A: Immortal Sea

“Two Buds,” Justin said.

The waitress looked at Lara. “ID?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for her purse.

Axton insisted they do their best to abide by human laws, to blend in with their human neighbors. She pulled out her

perfectly valid Pennsylvania driver‟s license, hoping Justin would do the same, eager for any hint to his identity, any clue why

he hadn‟t been found before now.

He smiled at the waitress. “Thanks.”

The blonde cocked her hip, pulled a pen from her stack of hair. “Anything else?”

His grin was quick and charming. “I‟ll let you know.”

Oh, he was smooth, Lara thought, as the waitress sashayed away.

“So, Lara Rho.” He stretched his arms along the back of the booth, his knees almost-not-quite brushing Lara‟s under the

table. “What brings you to Norfolk?”

You.

Bad answer.

“Um.” She inched her foot closer to his across the sticky floor, hoping that small, surreptitious contact would give her the

answers she needed. “Just visiting.”

“For work? Or pleasure?”

Her toe nudged his. A buzz radiated up her leg, as if her foot had fallen asleep.

Deliberately, she met his gaze. “That depends on you.”

His tawny eyes locked with hers. The tingling spread to her thighs and the pit of her stomach.

“I‟m done working,” he said.

Her mouth dried at the lazy intent in his eyes. “Won‟t they be expecting you? Back at the boat?”

“Boat‟s been delivered and I got paid. Nobody will care if I jump ship.” He smiled at her winningly. “I‟m a free man.”

She moistened her lips. “Isn‟t that convenient.”

No one would miss him if he disappeared tonight.

Her heart thudded in her chest. All she had to do was identify him as one of her own kind, the nephilim, the fallen children

of air.

From his corner, Gideon glowered, no doubt wondering what was taking her so long.

If only she were more experienced . . .

The waitress returned with their beer, two bottles, no glasses.

Lara gripped the slick surface and gulped, drinking to ease the constriction of her throat.

“Let‟s get out of here,” Justin invited suddenly.

“What?”

He reached across the table and took her hand, wet from the bottle. An almost visible spark arced between them, a snap of

connection, a burst of power. Shock ripped through her.

His eyes flickered. “You pack quite a punch.”

So he felt it, too. Felt something. Hope and confusion churned inside her. She dampened her own reaction, feeling as

though her circuits had all been scrambled. The air between them crackled, too charged to breathe.

“I . . . You too.”

Her heart thudded. He was not human .

Or only partly human. His elemental energy beat inside his mortal flesh.

But he was not nephilim, either. She didn‟t know what he was.

His energy was not light, but movement, swirling, thick, turbulent as storm. It swamped her. Flooded her. She clung to his

hand like a lifeline, focusing with difficulty on his face.

“. . . find someplace quiet,” he was saying. “Let me take you out to dinner. Or for a walk along the waterfront.”

“What are you doing?” Gideon demanded.

Lara flinched.

“Who the hell are you?” Justin asked.

Gideon ignored him. “Are you trying to call attention to yourself?” he asked Lara.

Lara tugged her hand from Justin‟s, her mind still stunned, her senses reeling from the force of their connection. “You felt

that?”

“They could feel you in Philadelphia,” Gideon said grimly. “Shield, before you get us both killed.”

Justin‟s eyes narrowed. “Look, buddy, I don‟t know who the fuck you think you are, but—”

Gideon gripped Lara‟s elbow. “We‟re getting out of here.”

Justin rose from the booth. “Take your hands off her.”

“It‟s all right,” Lara said quickly. She struggled to pull herself together. “I know him.”

Justin‟s mouth tightened. “That doesn‟t mean you have to go with him.”

“Try and stop her,” Gideon invited.

Lara shook her arm from his grasp. “That‟s enough,” she said, her voice sharp as a slap.

Gideon met her gaze. “Your little energy flare just gave away our location. This place will be crawling in an hour. We need

to leave before they get here.”

Lara‟s throat constricted. “What about him?”

“Is he one of us?”

Not human. Not nephilim, either.

“No,” she admitted.

“Then lose him. He‟s not our responsibility.”

He was right. She was still new to her duties as Seeker, but the Rule was clear about their obligations to their own kind.

And the dangers of getting involved with those who were not their kind.

Yet . . .

“Give us a minute,” she said.

Gideon‟s face set, cold and rigid as marble. “Five minutes,” he acceded. “I‟ll wait for you outside.”

Where he could guard the entrance and scan for danger. She nodded.

With another glare at Justin, he left.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked.

“Fine,” she said firmly, whether it was true or not. Why had she felt the pull of his presence if she wasn‟t meant to find

him?

“Listen, it‟s none of my business,” he said. “But if this guy is giving you a hard time . . .”

His willingness to look out for a stranger shamed her. Especially since she was about to abandon him to his fate.

“Nothing like that. We work together,” she explained.

He looked unconvinced.

“What about you?” she asked.

He frowned. “What about me?”

Who are you?

What are you?

“Will you be all right?” she asked.

“I think my ego will survive being ditched for another guy.” The glint in his eye almost wrung a smile from her.

She bit her lip. Their enemies would be circling, drawn by that unexpected snap of energy. She already had to account for

one mistake. She couldn‟t afford another.

Besides, he was not one of them.

He would be safe. He had to be.

“Right. Well.” She slipped her purse strap onto her shoulder. At least now she didn‟t have to drug his beer.

“Take care of yourself.”

As she slid out of the booth, he stepped back, lean and bronzed and just beyond her reach. “You too.”

She walked away, reluctance dogging her steps and dragging at her heart.

Justin watched his plans for the evening walk out the door with more regret than he had a right to. Her tight butt in that slim

skirt attracted more than a few glances. Her fall of dark brown hair swung between her shoulders. The woman sure knew how

to move.

He shook his head. He‟d known she was slumming when she came on to him this afternoon. Presumably she was going

back where she belonged, with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Uptight.

He hadn‟t lost anything more than half an hour of his time. So why was there this ache in the center of his chest, this sense

of missed opportunity?

He took a long, cold pull at his bottle, his gaze drifting over the bar. He‟d been in worse watering holes over the past nine

years, before he got his bearings and some control over his life. Worse situations, in Porto Parangua and Montevideo, in

Newark and Miami. He drank more beer. He fit in with the surly locals and tattooed sea rats better than pretty Lara Rho and

her upscale boyfriend ever could. But he didn‟t belong here. He belonged . . . The beer tasted suddenly flat in his mouth. He