Sand's Caress: Underwater, #2

By Regina Sage

Return to a world of shapeshifters, underwater adventures, and thrilling mysteries in the second book of the Underwater Series! Feline shifter and Captain of the Capitol Guard Mirandha has a new assignment: find and dismantle a suspected trafficking ring. She enlists the help of Zane, the soldier and friend for whom she's always carried a flame. They've been dancing around the potential sparks for years, but when they discover the evil lurking beneath the surface of Cetean society, their burgeoning romance is strained. Mirandha is forced to confront her past, and jeopardize her safety as well as her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Regina Sage
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005096168

Regina Sage

Regina Sage is the pen name of a linguist and dialect coach based out of the Midwest United States. She lives with her copirate in a beautiful small town surrounded by a sea of wheat fields. When not writing steamy romances, she spends her time creating new voices for the stage (and D&D characters), and working with her communities to revitalize the arts in the region. She likes to garden, cook, crack whips and sling steel. If she doesn’t run twenty miles in a week, she calls it self-care and reads a book instead. Check out her website for new book updates, a guide to the Underwater World, and bonus material about characters! Visit https://sites.google.com/view/regina-sage-author/about for more.

Book preview

An Underwater Novel

By Regina Sage

Contents

Title

Contents

Content Warning

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Also By

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About Regina Sage

Content Warning

This story contains themes of abuse, neglect, trauma, infant and child loss, PTSD and person-trafficking.

Resources (United States)

In an emergency, dial 911.

24/7 National Human Trafficking Hotline: [phone], or text HELP to 233733

www.humantraffickinghotline.org

National Sexual Assault Hotline: [phone]

www.rainn.org

Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: [phone]

www.childhelphotline.org

Nacional de Prevencion del Suicidio: 888-628-9454

National Suicide Crisis Lifeline: 988

(TTY Users: dial 711 then 988)

Veterans Crisis Line: 988 then press 1, or text 838255

National Domestic Violence Hotline: [phone]

Other U.S. Resource Lists:

www.apa.org/topics/crisis-hotlines

www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

Dedication

To those of us who do battle every day, and those on our support teams. We got this.

Prologue

On the Dunes

The desert stretched as far as her eyes could see. The sun was just coming over the High Dunes, glittering on the sand. The dark sides of the dunes would be frigid cold, while the slopes the light touched would become scorching hot in moments.

She was aware of the sense memory, knew it as she knew her name, knew her purpose. Knew also that her heart would ache with the memory forever.

She watched the sky as it lightened from deepest indigo to lavender, felt the morning wind come down from the High Dunes. She closed her eyes to feel the mixing of the inland air with the breeze blowing off the sea she could not see, beyond the slope to the west. Would the sea wind choose the land wind? Would there be rain? Or would they fight in the sky and bring only temporary shade to her people?

She opened her eyes again for one last view, squinting at the brightness. She didn’t mind that the sand was so bright under the sun that it hurt her eyes. She didn’t mind because she wanted the image seared into her retinas for all time.

"It is time," said the female voice behind her.

One last scan of the horizon… then she turned and let the crew lock the doors behind her.

Strapped in, she snuggled up to her companion. They held each other as they left the only place they had ever known. The only place they would ever call home. They didn’t cry; that was beneath them. Anyway, the depth of their sorrow was too great to be relieved by mere tears.

The rumble of the ship shook them. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, sending up a final prayer that leaving was the right thing for her… and her people.

Chapter One

Zane flung himself down in a chair at last, and snagged a glass from a passing server.

I think we can keep her, his brother Logon said. What do you think?

Zane shrugged, feigning disinterest. Yeah, she’s alright.

They sat together sipping their liquor and watched their brother, Sven, and his newly bonded female, Leanne, dance in the crowded square. As the happy couple laughed, spinning and turning, Zane was glad that his brother had found something to be so happy about. Sven had been grumpy and lonely for far too long. Leanne was a bright light in the dark, and she warmed everyone she met. Tonight, she sparkled even more, her happiness bubbling up out of her eyes, under the decorative lights that twinkled on the crystals and chains she wore as jewelry.

Once, Zane might have dreamed of a female like that. Now he knew it wasn’t for him.

Look alive, Logon said, suddenly rising. I think you’re being stalked.

