Dawning of Light (5 page)

“Cecilia, dear,” her aunt Genevieve crooned. “This is Derek Jorge. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Cecilia said. “I stuck glue up his nose in primary school.”

Genevieve gave her a disapproving look. “Yes, well, he’s obviously changed quite a bit since primary school. Haven’t you, Derek?”

“I’m quicker now,” he boasted. “You won’t get something like that past me again.”

Cecilia tipped her mug of cider…down the front of Derek’s pants.

“Oops!” she said with feigned shock.

“You did that on purpose,” Derek accused as he pointlessly wiped at his soaked pants.

“Oh dear,” Genevieve said.

“You should probably go change,” Finn advised. “Before someone thinks you wet yourself.” He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he suspected the lightbearer could have just used his magic to pull the wetness out of his pants. Yet he was so flustered that he took off at a jog. Finn laughed.

Genevieve frowned at her niece. “Really, Cecilia, was that necessary?”

“Very,” she assured her aunt. Finn snickered. Genevieve left.

“What was that about?” Finn asked.

“Auntie Genevieve’s not very subtle way of trying to find me a mate,” Cecilia said with a grimace.

Finn decided he’d returned to her side just in time. “Why is the queen trying to find you a mate?”

“I think it’s because Olivia made such a good match with Tanner. She’s hoping I’ll do the same and then start popping out great nieces and nephews for her to dote on. She’s finally figured out that if she herself cannot bear any more children, she should start encouraging the other females in her family to do so.”

“You look like you’re eating a lemon,” Finn commented.

“The idea of mating and popping out babes makes me feel as though I’m eating lemons.”

“Not the maternal sort, eh?”

He watched as her gaze swept over the room. “Not particularly,” she murmured, and he knew there was more to that comment. Much more. He was about to probe when she piped up with, “Hey, look at us. We’ve been conversing for at least five minutes without arguing. For the second time today.”

Finn frowned. “Yeah, it feels weird. Like I should pick a fight with you or something.”

Cecilia laughed. “Are you saying you purposely argue with me?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted with a shrug. “I’m used to a little more excitement than I see around here.”

“Like what?”

He thought about the pack he’d left a few months ago. And the pack master who likened himself to a god.

“Trust me, arguing with you is a better alternative.”

Genevieve appeared again, with another male lightbearer trailing in her wake. This one fawned over Cecilia so ridiculously it was comical. But despite her comment about not being maternal or interested in mating, she did not turn away from his attentions. Finn finally grew so disgusted, he stalked away. If that was the sort of man she liked, she wasn’t even worth arguing with once in a while.

He left the party and moved into the shadows, and when he was certain no one else was around, he shifted into his favorite form, that of a wolf. And then he loped away, in search of one of his favorite pastimes: hunting. The game was certainly plentiful in this part of the world.

A week went by during which Auntie Genevieve dedicated herself to introducing Cecilia to what felt like every single male lightbearer in the coterie. The queen was clearly on a mission, despite Cecilia’s insistence that she was not interesting in taking a mate.

She had taken to staying away from the beach house, in order to avoid her matchmaking aunt. She hated that she had to do so, because Olivia was her dearest friend, and normally, Cecilia spent her days in Olivia’s company. Not to mention the fact that avoiding the beach house meant she spent far more time in her parents’ home than she cared to.

It was Saturday and dawn was just breaking. Cecilia had slipped from her warm bed, dressed in a pair of fleece pants and matching top, several pairs of wool socks, boots, and a heavy down coat. She pulled a cap over her head, gloves over her hands, and left the house.

This time of year was difficult for a species of magical beings who required sunlight to live. November in the Midwest meant shorter days and many were cloud-covered and dreary. Since Aunt Genevieve’s party, every day had been like that. Today was the first promise of a sunny day, and Cecilia determined to meet the sun, to soak up those initial precious rays, alone, with no one to harass her about taking a mate or staying away from shifters.

