little. “It’s not good. None of it. Especially not you.” Her inward breath shuddered, but her voice came stronger. “You tricked me,” she spat out, “and you took me away from my life. You used me. I was a game to you. A pawn.”
He had no words. Her insolent accusation should have sent a flow of acid pain dripping from his tongue, or words of honey to coil around her mind. The mind that seemed to see right through him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He swallowed, drawing in deeper breaths of thin air, and tried to speak. The words that he found were unexpected. “I don’t know any other way.” He stared at her, astounded at himself, then spun away from those too-clear eyes.
“That doesn’t make it right.”
He flinched at the way her voice wobbled on the last word, and frowned, beyond disturbed. Something was wrong with him. He needed to get away from her.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she asked. Her quiet voice, trying to be strong, sounded as lost as he felt.
He turned to face her. The vulnerability he saw resonated with him, making him conscious of a bewildering sense of loss. Once again, words he didn’t mean to say spilled out. “You left me.”
Her eyebrows rose, and he looked away, furious at what her altered expression revealed. How dare she presume to understand him? How dare -
“Do you blame me?” came the low reply.
No. He realised he didn’t. And for the first time in all the long years, he felt undone. What was happening? He had to gain the upper hand. Smoothing his expression, ignoring her puzzled frown and softened gaze, he demanded, “Why did you come here?”
She hesitated, struggling to look at him. He cringed.
“Answers.” She reddened, but boldly continued. “I...had some feelings when you were...when I was... When you completely messed with my mind and every single part of who I am.” She broke off and looked away. Mastering herself, she looked at him again, her clear eyes level. “I wanted to see you, to find out if any of what I felt was real. Or...was it all made up?”
“And...?” He tried to maintain a disdainful expression. None of this mattered. For the longest moment she stared at him silently, her eyes searching his. He had never felt more exposed.
“Not all of it...” Her voice was low.
It was just a few words, but his heart felt...different. The raw honesty in her eyes was like a punch to his chest. Who was this human? What was she?
Morgan swallowed, but raised her chin boldly even though her words were soft. “And you? Was any of what you said...real?”
Her green eyes pinned him. “No.”
She recoiled as if he’d struck her, but nodded once, stoic. He stared at her, confused. None of this made any sense to him. He spun away, striding to the edge of the rock, intending to throw himself into the water and be free from this excruciating nonsense. But with his toes gripping the wet rock, roughened by a rash of tiny barnacles, he stood frozen. He had come here for a reason. Nothing had changed, His plans for this village stood. But more than ever, he needed to...
He stepped back from the edge and slowly turned to face her. Her flush had died and her cheeks were pale, like a corpse that had seen out a day in the ocean. He forced his mind away from the macabre image.
“Yes...” he acknowledged stiffly. “I had plans that you became a part of, to protect my clan. I did what I had to.”
She didn’t speak.
“But my plans have changed.” He reached his hand to the shell against his chest. Lifting the chain over his head, he held it out to her. “I want you to come with me again.” There was no influence behind the request, no Mesmer. Just words. An invitation that was, for the first time in his life, a request. Unique. His heart thudded, making him even more confused and angry. What was happening to him?
She stared from him to the shell in obvious confusion. Then as she stared at it, he saw recognition dawn. “That’s Skye’s shell,” she whispered. “What have you done?” She took a horrified step away from him and it hurt him. The realisation drew a bark of strangled laughter from him. She stared at him in disgust. “What have you done to her?”
He cast his eyes up in exasperation, dropping his hand. “Nothing whatsoever. Must you be so melodramatic?”
She blinked, for a moment looking as though she was about to laugh. It was infectious, and his own anger dissipated a fraction, a grin beginning to curve his lips. He fought it down. Was he ill?
“What are you doing with it then?”
“If you must know, someone took it from Skye, and I took it from someone. Not the best person to entrust with such a bauble.” He looked down at the shell and fine chain in his hand, and at Morgan again. “Will you take it? Will you...come with me?” This time it took his conscious effort not to persuade her to see things his way. For some reason, it mattered to him that she wanted to come with him. He frowned at her silence but let it play out.
At last she spoke. “But don’t you make your own shells? Pretty sure I saw a whole bunch of lucky recipients down there wearing your handiwork. Or being your handiwork.”
Her voice was bitter, but he ignored that.
“Yes, I do, but this will be better.” His frown deepened. This was clearly a day for humiliation. At least Hunter wasn’t near enough to hear him admit the inferiority of his craft.
“Better for what?”
“Better at keeping you safe. Keeping you...you. If you wanted that.” She looked puzzled. “My shells only work if you’re...not really you. Partly you. With me at the...helm, as it were. For most of the time, anyway. Hunter’s shell...it seems to work either way. Hunter put a part of himself into it. You can remain yourself, and impervious to the ocean. But being impervious to the ocean isn’t the pleasure that it sounds. Not without...assistance.”
“Who says it sounds like it would be a pleasure?”
“You, not so long ago.”
She flushed, unable to deny it. Her romantic fantasy of life in the ocean had been in his favour, and had become real under his Mesmer. He pushed his advantage. “It could be yours again. Your choice. Either way.”
“But...why?”
“I don’t know.” She held his gaze, and her clear eyes pulled the truth out of him once more. “I want you to be safe,” he muttered. He felt sickened by himself. Selflessness was weakness.
“I’m not safe?”
He didn’t answer.
“Even if I wanted to go with you, and I don’t, I could never leave Mum. Skye. My friends. Bliss. My life is here. I don’t want to leave any of it for - for any of...that.” Her wild gesture included him, and the ocean behind him, but her voice was hollow. Was she trying to convince him, or herself?
“You might have less to leave than you think,” he couldn’t keep the warning out of his low voice, anger rising again.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing stays the same. What appears safe can be the most dangerous place of all. You can avoid all of...that...if you come with me now.”
Her eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled threat. “Seriously? You really think I would ever go anywhere with you again? I wouldn’t take a single step in any direction with you, Jarrod. You’re less than... You’re...you -” she spun away and strode over the rocks.
“Morgan!”
She turned at his cry, her eyes wide.
With his will shattered, Jarrod struggled to follow. He drew as close to the rock ledge ringing the cliff as he could manage, his body trembling, his outstretched arm shaking with effort.
“Keep it anyway,” he gasped, letting the chain fall towards her. Then he staggered backwards and flung himself from the outcrop into the waiting ocean.
