Rae plopped onto a bench as the vessel leapt forward, dropping the sheathed sword next to her.
Zander gave the sword a grim look before he steered the boat north to the coordinates he needed. He knew the sword had been playing with them when it had flown out of Rae’s hand and plunged into the sea. He’d felt a tingle when he’d grabbed it, as though the hunk of metal had been laughing at him. It seriously needed to get over itself.
Rae had her arms folded again and had hunched into herself. She looked out across the water but wasn’t truly looking at it—her eyes were empty.
Zander’s anger surged. What the hell was the Goddess thinking, putting her finger on this young woman who should be laughing with her friends, and chasing male Shifters and making them crazy? Why the hell did the Lupine demand she dust his father—Rae, who was barely more than a cub? The Lupine was as furious as Zander but for different reasons. He didn’t want a female Guardian, didn’t want Rae, but realized he didn’t have a choice.
Fucking Lupines, fucking Shifters. The heat of Rae’s breath lingered on his lips—the nearness of her had crackled the air between them. Her touch and the taste of her fingers had fanned the sparks that had ignited in him when she’d first come on board.
Zander pushed the boat faster. He had plenty of fuel—he never went beyond the distance his capacity could take him. The sooner they got this done, the better. Then Rae could go back to being sassy and in his face, and laughter would light up her eyes.
How many times would this happen, though? Rae’s entire life would be like this, her heart plummeting every time the phone rang, every call maybe being a Shifter who needed a Guardian. She’d face sadness, grief, Shifters avoiding her because her presence meant death.
Sweet Little Wolf didn’t need that. Why the hell hadn’t her father simply pretended the Goddess hadn’t chosen, sent Rae to the ends of the earth, and tried again?
Wouldn’t have worked, and Zander knew it. When the Goddess chose, you either obeyed or you went insane. Zander was trying for both.
The vessel began speeding over the tops of the waves and Rae grabbed hold of the bench. The boat flew into the air and slapped back down on the water, flew and slapped.
“Do you get seasick?” Zander called to Rae over the noise.
“I don’t know.” She wouldn’t let go of the bench. “Not so far.”
“Come and sit next to me.” Zander pointed to the padded copilot’s chair next to his, both seats built large for his bulk. “I’ll teach you to navigate. Who knows when I’ll be passed out and you’ll need to drive?”
Rae gave him a dark look. She squared her shoulders, pushed herself to her feet, grabbed the sword, and lurched the few steps to the second chair. The sword clattered to the deck when she grabbed the back of the swiveling chair to steady herself.
Zander said nothing as she dragged herself around the chair and into it. Her jaw was clenched tight, to keep her teeth from chattering, Zander guessed. Rae gripped the edge of the dashboard, peering out through the windows at the land coming at them.
Zander had told her he was out in the middle of nowhere, but that wasn’t exactly the case. The mountains of Kodiak Island rose sharply to their left, the crags of the Kenai stretched in the distance to their right. Zander guided the boat around the headland, making for Homer.
It was a fine early summer day, sun high, clouds inland but not over the sea, and not too much wind. Perfect for boating, fishing, napping—not for rushing to a dire errand.
Zander heaved himself out of the captain’s chair. “Take the wheel.”
Rae jerked her head around. “What?”
“Take the wheel. I told you I was going to teach you how to pilot this thing.”
“You said navigate.”
“They go together. Sit.”
Rae dragged in a breath then launched herself from one chair and landed in the other. Zander calmly seated himself where she’d vacated and pointed at the readouts.
“This is how fast we’re going—about twenty-five knots. My boat will go a little over thirty but that eats up fuel and is hard on the engine. This is where we are; here’s depth beneath us and the distance to land around us. Don’t hit anything.”
Rae shot him a glare. She gripped the wheel tightly at first but in a few minutes, she loosened her hold as she felt the boat under her like a living, breathing thing, as Zander always did. Sailing was as much about surrendering to the boat and its every sensation as it was checking numbers.
The color returned to Rae’s face as she concentrated on following his instructions. As Zander hoped, the distraction of running the vessel, of staying away from rocks or other fishing boats out for Alaska’s bounty, helped calm her fears.
Boat traffic increased the closer they got to the town, including ships bringing loads of tourists to gawk at how people lived in cold country. But mostly those tourists came for the beauty—high volcanic mountains, blue waters, tall glaciers, and amazing scenery that Zander had only found in this place on earth.
He could see that Rae found it beautiful too. She gazed, enraptured, at the narrow waterway, the blue sea between cliffs and mountains. Zander wished he were showing the wilds to her in better circumstances. But maybe, once they’d finished this task, they could sail leisurely to the fjords, where they could linger in the sapphire blue harbors and contemplate the amazing beauty of land and ice.
He’d take her ashore to explore the wilderness. Not many roads traversed the best places on the Alaskan Peninsula, but as Shifters, they didn’t need to worry about roads. A wolf and a polar bear could run where humans could not.
The long spit of land that ran from Homer into the bay came into sight—the longest natural spit in the world, or something like that. Tall mountains, sharp today in the clear air, were its backdrop.
Zander let Rae steer the boat all the way into the marina, showing her how to slow, how to turn. He raised his hand to other boaters as he passed, recognizing most of them. The fishermen acknowledged him—he’d be a dim figure through the window to them at the moment but everyone knew Zander’s bulk, not to mention his fifty-eight-foot craft.
Rae was a natural. She made every careful turn as Zander slowed their speed. The marina was active today—on such a beautiful afternoon fishermen, tourists, and locals were out enjoying the water and the weather.
“Time to cover up,” Zander said to Rae, as he took the wheel for the final docking. “Find a hoodie or something in my cupboards. We don’t need anyone seeing your Collar.”