OCEANBOUND “You approve?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She was pleased to see the way his eyes had widened as she slipped her dress of her shoulders. “You look amazing.” He had come up to the edge of the tank, as close to her as he could bring himself. Caera knew she was just out of his reach, and she grinned, planning to enjoy teasing him further. She brought her hands up to her breasts and covered the round, soft mounds from Máelán’s prying eyes, and saw the look of longing on his face replaced by one of confusion. “That’s it?” he growled. “You came out here to tease me? Or were you just trying to get me to shut up?” She laughed, and was surprised to realize the sound was melodious, almost like Máelán’s song. He heard it too, and his eyebrows drew up in surprise. “What did you say?” he asked. “I didn’t say anything,” she said between giggles. “But I was about to tell you that you’re wrong if you think I only came out here to get you to stop singing. You have a beautiful voice.” She kept her breasts covered, knowing she could continue to frustrate him by denying him the sight of her. He inclined his head and accepted her compliment gracefully. “Fine. I sing well. Now drop your hands.” Caera giggled again at the impatience in his voice, and she wondered briefly whether he would exhibit that same trait during lovemaking. She hoped not. She wanted her first experience with a merman to be memorable, passionate, and most of all, lasting…
OCEANBOUND BY LACEY SAVAGE
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
OCEANBOUND AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Lacey Savage ISBN 1-59279-278-2 Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
As with everything, this book is dedicated to my wonderful husband who supports me in everything I do, and provides wonderful inspiration for my writing. I’d also like to thank Marianne LaCroix for encouraging me to pursue my dream, and opening doors into the publishing industry. Oceanbound wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you. An additional thank you to Trace Edward Zaber for taking a chance on me, and to my wonderful editor, Karin Story, for all her support.
OCEANBOUND
CHAPTER 1
“I want to be alone,” Máelán growled. He focused on the two mermaids whose slanted, unblinking eyes stared back at him. “Why doesn’t anyone understand that?” “We’re just worried about you, that’s all.” One of the mermaids stretched out her long, silvery limb as if to brush his arm, and Máelán recoiled before she could make contact with his skin. Elaana’s hair fell over her eyes, and he experienced a twinge of guilt at having hurt her. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I know you’re just trying to help, but what I need more than anything else right now is solitude. I want to get away from all the well-meaning comments, the good wishes, and the questions about my welfare.” He wrinkled his eyebrows together and bit his lip to hold back an exasperated sigh. Why couldn’t they understand? “I really do appreciate your concern,” he added as an afterthought. “But I’m going up to the surface, and I’ll ask you again to stop following me.” 1
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The two mermaids looked up at him in unison, their look of concern replaced by wide-eyed fear. “You’re going back up there? Alone?” He nodded and narrowed his eyes, daring them to disagree. The need to lash out, to release the anger he’d been holding back for weeks, rose up like bile in the back of his throat. The intensity of it overwhelmed him, and it threatened to spill over if they so much as hinted that he shouldn’t do as he’d said. But the mermaids only looked at each other and shrugged. Unheeded rage simmered in Máelán’s blood; his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. To distract himself, he let his gaze trace the almost transparent shifts that covered the lithe bodies of the two mermaids. Sheer and soft, the garments left nothing to the imagination. Firm breasts strained against the fabric, the nipples taut and pointy beneath the gauzy material. Slim waists gave way to the delicate scales of their emerald tails, which swayed gently in the water. Their silver hair swirled around them, long and unbound, as custom dictated. Not long ago, simply looking at their slim bodies would have caused Máelán’s breath to catch in his throat. He would have had to fight back waves of desire. But that kind of yearning disappeared weeks ago. He bowed at the waist, first to one mermaid, then to the other. They met his gaze with the look one would give a wounded seahorse—full of compassion, but also indicating that his mental capacity left a lot to be desired. He turned away, unable to take any more sympathy. He swam up slowly, and watched the murky depths of the ocean turn a deep shade of blue as the bright rays of the sun penetrated the surface. Sparkling beams of light assaulted his eyes, and he squinted while he swam higher. He reached out his hand to separate a bundle of seaweed in his way, then stopped as a sea turtle cut across his path. Máelán gritted his teeth; the need to find a target for all the pent up frustration returned with a vengeance. The turtle seemed as good a victim as any, and he grabbed its back leg. With a sharp yank, he tugged on the soft bit of flesh and the creature slid through the water 2
