Chapter 114

Fiona

The sun shines brightly against the clear blue ocean, and I just stare. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, so much so that I can’t take my eyes off of it.

Somewhere behind me, Ethan is rolling our luggage in, but the moment I saw the large windows overlooking the ocean, I ran over. I thought the view from the taxi was amazing, but it’s nothing compared to the view from our balcony.

“Can I go out?” I ask, looking over at Ethan.

“Sure, just be careful.”

Flipping the lock, I push the large window doors open and step out into the warm ocean air. I’ve only ever been to the beach a few times in my life, and that was back when I was a kid. It’s been so long, and I was so young, I don’t remember much about the trips. A few hazy memories try to surface, but the only thing I can acutely remember is we were happy.

Me, Mom, and Dad.

What would’ve happened if my mother hadn’t passed away? Would we still be a happy family, or would their marriage have ended up like mine and Jack’s?

“Do you want to explore today or rest?” Ethan asks, making me turn. He stands behind me, and I gawk at his new outfit.

“When did you change?” I look him up and down, taking in his more relaxed style. I’ve only seen him in comfortable clothes a few times because usually he’s in his suits or a pair of sleep pants when I see him. Now, he’s wearing a pair of faded and worn jeans that look soft and comfortable, paired with a simple black t-shirt.

“While you were staring out the window,” he answers, smirking. His eyes sparkle with a bit of mischief, and before I can say anything else, he moves forward, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me close. “Do you not like my outfit?”

Heat pulses through me, and I bite my lip. If I’m honest, I like his suits, but there’s something about seeing him in regular clothes that is incredibly pleasing.

“I do.”

“I can smell your heat, little mate,” a deeper voice, Zev’s voice, rumbles. I swallow, trying to push down the arousal rising within me. This is not the time. I try to tell myself that, but I can’t help it. Why does he have to look so good in everything he wears?

“I-I think we should go explore,” I stutter, pushing backwards. While I’d love to let him throw me to the bed and have his way with me, I think we should save that for later.

“Smart choice, little mate. If we don’t leave now, I may not let you leave for the rest of the week,” Zev says, nipping at my neck where I have to force myself not to gasp at the shot of pleasure that zings through me. “Let’s go.” With that, Ethan takes my hand and leads through the bungalow we’re staying in.

It’s small but cozy with its neutral colors and natural lighting. The furniture is comfortable and fits well within the small area, and I briefly wonder if Ethan chose the bungalow instead of the hotel down the road for its size. Did he want this to be more intimate?

I hope so.

“Do you want to go to the beach?”

“Yes, please,” I say, sliding my hand into Ethan’s. Our fingers interlock, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand as we walk. I’m not great with directions, and everything our guide told us as we arrived has already fled my mind, but Ethan has no trouble choosing the paths we should walk to get to the beach.

“Is that a Lycan thing?” I ask as I slip my flip flops off.

Ethan scoops them up with his free hand before I can, asking, “What?”

“Finding your way around,” I clarify. “You didn’t even need to ask which way to go to get to the beach.”

Ethan chuckles and grabs his shoes as well, rolling his jeans up twice so they don’t get sandy. I wait patiently at his side for him to answer and to join me on the sand.

“We have naturally good senses, so finding out way around is easy, plus the salty smell from the ocean helps,” he tells me, leading me out into the soft, warm, white sand. It sinks between my toes as we walk, the warm sand and the warm air both surrounding me in a cocoon.

“That must be nice. I’d love to be able to go somewhere and not get lost,” I tell Ethan. “There was one time where I was out of town visiting a friend, and even with the GPS, I got lost. She had to come find me, and we were both late for our dinner reservation.”

Ethan laughs, and the warm sound makes me smile. His laughter is rare, so I soak it in, wanting more.

“Well, you don’t have to be worried about getting lost here. I’ll help you find your way around any time you need me,” he says, squeezing my hand. I smile up at him in thanks, letting the hopeful feeling in my chest expand. Maybe this won’t be a one and done trip.

“So, exactly how good are your senses? How far away can you hear or smell? Wait, is that a question I can ask?” I ask as we reach the water. It laps against the sand, making the grains slightly squishy to the touch. The water washes over my feet as we walk along the shoreline, and I let the warmth seep into me.

There aren’t many people out here, just a few several yards away, which makes it seem like a private beach.

“Fiona,” Ethan tilts my face toward him, “You can ask me anything. Sometimes I may be slow to answer, but I want you to learn about my life. I don’t always think about what to tell you because I grew up surrounded by people who already know about Lycans. If there’s something you want to know, just ask.”

I didn’t think about that, but he’s right. He can’t read my mind, and I can’t read his.

“As for your answer, our senses are a lot like a wolf’s senses with a little extra strength from being supernatural. I can smell almost two and a half to three miles away, maybe a bit further if I have a particular scent I’m latched onto. I can see things that are anywhere from three to five miles away. With hearing, I can hear up to ten miles away if I strain but around six to eight comfortably,” he answers, and I turn to him, amazed.

“That’s insane. Does it bother you being able to hear, see, and smell so much?” It must be hard to have all of that clouding your senses.

Ethan hums in response before he answers, “It’s always been a part of me, so I’ve learned to tune the senses out unless I need them, but there are times when they become too much, or I don’t want them to be so present.”

“I can imagine,” I murmur, squeezing his hand in the only form of support I can think of. We walk along the shoreline, watching the waves and the sun as it travels across the sky slowly, getting ready to set for the day. The warm sea breeze flows around us, turning a bit cooler as the sun goes down.

Comfortable silence falls around us until I can’t hold back my curiosity.

“What can you hear right now?”

“The waves, the conversation that couple is having,” he says, pointing to the couple far behind us. “He’s breaking up with the woman because he fell in love with someone else.” I gawk at him and then glance over my shoulder just in time to see the woman slap the man and storm off. “And I can hear your stomach growling. Let’s get dinner.”

I lay my hand on my stomach, embarrassment flooding and heating my cheeks. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.

“Could we stay here longer? I want to watch the sun set,” I tell Ethan, looking up at him. He nods, pulls his phone out, and sends a message.

“We can take a few more minutes.”

Smiling, I curl into his side and look out at the bright blue water. The way the sun bounces off the water, creating a golden glow, is amazing. I’ve never seen anything so pretty in my life, and it makes me not want to leave. If life outside of our vacation could be this peaceful, it would be nice.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, afraid to break the spell that seems to have fallen over us.

“It is,” Ethan agrees, but when I look up at him, he’s staring at me, not the view. My stomach erupts with butterflies, and I curl further into his side, loving the warmth and comfort he provides.

I sip on the fruity drink Ethan had delivered to the bungalow while I finish rolling the chicken wrap I’m making.

My phone rings, and I sigh. I should’ve left on silent it in the room, but I didn’t think I’d be getting any calls since I don’t really talk to anyone.

“Sorry,” I mutter, glancing at the screen. My father’s name is displayed on the screen, and I sit up. “I should probably take this.”

Stepping away, I move to the small hallway that connects the kitchen to the living room but hesitate. Do I want to talk to my father?

Not really.

The last call we had didn’t go so well. He was awful and blamed me for things that weren’t my fault, treating me like I was less than him. However, he could have an emergency or need my help, and logically, he’s still my father, so I should help him if I can.

By the time I look back down at my phone, the call has fallen through to voicemail. The notification blinks at me, and I sigh again.

Shaking my head, I turn to walk back to the kitchen, but before I can take two steps, my phone rings, his name popping up on the screen again.