The last time I’ll ever come so close to losing control.

4

I spend the rest of the day with Mom and Dad. We fish off the dock, and in the afternoon we take a trip to the small grocery store in town to get a few things for dinner. Mom wants fresh vegetables to go with the trout we caught. She watches closely as I talk to the cashier, her eyes sharp on me as I hand the woman money, thanking her and assuring her we don’t need help to the car.

She wants to see me to do this—she needs to see me do this. It’s the only way she can feel right about me taking my tour next summer. She needs to know I’ll be okay interacting with humans. I feel her smile of approval on me as we walk to the parking lot.

After we get home, I help unpack groceries, and then Mom suggests a swim while Dad starts dinner. She doesn’t need to offer me twice. I’m changed and out the door, practically running ahead of Mom, who trots after me holding our towels. For the next hour, I enjoy the water, enjoy being with Mom. As she swims alongside me, cutting through the water with swift strokes, it’s easy to remember that before she became my mother, she was one of the pride’s strongest athletes.

Even dinner is nice with just the three of us. Back home, we rarely eat alone. Dad’s students are always traipsing through the house. My friends, Jacinda. We’re never really alone in the pride.

After dinner, I stand at the sink, drying dishes like I’ve been set to slow motion, the buttery smell of broiled fish still heavy on the air.

“You feeling all right?” Mom asks, taking the skillet from my hands and putting it away. “Been quiet today.”

“Mm. Just tired.”

“Why don’t you go to bed early?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I finish up with the glasses.

“Maybe we can swim again tomorrow.” She searches my face. “You’d like that. Your father will even get into the water, too.”

I lift my eyebrows at that. “Really?”

“Sure. I’ll make him.” She flashes a grin that makes me shake my head.

Dad isn’t overly fond of the water. Ironic since his only child happens to be a water draki. And his wife is one of the few female onyx draki of the pride. Traditionally, they’re the foot soldiers of the pride, built for speed and strength. Naturally they’re great swimmers. They’re great at all the physical stuff.

I slide a look in the direction of the living room, where Dad is either reading or writing one of his lectures. “For you, I’m sure he will.”

One would assume Mom would have bonded with another onyx. Like herself. But no. She chose quiet, scholarly Dad. About as unathletic as you can get for a draki.

“Not for me. For you, honey. We know you love to swim.” She gives a small laugh. “An understatement, I know.” She inhales deeply. “We know you love it, but we just …” Her voice fades. She doesn’t say the rest, but I hear the words no less. They don’t trust me in the water out here, unsupervised.

Like I might do something risky. Something like yesterday. Or today, for that matter.

She takes the last glass from me. I lean forward and kiss her soft cheek. “That would be great, Mom.”

“Good night, Dad,” I call before taking the stairs to the second floor. He calls up a muffled response from the living room.

In my room, I close the door and fall back on the bed. The springs squeak under me. Clutching a pillow to my chest, I stare at the wallpaper of tiny pink rosettes. My bedroom back home is covered in posters of the beach. The ocean that I long to experience.

In less than a year, I’ll be old enough for my tour.

Not every draki chooses to take a tour. But I will. A year abroad, alone, away from family and the pride—on your own in the human world … not every draki is cut out for it. Sometimes it scares me. But I’ve been planning for this ever since I took my first swim as a water draki and fell in love with the water. There’s nothing like it. Gliding into a deep abyss where men can’t survive, can’t find me. Ever since I was twelve, I vowed that I would taste the ocean on my skin.

I’ve prepared my parents for the inevitability of my tour. It’s always been a rite of passage offered to any young draki … one way to guarantee that every new generation of draki is savvy in the way of humans and the outside world. It’s critical for our survival.

I think about all those posters in my room again. About my dreams of the ocean. About swimming in the vastness of an endless sea.

About leaving all I know behind to make that a reality.

Right now, not far away, a group of teenagers is partying beside a pond. How can I think I’m ready to embrace the adventure of the ocean, a tour all on my own, when I can’t even brave a little party? Just because a too-attractive boy stirs my draki?

Disgust curls through me. Jacinda wouldn’t shy from the challenge. Hopping from the bed, I move to the dresser. I unpacked all my clothes when we arrived, deciding against living out of a suitcase for an entire month.

With determination burning through my veins, I strip off my clothes and slip on a swimsuit. I pull a pair of denim shorts up my legs and then search for the right top … something appropriate for my first party among humans. Something that hopefully doesn’t scream outsider.

I settle on a silver-studded blue tank top. The stringy, yellow straps of my suit peek out beside the blue tank’s straps.

“It’s not a date,” I tell my reflection. I’m doing this to prove a point. Not because I want to see him again.

I snort. Even I don’t quite believe myself.

With a great exhale, I rummage around the top drawer of my dresser for a clip. Gathering my hair, I pile it in a haphazard arrangement atop my head.

Tendrils and wisps fall around my face and shoulders—both glossy black and bright blue. It’s the trademark of a water draki. I’m certain every human to cross my path thinks my hair is color-treated. There’s just no way to explain otherwise.

