Page 312 of Primal Bonds

Stronger, more supple. Wild. Free.

She remained beneath the surface for several minutes, not resurfacing until she was a few hundred yards out, the shoreline curving behind her in a giant C. Ahead, the flash of the Harbor of Refuge Light marked Cape Henlopen and the Delaware Bay’s western boundary. The Breakwater Lighthouse was a little before it, but unlike its sister lighthouse, it was dark, having been decommissioned years ago.

She set out for the Point on a path parallel to the shore.

That had been a night fae on the balcony. Or maybe the woman was a mixed-blood, because Rosana had never heard of a pureblood night fae with blond hair.

Fear tripped up her spine.

Somehow, that woman was connected to her vision. Nothing else made sense. But how?

She knew Prince Langdon was out for blood. His only living son, Tyrus, had gone missing last June after attacking Adric’s clan. The Baltimore fada had clammed up about what really happened, but everyone knew Tyrus was dead, with Adric the chief suspect.

But without proof, Langdon had done nothing. Yet.

Still, Adric wasn’t the type to wait around for the prince to attack. If he thought Langdon was a threat, he’d strike first.

But when? And more importantly, how could she stop it?

If only she knew more.

She gave a frustrated swish of her tail. Helpless, and hating it.

If what she’d Seen was true—and she’d never had such a clear, detailed vision before—Adric was going after Langdon soon.

And he’d die.

The swim to the Point took about fifteen minutes. Rosana navigated with sweeps of her sonar, emitting sound and interpreting the echoes: the curved shape of the shore line; the fishing pier that jutted into the water; a school of Atlantic croakers; a shipwreck dating to the 1700s.

A stack of huge granite slabs loomed before her, the half-mile-long breakwater that gave the lighthouse its name. She surfaced on the inner side of the breakwater a safe distance from the rugged slabs. The sky above was clear, the stars white pinpricks in its dark cloth.

She scanned the beach. No sign of Adric.

She slapped her tail against the water a couple of times. The breakwater blocked the Atlantic to form a calm, quiet harbor. If he was nearby, he’d hear her.

She waited a minute and then smacked the water with her tail again.

Still no Adric.

Her stomach clenched.

Stop worrying. The man’s an alpha. A big cat with teeth and claws.

A pod of three wild female bottlenoses appeared, drawn by the commotion. They were larger than Rosana’s six-foot length, but friendly. They greeted her with a mixture of squawks, whistles and clicks.

Rosana replied in their language, and they circled her.

Who, who who? whistled the eldest female, a motherly sort with small, wise eyes.

Visitor, Rosana replied. I mean you no harm.

Why, why why? the motherly bottlenose asked.

Meeting a friend. But he’s not here. Worried.

Sorry… We wait.

Their bodies brushed hers, offering comfort.

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