Chapter 21

Stella

If the boat is a-rocking, don"t come a-knocking. No, that"s too corny.

Raise the sails cause we have liftoff. Hmm, too obscure.

When his lips met mine, the world fell away. Ugh, too purple prose Harlequin.

Yes, this was every thought that went through my brain in the split second before Oz"s lips met mine for the first time. I was crafting a text message in my head to send to my girls. But I had no idea how to begin it. And then my brain short-circuited when my fated mate finally did kiss me. Because it was nothing like I"d ever experienced before.

Yeah, that would make a good email subject line: Nothing like I"d ever experienced before. It would definitely get Niamh and Tori clicking to read the rest of the story. But first I had to finish experiencing the kiss for myself.

It was gentle at first, a tentative exploration that quickly ignited into something more intense—and the color purple exploded all around me in flowery prose.

The moment our lips met, it was as if a dormant volcano within me erupted into life, its lava coursing through my veins, igniting every nerve in my body. His bottom lip was a soft, gentle brush that painted me in vivid colors, while his upper lip was a raging storm that had been gathering force ever since I"d laid eyes on him.

In truth, it was the kind of kiss a girl dreamed about. It was the kind of kiss grown women read about in paperback books from a bygone era. It was the kiss I knew I deserved after swapping spit with frogs for all of my teenage and adult life.

Oz"s kiss consumed me as it left me starved for him. My heart raced as it skipped a beat. His hands, strong and tender, found their way to my back, pulling me closer, erasing any space that remained between us. And then he stopped and let me have control.

My tongue darted out. I tasted the dark spice of him. It spoke of wild, untamed places and whispered promises of protection and devotion. My hands traced the lines of his shoulders, feeling the power that lay beneath his skin. My body pressed against his, feeling the heat of him blanket me with a comforting warmth that enveloped me, making me feel cherished and safe.

It was the best kiss of my life. And it was only our first. There would be tens of thousands from this moment on.

I wanted to tell him that I took back everything I"d just said. I was not going to share him. He was my man. Mine.

Inside my belly, where my heart was climbing back up into my chest, I felt the panther inside me stir. She uncovered her eyes and blinked out at the man who was the other half to her soul.

Was that all she"d needed to wake up? To find our mate?

I leaned back to tell Oz my exciting news. When I did, I felt something wasn"t quite right. Oz was stiff in my arms.

He stared down at me, unblinking. There was struggle in his golden gaze.

Had I done something wrong? Was it my breath? My kissing technique? Had I done something he didn"t like when he"d let me take the reins? Maybe he didn"t like my take-charge attitude?

Maybe he wanted a submissive woman? I"d tried that once in a relationship. It hadn"t worked out for me. The guy could never make a decision. I"d had to top from the bottom the whole time, and it was exhausting.

It wasn"t just Oz who was stiff. The fairy who had crawled away from us was frozen in place. The shifter kid who"d been bouncing a ball had his arms extended in a throw, but the ball had rolled away from him. Every adult on the boat had stopped moving, like they were playing the game Red Light Green Light. But no one had asked me to play.

The world around me tilted on its axis as a sudden eerie stillness fell over the riverboat. No, actually, that was the boat tilting to the side as a dozen men boarded. Not just men—predators.

Pirates had boarded the boat. Shifters with their canines out. Dark elves with malice in their eyes. And vampires. Though none of these vamps were from the Crimson Roses. They were dressed in dark pants that smelled of the river. Uziah would have never let them anywhere near him and his tailored suits.

I felt a moment of relief that they were not after me. Then I realized they didn"t have a clue who I'd once belonged to. And then there was the fact that everyone around me was frozen, their bodies rigid and unresponsive. I stood alone in a sea of motionless figures, a surreal and terrifying tableau.

"Your blood is more potent than I thought, little godling."

I knew that voice. I"d heard it earlier this morning. I looked over to find the witch moving slowly toward me from behind, the men fanning out across the deck.

"Your blood is priceless. It will get me off this swamp. So you"ll understand why I"m going to bleed you dry."

I pressed my body to Oz"s, seeking protection. But he had none to give in his frozen state.

His golden gaze was dull now. But there were sparks at the center. Those sparks urged me to do something. But what? I could barely make it walking through swamp land earlier. What was I supposed to do against a dozen supernatural pirates and a blood-hungry witch? Launder and tailor their clothes with a flick of my wrist?

Actually…

Drawing a deep breath, I extended my hands, palms outward, and concentrated. With another flick of my wrist, the dirt lifted from their garments, coalescing into a tornado of refuse. The dust cloud grew denser and darker, swirling with all the filth I had pulled from their clothes. With a final push of will, I released the cloud, directing it toward their faces in a blinding, choking mass.

The effect was immediate. The pirates stumbled, coughing and swatting at the air as the dirt cloud enveloped them. Their rugged faces twisted in irritation, providing me with a momentary advantage. But it was just that—momentary. As the cloud settled and their vision cleared, they laughed it off and advanced forward.

They were undeterred, their eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt and the promise of plunder. But I wasn"t out of tricks yet. I had just found my fated mate. The hell if I was going to go down before I"d at least tapped that booty.

My gaze darted around, desperate for another solution, and that"s when it hit me. With a flick of my wrist and a focused intention, I called upon my magic once more. This time, I targeted their clothes—those ill-fitting garments that had momentarily been cleansed. I envisioned the fabric tightening, constricting, becoming a second skin that would hinder their movement and buy us more time. And it worked.

Their clothes began to shrink, seams pulling tight against muscles and joints. Especially in the crotch areas. It was a little exhausting because there was a lot of fabric to pull together. But once I hit the spot, it was like watching a scene from a comedic play.

They stumbled, tripping over their own feet as they tried to adjust to their suddenly restrictive attire. But once again, my victory was fleeting. People might call fashion cutthroat. Too bad there wasn"t much I could do to actually cut someone"s throat.

"Cute," said the witch. "But that"s enough play time. No, leave her to me."

A couple of the men had nearly reached me. But under the direction of the witch, they about-faced with a snarl. The first one went to the fairy. I only just managed to look away when he sank his fangs into her neck without any of the finesse that said he wanted to preserve his meal"s life. That bite was one that a living being didn"t come back from. Just like I'd seen in my vision.

The other two men went behind me, headed straight for Oz.