I hunt for the right earrings next and hook them into my earlobes. A pair of long silver drops, no thicker than threads, dangle to my jawline. A thin coat of lip gloss, and then I’m ready.

I stare at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes enormous, looking back at me as though seeing me for the first time … imagining how I might appear to Tate. Strange. Exotic. My pulse hammers against my neck. I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is an exercise in boldness. A test of my control. Not a seduction.

With a growl of frustration, I remove my earrings and fling them down. Exiting my room, I ease down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky step. I slip out the front door, hesitating on the wood porch, waiting to hear if Mom or Dad noticed me steal away. Nothing. No tread of feet after me. Not a sound.

Satisfied, I hop from the porch and head toward the pond, my heart as wild as gale-force winds.

I walk through the dark, the path memorized by now, concentrating on steadying my heart rate so that I look calm when I get there. So my draki stays put, buried in the core of me. So I can at least pretend to be one of them, just another teenage girl out for the night, looking for a good time. I exhale. Easier said than done.

I hear the music before I reach the pond. The bass pumps over the air and only heightens my nervousness. I actually try to channel Tamra. She would be in her element here.

I step from the tree line and hover there for a moment, watching the scene. I don’t suppose it counts as a big party: only approximately fifteen to twenty people. But plenty crowded for me. Some swim, splashing in the water between the shore and floating dock. I make out the outlines of two bodies on the platform. One guy shouts jubilantly as he flips wildly into the dark water. I guess Anna’s close call didn’t spook anyone.

At least six or seven vehicles are parked at the edge of the clearing, leaving enough room for the partygoers to mingle and socialize around a bonfire. I recognize Tate’s Jeep and know he’s here somewhere.

I dig my hands into my pockets as my eyes search for him. A few people lounge on blankets. The fire burns inside a circle of rocks, imbuing the air with a warm glow. A pair of girls hold marshmallows on long sticks over the flames. The rich, pungent smell of smoking wood fills my nose.

I start to feel curious stares on me, but still no sight of Tate. One of the girls at the fire elbows her companion and juts her chin toward me.

Uncomfortable, I start to back away, ready to head home, when he’s suddenly there, emerging from the water.

Everything inside me freezes. He tosses his head and runs his fingers through his dark hair, sending it into wild spikes all around his head. I watch, mesmerized, my vision sharpening at the way the water sluices down his hard chest.

“Hey!” he calls out, attracting the attention of all his friends. He snatches a beach towel from the ground and covers the distance between us in just a few strides.

I blink, shaking off the spell. It’s not as though I’ve never seen a hot boy before. Cassian, even Corbin, jerk that he is …

Almost every draki boy I know is attractive. It’s just that none of them ever really seems to see me. Not like the guy making his way over to me now. None of them ever asked me to go anywhere with them … or uttered please like it meant so much.

I cross my arms, hugging myself tightly as he stops in front of me. I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. This close, I realize how tall he is.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he meets my eyes. “You came.”

My belly flutters and flips at his overjoyed tone. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, but you were in a pretty big rush to get away.” His smile quirks sideways, making him even more appealing. As if that’s possible.

“Hey, Tate.” A guy approaches behind him. I recognize him from yesterday. Troy. He held the other girl as Tate gave CPR to Anna. “Who’s your friend?”

Tate leans in, positioning his face closer to mine.

My breath catches and immediately my skin quivers. It takes everything in me to fight the reaction and quiet my draki.

“Uh, gonna cut me a break here? Do I at least get the name of the girl I invited here tonight?”

I can’t help it. I smile. “Az.”

“Az,” he repeats, testing the name, his melting brown eyes holding mine.

“Yeah.”

“I like it.” His gaze skims me—really quick. Like he doesn’t want to be obvious about checking me out. “It suits you.”

Turning, he drops a hand on my arm, pulling me with him. It’s not just Troy waiting anymore, but a group.

“This is Az. She’s the one who pulled Anna out of the water yesterday.”

I’m greeted with various hellos. It’s hard to focus on all the faces, though, with the tingles Tate’s warm hand sends through me. A deep purr builds inside me, responding to the contact.

“That was you?” Troy asks, looking from Tate to me. “Dude, you’re a hero.”

My smile widens, certain this is the first time I’ve ever been addressed as dude.

He continues. “We couldn’t see her. How’d you find her down there?”

My smile slips, unsure how to respond.

Another girl walks up, wringing her wet hair out. Her gaze sharpens on me. “Who’s this?”

Tate waves at me. “Remember Az? She’s the one who pulled Anna out of the water yesterday.”

She stops and drops her hands from her hair. Straightening, she looks me up and down. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” She says this slowly, like she doesn’t remember me at all. Not surprising. She was busy crying over Anna. Unlike everyone else, however, gratitude doesn’t fill her eyes.

She props her hands on her hips. “How’d you find this place? You’re not from around here.”

Her meaning comes across clearly. This place is for them. I’m the outsider who stumbled upon their sanctuary. I should have hit the lake like all the rest of the tourists, but instead I ended up here.