The Shifter's Kiss

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He smiled at the game against his mouthpiece and waited for her teasing play, but as he did so, a rough sound intruded. The thump-thump-thump of an engine approaching before it cut off. A short distance away, closer to the open ocean, the shadow of a boat darkened the ocean floor.

He looked up just as two men dropped into the water, spear guns in hand.

They moved quickly toward him. Toward her.

Victor realized then that during their little game, she had become trapped in a cul-de-sac of coral walls. The only way out was past him and the two spear fishermen.

Even as he thought that, a flash of silver sped past him in the water and skimmed close to the shark’s body before smashing into the coral.

A second later, a second spear just missed the shark’s dorsal fin as the great animal surged upward, trying to put distance between itself and the other divers.

Victor glanced toward her only to find that her way out was closed off there by one of the divers who swam close to the surface, training his weapon on the shark.

Pushing off the bottom at the same time as the animal dove downward, Victor placed himself in the line of fire and held his hands out, urging the fishermen to stop their assault.

A burble of air escaped the spear gun only a moment before agonizing heat tore through his side, stealing his breath. He looked down at the spear piercing him as dark circles danced before his eyes. Battling the pain, he maintained consciousness only long enough to register the blood oozing from his wound while below him the school of reef sharks moved as one, surging up in his direction.

The blood, he thought. They would begin a feeding frenzy at even the faintest trace of it, much less the steady stream coming from his side as he slowly drifted downward.

He was a dead man unless he could somehow get to the surface and away from them. He tried to swim with his one arm, but the movement brought debilitating agony through his side. Bracing his hand against the spear, he tried to stem the flow of blood as the sharks came ever closer, but he couldn’t.

A bump came against his fins as one of the school swam past his feet, but, to his surprise, the sharks raced past him and toward the two other divers in the water. As one they rammed the men with their snouts as if they were dolphins, driving the men away from him and from the queen shark.

Over and over they attacked until the men had been pushed back to their boat, bruised and slightly bloodied from a bite or two. The swarm of sharks circling the hull of the boat obscured it for a moment, but then the engine kicked in and the boat sped away.

Safe. She was safe for now, he thought as he slowly sank to the bottom and prepared to die. Each time he tried to move, the pain immobilized him. He would never reach the surface without help and he doubted the two divers would be quick to put in a call to anyone.

But still he hoped, calming his breath to conserve oxygen. He kicked weakly to move closer to shore, but the reef he so loved was in the way of salvation.

A shadow fell across the pink–white sand only moments before she joined him on the ocean floor, circling around anxiously. He held out his hand and she swept past it before swimming away. The next time she came, she slipped beneath his outstretched arm and her fin caught against him, lifting him upward.

In his mind he heard, “Hold me.” Or maybe he thought he did. His thoughts were scattered, his brain disoriented from the pain. But even with that, he did as she asked and circled her thick form with his good arm. Beneath it came the flex of muscle as the mighty shark moved him up and over the wall of reef and toward shore.

It was like flying. The reef below him rushed past in a blur of speed until the kaleidoscope of colors and marine life gave way to smooth sand.

He tried to rise as his fins scraped the shore, but his knees were rubbery. With a push, however, she was lifting him upward, above the ocean’s surface.

He spit out the mouthpiece and groaned as the weight of the scuba gear and the spear in his side brought fresh rounds of pain.

“You’re almost there,” he heard in a soft voice—feminine and with the slightest trace of an accent.

He glanced over and forced his eyes to focus past the fog forming on the inside of his mask.

The woman from his dreams stood there, his arm draped over her bare shoulders. Dark-grey eyes filled with worry as she bore his weight and half-dragged him from the surf.

“Who are you?” Even speaking hurt as the breath necessary for words pulled at the spear through his side.

“Nali,” she said as she continued plodding through the surf with him, her gait slightly unsteady. Like that of someone trying to find balance on a rolling ship or a little toddler learning to walk.

That unsteadiness combined with the ungainliness of his flippers sent them tumbling down into the calf-high water. As they fell, she tried to shield his body with hers but failed.

