Conn argued their people‟s survival depended on a closer alliance with mortal kind. The old divisions were blurring, no
more so than on World‟s End with its muddle of human emotions and selkie bloodlines. Margred and Caleb, Dylan and
Regina, Conn and the targair inghean . . .
“Not that far apart,” Zachary sneered. “Or you wouldn‟t have me.”
The look, the tone were a younger version of Morgan‟s own.
Another tie, another link, Morgan thought. My son . The recognition left him shaken and oddly moved.
“The point is, we did have you,” he said coolly, reaching for his customary distance. “And now we must all deal with the
consequences.”
Zachary jammed his feet into boots. “We were dealing just fine before you showed up. We don‟t need you.” He stomped
for emphasis. “I don‟t need you to take care of me.”
Morgan heard the bravado behind the boy‟s boast. Little boy , he thought, you have no idea what you need.
“Zack!” Elizabeth opened the front door wider, as much caution as pleasure in her voice. She had changed her pants,
Morgan observed, and caught her rich hair back in some sort of clip. Her cheeks were faintly pink. “How was your first day of
work?”
“Fine.” He thrust the grocery bags at her. “For the cat.”
“Oh, that was so nice of you.” Her determined cheerful-ness was almost painful to hear. “Thank you! How much was it?
Do you need—”
“No.”
Her gaze darted from him to Morgan. Responding, he guessed, to the tension in the atmosphere. “Something to eat?”
“No. Thanks.” Zack brushed by her on his way up the stairs. “I don‟t really feel like talking right now.”
Insolent whelp.
But the boy was right about one thing. Elizabeth was not likely to accept the truth about her son without proof. Which
meant any words tonight would be wasted.
He met her gaze, dark with confusion and the lingering shadows of desire, and was abruptly reminded he had been inside
her only an hour ago. He wanted to be inside her again.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I ran into Zachary.” Quite literally. “After work.”
And hauled the boy‟s ass home before he could take it into his head to flee.
Zachary shot him a cold look over his shoulder. It would have been more effective if Morgan hadn‟t recognized the sneer
from his own mirror. “I‟m going to bed,” he announced.
Morgan let him go. Nothing could be settled tonight anyway.
“Good night,” Elizabeth called after him. She turned back to Morgan, her teeth denting her lower lip. “Do you want to
come in?”
“Yes.”
Her flush deepened. “To talk.”
Ah.
“Not right now.”
“Then . . .” Her fingers tightened on the door.
“I do need to talk with you,” he said. “About Zachary.”
Apprehension darkened her eyes. “What happened?”
He could not tell her. But after tonight, he had a new understanding, a fresh sympathy for her fears. He hastened to reassure
her. “About his future.”
“ Tell me.”
Apparently he was not as reassuring as he thought. A lack of practice, perhaps. “I believe I have tested your . . . flexibility
enough for one evening.”
Her eyes met his, a wry smile in their depths. “When you foisted that cat on me.”
Deliberately, he held her gaze. “When I foisted myself on you.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. But she was not distracted, his Elizabeth. “You were going to tell me about Zack.”