As Logon strode off around the dance floor, Zane sat up straighter. Mirandha, his classmate, colleague, and friend was walking towards his table. Her sleeveless dress was a muted burgundy, form fitting and elegant, held up by thin straps at her shoulders. The square cut of the bodice displayed the graceful arc of her collarbones and her slender neck. A high slit exposed her lithe, muscular leg as she clicked along the pavers. Folding herself in the incongruous, liquid way of Khattes, she took the chair across from Zane.

Wow, Zane said, teasing. I can’t tell you have any weapons on you at all.

Mirandha gave him a scathing look from slanted golden eyes. Of course, you don’t. Not unless I want you to see them. Her lightly accented voice was as familiar to him as his own. They had been friends since the Academy, and soldiers together for many years before they left the military. She, for a place as head of the Capitol Guards, working for the Prime Minister, and he for the private sector.

Zane hummed neutrally as he hid his smile behind the rim of his glass. Mirandha tapped her claws on the table, either in emphasis or because she was bored. Probably both.

I won’t say I expected trouble, she said quietly, for his hearing alone. But I am still surprised at the… sociable behavior of the guests.

You’re not on duty, are you? Zane knew she wasn’t. Zane also knew that she couldn’t stop working, just like him.

The question earned him a sideways Khatte glance, a sniff.

So have some fun, he chided playfully. At her derisive cough, he pushed himself away from the table and threw down the metaphorical gauntlet. Come dance with me.

She stilled, as only apex predators can become still, staring at his proffered hand. Zane was surprised to find his heart was beating faster, and the fringe along his spine was tingling.

Mirandha shifted her gaze to his face, and for once he couldn’t read her. Then she took his hand, and he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Fine, she said. One dance.

Zane grinned and swept her out to the floor as the song changed. Damien, another of his brothers, was playing with the band tonight, and the wild swirling rhythm of their music was conducive only to delighted dervishes. One arm wrapped securely around her ribs, her hand clasped in his, he spun her to the escalating melody.

She flowed with him, as she had done in their sparring sessions for decades. Her reddish-brown hair was swept away from her face with combs, and the coiled ends tickled his bare arm at her waist. Her delicate round ears were adorned with gold rings, and the smell of her was rocky sand, warm steel, and soft fur.

Zane spun her out, and she twirled with warrior grace. When he pulled her back into him, the space between them had vanished, and they pressed themselves tightly together. After a couple more steps, he felt her shift. Not shift fully—not out of her sapient form—but the subtle resettling of bone and muscle that told him she was relaxing. She was with him in the moment, now. While she might have one eye or an ear tuned for signs of danger, it was a nonverbal signal that she was ready to play with him.

Shifting his weight and his grip, he cued her, and she followed. She arched into the lift and landed softly again with a flourish. Dancing, he had discovered years ago, was the only time she would reliably follow his lead. Sure, she took orders as well as the next soldier, but it wasn’t her way. He had never been her superior, nor she his, but her natural dominance still presented itself in their friendship. As a sparring partner, she was unparalleled, and that was as close to dance as could be without music. She regularly kicked his ass.

As the song wound down, he spun with her one last time, and ended in a deep dip. She curved over his hands languidly and draped her leg over his. Zane held her there once the song finished, caught by the light in her eyes. Mirandha was looking at his mouth, and, while he wouldn’t have said she was out of breath, she was definitely breathing more than was usual for her.

When her eyes flicked up to his, he realized he’d kept her there for too long. Rising, he made sure she got her feet under her—she would be insulted that he thought of it that way. A Khatte, not land on her feet? he could hear her hissing in his mind.

Thank you, he said, brushing his lips across her soft knuckles.

Mirandha blinked at him. What are friends for, but to humor the occasional whim? She pulled her hand from his and clicked away on her tall stiletto heels, leaving him on the dance floor as another song began.

Mirandha kept her face blank as she parted the crowd and made for the other side of the square. A Cetean stepped into her path, asking her for a dance, but she declined without stopping. She had no idea where she was going, she just needed to get some space. Some air.

She needed to get her heart to slow down and her breathing under control.

The way Zane had looked at her as he held her in the final pose of their dance… he’d looked at her with hot virid eyes.

And her body had answered.

