Free Tempest Rising by Tracy Deebs Page B

to watch them move in tandem—light and dark, security and danger. Familiar and … I didn’t know how to end the thought as something about Kona felt even more comfortable than Mark, so I just let it go.
    Right before they hit the water, Kona stopped. He said something to Mark I couldn’t hear, then settled on the sand at the water’s edge. Why wasn’t he going? Why had he chosen to hang out on shore when he could be surfing?
    Then he turned to me, pinned me with a look that had my heart beating way too fast. It was a look that said everything and nothing—a look that was irresistible because of the dichotomy.
    Before I could figure out why I was doing it—or talk myself out of it—I stood and headed toward him. It would be nice to get my toes wet as I waited for Mark, I rationalized. That didn’t mean I had to talk to Kona at all. I could just—
    He met me halfway and though he didn’t touch me, I swear I felt the slow skim of his fingers up my arm, over my shoulder, down my back. It was like I was connected to him, and not just physically. A part of me felt comfortable with him, like I could lower my guard and let him see inside me in a way I never could allow Mark.
    I trembled even as I started to sweat in the cool morning air.
    We settled on the sand without saying a word. Kona sat too close to me and I let him—truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop him. We weren’t actually touching, but every breath he took brought his shoulder within a hair’s breadth of mine and I could feel the heat radiating from him like a sun. Within a couple of minutes I was toasty warm, the cold gone like it had never been.
    “How are you doing, Tempest?” His words were quiet, his voice low and sensual and anything but casual. I had to work to keep my tongue in my mouth and my hands on my board even as I realized he was looking for much more than a superficial answer.
    I refused to give it to him. Instead, I stiffened my weak spine and made like his voice—and the rest of him—had no effect on me. “I’m fine. Why?” I wouldn’t turn toward him.
    “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you look like you could catch bullets with your teeth?”
    “I always look like this.”
    “Poor Mark.”
    I did look at Kona then, pinning him with the glare I usually reserved for idiotic freshman boys who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. It had made more than a few cower in fear through the years.
    Kona merely laughed. Hard.
    It sounded like the ocean, like popcorn popping. Like happiness itself. I ground my teeth together so tightly that I swear I felt one of my right molars crack.
    Why am I getting so upset? I wondered as I sprang to my feet and marched the last few yards to the water. It would have been a good exit if I hadn’t tripped in the sand like a total frube.
    He caught me before I could go down, and we stood there a long time, looking out to sea while the water—ice cold and soothing—tickled our toes. Finally, when I couldn’t stand the tension for one second longer, I glanced at Kona, then froze at the picture he made. He looked different with the water touching him—less human, more magical.
    Like he could take on an army and win.
    The thought made my palms sweat, so I took a few more steps into the ocean, my muscles clenching so tightly that I worried briefly that I was going to cramp up.
    Is he really glowing? I shot another look at him from beneath my lashes. No, of course not—it was just the sun shining off all that silky, raven black hair.
    Then what? Something was different. Of this I was absolutely certain. “Are you okay?” I demanded, unconsciously echoing the question everyone had been asking me for the last five days.
    “Yeah.” His eyes smiled at me. “Why?”
    “You look …” I stopped. What could I say that wouldn’t sound totally lame?
    “Yes?”
    I didn’t answer. Instead, I moved deeper, and the currents caught me—played tug-of-war. Pushed me closer to Kona then pulled me