Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred by Lynn Viehl Page B

He removed a string of fish from the water and strode out.
    Colotl used one of the hidden paths to make his way back to the other side of the island. He heard the sound of splashing as he emerged from the forest, and changed direction to walk into the water garden.
    Tlemi’s long red hair blazed in the sunlight as she stood naked in the center of the saltwater pool and fed bits of seaweed and fish to the baby sea turtles she kept there. The freckles that covered every inch of her resembled golden lace hugging her skin.
    “You were a long time,” she said without looking at him.
    “The mangoes by the stream were not yet ripe.” He dropped his bundle on the grass and stripped off his shirt and shorts before he stepped into the pool. Immediately a swarm of the small green-and-black reptiles surrounded him, bumping their bullet-shaped heads against his thighs. “They are growing fast.”
    “I think we should release them next week.” She scattered the last of the food before turning to him. “The man is awake, and healed. The woman is weary. She did not sleep or eat.” She rubbed her temple. “Her mind is powerful. During the day it sleeps, but it becomes like a beacon after dark. If she suspects . . .”
    “I will see to it that she does not,” he promised. He cupped her cheek. “You are flushed.”
    “I have been hot this morning.”
    Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and he understood the warning. “Then I will have to keep you wet.” He lowered his head.
    Her fingernails dug into his arms as he kissed her, signaling a frustration he shared. Since Colotl was a boy he had known Tlemi was for him—those choices had been made soon after they came to the master—but unlike the others he had not resisted his duty. Not until they had come to the island.
    She tasted of coconut and mint, and her warmth sank into him until he could feel her in his bones. Every time he touched her he wanted to be inside her, a need that he’d assumed would dwindle over time. It hadn’t; in the years since their first night he had grown obsessed with having her as often as he could.
    She broke the kiss first, her breath rapid and unsteady. “You make me forget myself.”
    The passion should have been a gift. Instead it had become a burden they both carried.
    “You make me burn,” he murmured against her lips. He eased his hand between her taut thighs and stroked her, watching her eyelids droop and her lips part. “Do you need me now?”
    Sadness tinged her laugh. “I need you always.”
    He picked her up in his strong arms and carried her out of the pool.
     
    “Señor Frasier?”
    Drew looked up from the newspaper he couldn’t read to see a woman he couldn’t stop staring at. His eyes shifted from the top of her glossy black hair down to the open toes of her ivory pumps, and then traveled back up again to her heart-shaped face. Her irises didn’t match—one was the color of sand, the other as jet-black as her hair—but the effect made it seem as if some unseen beam of light had caught her eye.
    She appeared as immaculate as if she’d just come from a photo shoot for a high-end fashion magazine. The cream color of her silk suit set off the tawny smoothness of her skin, and had been cleverly tailored to complement her petite proportions without overemphasizing them. The jewelry she wore was made from narrow, hammered gold and glinted discreetly from her ears, throat, and wrists. Dark red gloss accentuated her full lips, but if she wore any other makeup, he couldn’t see a trace of it.
    Somehow he got to his feet. “I’m Agent Martin Frasier.” The gray-bearded Mexican detective who had left him to wait in the empty office had said something in broken English about a translator. “Are you the interpreter?” Please say yes.
    “No, but I do speak English.” She put down the portfolio she carried and held out her hand. “My name is Agraciana Flores. I’m an agent with La Procuraduría Federal de Protección al