He was a perfect example of a mature Cetean male. Strong, tall, with ropes of muscle coiled and wrapped around a flexible and sturdy frame. His thick fringe, once shorn close to his scalp per regulation, had grown out in waves that cascaded across his forehead as he’d dipped her. She had been enthralled by the way he moved with her across the floor, intoxicated by his ginger-and-salt scent, the shadows of his angled face. The green of his eyes was echoed in the dusting of scales across his cheekbones, glinting in the light as he’d leaned close to her. His perfect plump lips had parted, showing the front row of his triangular, jagged teeth.

Since she had first met him at the Academy, she had loved him. First as the only Cetean companion she had, the only classmate who didn’t go out of the way to torment her for being a Khatte—or a catch, as they had called her, mocking her language. Then, he’d been her best mate among the military ranks. When they both finally entered adulthood… Nothing changed. He’d remained the same, and she’d still loved him.

Zane had never indicated he felt similarly. She’d kept it to herself, fought her inner feline for control, and maintained the camaraderie that she knew neither of them could live without. Mirandha would rather keep that relationship.

She found herself near the bar, so she took a stool and ordered a drink. When the bartender brought her the spicy liquor, she noticed one of Zane’s brothers, Bryant, sitting a few stools down. She couldn’t say what compelled her to sit closer to him.

Needed a break? he asked sociably. Bryant was gentle and calm, qualities she had always admired about him. When Zane, Bryant and Mirandha had been in the same war-torn refugee camps, she had grown to respect his skill with healing, and with people. He could always put people at ease.

Something had changed since his last trip. He’d come back smelling… wrong. Not bad, not sick, but different and… not right. Not like Bryant. When Mirandha looked into his face now, she saw what she’d seen in so many other faces, in so many other places, and often before she killed an enemy soldier: resigned, hollow emptiness. The smile he offered her seemed more like a peeling back of his lips, as it did not reach his eyes.

Yes, she agreed, sliding onto the stool. You know the only rowdy rabble I can stand is found at the front lines.

Bryant grunted, tossed back his drink, and knuckled the bar to order another. I’ve always wondered why you left that chaos for the post at the Capitol Complex. He accepted the fresh glass and turned to face her.

Mirandha looked into her own drink and shrugged. I wanted something else. Wanted to be nearer to Zane.

Bryant rumbled noncommittally, as if he didn’t believe her, or didn’t care. Mirandha didn’t care; she had never cared what others thought of her, once she left the sands of her homeland.

Why did you leave your work as a medic? she asked.

Bryant stiffened, but responded too quickly, I didn’t.

Working at the Requiem clinic under duress is not the same.

It was Bryant’s turn to shrug. I wanted something else.

Mirandha coughed at his repetition of her previous words. We both have our reasons, then.

Bryant stood abruptly, taking his glass with him. He leaned close to her ear, and murmured, He will never know if you don’t tell him. Don’t wait—I hate to see gifts wasted.

Mirandha looked at him with what she hoped was a hard stare. I can’t imagine what you mean. She used the aggressive statement to cover the sudden thrill of her pulse and fluttering of her stomach.

Bryant raised an eyebrow at her. After everything? He gestured to Sven and his human mate where they held each other close and swayed with the slow music. You deserve that happiness. So does he.

Bryant walked away from her, but not before Mirandha saw the violent pain that clouded his eyes. The scent of his grief hung around the bar for a long time after he was gone.

Francis finished the latest headcount, and leaned back against the wall, satisfied that all of his charges were accounted for, and relatively safe. All guests, and especially the surviving pups—he couldn’t think of the grown males as anything but pups, not since he’d pulled them out of so many sticky situations when they were small—were enjoying the party. All but Bryant, but everyone knew that male fought battles no one could see. He covered it well, most days. The binding ceremony had made him particularly dour, and Francis kept a closer eye on him tonight than he had done for more than a century.

Have you had a break? The soft, melodious voice next to him didn’t surprise him. He’d heard her soft feet on the pavers, scented her citrus signature in the air before she got within ten feet of him.

Francis shrugged. He hadn’t, and by the narrowing of Divina’s eyes, she knew it.

You should, she said, turning to stand next to him, looking out over the revelers. There is plenty of food.

