Tempest’s Legacy by Nicole Peeler Read Free Book Online Page A

probably believe the shit you’re telling yourself. But deep down inside, you have to realize that you treated my mother’s death and my grief as just one more ace up your sleeve. You can’t help but manipulate people, Ryu.”
    He blinked at me, his face expressing his shock, hurt, and outrage. And that’s when it all fell into place for me: all that
stuff
he was always trying to give me, even when I told him I didn’t want it; his little spats of jealousy, some joking but some not; his harping on about my moving to Boston…
    He has no idea who I am, what I want, or what I need.
    “Jane,” came Ryu’s voice, breaking through my epiphany. “That’s not fair. I…”
    “I know you don’t get it, Ryu,” I said, suddenly tired but also suddenly clear, suddenly sure and confident. My voice soft yet firm, I met his hazel eyes with my black, feeling that gulf that had always been there—the gulf that had been bridged by sex and mutual attraction, but now was too cavernous to ignore. “And I understand you never meant to be cruel or hurtful. But
you
can’t seem to understand that I’m not something to be won or lost. I’m not a pawn, or a prize, and our being together isn’t a game.
It’s not a game
,” I repeated firmly, seeing his face flash anger, “and I’m not playing anymore.”
    I got up from the bed.
    “I’m leaving. You can take me home or not.”
    “Jane,” he said, his voice strained, “please, just let me explain.”
    “Save it, Ryu,” I said as I walked toward the door.
    Swimming home sounded like a much better idea anyway.

CHAPTER FIVE

    R ight after work the next day, I was at the door of Anyan’s cabin. It was twilight, and the cabin looked cozy and welcoming in the encroaching gloom. My heart was in my throat, however. I hadn’t slept for shit the night before, so physically I was exhausted. Magically, my two long swims had left me glowing like an overcharged reactor. After what had happened in Boston, not only was my control over my power much stronger, but I also had more access to the elements. Yet, despite that energy, my body felt gritty and heavy with exhaustion, especially mentally. And on top of everything, pressing down on my mind was the issue of what I was going to tell my father.
    Regardless of the years that had passed, he was still waiting for my mother to come home to him. He’d never gotten rid of her stuff, not even packed it away. Her raincoat still hung in our hallway closet; her boots still sat with ours by the door. Sometimes he talked about her as if she were merely on vacation and had a return ticket, thedate of which we knew. Except for one ugly scene, when I was thirteen and so tired of him loving a woman who had abandoned us, I’d never confronted him on the issue. When he talked about her returning, I held my tongue and ignored him.
    Now I knew that she was dead. I knew she would never be able to come home. But how could I tell that to my dad?
    It would kill him, and not just metaphorically. What with his bad heart, death was a definite possibility. Besides which, how could I explain how I knew she’d been murdered? I’d lain twisted up in bed all night, trying to imagine that conversation.
    Well, Dad, Mom was a seal and I’m magic! Another magic dude, who’s a hellhound in his other life, told me that he found Mom’s dead body. She was probably murdered by the evil elf who’s tried to kill me at least twice. Oops, I forgot to mention any of this? Sorry about that! Oh well, now you have more closet space. Can I make you a sandwich?
    Granted, that speech was the extra-callous version, but how could I tell him in a way that
wasn’t
callous? I’d have to destroy all his hope, and I would inevitably have to lie to him at the same time. I’d have to lie to him about my mother’s real identity and my own, in order to cover for all those other lies. In other words, it was either lie to him or he’d find out that the wife who’d abandoned him had done