Page 5 of Klaus

“Enjoy. The water is just wonderful.” I dove in, touching the sandy bottom before slowly kicking my way to the surface once again. It was a short journey, the water perhaps no more than ten feet deep where I’d come to a stop.

When I resurfaced, he was swimming to me, powerful arms allowing him to cut through the water like a speedboat. I moved out of the way, giving him wide berth, then began slowly paddling my way back to shore.

“I don’t bite,” he promised on surfacing, shaking the hair out of his eyes and chuckling at what he likely saw as shyness on my part.

“Perhaps I do,” I called out over my shoulder, having turned my attention to the shoreline. “I suppose you’ll find out for yourself once we’ve reached Scotland.”

The mere mention of the place sent bile rushing to my throat. Would it ever feel like home again?

Especially when I wasn’t myself?

I was deliberate in my actions as I walked from the water, very aware of the amount of skin I revealed with each step. Soon, the waves curled around my ankles, and if Klaus was watching, he’d see the pink panties and bra I’d been swimming in. If anything, my costume was more modest than what I’d seen girls wearing on TV and in movies.

Even so, I felt naked. Goosebumps rose over my skin when the breeze drifted through the trees and touched me. I wrung my hair out before sliding into my dress, the linen sticking to me in a dozen places.

But I wouldn’t look over my shoulder. I didn’t want to find him looking at me. There was already far too much weighing on my mind. An unfamiliar lion shifter was the least of my problems.

We’d be leaving in the morning, before the sunrise. I missed my room back home, the only home I’d ever known. As comfortable as the resort was, as luxurious, it wasn’t the same as being truly comfortable in a space meant only for me. I never felt quite settled in. A thousand years in the same place made adjusting to a new location an impossibility.

The pavement was hot beneath my bare feet as I walked down the winding path which led from the beach, through the grounds, and into the shining, white building with its plywood-covered windows. The pool was packed with those like me who’d decided to get a little extra swimming and sunning in before going back to the mountains.

I waved to Leslie and Isla, both of whom stretched out on deck chairs beneath a wide umbrella. My twin brother, Alan, was playing some sort of game with Dallas, Owen and a handful of Mary’s men which involved a ball and a lot of splashing and yelling.

Amazing, really, how terrible the circumstances were which led us there, and how the unknowing outsider would never be able to guess at first glance our reason for being on the island at all. We looked like a bunch of young, frisky people on holiday.

I supposed it was easier for them to think of themselves that way, as well. Better than remembering what happened to us, how hopeless things had looked before Gate and Miles had come to save us.

It’s good that we’re leaving. It’s good that we’re going home. The fewer reminders of that time, the better.

That wasn’t the case for me, sadly.

I carried a reminder with me all the time.

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