West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi) Read Free

at least he had a lead on where to take her. Surely someone so physically attractive had a significant other, someone who would care for her and see her mended back to health.
    As he moved to return above deck, a small aft berth caught his eye and he reached in and yanked a blanket from the bed. Up top again, he tucked the red comforter around the woman. The loose strands of hair around her face had air-dried to a light golden-brown. Peaceful in her unconsciousness, her face appeared delicate and young, unmarred by cruelty or pain—except for what he’d done to her, of-fucking-course.
    Ignoring the rock of guilt in his gut, he considered the problem of actually getting the boat to harbor. Sailing was a foreign language to him. He had no need for the knowledge. He could soar on the wind, even glide on the currents for short times. All he knew was a sailboat with furled sails wasn’t going anywhere.
    No matter. He stepped around the wheel and down onto the swimming platform. The clothing would just be a drag, so he disappeared it and jumped. The cold water sucker-punched him. He gasped and willed his muscles to cooperate. How long had the woman suffered with the freezing waves battering her damaged body? He bit down on his tongue to keep from roaring out. The pain focused him.
    Arms extended beside him, he closed his eyes and called the current. As a wind god, Zephyros was most at home in the sky, but marshaling sea currents worked on the same principle. The rush of water pushed behind him, just as he directed, and scooped up the boat’s hull in the grip of its gentle forward motion. One hand on the platform, he floated behind the boat, guiding its heading, adjusting as necessary, shivering until he thought his bones might snap. Luckily, the storm had chased away other maritime traffic. The bay was wide open and empty. Nice to have one thing going for him. Occasional gulls cried out high above, their pale bodies nearly camouflaged against the gray-white sky.
    Within an hour, they were in sight of Annapolis. Above the town proper, a large steeple and a tall domed cupola framed the colonial seaport. But Zephyros’s destination was a bit closer. The address he’d found should be on the neck of land just south of the town.
    An inlet emerged up ahead. All along the shore, clusters of masts stood up together, sentinels on the water. He guided the boat toward the creek. A sailboat with a large blue mast sail glided past. Zephyros submerged into the cold, but not before noticing the confounded expression on the other captain’s face. Of course. The boat he guided moved without aid of sail or motor.
    He resurfaced long enough to see the other boat coming about, the captain on the radio. Damn it all to Hades.
    This situation was about to become shit meets fan. For gods’ sake, he currently didn’t have clothes, and until he warmed he’d be lucky to hold a conversation. Naked, nearly incapacitated, with no ability to dock the boat, and with a gravely injured woman on board, he had little likelihood of contriving a convincing story about how they’d gotten that way.
    His presence was a liability here. He was useless. Again.
    As the blue-masted boat neared, the captain called out, asking whether the True Blue was in distress. No one answered, of course.
    And it was time for him to go.
    Zephyros released his grip on the platform and eased the created current until it dispersed altogether. He sank beneath the surface, shaking nonstop, and hesitated just a moment. His gut clenched. He hated the idea of not seeing her to safety. Okay, in truth, he’d done that. But what he wanted was to see her to health—awake and conscious and warm and happy.
    Happy? What did her emotions have to do with anything? Fluttery panic ripped through his chest. The fact he was even thinking about her feelings was a major get-the-hell-out-of-there red flag. Getting involved was the last thing he needed. Hadn’t he learned that? Again and again and