Page 50 of Bishop's Queen

Bishop hit the fast-forward button until he caught a glimpse of Ellain a bikini. She was clearly working, and it wasn’t the right time to gawk. Still, he hit play to slow the fast-forward. The screen lit with her smile, and the speakers trilled to life with magic that could only be her laughter. Bishop watched, mesmerized as she danced in the water.

The beauty on the screen rocked his world. That Ella was so close to the one he’d been in love with before. It reminded him of that quality that made him want to walk through hell for her. He hadn’t been able to place his finger on it… until now.

Ella was on fire.

With passion.

With determination.

She still had that inner determination he had known and loved, and she’d applied it to this world.Thatwas more attractive than her sun-kissed shoulders or beach-bleached hair. Though he wouldn’t lie, that bikini was nice. But not as arousing as the fight she conveyed on screen with just a glance.

He was in way more trouble than he’d initially realized.

“Where are you?” an off-screen voice asked.

“Costa Rica.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Saving the sea turtles.”

Bishop grumbled to himself. The environmentalist saving sea turtles struck him as cliché, except he was mesmerized by the screen—her smile, the light in her eyes, thepassionthey held. But more than just that, it was—

“And how are you going to do that?”

She threaded her fingers into her much lighter, sun-bleached hair, not answering. Instead, she was tying her hair into a bun on her head.

“Ella?”

Bishop knew that voice.

On screen, Ella turned. “I’m going to take them down. Destroy them. I’m going to tell the world that grown men are destroying babies so they can make a quick buck. I’m going to fight them. With my words. Maybe with my fists. And one day, I’m going to win.”

Shivers ran down Bishop’s back. Her words, her fire, were wildly intoxicating. He blindly stared at the woman on the TV and couldn’t have respected her any more. He couldn’t havewantedher any more, and it had nothing to do with the swell of her tan breasts in her bathing suit top or the nice shot of her ass when she spun.

Ella self-consciously took the remote from his hand. “Well, enough of these old things. Why are you looking at me like that?”

His heart beat in his throat, and Bishop wanted to listen to her talknow. About bees or herbs or whatever would make her dance in the water and level him with a stare so fierce he would be able to feel it years later on a video. “What makes you fight, Ella?”

Her head tilted as her laughter and words carried in the background as the video continued. “What do you mean?”

Swallowing away the need to touch her, he stood his ground and clarified his question. “What makes you as fiery as this video?”

She looked over his shoulder. “Everything does. Nothing. I don’t…” She shrugged, but he saw through her self-effacing downplay. “I fight for the cause.”

“Bullshit.” He took a step forward, needing to pull back, needing to run away, but doing no such thing. “What makes you want it so bad?”

“It’s an incredible job. I’m lucky to have this opportunity—”

“What about your work makes you likethat?”He snatched the remote back and hit fast-forward until he saw her burning passion again, then he hit play.

Carefully, as though she were unsure of how to watch, she sidled next to him. The screen panned close to a cordoned-off area with a sign that she’d marked: STAY AWAY. SEA TURTLE EGGS. UNDER SURVEILLANCE.

“You have to tell me.” His throat hurt from how quiet his words were.

“The innocent,” she whispered. “They can’t help the monsters who want to hurt them.”

He nodded, understanding more about her in the last fifteen seconds than he ever had. “No, they can’t.”

What she fought for had nothing to do with air quality or bees or Smart Cars. He could put aside all of her sass and veganism for right now, because the woman on the screen and the woman in front of him were the same person. She was his innocent, who had a monster hunting her in the wild. And she had found her own innocents to care for. For as much as he and Ella had grown as opposites, they were the same as protectors.

“You put your life in danger to rescue turtles,” he said quietly.

“It’s more than that, Bishop. Whatever I could, and that’s what I do now with the videos and blog. It’s just different. That’s how you need to see Eco-Ella.” She leaned against his arm, reminding him again he was still bare chested.

Everything he knew and assumed about Eloise-turned-Ella was wrong. “Maybe I’m starting to.”

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