Her parents had spent the last week not so subtly trying to persuade her to stop spending time with Finn and Tanner and the other shifters who lived within the coterie. She had laughed and said, “If you think you can keep Finn away, by all means.” But when they’d appeared to consider taking her seriously, she’d backpedaled.

“They’re perfectly harmless individuals,” she defended.

“They come from the pack that was most notorious for wanting to kill our kind,” her father argued. “They nearly killed our princess. And now they’ve put a shifter in her belly.”

“
They
haven’t,” she’d drawled. “Just Tanner. He would murder with his bare hands anyone else who touched her. He’s madly in love with her. Why are you so blind to that?”

They still refused to see, and Cecilia refused to change her stance. By the end of the week, she had resorted to simply hiding out in her bedchamber. By that morning, she had to get away.

The village proper sat on a vast stretch of hilly beach that reached from the Great Lake to the edge of the cliff, upon which the king’s beach house perched. Small clusters of trees that had managed to survive the dry, sandy landscape huddled here and there, as if seeking warmth from one another, while they waited for spring to pull the leaves from their currently dormant branches.

The village square was the apex, with various storefronts, restaurants, and taverns all lined up like weathered wooden soldiers. There was a park in the middle of the square. During the summer months, it was a riot of wildflowers, surrounded by wooden benches where lightbearers liked to sit and enjoy the sun’s regenerating energy.

Cottages surrounded the square. Those closest were packed together as tightly as sardines, and as one walked farther away from the square, each cottage had a more and more sandy yard, and the neighbors became more distant. A thick swath of trees ran the length of the beach, from the base of the cliff almost to the water’s edge. A few cottages had been built in those woods. Finn’s home, she knew, was one of them. Her parents’ cottage was just on the edge of those trees. Cecilia wondered if they knew that a shifter lived so close. Probably not. Knowing them, they would insist one or the other move, and she knew Finn well enough to know it wouldn’t be him.

She wondered where he was, but considering dawn was just breaking, she figured he was likely still in bed. She then wondered if he was alone, and she immediately stopped that train of thought because she did not like the red-hot jealousy that surged in her chest. She had no reason to be jealous of Finn or whatever other lightbearer he chose to take to his bed.

Thinking about Finn in bed annoyed her because it reminded her of how long it had been since she’d had such pleasure, and it was entirely his fault. She gave serious consideration to slipping out of the coterie then and there, but she knew that the human world did not wake at dawn, and she didn’t really know what to do with herself while she waited for her favorite tavern to open so she could seek a companion for the afternoon.

Instead, she wandered along the forest’s edge until her boots nearly touched the icy water lapping at the beach. She could see chunks of ice floating in the lake. Experience told her that soon the lake would be frozen over, and it would be impossible to navigate the waters in small crafts, such as kayaks.

Which meant she had precious few opportunities left to meet the sun out on the water, where there was no barrier between her and its soothing, regenerating rays. Soaking up the sun while out on the water was like getting a double dose of sunlight, as it not only poured into her from above, but reflected off the water as well.

Cecilia slipped out onto the great lake to meet the sun at dawn far more frequently than she attempted to slip out of the coterie. So far, no one had stopped her from that particular activity, not even Finn. Then again, Finn was not likely ever to awake at dawn. Especially if he’d managed to take a willing female home the evening before, and had been physically active all night long.

She once again shook off those disturbing thoughts and stepped over an outcropping of rocks, to a small alcove where she stored her kayak for exactly these excursions. She felt a pang over the idea that this would be one of the last times she could do this before spring.

She wore rain boots on her feet, so that she could wade out into the shallows to retrieve her kayak. The chill in the water quickly seeped through her boots, so she hurriedly tugged the kayak out of its hiding place and climbed inside. The wind bit at her exposed cheeks, and Cecilia shivered, but remained determined to meet the sun out on the water. This could be her last chance for the season.

