voice, “Grab
the life raft, I have him.”
Vince bobbed out of the water, his hands flailing while the
waves around him seemed to lift him on a liquid platform.
Clarissa’s brow furrowed and her frown deepened. Normally,
this wouldn’t be difficult for her. She could even command the water to bring
him back, not just hold him up to keep him from drowning. “Where’s the life
raft?”
He’d been friendly with Jonah for years, but he’d never gone
out on the yacht. For obvious reasons, Ray usually avoided large rivers, lakes,
oceans and streams. Hell, even swimming pools. Water was his opposite. And
opposite powers were what led to the strongest para-talent partnerships. He
glanced at Clarissa. The strain was telling as her arms started to shake. She
hadn’t answered.
“Clarissa,” he called in soft insistence, below the shrill
wind that whipped about them. He knew she heard him this time. “Where is the
raft?”
“Built into the bottom of that bench.” She shrugged a
shoulder in a move that indicated the direction but didn’t turn from where
Vince struggled in the water.
Ray scanned the deck and found a locker with a cushion seat.
He knelt in front of it and banged his knee on the damn thing. His knee
throbbed and rubbing it, he swore under his breath, “Damn it.”
Luck was finally with him. Apparently unlocked, the top of
the chest swung easily. Tucked into the bottom of the seat lay a carefully
folded yellow raft. He banged his fingers. Hissing with the pain, he ignored
the loss of skin as he yanked the raft out and onto the deck. A cord dangled
free, and though he avoided boats all his life, he knew what to do. He yanked
on it.
With a hiss, the small, packed rectangle filled with air
quickly and the raft took shape, quivering on the deck with the force of the
wind and the rocking yacht. A long rope was also stashed in the bench seat. He
attached one end of the line to the bow of the small craft and the other to
Vince’s boat. To secure it, Ray wrapped a hand around the hook attachment and
concentrated on the metal. It melted together, making the clasp useless. The
only way Vince could get away in the boat would be to swim for it or cut the
line.
The little raft was completely empty. There’d be no way for
Vince to cut it.
Ray carefully dragged the inflatable back to the railing.
The yacht continued to buck and roll beneath his feet. So it took a few tries
to latch the free end of the line to the railing without falling backward onto
his ass. With a grunt, he brought the boat up—it was heavier than it looked—and
flung it overboard.
“Good,” Clarissa murmured. “I couldn’t have held this much
longer.” With one hand, she gave a controlled full-armed wave. The pulse of her
power soothed across his skin and raised goose bumps. She was gorgeous. With
her determined look, the wind blowing her hair, and the clothes plastered to
her body, damp and svelte, he had to rip his attention away or get lost in the
idea of her. He bit his tongue, killing all urges to see if his hands could
mold her body as well as her silky shirt.
The boat skated over the water until it slowed with a jerk.
In seconds, the craft drifted near Vince. The water holding the CTF traitor
hefted and surged, throwing the man into the raft with a splash.
Clarissa dropped her arms and plopped down to the deck onto
her knees. Her chest heaved and her hair, no longer carried on the wind, clung
to her. She let her chin fall to her chest as she clearly sought to catch her
breath. Ray couldn’t go to her. Not yet. He gripped the rail and turned to
check on Vince. At this point, he didn’t care if the man made it back to shore,
but if they had him, he needed to be secured.
Only feet away from the boat, eyes closed, Vince lay in the
bottom of the raft. His color had gone back to that ashen appearance, and Ray
didn’t think he was faking the fatigue and utter stillness. He’d passed out
again.
Ray considered the mage. His
the life raft, I have him.”
Vince bobbed out of the water, his hands flailing while the
waves around him seemed to lift him on a liquid platform.
Clarissa’s brow furrowed and her frown deepened. Normally,
this wouldn’t be difficult for her. She could even command the water to bring
him back, not just hold him up to keep him from drowning. “Where’s the life
raft?”
He’d been friendly with Jonah for years, but he’d never gone
out on the yacht. For obvious reasons, Ray usually avoided large rivers, lakes,
oceans and streams. Hell, even swimming pools. Water was his opposite. And
opposite powers were what led to the strongest para-talent partnerships. He
glanced at Clarissa. The strain was telling as her arms started to shake. She
hadn’t answered.
“Clarissa,” he called in soft insistence, below the shrill
wind that whipped about them. He knew she heard him this time. “Where is the
raft?”
“Built into the bottom of that bench.” She shrugged a
shoulder in a move that indicated the direction but didn’t turn from where
Vince struggled in the water.
Ray scanned the deck and found a locker with a cushion seat.
He knelt in front of it and banged his knee on the damn thing. His knee
throbbed and rubbing it, he swore under his breath, “Damn it.”
Luck was finally with him. Apparently unlocked, the top of
the chest swung easily. Tucked into the bottom of the seat lay a carefully
folded yellow raft. He banged his fingers. Hissing with the pain, he ignored
the loss of skin as he yanked the raft out and onto the deck. A cord dangled
free, and though he avoided boats all his life, he knew what to do. He yanked
on it.
With a hiss, the small, packed rectangle filled with air
quickly and the raft took shape, quivering on the deck with the force of the
wind and the rocking yacht. A long rope was also stashed in the bench seat. He
attached one end of the line to the bow of the small craft and the other to
Vince’s boat. To secure it, Ray wrapped a hand around the hook attachment and
concentrated on the metal. It melted together, making the clasp useless. The
only way Vince could get away in the boat would be to swim for it or cut the
line.
The little raft was completely empty. There’d be no way for
Vince to cut it.
Ray carefully dragged the inflatable back to the railing.
The yacht continued to buck and roll beneath his feet. So it took a few tries
to latch the free end of the line to the railing without falling backward onto
his ass. With a grunt, he brought the boat up—it was heavier than it looked—and
flung it overboard.
“Good,” Clarissa murmured. “I couldn’t have held this much
longer.” With one hand, she gave a controlled full-armed wave. The pulse of her
power soothed across his skin and raised goose bumps. She was gorgeous. With
her determined look, the wind blowing her hair, and the clothes plastered to
her body, damp and svelte, he had to rip his attention away or get lost in the
idea of her. He bit his tongue, killing all urges to see if his hands could
mold her body as well as her silky shirt.
The boat skated over the water until it slowed with a jerk.
In seconds, the craft drifted near Vince. The water holding the CTF traitor
hefted and surged, throwing the man into the raft with a splash.
Clarissa dropped her arms and plopped down to the deck onto
her knees. Her chest heaved and her hair, no longer carried on the wind, clung
to her. She let her chin fall to her chest as she clearly sought to catch her
breath. Ray couldn’t go to her. Not yet. He gripped the rail and turned to
check on Vince. At this point, he didn’t care if the man made it back to shore,
but if they had him, he needed to be secured.
Only feet away from the boat, eyes closed, Vince lay in the
bottom of the raft. His color had gone back to that ashen appearance, and Ray
didn’t think he was faking the fatigue and utter stillness. He’d passed out
again.
Ray considered the mage. His
Similar Books
