“Can’t be too happy,” he said, stroking her hair.

“I feel so full of it, I think I could stay like this and never run out.”

But they couldn’t stay, he reminded himself. They’d already been away from the house, from the others, longer than was wise.

“I know we can’t,” she said before he could. “But one minute more. Here, now, the darkness is precious and good. Soon it won’t be.”

“One minute more.” He let himself enjoy the minute, floating on a moonlit sea, buoyed by a mermaid.

She didn’t press for more. He felt the way her tail moved the water as she leaned back, drew him along.

“What did you mean, you couldn’t kiss me before, but now you could?”

“We’re not allowed.”

“To kiss?”

“No, that would be sad, wouldn’t it?” Her hair flowed over the water, black silk against indigo. “We’re not allowed to kiss a land person first. To ask for the kiss, to take it. It has to be given, by choice. Then we can give back.”

“What, like an Ariel thing?”

Puzzled, she frowned. “Ariel is . . . of the air?”

“Maybe. It’s a character—a mermaid in a story.”

“Oh! I don’t know the story of Ariel. Will you tell me?”

“I’ll do better. I’ll show you. We’ll see if there’s a way to get the DVD or stream it—it’s a movie. A Disney movie. Anyway, she had to wait for the prince to kiss her in the story.”

“You’re a King. Sawyer King.” Laughing, she lifted her head, kissed him again. Her tail swirled back and forth. Then her legs kicked before they both stood in thigh-high water.

“Will you kiss me when I have legs? I can ask now.”

Amused, allured, he cupped her face again, kissed her.

“We’ve got to get back—and you need that dress. Small chance of the polizia coming along, but we could get arrested.”

“For kissing?”

“For public nudity.”

“There are strange laws and rules here.”

But she waded back to the rock, slipped the dress over her head. He grabbed his jeans, his shirt, tugged the jeans over the wet boxers.

Instead of taking her hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Ready?”

She circled his waist with hers. “Yes.”

When they stood in front of the villa again, still entwined, she hugged harder.

“It’s different to travel when you hold me. Everything is different when you hold me. If you came to my room, we could lie together and you could hold me.”

He asked any god listening for strength. “Long, hard day tomorrow. You need to go up, get some sleep.”

“It’s hard to do what needs, but you need sleep, too.”

“Yeah. You go on in. I’ll be in, in a minute.”

To please them both, he kissed her, then again, and once more until her eyes were dreamy when she turned to go.

“Good night.”

“Night,” he said as the door closed behind her, then sat on the step until he could settle down.

An instant later he was on his feet, the knife out of the sheath on his belt and in his hand.

Doyle stepped out of the shadows. “Stand down, soldier. Just taking a last pass before turning in.”

As Sawyer slid the knife home again, Doyle sauntered forward. “Hell of an offer you just turned down. I don’t know whether to admire or pity your willpower.”

“Neither do I.”

“I’d tell you to try a cold shower, but you’re already dripping. Taking a chance shifting down to the sea. Then again,” Doyle added when Sawyer remained silent, “even admirable or pitiable willpower only goes so far.”

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t say much of anything.”

“Can’t blame you.” As he passed to go inside, Doyle gave Sawyer a friendly punch on the arm.

For himself, Sawyer decided to stay outside, and drip, a few minutes longer.

At least he didn’t have breakfast duty, and considering the hike ahead of them, no calisthenics at dawn. He made up an hour of the sleep he’d lost in the night trying not to dream of a naked Annika.

He figured coffee would do the rest.

In the kitchen, Bran cooked his one and only breakfast specialty—a full fry. Since Sawyer had no complaints, he grunted a greeting, grabbed a mug for coffee.

“Ready here in ten minutes,” Bran told him. “Doyle wants to be off as soon as we’ve cleaned our plates.”

“I’m ready.” Literally, as he’d spent some of the restless night ordering his pack. “Need help here?”

“Under control.”

“Then I’m taking this outside.”

He stepped out, and there was Annika, dressed for the day in cargo pants and boots and a tie-dyed tee she’d wanted because she’d thought it looked like rainbows. She sang under her breath as she created one of her tablescapes. A pyramid of juice glasses had chains of little flowers and clover spilling out of them and into a pool at the base.

At the base stood what he thought were figures she’d fashioned out of toothpicks, leaves, more clover.

As he started over, she looked up.