She had no idea. She only knew that she had to.
It was more than just the desire to recover her father’s pearl. It wasn’t just scientific curiosity, either. Even more than she wanted to know what he was, she burned to know who he was. Where did he come from? How could he do what he did? Why had he chosen to reveal his secret to her?
Why had he looked at her like she was both the answer to his prayers, and his own personal hell on earth?
The doorbell rang, breaking her fruitless pondering. Shaking her head free of the questions swirling in her mind, Neridia went to answer it.
Her first thought was that her unexpected visitors had to be the world’s best dressed Jehovah’s Witnesses. The two men were immaculately turned out in dark charcoal morning jackets and waistcoats, with ivory cravats and elegant floral buttonholes.
They also wore stunned and slightly disbelieving expressions as their gazes tracked upward from where they’d expected to find her face.
She was used to the latter. The former, however, was new.
“Can I help you?” she asked, warily.
For all their fine clothes, both men projected an intimidating aura of strength and power. Their muscled shoulders strained their tailored jackets. They weren’t precisely frightening, but something about them prickled deep animal instincts.
“Well,” the taller, darker one of the pair murmured in a strong Irish accent. “We’re definitely in the right place.”
The other one—a stocky, square-jawed man with startling golden eyes—cleared his throat, as if he was having to regather his composure. “So it seems. Apologies for bothering you, lass. I’m Griff MacCormick of the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. This is my colleague, Chase Tiernach-West.”
Neridia blinked at them.
Firefighters? I didn’t call for any firefighters. Especially not from the other side of Britain!
“We’re here on behalf of another friend of ours,” Griff continued. He had a local Highland accent, and was wearing a formal kilt under his morning jacket with the unselfconscious ease of a native Scotsman. “Someone you met yesterday.”
Neridia flinched, wondering if they meant someone in the gang who’d attacked her. She sidled behind the half-open door, ready to slam it closed again. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Griff smiled at her, and the warmth of the expression chased away Neridia’s mistrust. “Oh, I think you do.”
Grinning, the dark-haired man—Chase—held up one hand. A thin golden chain dangled from his fingers. At the end of it, her father’s pearl spun, gleaming in the morning light.
“We’d like to talk to you about a sea dragon,” Griff said. “May we come in?”
“I’m his what?” Neridia stared at Griff.
“His mate,” the firefighter repeated. He sighed, raking his fingers through his thick blond mane of shoulder-length hair. “This is the part humans always have trouble with. But just take my word for it. Every shifter has one true mate, just one person in all the world who is their perfect match. And you’re John’s.”
Neridia rubbed the bridge of her nose, fighting down a bubble of mad laughter. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that a literal sea monster is my perfect partner? A sea monster who’s also some kind of, of medieval knight from a secret underwater kingdom?”
“Sea dragon, not monster,” Griff said mildly. “And, as he’s always keen to point out, he’s a Knight-Poet. I’ve never been able to work out why that’s so important, but apparently it is.”
Neridia threw up her hands. “Oh, good. My perfect match is a pedantic sea dragon-knight-monster-whatever. That’s so much better.”
Chase, who so far hadn’t said a word, let out a muffled snort of laughter. Griff shot him an exasperated look.
“I know it must seem bizarre, but I promise you, John is your mate,” Griff said, turning back to her. “It may not sound like you have much in common-“
“It doesn’t sound like we have anything in common!”
“Well, there’s one thing,” Chase murmured, his eyes flicking over her body from head to toe.
“You can’t base a relationship on height,” Neridia snapped. “What are we supposed to do, bond over a hatred of low ceilings? Love doesn’t work like that! You need shared goals, shared experiences, shared values. That’s what all the relationship advice says. I should know! I’ve made spreadsheets!”
Chase cocked an eyebrow at Griff. “Ask her how well that’s been working out for her.”
Neridia scowled at him. “I am sitting right here. Is there some reason you won’t talk to me?”