With efficiency born of years of practice, Cecilia paddled the kayak away from shore, farther and farther, until the first rays of sunlight hit her back. Then she maneuvered the kayak around so that she could face the rising sun, closed her eyes, and soaked in the magic—if not the warmth—as the sun steadily rose in the sky. The feeling was better than a jolt of the strongest coffee. It was almost—almost—better than sex.

Actually, these days, it
was
better than sex, she mused, with her eyes closed and her face tilted up to the rising sun. Her last human tryst had been a disappointment, and frankly, so had most of the last few males she had lain with. It was frustrating, because she thoroughly enjoyed the act of sex, so long as it was up to par.

What happened next, happened so quickly that Cecilia was unable to explain precisely what
it
was, even after it was all over and she was out of harm’s way. All she recalled was that one moment, she was sitting in her kayak, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin, musing about her pitiful sex life, and the next, she was tipped to the side, falling into icy water that stole her breath, it was so cold.

She gasped and sucked in water and immediately began thrashing, trying to pull herself out of the kayak. To make matters worse, she’d neglected to put on a life jacket, figuring she did not need it, and it would have been too difficult to secure about her person anyway with all of the clothing she wore.

She struggled to surface, the task made infinitely harder by the layers of clothing that were more hindrance than help now. The cold was so potent, so thorough, she already could not feel her toes, and her fingers would not work like she wanted them to either. Was she really going to drown only a few yards away from the shore of the coterie?

She felt something brush her side. She twisted her head and much to her surprise, she saw a dolphin there, bumping its head against her arm.

A dolphin? It took her long seconds to realize that she was not actually dead, that the dolphin was a shifter—Finnegan, no doubt. She sometimes felt as if he stalked her, although at this moment, she was more grateful than annoyed by that practice.

The dolphin turned its head, showing her its fin, and Cecilia reached out, grasped, and clung to it, as the dolphin pushed them both through the water’s surface. She gasped and choked and spat up water as she continued to cling to the dolphin’s back while it propelled them toward shore.

When they were in water that was almost too shallow for Finn’s flippers to work properly, he made one last, great lunge, surging them forward, and he shifted into human form as he did so. His knees scraped sand, and he turned and pulled Cecilia into his arms, standing and rushing out of the water as he did so.

He ran through the snow-coated sand and dropped to his knees in a small alcove next to the face of the cliff, which was well enough protected from the elements that there was little snow on the ground. By the time he released her, she was shivering violently. Without speaking, he began to undress her, tugging off first the coat and then trying to pull the sweater over her head.

“W-what are y-y-ou d-doing?” she asked through chattering teeth.

“Undressing you. You’re going to develop hyperthermia if I don’t.”

“I d-don’t want y-y-you to s-see me naked,” she protested.

He pulled the sweater over her head anyway. She was in no condition to fight him off.

“If it helps, I’m about to get naked too.”

Her eyes grew wide as saucers. “N-no. Th-that’s worse!”

“Not only that”—he said as he tugged the fleece pants off her legs and then shimmied out of his own pants—“but you’re about to get real close to me, sweetheart.”

When they were both completely naked, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his legs and arms around her and rubbing her back to stimulate the blood flow.

His elevated body heat instantly warmed her body. Cecilia sighed, closed her eyes, and stopped struggling to get out of his grasp.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Cici,” he warned. “You need to stay awake. Talk to me.”

“Stop calling me Cici.”

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.” He reached down, began massaging her feet, effectively encouraging the flow of blood there.

“This is r-really awkward,” she admitted. Her teeth were beginning to slowly stop chattering.

“I don’t know,” Finn mused. “You don’t think we fit together pretty nicely?”

“You think I’m too thin,” she complained.

She was peripherally aware that a certain part of his anatomy certainly didn’t think so. “You’re not too thin. What makes you think that?”

“You,” she said indignantly. “You told me I’m too thin, that I need to eat more.”

“I see the way you eat,” he said. “You
do
need to eat more. But maybe I’ve been too hard on skinny chicks. We really do fit perfectly.” He shifted. His erection jerked. Cecilia sucked in a breath.