Sherrilyn Kenyon - The Dream-Hunter

"Christof!" Geary shouted for the boat's captain. "We need…" She paused as the body sank down below the hungry waves.

There wasn't time.

Her heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline, Geary kicked her shoes off and dove over the side. The coldness of the water stunned her as it covered her completely. Kicking her legs, she swam upward until she broke the surface so that she could look about for him.

Even though the water was clear, Geary had a hard time finding the guy below the surface. She had to keep diving down, then returning for fresh air before she dove back to search for him. Thank God she was a strong swimmer who was trained as a lifeguard and a certified diving instructor. But then it was expected of her as an underwater recovery expert. She had to be as nimble in water as a fish.

She just wished she'd had time to get her gear before she'd come in after him. If she didn't find the guy soon, he'd be dead, especially since he hadn't resurfaced.

Her lungs burned from holding her breath as she dove under the water again. Her ears were buzzing and popping from the pressure as images of him drowning consumed her.

Geary had been twelve years old when Tory's father had drowned only a few miles from this very spot. Images of her father trying to save Theron's life tore through her now as she remembered her father diving for him. Her father pulling Theron out of the water and doing everything he could to resuscitate him.

It'd been awful and the last thing she wanted to do was relive it.

C'mon. Don't you dare die on me. Where are you ? She slowed her speed and turned about as she floated weightlessly in the sea. The light refracted and danced in the blue and green water, highlighting various fish and foliage, but there was no sight of the man she sought.

"Look down."

She frowned at the foreign voice in her head, not understanding the source of it, but she couldn't help obeying it. Looking down, she spotted him just below her. Even though he was trying to swim, he was sinking fast...

His long black hair danced in the water as bubbles floated around him and he waved his arms and legs to no avail.

Relieved she'd found him but scared it might be too late, she headed for him as fast as she could. She came up behind him, then pulled his large body against hers and kicked them toward the surface.

Good grief! The man was huge and made of solid muscle. With next to no fat on him, he was like an anchor in the water. It took a great deal of effort to get them to the surface.

By the time they broke through, both of them were sputtering and coughing.

"Hold on," she said to him. "I've got you." Even so, she half-expected him to fight against her. Most drowning victims did.

But not him. He went limp against her as if he trusted her completely.

Justina and Teddy were in the water already with a life preserver. Together, they got the man into the harness and had him hauled on board, then they followed suit.

By the time Geary was on board the Simi again, she saw the unknown man lying on the deck, covered with a blanket, while Thia was giving him mouth-to-mouth. Geary couldn't see the man's face for Thia.

"Is he dead?" Geary asked, rushing over to them as worry tore at her.

Just as she reached his side, the man coughed up a gallon of seawater. Gasping, he turned quickly to his side and started hacking and wheezing while Thia pounded him on the back to help him clear his lungs. His slick wet skin was completely bronzed and perfect, except for the deep welts that marred his back. The scars were old, but even so they were prominent enough to let Geary know how much they must have hurt when he received them. It reminded her of the way sailors were beaten for punishment back in the old days.

Why would a modern man have such scarring? Who would have beaten him like that and why?

And he wore nothing except a thin pair of long white pants that were plastered against his perfect body… and they showed absolutely everything , right down to his religion and the fact that this man had been rather gifted in a certain department.

He might as well be naked.

"Now there's a man who doesn't believe in underwear, huh?" Justina said in a low tone for only Geary's hearing as she wrung out her hair. "Not that I'm not grateful for it. He has the nicest ass on the planet. No wonder Thia grabbed him for resuscitation. I wouldn't mind a little mouth-to-mouth action with that body, either."

While Geary pretty much agreed with those sentiments, she didn't comment as Tory draped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Hell of a fish you found there," Christof said as he brought more blankets for them. He gave one to Justina and Teddy.

Ignoring him, Geary knelt down beside her catch. The man held himself up with one muscular arm as he continued to breathe in short, sharp gasps. His tangled wet black hair fell over his face, completely obscuring it from her and the others. The tendons of his hands were well defined and beautiful, which made her curious as to what his face would look like.

Would it be as scarred as his back or as pristine and beautiful as the rest of him?

"Are you okay?" she asked in Greek, assuming since they were in the Aegean that he would understand her better in Greek than any other language.

He nodded as he continued to struggle to expel the water from his body. It was almost as if he wasn't used to his own lungs.

His breathing ragged, he lifted his head to look at her through the strands of his wet black hair. And as soon as their eyes met, Geary gasped and fought the urge to cross herself and spit as she came face-to-face with the intense blue eyes of her dreams.

It couldn't be…

It wasn't possible and yet there he was before her in all his almost naked glory. She knew those perfect, sardonic lips. The slash of his dark brows over eyes that were so pale a blue they radiated. She knew that strong jaw, dusted with whiskers. It was one she'd teased with her teeth and tongue for hours on end.

Against all reason, it was him .

Something hot and needful went through her like a sharp needle as she fought the urge to reach out and touch him to make sure he was really here.

Arik couldn't do anything more than stare at Megeara. She was even more beautiful in reality than she'd been in her dreams. Her deep blue eyes captivated him as tendrils of her wet blond hair hung down over them. Her pale skin begged for his touch just as her partially opened mouth needed his kiss.

He started toward those lips, then coughed more as he tried to breathe through the stinging pain in his chest. His body shook uncontrollably as he was assaulted by horrifyingly intense sensations and emotions. Even the cries of the birds above him were piercing to his ears—the droning of the ocean. And the heat of the sun on his skin… it was blistering. Never had he felt so out of control. Why wouldn't his body obey him?

Why the hell couldn't he stop coughing and shaking?

He half-expected Megeara to pound on his back as her accomplice had done. Instead, Megeara's touch was gentle as she lightly hit him to help dispel the water from his now human body.

Then she started to gently rub his back in a circle. Chills spread over him as he felt a heat the likes of which were unimaginable. Forget the heat of the sun, this was even more scorching.

No one had ever touched him so gently and he'd never really felt a touch before, especially not against his flesh. All he wanted was to pull her into his arms and taste the taut nipples that were so apparent through her wet white shirt.

If only his body would obey him.

"I think he's going into shock," Megeara said to the others. "Grab more blankets."

Another woman pulled Megeara away. "Let me look at—"