Page 44 of Jewel of the Sea

“Hell, Randy, this one’s a firecracker.” Cyrus wore an amused smirk beneath his hard-eyed gaze.

Aymee turned her glare to him, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. “I want my sketches back. Now.”

“I don’t have them, Aymee. I’m not a damned thief,” Randall said.

“That’s right,Aymee,” Cyrus drawled. “He doesn’t have them.”

“Youdo,” she said.

Cyrus stepped around the other ranger and approached her. He towered over her. “Prove it, fish-lover.”

Aymee balled a fist and, without thought, she punched Cyrus in the face.

His head snapped to the side. He slowly turned it back to her, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Gonna have to do a lot better than th—”

A choking noise cut off his words as Aymee rammed her knee into his crotch. He doubled over, face red, hands dropping to his groin. She placed her palms on his shoulders and pushed him to the floor.

“Donotspeak to me that way again,” she said through clenched teeth.

Cyrus grunted and reached up. His face darkened as he took hold of the table’s edge and dragged himself to his feet. “You little fish-loving—”

Randall and the other ranger imposed themselves between the two at that moment. Items rattled on the table as they restrained Cyrus. Before Aymee could get another shot in, Randall caught her wrist.

“Enough, Aymee. It’s probably best you go,” he said.

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and stepped away from him. “I want them back, Randall. Someone was in my room. Someone took them, and I don’t care if it was you or him. I want them back.” She turned and stomped toward the door.

“That’s not what we do, Aymee,” Randall called, raising his voice over Cyrus’s swearing.

Aiden blocked her. “Are you okay, Aymee?”

“I’m fine. Sorry for the disturbance.”

He looked over her shoulder, toward the rangers, for an instant. “I’d kick them out if I could, but…” he whispered.

“I know. Thank you.”

He nodded and moved aside, letting her leave.

Chapter 9

The evening sun crept toward the watery horizon, its angle casting illumination on most of the sand beneath the overhang. The scents on the wind teased a coming storm, but only sparse white clouds drifted across the sky.

Arkon clenched his jaw as he stared at the tiny stones and shells scattered in the sand. He’d intended to create something new for Aymee, another surprise, but his plans had met only frustration. He was too preoccupied. Whenever he sought a potential pattern in his mind’s eye, his thoughts returned to that morning two days before.

To the hurt in her voice.

He raked his claws over the design he’d etched into the sand. For all his curiosity, all his excitement, all his interest in Aymee, he’d fled the situation. He’d allowed his lack of experience to become a lack of self-control, andshehad paid the price.

The tip of his tentacle still tingled with the remembrance of her taste, scent, and feel. It had been so potent he’d nearly tasted her on his tongue. In that moment — when he’d touched her, flesh to flesh — he’d wanted her so much it hurt. He’d extruded almost instantly. The immense, aching pressure in his shaft would’ve burst at her slightest touch.

He stared down at the backs of his hands and the tiny grains of sand sticking to them. Creativity had never been difficult for him; he saw intricate patterns everywhere, and his visions for his work were always clear from their inception.

That had all seemed to flee him after hurting Aymee.

Lifting his head, he glanced down the beach. His hearts stilled when Aymee rounded the bend in the cliffside and entered his view. Her brows were drawn, and she wore a troubled frown. Turning away, she walked backward, seeming to search the beach behind her.

Arkon pushed himself upright. He’d never seen her in such a state, and he’d only himself to blame. Perhaps he valued knowledge and learning more than any of his kind, but he’d been a fool.

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