A: Immortal Sea

“Elizabeth,” he repeated, a whisper of flame against her mouth.

Her bones melted. She was tingly and melting all over. Her lids drifted shut in anticipation.

A cold draft replaced the warmth where he had been.

“Come with me,” Morgan said.

Her eyes popped open. “What?”

He stood several feet away, the dark sky haloing his silver hair. Behind him she could see a bridge stretching over a zigzag

moat and the needle of a church spire rising like a scene from some romantic movie.

Except in the movies, the girl always got kissed.

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Where?”

“Come.”

She trailed after him under the trees and on to the flat narrow bridge; glanced uncertainly down at the water and then to the

end of the bridge where the walkway ended in an arched gatehouse and a short white wall with steep grassy banks on either

side.

“What‟s that?”

“Kastellet.”

A little shiver of pleasure and excitement ran up her arms. “A castle?”

“Citadel. Yes.”

Elaborate iron sconces flanked the archway, reflected on the water. “It looks really old.”

He shrugged. “A few centuries, no more.”

She wandered closer, peering through the iron gate with disappointment. “It‟s closed.”

She hadn‟t planned on sightseeing at four in the morning. She should get back to her hotel. Yet now that the way was

barred, the citadel took on the lovely lure of the forbidden. The moonlight transformed the smooth stone walls and tiled roofs

to a fairy fortress full of magic, just beyond her reach.

Morgan‟s teeth gleamed. “Then we will be undisturbed.”

Her pulse fluttered. “But the gate . . .”

In one smooth move, he crouched on the railing of the bridge, balancing on the balls of his feet. “Is not the only way

inside.”

He leaped for the bank.

Her stomach catapulted into her throat. “Oh, be careful!”

He landed without a slip, without a splash. Turning, he held out his arms to her. “Jump.”

She shook her head. “I am not the kind of girl who jumps into things.”

Ever. The thought made her vaguely resentful.

“What kind of girl are you?” His deep voice was cool and amused.

She swallowed. “I‟m more the look-before-you-leap, watch-your-step type.”

“I could change that,” he said.

She inhaled sharply. Her gaze swung from the three-foot railing to the eight-foot drop to the yards of swirling water

between her and the bank. Her hands clutched the railing. “It‟s too far.”

“I will catch you.”

“It‟s too dangerous.”

He didn‟t reply.

He didn‟t need to. She stood restlessly on the bridge, on the brink, on the edge, suspended in place and time.

“ I don’t live my life, ” she‟d told him in truth. “ I prepare for it. ”

Morgan waited below her in the dark, her personal adventure. She felt him in the beat of her blood like every rule she‟d

never broken, every risk she hadn‟t taken, every impulse she‟d denied.

Every man her mother had warned her about.

The water chuckled and flowed.

Gripping the top rail with both hands, she swung one leg over, feeling for a toehold on the other side. Her palms were

damp. Her heart thundered. She was about to commit trespass and God knew what else.

She hesitated. “What if someone sees us?”

“No one will see. Jump now. Jump. ”

The sky had lightened enough for her to see the pale blur of his face in the dark. With a breathless gasp, she let go,

launching herself across the moat and into his arms.

Sky and water whirled. Her ears rushed, her stomach churned, her breathing stopped as she fell—dropped— smacked —

into something hard and unyielding. Into him. His chest. He seized her, hauling her safely onto the bank, against his body.

Dizzy with her own daring, she tipped back her head, laughing in reaction and relief. “I did it.”

His eyes gleamed. “Not yet,” he said. “But we will.”

Her jaw dropped.

He kissed her open mouth, hard and leisurely, as if he had every right and all the time in the world. He tasted wild and salty

sweet as the sea, and she felt the surge kick in her blood, washing away her doubts, weakening her knees. She staggered,

sliding her hands into the slippery coolness of his hair, holding on for balance and dear life while his hot mouth ravaged hers.

His tongue stroked, probed, plunged, distracting her from the play of his hands, the heel of his palm on the exposed side of

her breast, his fingers splaying on her naked back. She arched closer, wanting more. Demanding more. He murmured

encouragement, molding her hips to his, his erection pressing long and thick against her stomach. She forgot to breathe.

He released her, turned her, so that she faced the slope, and gave her a little push. “Up.”

She stumbled, dazed. He steadied her, urging her up the steep grass bank, supporting her with a touch at her back, even

boosting her with a firm hand on her butt when she slipped.

At the top of the embankment, she drew breath. Below, the long, low barracks gleamed through the cover of night and the

trees. The sky above was suffused with dawn and possibilities. She filled her lungs, holding the moment inside her until a cold

wind skipped from the harbor, making her shiver.

What was she doing here?

Morgan wrapped an arm around her waist. “This way.”

He led her to the shelter of a low stone wall and a dappled hollow under the trees. No turning back. Where could she go?

She‟d never make it over the moat again.

He stopped and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her close. She was aware of him all along her front, the places their

bodies brushed and even where they didn‟t. Breasts, belly, thighs. With the pad of his thumb, he traced her eyebrows and the

line of her cheek before resting his hands lightly, easily, around her neck.

Liz swallowed against the faint pressure of his fingers, her breathing loud in her ears.

He stroked his thumb lazily up the side of her throat to the sensitive hollow just below her jaw. Her pulse throbbed under

his touch. “You are nervous,” he murmured.

“This is nuts,” she said. “I don‟t even know you.”

“You know what you want.” He watched her with those odd, pale eyes, those deep, dark centers swallowing her up. “Take

what you need. You are starving for life. How long will you ration yourself, tasting life in tiny sips, in careful bites? Always

hungry.” He laid warm lips against her neck, his silken hair brushing from her chin to her collarbone. “Never satisfied.”

His voice moved like a drug through her veins. Her head fell back in heavy acquiescence as he nibbled his way up her

throat, making her lips want and wait, making her breasts ache for his touch. She squeezed her thighs together to ease the

awful emptiness there.

He rubbed a kiss against her mouth.

“I could satisfy you,” he whispered and bit her lip.

She moaned and shuddered against him, falling helplessly into his kiss, under his spell, against his body. He slid his palms

down to cup her buttocks and ground slowly against her, stoking her hunger. Feeding it. Grabbing his shoulders, she kissed

him back, tangling her fingers in his hair, sucking on his tongue.

His hands clamped on her hips before he pushed her gently away.

Her breath rasped like a drowning woman‟s. “What?” she demanded, frustrated. Embarrassed. Bereft. “Too pushy? I‟m just

supposed to stand here and take it?”