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toward him. He brought his hand up and watched the turtle dangle in his hand until it turned its small, bald head and fixed its dull gaze on him. “What am I doing?” Máelán mumbled aloud as he released the creature. “I’m attacking sea turtles now?” With a quick apologetic word to the retreating turtle, Máelán kicked his powerful tail and heaved himself up. His head broke the surface of the ocean with a loud smack, and he inhaled deeply, urging his lungs to get used to the feel of air inside his body once again. The sensation of drawing in oxygen after so many weeks left him nauseous and light headed, and he flipped on his back, letting his tail support him as he floated, willing his head to clear. He hadn’t ventured up to the surface since his sisters had been kidnapped. No. Since they’d been killed. Taken from before his very eyes and murdered before he could even formulate a plan to save them. He could still see their graceful forms, fishing spears sticking out from their perfectly shaped abdomens. What had happened to their bodies? The men on the boat didn’t even care enough to toss them back in. After they had butchered his sisters, the ship had gone on its way as if this was all part of another day’s job, like they had done nothing more than catch a couple of salmon for the night’s dinner. Máelán’s eyes welled up with tears, and he looked up to clear them. The bright rays of the sun beamed their unmerciful light, and he squinted to focus, which only increased the flow of tears now pouring from his eyes. He hadn’t been able to lose control of his emotions in this way since they’d been gone. Merfolk surrounded him at all hours of the day and night, all wishing to offer their condolences, most wanting to hear the gory details again, and again, and again, appalled that such a thing could happen to any of them, at any time. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his mind away from thoughts 3
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of the dead, but it was easier to wish for such a thing than to succeed at it. He couldn’t help but picture his younger sister’s tail swooshing gently as she swam just a few feet ahead of him. It should’ve been me. I shouldn’t have let them go first. I should’ve gone up there to scour the area. They could’ve come up behind me, approaching the surface only once I’d told them it was absolutely safe to do so. I should have… Máelán gasped as the net spread over his skin, its silky tendrils tracing their way over his chest and down to his tail. His thoughts scattered, and he tried to flop back onto his stomach and dive beneath the surface, but it was too late. The netting had wrapped itself tightly around his tail, and in the process had enveloped his entire body in the finely spun material. He gulped a mouthful of seawater and panicked as it went down his throat, his lungs struggling to make the adjustment between the air he’d been inhaling and the water he now took in. He finally managed to get his eyes open and tried to focus on the direction of the net. A boat just like the one that had captured his sisters loomed not far in the distance. So, this was to be his fate as well, then. He cursed himself for his foolishness and his inattention. He should’ve been more careful. And yet, there was something almost soothing about knowing that he would meet his sisters again. He’d felt cheated when they died, as if he was spared out of some great design meant only to torture him further. Mercifully, it would soon be over for him as well. *
*
*
The most unpleasant part of the experience was being tugged roughly over the edge of the small fishing boat. Máelán’s tail felt painfully ensnared in the net, and his arms were trapped tightly together behind his back. He struggled to get his limbs into a more natural position, but the longer he fought against the netting, the more tangled in it he became. He heard the rough voices of the fishermen as they 4
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hauled him onboard, but it took a few minutes to make out their words. “Look at ’im! A demon in me fishing boat, by the grace of God!” Máelán’s head hit the deck with a loud thud, and for a moment the world around him swirled. Much to his surprise, he didn’t lose consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, willing the nausea to pass for the second time that day. With any luck, they’d kill him and have it over with before he could get his bearings. He didn’t fear death, but he didn’t exactly relish the thought of watching the fishing spear heading for his nether regions either. For a minute, his captors were quiet. Máelán pictured them gathering whatever tools they would need to murder him, but he couldn’t make out any sounds of metal against metal, nor could he detect an increased excitement around him. Surely they hadn’t become so used to killing merfolk that his death wouldn’t cause at least a few nervous voices. He sighed and opened his eyes to find himself looking up at two men, both watching him intently. “He’s awake, Father,” the younger one said. He had thin, scrawny legs with knees that wobbled as he spoke and a body to