Jordan could only control that one piece: water.
Thankfully.
He did not want Ferrous’s skill. For with that skill came enormous responsibility. Immersing the shore was all Jordan could have done here tonight…if that. He frowned. His body still hummed in remembrance of the power from the bite, yet his active powers had waned the last five years and continued to dwindle. So had the last of the four brothers, Madoc’s. None of them knew why.
With the spell Ferrous cast, no one—including Jordan—would see the wreckage until Ferrous cleared the spell, and then everything would be left just as it had been. They could then take what was salvageable and bury at sea what was not.
The fair-haired beauty. Bitten and broken on the grass.
A chill raced across the bands on his elbows. He closed his eyes, and her image flashed before him. Golden hair swept up with pearls as she danced in a ballroom. His brow pinched. An odd vision, given that he was not near his element. He normally saw visions only when he was in water.
A residual effect of the bite?
It didn’t matter. She was dead, and he needed to be in London. He wished he could have seen her eyes. Were they blue? Green? Brown?
He should have buried her. She would rot there, a tangled mess in that pretty pearl dress. A beautiful woman so young and dressed so finely would be missed by someone. A father. A mother. A husband. If she were his, finding her that way would break his heart.
Footfalls fell hard and fast on the earth behind him.
Enough.
Ferrous came up from behind and wrapped his fingers over his shoulder. “It was kind of you. Your mouth and groin without a doubt are searing.” He huffed out a breath as they walked beside each other down the path toward the main road.
“It’s not so bad. Twenty years have passed. I forgot most of the thrill and all of the sadness that comes from the death.”
“Biting never affects me that way. Though I know you have said as such in the past.”
How could biting not be vexing for all of them? Jordan and his brothers killed in an attempt to find their mates. Yet in five hundred years, not one of the four Zir brothers had found theirs. The women died, and with each death, Jordan’s dream of her, his mate, floated farther from a reality. He swallowed hard as his feet picked up pace on the trail to the main Harwich road. At least this time he had not one prior hope pinned on the golden beauty that died by his Zir blood. She would have died anyway.
Chapter Two
Wedding cheer, and love and bliss for humankind. Grrr. Jordan rolled his eyes. He hated this sort of spectacle. If he only understood what finding a mate was like… That would make this ball interesting. As it was, he would stand in the corner and grumble. He cleared his throat, and the corner of his mouth twitched as he forced a smile. This was as hard as his bite two days past…almost. He strode into the Duke of Hudson’s blue-and-gray ballroom.
The scent of sweat and arousal clung to the room as the small gathering of London’s elite fluttered about this out-of-character evening wedding ball.
Scandalous was what the Ton called the odd time. If they only knew the true meaning of this hour: that the duke had interesting friends, friends like the Zir, and some could not face the light of day.
Jordan tugged on the bottom of his tight-fitting yellow-and-gray-embroidered waistcoat. His presence was needed here this night. For Ilmir. He frowned. Well, the truth was that Ferrous said Jordan needed to be here. That was the only reason he had come. He had no clue what Ilmir had done this time as Ilmir had gone missing since their return from the Isle three days past. Typical Ilmir. Cause a fuss and hide. This event would pull him out, however, as their brother never missed one of the Duke of Hudson’s events. When they found Ilmir, they would learn of his folly, and steps could be taken.
But where was he?
Jordan glanced to the right and tensed as his gaze touched on a group of finely dressed ladies and gentleman. Slowly, each one turned their heads to stare at him. Cold eyes. Colder thoughts. Chills washed his neck.
No warm haze of Zir likeness resided in that direction. Nothing resided that way but the prickly stress of humans. Not that he disliked humans. Some were tolerable. Some he called friends, though his friends did not reside here this night. Besides, he was part human himself, or so he liked to think. The truth was that the Zir knew little about themselves.
Each set of eyes settled on him. Thoughts slammed, same as always, into his mind.
“Gracious! Look at the white streak in his hair,” one woman thought.
Jordan frowned.
“I bet he is equally wild as he looks in the act,” thought another.
He paused, then turned his gaze back to the woman, whose stare had touched on him last. The tall, black-haired woman smiled at him with red full lips, then flipped open her fan and waved it vigorously.