Annie took a shaky breath, let go of her rage, and dropped to the sand. Blinking, she clutched her head, every inch pounding like she’d had far too much to drink. Only she didn’t remember drinking that much. She closed her eyes, holding her head up, and tried to figure out how she got to the beach.
*
Claire knew who stood on her doorstep before she touched the latch.
Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she tightened the belt on her robe, prayed for patience, and opened the door.
“Hello, Mar—heaven above, what did you do to yourself?” She crouched beside his hunched figure, carefully lifted his chin. Blood stained his face, his chest. Buttons hung from the ragged placket of his shirt. “Can you stand?”
“I believe so.”
“Give me your hand.”
He obeyed, and Claire helped him up. He made it to the door, stumbling as he stepped over the raised threshold. Claire tightened her grip on him, led him to the chair in her small foyer. She brushed the curling hair off his cheek, startled by the sweat coating his skin.
“Your Annie hates me,” he said. “Is that sufficient for you?”
“Marcus . . .” Guilt scored her. She crossed her arms, noticed that her tattoo no longer hurt. “Tell me.”
He did, in eye-opening detail. By the time he finished his voice was scratched raw.
“I presume I made the correct move.”
“Oh, yes. She despises players—especially when they change their play midstream.”
Marcus pushed sweat soaked hair off his forehead.
“I have been forced to heal myself twice in one day. I no longer have—” Swallowing, he stared past her.
Claire had never met a Jinn who showed any vulnerability—never mind admitting it.
“What happened to you?”
He closed his eyes, silent for so long she didn’t expect him to answer her. He did, finally, his voice heavy.
“I was—cast out, when my wife died in my place.”
Heaven help me. She wanted nothing to do with this, with him. But she had been the cause, the reason for his suffering. Twice now.
“Marcus, look at me.” After a long moment he did, his eyes dark with grief. “When did this happen?”
“I hid myself away, Claire. I found the deepest, coldest cave, and buried myself in it. The cold leached my power, just as I had hoped. But it kept me alive as well. I meant to die in that cave—I should have, hidden away from the sun, unable to touch the sand. When I returned to the world, more than three hundred years had passed.”
“That explains a few things. How long ago?”
“Three months now. I had to leave—the home, the life I once knew no longer exists.”
His hands shook, fists clenched until his knuckles pressed against skin. Claire covered his hands with her own, jerked when heat flared up her arms.
“You’re still—”
“Tapped in, to my power. It takes time for me to let go. A result of my self-imposed imprisonment. The reason healing is difficult for me.” She moved her hands, not wanting to drain him further—and Marcus caught her fingers, studying her. “I am not the only one carrying such a burden.”
Claire pulled her hands out of his grasp and backed out of reach.
“It’s nothing.” When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “An old illness. No one can do anything for me, so I don’t talk about it.”
“Yet people have noticed.”
“If by people you mean Annie—yes. I don’t want to worry her, but I don’t want her to think it’s worse than it actually is. Can I get you something?” The other eyebrow went up. “It’s my fault you ended up accosting my best friend—”
“Claire.” She met his eyes. “She won’t remember. I gave her that much before I left her.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded her. “You know it may not stick. She has a good bit of power. It’s raw, but she can control it if she focuses.”
“She showed me.” He described what she had done. Claire shook her head, not surprised. “Your Annie has quite the temper.”
“You simply pushed her hottest button. Stay here—I’ll get you some water. And something for that headache.”
A smile touched his mouth. “I will not ask how you know. And thank you for your hospitality.”
“This is all conditional, Jinn.”
“And what would that be?”
“Stay away from Annie.”
Marcus closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, his eyes were a hazy green, brushed over with regret.
“If it means staying away from you, I can’t make that promise.”
“Damn it—”