match. Máelán guessed he was no older than fifteen at most. His face seemed permanently twisted into a scowl, as if just the act of looking upon Máelán made whatever he had for breakfast disagree with him. “I can see that,” the older one answered. This man’s face was also set in a fierce glower, which deepened the wrinkles around his forehead and mouth, and twisted what could have once been handsome features. His mop of gray hair bobbed wildly on top of his head as he shifted from foot to foot, watching his captive. “Should we let him out?” the young one asked. He seemed uncertain whether he should be angry with Máelán, or terrified of him. He continued to grimace, but his eyes remained wide and he looked ready to step back a few paces at the first hint that Máelán may want to put up a fight. “Let ’im out? Are ye daft, son?” His father turned on his heel and 5
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fixed the youngster with a disbelieving stare. “There ain’t no way I’m letting ’im go. He’s mine now.” “Are ye going to kill him?” The boy’s voice shot up a few octaves in its excitement, and a sudden bout of anger flowed through Máelán’s veins. So, killing helpless merfolk was what these people did for fun around here. He thought of his sisters’ bodies slung carelessly over the edge of the fishing boat. He knew for certain this wasn’t the same one. This boat was much smaller, and it looked shabbier by comparison. The two fishermen on board wore nothing better than tattered rags. No, these weren’t the same men, but they were no better than the group who butchered his sisters. He ground his teeth together, frustration and outrage blending inside him. If he hadn’t been tightly wrapped in the net, he might have considered dealing each of them a few blows. As it was, he was practically unable to move, and even if he had, he couldn’t go very far. His tail was a powerful appendage, but it was only useful in the water. On land, it became a handicap. “No…” The man looked thoughtfully at his pray. “We won’t kill ’im yet. The fate of demons isn’t for the likes of us to decide. We must see the Archbishop. He’ll know what to do.” They wouldn’t kill him? Rage seethed inside Máelán, and he sat up swiftly, tugging on the netting and reaching out for the boy. Oh, they’d kill him all right. They wouldn’t have a choice! The boy shrieked and grabbed a fishing spear. That’s more like it. Come and get me! But the older man was quicker than either of them had anticipated. In one rapid move he yanked the spear from his son’s hands and threw it on the deck. “There will be no killing,” he repeated, his voice steady and determined. 6
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“Yes, Father.” The boy lowered his head and ran to the back of the fishing boat. He looked over his shoulder once, that same wide-eyed fear written all over his face. Máelán bared his teeth at him, trying to look as ferocious as he could, then turned his gaze on the old man. He shuffled forward as much as the netting would allow, and gave a low, guttural moan. It sounded like a cross between a wail and a groan, and it usually worked wonders to intimidate the ocean life. The old man, however, didn’t budge. “God brought ye to me. Only God shall take ye away.” He turned his head and spat on the deck of the fishing boat, just inches away from Máelán’s head. Máelán couldn’t be certain whether that gesture was meant as a warning, but he took it as one and remained silent. So, he wouldn’t be killed. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be beaten, starved, or treated in a number of ways that could be worse than death. Torture wasn’t exactly what Máelán had in mind. Meeting his sisters in a quick and relatively painless way was one thing, but being tormented was quite another. He leaned back against the side of the fishing boat and looked away from the man. Maybe he’d simply go away. It took a few hours to reach their destination. The sun had just begun to start its decent when Máelán opened his eyes at the sound of unexpected commotion. The old man barked orders at his son while the boy ran from one end of the small boat to the other, eagerly doing as he was told. Within minutes, they had the boat anchored to a feeble dock, one that seemed to barely hold itself together. The man and his son disappeared for a while, leaving Máelán alone again to wonder whether he could provoke them into killing him. It didn’t seem likely, so he did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He waited. He closed his eyes, and the crash of waves nearby began to soothe his frazzled nerves. The air was moist with the mist of the ocean, and Máelán reclined against the side of the boat and imagined himself back with his sisters. 7