The end of the spear hit the soft sand, driving it deeper through his body in a blast of searing pain.

This time there was no holding back the darkness that clawed its way into his brain and he blessedly released himself to it, ending his agony.

* * *

Nali muttered a curse at his rough groan and the heavier weight of his body.

He had passed out for sure, and as strong as she was, he was bigger. His weight combined with that of his scuba gear was difficult to handle after so many months away from land. Still, she had to get him from the ocean and to somewhere she could tend to his wound.

With a mighty shove that had her feet sinking into the soft, wet sand, she pulled him upright. As she did so, she caught sight of her father rushing toward them from his home.

“Nali,” he cried out, joy alive in his voice until his gaze settled on the man and the blood streaming down his side, turning the water at their feet a sickening pink.

Her father rushed forward through the surf and slipped the man’s other arm around his shoulders. Together they dragged him out of the water and gently lay him down on the sand.

“What happened, daughter?” he asked while he worked at removing the man’s gear.

“Spear fishermen. I came too close to the reef, and they were there, hunting for me. He tried to stop them,” Nali answered, keeping to herself the reason why she had ventured into waters where she was no longer safe.

“The spear has not hit anything vital, but we must get it out to stop the bleeding.”

Nali nodded and jerked her chin in the direction of her old shack. “Is he staying there?”

Her father nodded. “You have not used it in so long—”

“It’s okay, father. I understand,” she said and lay a gentling hand on his muscled forearm. The hairs there were growing silvery, a reminder of the immortality he had given up for a life on land.

“Let’s get him inside then,” her father said. Together they lifted Victor from the sand and dragged him to the thatch-roofed building just yards away from the water. His feet banged the steps with dull thuds as they carried him inside to the bed, where they gently placed him on his uninjured side.

Nali glanced around her old home. It was familiar but not. The man’s belongings had cluttered up the once neat spaces around the single room. In deference to her father, she hurried to her closet, took out a robe and slipped it on before returning to the bedside. As she examined the man’s wound, her father sprang into action, gathering towels and bandages for tending to the injury.

The spear had bit through muscle about an inch in from his side. Deep enough to be painful but luckily not far enough inward to hit anything vital.

She worked quickly to unscrew the barbed head of the spear and placed her hand against his flesh to hold the shaft of the spear steady. His skin was warm with life but wet with his blood. She applied pressure there while drawing out the spear with a steady hand.

Even though he was unconscious, he groaned from the pain. For a moment his eyes flickered open, but then dropped closed once more. Marvelous blue eyes, like the ocean that was truly her home.

As she worked the spear out of his flesh, a sickening sucking sound turned her stomach as the spear came loose and blood flowed freely from the wound. Her father quickly joined her, packing gauze against the exit wound as she did the same to the front. Then they bandaged the injury tightly, using the pressure to stem the bleeding.

Satisfied with their handiwork, they gently lay him flat on the bed. Nali experienced relief at the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat beneath her fingers as she checked his pulse.

“Will he be all right?” she asked as her father brought over a basin with fresh water and a towel so they could wash his body clean of the ocean’s salt and his blood.

“If infection doesn’t set in.”

Infection. She’d forgotten how fragile mortal bodies were but was reminded of it yet again as she passed the damp towel across the scars marring a large part of his left upper body. She ran her fingers along the rough skin, wondering how he had been hurt.

“Burns,” her father said, in tune with her thoughts. Then he quickly added, “He was a firefighter.”

She nodded and continued her chore. Seeing that she was apparently in no rush, her father pulled up a chair opposite her and sat.

“It’s been too long, daughter.”

“It has, and I’m sorry. But it’s no longer safe for me to visit too close to shore. I wish I could visit and spend more time, but you know that after a week, each day that passes makes it harder to shift back.” Holding the man’s arm, she wiped it clean and tried to ignore the skitter of desire at the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. Tried to keep her gaze from wandering to the leanly muscled body whose beauty was not diminished by the scars. If anything, the scars were like a badge of courage from his past profession.