For the third time this week, Peter observed them, making sure he, himself, went unobserved. He’d tracked them in the water, which was not difficult; he knew where the Blake cottage was of course, and the bond between them was so fresh and strong, it was like a cyclone, sucking him in. He limited his spying to the water, when they were swimming, and where he could most easily hide himself. If he needed to, he could get away in a fraction of a second.
He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, just as surely as he knew he would.
So, here he was, posing as a ray, or more often, a sea turtle, perfectly reflecting his subterfuge and masking all mental and emotional signals so no one was alerted to his real presence. At least he could laugh at himself, a decorated prince stooping to voyeurism, not that they were having sex in the water, thank goodness. Such evidence of their closeness would have been difficult for him to see. But their bond, so vital and vibrant, was sweetly romantic, so intensely intimate. And it was not something they were intentionally sharing with him. That was what made him a voyeur.
They were irresistible. No Kate, in particular, was irresistible to him, and it was getting worse, seeing her devotion to Gabe. If only she were at his side.
He knew Gabe helped Kate become a stronger swimmer, was building her stamina for longer swims they would take together and preparing her for motherhood to a siren who would want to play in the water. Peter used his prodigious intuitive abilities to detect the life she grew within her, but there was as yet no signal. Whatever child, or children, she carried were masses of still-independent cells, which made now an ideal time for her to train, since oxygen deprivation was not the issue it would become later.
He stayed as close as he could, unable to withdraw from the heady emanation of their attachment, their feelings surrounding him like a balm whose restorative effects he craved all the more strongly as he felt them. He watched and lurked and drank them in like an addict. They seemed unaware—in fact, Peter knew for certain they were—although Gabe had given him a piercing look on two occasions. But he’d eluded true scrutiny and apparently convinced him he was what he appeared to be. He was an extremely capable cloaker.
He smiled at the irony of his situation; he was able to be near her, to intuit her goodness and beauty because he was invisible to her, and perhaps more importantly, her siren mate. Were he not such a flawless cloaker, unmatched really, he would not be able to be by her, which made him crave her all the more. He could almost laugh. He had to tear himself away when they left the water for the afternoon.
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