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Therenia. Shamera. Vasche. The four of them had been inseparable. When their parents died, he had become their protector, only to fail them when they needed him most. “Angus!” The old man’s gruff voice brought him out of his reverie. “Ye come here and gimme a hand. We have to move ’im into the tank, and I can’t do it on me own!” The… tank ? The old man’s lanky figure blocked the late afternoon sun as he climbed aboard the small boat. He stopped in front of Máelán, his shadow falling on the merman’s tail in a long and menacing silhouette. “Don’t ye move now,” the man warned, bending down and grabbing the net that bound him. Removing the constraint proved difficult, as each major fin had tangled in the material. The man tugged and yanked, pulled in every direction, and swore when he realized he only succeeded in tangling the mess of netting even further. “Ye stay,” he repeated. The old man’s face twisted into a frown, and disapproval radiated from him like body heat. He rose and turned to step down on the dock. Máelán smirked, but there was no humor in his smile. The man had to realize Máelán couldn’t go anywhere, no matter how much he might want to. He heard the creak of footsteps on the dock, and prepared to see the old man’s wild mop of curly hair. But the sight of the woman who stepped confidently onto the boat took his breath away. He hadn’t seen a human female in years, not since he used to travel to human villages and spend time around their harbors. Lately, swimming up to human habitats had become dangerous, and the merfolk didn’t wander so close anymore. Sure, a few of the more adventurous ones still ventured out to see the sights, but Máelán wasn’t among them. This woman appeared to be much the same as all the others he’d 8
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seen, and yet, Máelán couldn’t look away. She had the expected four limbs, including two she walked on. Her hair was bright red, like Angus’s, and the same tight curls as the old man’s fell in unruly waves around her head. Her eyes, though, were her best feature—pale blue, resembling the ocean on a clear day, with long, curling lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows. She stared at him, but in her eyes he couldn’t find the frightened look he had come to expect from humans. Nor did she appear angry. She simply looked…curious. Without being asked, she bent down and started tugging at the netting. Her head was inches away from his face, and he could smell the floral scent of her hair. He gave her the same guttural growl he tried on the old man, but she ignored him, concentrating on getting him out of the tangled mess. Her skill at untangling the net proved superior to her father’s, and within minutes, Máelán rolled onto his side and the binding slipped off from under him. He had the sudden urge to thank her for her trouble, but thought better of it. It was he who was being troubled, not her! She was just as guilty of his capture as the two men, and she didn’t seem any more inclined to either let him go, or to kill him, than they were. “Ye’re no longer needed here, Caera. Go back inside,” the old man said as he came up behind her. “But Father, I’d like to stay and watch. I’ve never seen one of his kind before. I wonder what his name is. I’ve heard people speak of merfolk, but I’ve never—” “Demons! That’s what they are. They have no names. They’re blasphemous creatures put on this earth by the Devil. God has put him in my path, making me part of His divine plan. Ye’re not involved in this. Go inside.” He raised his voice as he spoke, until it became loud and imposing. The man seemed to be challenging the girl to speak, but she didn’t take the bait. Instead, she looked at Máelán and gave a small shrug, as if to say that perhaps he wasn’t quite as interesting as he appeared 9
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anyway. Then she turned and strode away. Máelán twisted his neck and followed her movements, willing her to turn back and look at him. She didn’t. Angus and the old man hoisted Máelán up from the bottom of the deck. The man held him by the shoulders, while Angus struggled with his powerful tail. Máelán flicked it slightly, connecting the bottom edge of his fin with the boy’s chin. Angus yelped and dropped him, and Máelán found himself thrown unceremoniously to the ground. The sand felt pleasantly warm on his skin, and it took him a few seconds to realize he was free. The edge of the ocean was only a couple of feet away; he could probably make it if he tried. Rolling on his side gave him the momentum he needed. He used his large tail as a propeller and pushed forward, drawing strength from the small beads of ocean water that sprayed him with the crash of each wave. He licked his lips and continued to roll, but a large boot connected with the side of his ribs and stopped him cold. “Pa! He’s gettin’ away!” “He ain’t goin’ nowhere! Grab ’im!” “But, Pa—the tail—” Máelán struggled through the pain to bare his teeth at the boy. “Fine, take the shoulders, then,” his father replied. “I’ll grab ’is tail.” A moment later, they hoisted Máelán back up into the air. The old man had a firm grip on his lower body, making it hard for him to struggle. Máelán looked longingly at the ocean that receded farther from reach, and silently cursed his body. If only he had legs, he’d have been free by now. He looked at the shiny scales covering his lower half and gritted his teeth at his inability to move on land as he did in the water. Then it all hit him at once. The loss of his freedom, the death of his sisters, the guilt, the belief that he should have tried harder to save them, the agony of knowing he would never see them again. He felt weak, drained of all his ability to fight. 10