Francis kept his body language neutral. Food, to Ceteans, was important. Except for servers and waitstaff setting tables, supplying food was considered the most intimate of gestures between lovers and family. Parents fed their pups most often from their own plates, until adolescence. Family members took care to feed each other when they were sick or needed help. When a single Cetean physically gave food or drink to another, it signaled a change in the relationship. That Divina would mention it at all to a mere coworker was… significant.

You do not need to look after me, he replied lightly. I am sure I won’t starve before the night is done.

Divina cast him a sideways glance, her soft brown eyes telling him what she thought of that.

He suppressed a chuckle.

They had worked together at Requiem House for a little under a century. Her father, Harrock, was butler for the Prime Minister and her family. The Prime Minister, Beatrice, Matriarch of House Requiem, had asked them to attend Sven’s binding ceremony not as servants to the House, but as close family members. Francis had declined, and he attempted to keep his attendance professional.

Not that it did him much good.

The excuse of working did not prevent Divina from finding him, and did not prevent him watching her in the crowd as closely as he watched his official charges.

You may laugh, Divina said. Right up until you collapse with hunger.

At which point you will stand over me and say, ‘I told you so?’

She paused as she was stepping away and looked over her shoulder at him. At which point, she said softly, I would bring you a snack… and then say, ‘I told you so.’

The retort lost some of its impact when she failed to stop herself from colliding with a guest. Francis moved to help—he knew how much she hated to be touched, even in passing—but the two were disentangled before Divina could draw breath to apologize. He was almost sad she didn’t need his help as he met her eyes one more time before she walked away with her dignity restored. Forcing his focus back to the crowd, Francis nonetheless held her words, and the image of her in his mind for the rest of the night. As he had almost every night, since meeting her.

Chapter Two

Mirandha scrubbed her forehead and huffed in frustration. The stupid fucking Council. The report she gave them last week should have been enough—would have been enough for any normal inquest.

Bast give me patience not to murder any of these Elders before they are called Beyond.

Two weeks ago, one of the Prime Minister’s children was found to be responsible for several political and religious crimes. Some breaking and entering too, according to the Elders. Mirandha thought that didn’t count, because Talin was charged with the records, and given a key by the Temple. It wasn’t breaking; it was entering. With permission. That they trusted the wrong male was not her problem.

The Council was making it her problem, though. Talin, who had been studying to become a Priest of the Order at the Cetean Temple, had crafted a plan to murder Leanne, his brother Sven’s human mate. Her arrival on the planet had been a scandal, and the Council had stuck their unwanted noses in that too—not that it helped matters. Talin, zealot that he was, felt they did not do enough to protect Cetean culture from her contagious ‘impurities.’ Taking the final step into full-blown religious extremism and shouldering the title of domestic terrorist, he had nearly killed Leanne twice, and finally tried to feed her to a monster. He counted on the loyalties of the gods too much, however, for he was taken to the deep by one of their servants for his crimes.

Good riddance, Mirandha thought. She had sympathy for the family; she knew it had hurt the Prime Minister deeply, and her mate Vester, the Chief of Records. Zane… She could smell the heartbreak on him at the few grieving rites that had been afforded to the traitor Talin.

Mirandha’s involvement began when Zane asked her to help with the investigation of a vehicular collision, which they later learned was the second attempt on Leanne’s life. Hacking and tracking were two of her specialties, as Zane put it. She’d found evidence of tampering in several digital records. She’d suggested they check the hard copies kept at the Temple, which revealed the mess Talin had made of everything as he tried to cover his trail.

The Council had done the investigation quickly after, and had opened a new investigation into the Temple itself. They were poised to pass a bunch of new laws and regulations that would serve the dual non-purpose of being useless for security and defense while also making everything more complicated for everyone.

It all sounded good, though. It would also make the Council feel important, like they were doing something. That was all that really mattered to the Council.

Part of the added complications meant reviewing her participation in the investigations, which required these additional reports. Mirandha had been on leave at the time of the first two attempts, and had missed Leanne and Sven’s hearing entirely. Zane had only informally brought her in, and the care Mirandha took to conceal that she could hack the government cyber systems was being tested. What she chose to put in the reports could jeopardize her job, but it could also backfire on Zane and House Requiem.

It could also jeopardize her social standing—a hard-won battle she shared with the human Leanne. They had both been outsiders, largely unwelcome and unwanted. Mirandha had the benefit of belonging to a race already