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moment they arrived, they—or rather, Mirian—were pounced upon by a frantic Ariel. "Where were you?" she asked. "God, we were all so worried."
    "I'm fine," Mirian assured her. "You know I can take care of myself, and I don't go to parts of the island that are unsafe."
    His father made his way to the bar and poured himself a hefty dose of absinthe. Clearly, he was more upset than he was letting on, because he only drank absinthe on the anniversary of Mirian's mother's death. "It's never safe to be caught outside in a storm like that," he said.
    Mirian wanted to say that he hadn't exactly known the storm would hit when he'd left, but that was irrelevant. It would be merely dancing around the topic on everyone's mind. Ariel hadn't even asked, although she was clearly curious about the presence of the mysterious new arrival who was holding Mirian's hand.
    It would be up to him to clarify the situation, since an explanation from Frey would not be received well. "It's not the storm that's the problem right now, is it?"
    His father set the glass on the counter so hard Mirian was surprised it didn't shatter. "Indeed not. Can you explain exactly how you met a strange werewolf who you now identify as your mate ?"
    The latter word was spoken like an insult, with such vitriol that Mirian was not surprised to feel Frey bristle. He squeezed Frey's hand and was relieved to notice some of the tension drain out of Frey's shoulders. For the moment, the shifter remained silent, allowing Mirian to address the inquiry. "I found him unconscious on the beach and we waited out the storm together," Mirian told his father. "I know it seems strange, but believe me when I say there's something special between us."
    "Something special," his father drawled out sarcastically. "Somehow, I very much doubt that."
    Frey's temper finally snapped, although he kept his voice remarkably level and calm. "Sir, I think we started out on the wrong foot," the werewolf said. "Perhaps we were remiss in blurting out things so suddenly. You are correct in that you know nothing about me, about my people and our ways.
    "A mate is the most important treasure in the life of one of my kind. Until recently, many of us deemed such things only stories, legends. We thought that it is a dream to find your perfect match, the other half of your soul. But I realize now that it is not."
    There was something in Frey's voice, a strength and a quiet authority that silenced any protest Mirian's father might have liked to utter. "I arrived here in a yacht that belongs to my family," Frey explained. "The moment I saw the island, I sensed Mirian. I didn't know it was him that I sensed, but I knew I could not leave. My family wanted to turn the yacht around when the storm struck, so I jumped into the water. That's why Mirian found me on the beach.
    "You have no reason to trust me, but you must know this. You cannot keep Mirian trapped here forever. He needs more. Surely you can see it. Even if you're trying to protect him, you're also squashing him, killing his vitality. Besides, there is no guarantee that the island can continue being your refuge. But I can be that. A werewolf's mate is sacred. I won't ever let anything happen to him. I would die first."
    Mirian didn't expect it to be that easy. Even if he believed it, even if he knew in his heart that it was true, his father couldn't possibly feel the same.
    And yet, much to his surprise, the older man nodded. "You're right. I can't protect him forever."
    Mirian gaped. "Father?"
    "Mr. Lamine and I have been discussing this," Gonzalo explained in a sedate voice. "We believe the reason why we haven't been found yet is due to your young age. Despite Mr. Lamine's attempts to distract his father, it is more likely that he simply decided to wait until you were old enough to marry."
    Mirian felt faint. If they were right, his grandfather could come here and take him any day now. "And you didn't think it was relevant to warn me?"
    "We had hoped we