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They wouldn’t kill him, and they wouldn’t let him go. He’d be their captive for as long as they deemed him an interesting apparition, and then…what? Would they finally reunite him with his sisters? They dumped him unceremoniously in a tub of water, interrupting his thoughts. This was the tank? Only slightly longer than he was, the makeshift prison measured perhaps ten feet across. At least he could submerge himself, letting the salty freshness of the ocean seep through his skin and into his body. “We’ve got to get the Archbishop. He’ll know what to do.” Máelán barely recognized the old man’s voice filtering through the water, but he knew his fate was sealed. What did it matter, anyway? His sisters were all he’d had, and they were dead. What use would it be to go back home when there was no one to greet him, no one to care if he even made it through this ordeal alive? “Angus, ye come with me,” the old man said. “Caera’ll stay here, feed the beast if need be. The hike into the city will take us over a day, and returnin’ with the Archbishop won’t be much quicker. The demon will survive for three days, if Caera feeds it.” “What do demons eat, Pa?” Angus asked. Máelán rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what demons ate, but merfolk ate fish. And come to think of it, he hadn’t had a meal since the morning, and the sun had all but disappeared. His stomach growled as if in response to his thoughts. “I don’t know, son. I’ll have Caera bring out some stew later for the beast. Mayhap he’ll eat it, mayhap not. I hope he don’t perish ’fore the Archbishop arrives. I’d like to offer ’im a live demon rather than one to dissect like the female demons the others brought a few weeks back.” Female demons? He couldn’t mean… Máelán broke through the surface of the water with a savage cry. He leaned over the edge of the tub, reached out his hands and focused on nothing but the old man’s scrawny neck, and how good it would feel to wrap his strong hands around it. But the object of his desire hung 11
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back just out of reach. The man looked at him, his eyes mocking. “Did ye want to kill me, demon? Well, ye won’t get the chance.” He turned to walk away, Angus close on his heels. He had taken only a few steps when he turned back. “And if ye think to kill me daughter instead, think again. She’s tougher than she looks.” His smirk turned into a full-fledged smile, and Máelán soon found himself alone, wondering what the old man had found so humorous. How tough could one girl be, anyway?
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CHAPTER 2
Caera Geddes slowly stirred the stew with one hand while holding open a book with the other. The Joy of Herbs was one of her favorite reference books, but today she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering. She’d been reading the same paragraph for the last ten minutes, and the words on the page swam in front of her eyes. She sighed and started to put the book on the counter when a sizzle and a sharp pop diverted her attention back to the stove in front of her. She yelped and tossed the book over her shoulder, her thoughts now fully on the contents of the pot that had spilled onto the hot surface. “Drat!” she mumbled, rushing to remove the heavy dish. The mess she’d made continued to burn, and the room rapidly filled with smoke. Caera coughed and blinked to clear her eyes, but tears started to run down her cheeks unabated. She ran to the window, threw it open, and fanned the air with her hands in a feeble attempt to release the smothering air from her kitchen. It took a few minutes, but eventually she could draw a deep breath 13
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without feeling her lungs clog. Still gasping, she collapsed in one of the sturdy wooden chairs and rested her head in her hands. Her respite was short lived as she realized the stove was still on, and ran back to turn the old-fashioned knob. The appliance was old, perhaps even older than she was, and Caera hoped she hadn’t done any permanent damage. She wiped away the mess, discomforted by the loss of even a little stew. Food other than fish was hard to come by out here, and supplies from town only arrived once a month. The meat always vanished within a few days, leaving some of the tougher vegetables and the canned foods for the rest of the month. But the fresh food never lasted long, and they always spent the last week of each month feasting on nothing but tuna and the occasional salmon steak. If only they didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere and her father wasn’t so damned stubborn. The twenty-first century was only a few months away, and still they continued to live out here, in rural Scotland, as if they were back in the eighteen hundreds and modern conveniences didn’t exist. But Caera knew better. They should own a car. A cellular phone. A computer. Yet her father was convinced that these modern appliances were nothing more than tools of the devil, a way to remove people from their connection with nature and turn them into mindless zombies. She was surprised his boat actually had a motor, the way he went on about the evils of modern technology. For all his flaws, he was still her father. When her mother died, Caera had promised her she would look after the rest of the family. Even now, so many years later, she couldn’t go back on that promise. Not while her father and brother still needed her. Still, it would be wonderful to get away from this place and do something meaningful with her life. There would be time for that later, she reminded herself. Caera closed her eyes and blew into the spoon she held out before her, the smell of stew making her mouth water. Chicken was practically a delicacy around these parts, although they could probably raise a few of their own if her father didn’t always insist on doing things his way. 14
