Miles: Dragon Heartbeats, #6

1

Miles

If I had to observe my cousin Gate and his mate much longer, I’d lose it.

Not that I was jealous. Far from it. Jealousy was never one of my weaknesses. I was glad that he’d found his mate after waiting for so long.

A thousand years could leave a man with a strong craving. It was just as much of a victory for him to find his fated mate as it was for any of the rest of my family back in the cave.

I merely wished they weren’t so damned lovey-dovey about it. Was that too much to ask? No matter where I went, no matter how secluded the nook into which I retreated with a book or simply with the objective of having a little time to myself, there they were. Staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, arms wrapped around each other, exchanging murmured terms of endearment in between sloppy kisses.

More than once did I fight back the inclination to order them to the room they shared. Why couldn’t they have their little honeymoon period there? In privacy? None of the others had behaved this way. I thought that might have been what got under my skin the most.

It didn’t matter that I was the last of the group to be left alone, no matter what Alan or Dallas or any of the others supposed. More than once, I reminded them that we hadn’t been familiar with each other in a millennium. Enough time for an entire ocean of water to pass under the bridge. I’d grown up a lot since those days back in Scotland.

Unlikely, Alan laughed the first time I asserted this. You’re the youngest, and you’ll always be the youngest. No matter how much time has passed.

I’ve more than proven myself worthy, I reminded him as we rode through the jungle in the truck Mary had lent us for the day.

I had needed to get away from the resort for a while—it was paradise, no doubt, but also the place where my entire clan was holed up. No matter how fond I was of them, no matter how much of a relief it was that they were safe again, there was only so much I could take of the incessant chatter and laughter and always the chance of running into the new lovers.

I’m sure you’re a good man in a fight, Dallas agreed. Still, always the one to make peace. He hadn’t changed a bit, any more than his cousin Alan. Their fathers were twin brothers, reflected in the dark red hair and green eyes they shared. Ainsley, Alan’s twin sister, was nearly his mirror image.

Thank you, I replied, slightly mollified.

But you’re still the youngest, he chuckled, then ducked to avoid the slap I tried delivering to the side of his head as Alan laughed.

Relax, he urged me. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself out here, are you not? Or would you rather have gone back to Appalachia?

You say it like that’s a bad thing. I happen to like it there. Not that I have much of a choice, I added. But it’s a beautiful place.

And I had carved a deep enough niche for myself there that I could retreat and have my alone time with a reasonable amount of confidence that there wouldn’t be any interruptions. Even with the size of our group growing ever larger, my daily routine hadn’t been too drastically disturbed.

You’re a creature of habit, Dallas observed.

I am that—and aren’t you? A person doesn’t live as long as we have without developing certain habits. I’m fairly set in my ways, thanks very much.

Better hope you never meet your mate, then, Alan ribbed. Your life will never be the same after that.

As if you’d know, his cousin laughed.

I tuned out while the two of them had a good-natured argument. I’d yearned to do a little exploring and stretch my legs, and all we’d done so far was talk about things I’d rather not discuss. Such as my personal life in general.

Let’s stop here, I suggested, pointing to a stretch of sand a little way up the road.

It was just visible through an opening in the palm trees and looked warm, inviting, and blissfully empty. I was out of the truck almost before it stopped, and stripping down to my boxers by the time the guys joined me at the water’s edge.

A bit eager for a swim, Alan grinned.

Something like that. The fact was, I couldn’t have explained why I was so eager to get out at that very spot, at that very moment.

It was more than a matter of getting away from the conversation—I could handle joking and ball busting. I’d been doing it for centuries. What else was there for us to do, especially prior to the advent of the technology which had taken the place of endlessly long conversations and the hours of boredom we’d once lived through?

I needed to be here, on this beach, at this exact moment. My dragon told me so, and he was never wrong.

There were times when I was certain that his voice, always present in my mind, was the only true thing I could count on. My instincts were never off, and I knew better than to ignore them. They were telling me to be there. Where else would I be?

This wasn’t something I could share with Alan or Dallas. Perhaps in the old days, back home, before so many centuries had passed without our speaking to, or seeing each other.

Simply put, Alan and Dallas just didn’t understand me, didn’t come close to sharing the sort of bond I had cultivated with the others, the ones I share the cave with.

I never thought I’d miss Cash or Fence or any of them, but I did just now. I missed our shorthand, the way we could understand what the others were thinking without having to explain too much. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it could be to make myself understood until just then.

The scenery around us was idyllic, and I couldn’t help but let my stress melt away as I swam out until the sand was nothing more than a line in the distance.

There were a series of cliffs off to my left, with rocks along the base on which waves crashed. The word tranquil didn’t begin to describe it.

Except for one thing.

I wished I could shake the feeling that something was wrong.

We should cliff dive! Alan called out from where he treaded water, yards behind me.

I took another look, then shook my head. Unless you want to paint the rocks, I called back.

There were far too many. A person would have to take a running leap starting a great distance from the edge.

I was in no such mood and wasn’t sure I could shift in time to save my reckless neck.

She is! He pointed up, shielding his eyes from the late-morning sun.

I looked up, too, and knew the moment my eyes locked on her that she was the reason I was out here, that I had chosen that spot and swam out that far because of her.

From that distance, I could hardly make out any of the details of her face or body. She was little more than a silhouette standing against the deep, blue sky. Still, I knew she was the reason I was where I was. Nobody needed to tell me.

Just as I needed no announcement that something was terribly wrong.

She can’t jump, I muttered when Dallas reached me. She’ll never make it without hitting the rocks.

Maybe she’s sightseeing, he suggested, sounding doubtful.

Maybe. I didn’t believe it. I also didn’t take my eyes from her.

A gust of wind blew over her and carried the scent of her hair, skin, and clothes with it.

I breathed her in, my eyes closing without my intending them to. She was a rare perfume, one I had never smelled before and would never be able to get out of my head.

Does she see us? Alan asked, waving his arms over his head as if to warn her.

I don’t think so. She’s not looking down.

Instead, she stared off at the horizon, the picture of regret. It was in the slope of her shoulders, the position of her head. Perhaps my imagination played me false, I tried to reason, but the dragon knew better. He was alert, all but holding his breath as we watched to see what the girl on the cliff would do. The tension was nearly unbearable.

Until it broke.

Until she threw herself off the cliff.

2

Savannah

It’s all over. It’ll be better this way. Faster.

I had already been dying inside for as long as I could remember. From that terrible day in Papa’s study, when I overheard him discussing plans for the rest of my life without the benefit of my presence.

The look on his face when I had made my presence known. He wasn’t even sorry to see me cry. Annoyed, more like. Annoyed that I was bothering him with my emotions. How dare I? And how dare I labor under the illusion that my life was my own?

There was still one thing I could do. One step I could take. One statement I could make. A final statement. The punctuation at the end of the short, pathetic sentence that was my life.

I parked the Jeep as close to the cliff as I dared. I could’ve driven it over the edge, but I didn’t want there to be any questions as to how it happened. No way to pretend it was an accident, that I had made a wrong turn or something.

I wondered if it would hurt very much.

A