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He refused to eat anything that didn’t come out of the ocean. “A true fisherman,” he’d say, often gesturing with his hands toward the ocean, “has no need for nothin’ that don’t come out of the great sea.” Caera disagreed. Nothing tasted better than a well-cooked piece of chicken, or perhaps a flank of beef. Her mouth watered at the thought, and she sipped delicately at the cool stew languishing in her spoon. Ah! Perfect! Caera relished the thick texture of the concoction on her tongue. She dipped her spoon back in, eager for another taste. If only she didn’t have to share it with the merman. His image lingered in her mind as she brought the utensil to her mouth. She’d forgotten to blow on the contents, and she flinched at the feel of the stew burning her lips. As if physically struck, she grimaced and dropped the spoon on the counter. When had she become so miserly that she wouldn’t share her food with another being? Especially one so intriguing. She couldn’t get his voice out of her mind. It had been only a growl, a primitive, primal sound, but it had resonated to her core. Her father had told her the creature was a demon, no more than an animal, with the intelligence to match. Still, she thought she sensed something deeper behind his gaze when he’d looked at her. Snap out of it, Caera. Mermen didn’t stare at humans with longing, yearning, or even curiosity, any more than fish did. She dipped the pot and carefully transferred the hot contents into smaller dishes, then placed the empty pot into the sink. The merman would probably be just as hungry as she was. The warm aroma of cooked meat and vegetables made her salivate, and she eagerly anticipated filling her growling belly. Outside, daylight slid toward night, the sky shifting to a deep shade of purple. The merman’s makeshift prison sat only a few feet away from the house, and Caera shuffled forward, careful not to spill any of 15
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the precious stew she carried. The tank was one of the few things her father had brought along with them when he moved the family out here. Long and black, it had been fashioned out of some sort of heavy metal, and stood on four short, thick legs. He normally used it for dumping the day’s catch into, and then cleaning and gutting the fish. Today he’d emptied it in record time for his new captive. Caera couldn’t make out the merman’s head above the sides of the tank, and she feared for a moment that he might have escaped. She stopped beside the tank and placed the bowl of stew on the sand, then bent forward to take a closer look into the stagnant water. The surface rippled slightly, and she released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. He was still there, lying at the bottom of the large tub. The panic returned when another thought struck her. Was he still alive? “Merman?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. It seemed to be enough, though, as he lifted his head from the depths. And promptly lunged for her. The impact of the merman’s hands around her throat knocked the wind out of her. His chest slammed against her breasts. She could feel his breath on her cheek. Her own breath came in hoarse gasps and her eyes burned, yet she continued to struggle against the strong hands that held her. The ferocious look in his eyes added to her fear and made her heart pound. Then, his eyes were fading; she couldn’t see the fierce specks of green that shone so brilliantly against his pale skin. The world turned black, and she was flying; the air swooshing past her as she fell to the ground. She lay there, dazed, for a brief moment, then her hands grabbed for her throat and she coughed, her lungs aching with every gasp. When she staggered to her knees, she saw that the merman had moved away from her, and now held himself flat against the opposite side of the tank. He didn’t appear nearly as menacing as he had just 16
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minutes before. She could see the lines of fatigue on his face, the faint shadows under his eyes. He kept his gaze lowered and his long lashes brushed his cheek. If she didn’t know better, Caera would have thought he looked ashamed. And he should be ashamed! She felt dizzy for a moment as she struggled to her feet, but she was too angry to be concerned. “You brute!” she yelled, placing her fists on her hips and planting her feet firmly on the ground. “You unmannered, rude, insensible— demon!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she saw his brows crinkle together. He didn’t lunge for her again, though, and that gave her the courage she needed to continue. “I come out here to feed you, and this is the thanks I get?” She walked closer to his side of the tank, her hand outstretched, pointing an accusing finger toward him. “I was concerned you’d starve to death! I wanted to serve you some food, show you that I’d like you to be comfortable here, and this is how you treat me!” She thought he might lunge for her again. Or make that growling noise, or submerge himself back to the bottom of the tank. But he did something completely unexpected. He laughed. She stood there, staring at him, open-mouthed. Did this boorish brute really have the audacity to laugh at her when he should instead be stumbling all over himself apologizing? In fact, the shocked expression on her face seemed to only heighten his amusement, and his laugh extended to his eyes, making them crinkle in delight. Small wrinkles formed around the edges of those green, limpid pools. “And I suppose you were going to feed me…that?” he pointed at the bowl of stew that sat forgotten on the ground. “You…you speak!” Caera couldn’t back away fast enough. She clamped her hand firmly over her mouth, and her eyes felt like they 17
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were going to pop out of her head. “As do you,” the merman pointed out reasonably. “Well…I… That is, I…” Caera’s words tumbled out at once, and she forced herself to stop talking. In fact, even standing seemed impossible, and she dropped to the warm sand. A demon was one thing, but a talking, intelligent…what was he? A man? No, a merman. Something more incredible and exotic than she’d ever imagined. She licked her lips and took a steadying breath. “Of course I do,” she said, only slightly calmer now that she understood the gravity of the situation. “But then again, I’m human. You’re not.” The merman inclined his head. “So you’ve noticed.” Was he making fun of her? “The tail was a dead giveaway,” she said. He grinned, showing a glimpse of his perfect white teeth. His smile was contagious, and Caera’s anger began to ebb away as she watched his features relax in amusement. He was certainly the most unusual creature she’d ever encountered. And if that powerful appendage below his waist wasn’t made of scales, she would have also thought him the most handsome male she’d ever laid eyes on. He had high, even cheekbones and a narrow nose that gave him a haughty, almost regal look. Full lips gave way to small dimples when he smiled. Endless dark lashes shadowed deep-set green eyes, and equally dark eyebrows framed the top of his face. If these features gave him the chiseled good looks of a human male, his hair set him apart. Long and straight, it flowed past his shoulders and down his back. It was an unusual shade of dark green…like the color of moss, or seaweed. Far from being unattractive, this peculiar shade brought out his eyes and contrasted with his pale skin. His smooth chest appeared perfectly muscled, and the ripples that contoured his stomach made Caera’s pulse quicken. She dared to sneak a peek lower, hoping for a hint of the masculinity that the rest of his body emitted, but she only glimpsed the scales that covered his emerald 18
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tail. “I take it you’ve never seen a merman before?” Warmth crept up into Caera’s cheeks, and she knew she must have been blushing furiously. “No, I haven’t.” There was no sense in lying. It should have been painfully clear she hadn’t had much experience with otherworldly creatures. He nodded, as if pleased by her forthright answer. “My name is Máelán.” “I’m Caera.” She extended a hand, but Máelán only glanced at it curiously. “Oh! You shake it. Like this.” She traced the curve of his arm, and felt a shiver go through him at her touch. He pulled back, but not before she could grasp his hand in the water. “And then you say, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’” *
*
*
Máelán stared at his hand in her small, delicate one. He tried to convince himself that the shiver running through his body hadn’t been caused by her touch. The sun continued its descent, and a cold chill settled over the quiet beach. That had to be it. Caera’s touch had shocked him, but the urge to reject the female contact he’d come to expect wasn’t there. For the first time since his sisters died, he wasn’t disturbed by the caress, nor did he feel the need to pull away. Her skin felt like the soft moss that grew on the forgotten artifacts lost at the bottom of the ocean. Máelán fought the urge to trace his thumb over the back of her hand, and perhaps higher, up her arm and over her shoulder, lingering at the hollow of her throat and then cupping those lightly freckled cheeks. “Well?” Her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. “Well what?” “Isn’t it a pleasure to meet me?” 19
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He drew his hand away as he recalled her words. Was she trying to teach him some human etiquette? Blending in with her kind wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of goals. He wanted nothing to do with the brutal, vicious creatures that had taken his sisters from him. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true. The lust and desire he’d been certain would never return came back in a rush, and he had to fight the urge to cup her breast, feel its weight in his hand. He wanted to taste her, grab her waist and pull her to the side of the tank until she was close enough for him to cover her luscious mouth with his. He stared at her lower lip, wondering how she’d react if he gave in to the overwhelming urge. She’d probably pull away. Or maybe she’d think he was attacking her again. He didn’t want to frighten her. He wanted to grab her, ravish her, and possess her. “Of course it is.” His mouth had suddenly gone dry, and he had trouble tearing his gaze away from her luscious curves. “But you know what would be even better?” He paused, inviting her to guess the thoughts that stirred through his mind. He imagined her shedding the coarse dress and apron she wore, and standing nude before him. “Food?” Máelán couldn’t suppress a smile. No, not food. He ran his tongue over his upper lip as he contemplated what it would feel like to bend down and capture her essence on his eager tongue. His cock stirred and grew hard, the tip of his shaft only slightly peeking through the protective slit that kept it hidden from view and tucked safely into his massive tail. “Máelán?” Caera looked concerned, her brows drawn together as she stared at him. “You seem a little dazed. Is the lack of food getting to you?” He shook his head in a feeble effort to clear away the erotic images 20
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from his mind. What was he thinking? This woman was his enemy, along with the rest of her lot. He’d been kidnapped, brought here against his will, and would probably be tortured and killed before too long. Escaping should be his first concern. Not ravishing this incredibly beautiful, feisty woman. Caera’s frown deepened while he remained quiet. She looked ready to say something when he broke the silence. “I am famished.” She bent down and retrieved the bowl from the sand, which looked to be filled with a pasty mush. A few bits of color poked through the unappealing mixture, and he could only assume they must have been some sort of plant life. His stomach growled, and then promptly turned at the smell of the concoction she held up before him. “Ugh.” He moved away before he could be sick. “What’s wrong with it?” Caera asked, her look of concern turning into a pout. “I made it myself. It’s got some of the most delicious chicken you’ve ever tasted, and large bits of taters, and carrots, and—” “I’m sure it’s wonderful,” he said quickly, hoping to reassure her. He hadn’t intended to wound her pride. “It’s just that it’s not right for me.” “Oh!” She seemed relieved that her culinary skills weren’t being questioned. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” She set the bowl back down on the sand, but not before she took another deep whiff of the mixture. Máelán’s stomach roiled just from watching her, and he turned away. “Some fish would be lovely,” he said, when she didn’t remove her gaze from the bowl. “But you’re welcome to eat, if you’re hungry.” The look she gave him was full of gratitude. She sat cross-legged on the ground and set the bowl gently in her lap. Máelán didn’t think he could stand to watch her ingest the foul mixture, so he turned away and focused on the comforting rhythm of the waves crashing against the 21
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shore. It looked so peaceful out there. He longed to be able to swim unabated; the freedom he had taken for granted for so long suddenly seemed unattainable. And his stomach continued to growl. “I’m so sorry,” Caera said, getting up from her spot on the sand. “I’ve been famished all day.” She grinned sheepishly for a moment, before a look of sheer horror registered on her features. “How could I be so rude?” She ran toward the house before Máelán had a chance to ask what she meant. Could she finally be coming to her senses about keeping him prisoner in a tank that was better suited to bathing than making him comfortable? Perhaps she was ready to let him go. The door to the small cottage swung open and Caera ran out in the same panicked rush as when she’d left him. In her outstretched hands she held a copper dish laden with two large fish. Snapper. He could make out their golden pink bellies even in the fading twilight. “Are these suitable?” she asked, even as he stretched out his arms to grab the offered treats. “Mmm hmm.” He could barely mumble between bites. The delicious flesh of the snapper went down easily, though they seemed surprisingly salty, even for ocean fish. “We covered them in salt to preserve them,” Caera explained as he ate. “It’s all I have on short notice. I’ll try to get you fresh ones tomorrow. Father left some of his fishing supplies behind when he headed into town, not that he’d have need of them there, anyway.” She chattered as Máelán ate, but he didn’t mind. He found it hard to concentrate on anything but the delicious, fragile fish he held in his hands, and the way it glided down his throat. He was hungry enough to want to swallow them whole, but he had to eat slowly. A bone could just as easily become lodged in his throat as it could in a human’s. It 22
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took him a long time to eat, but he preferred it that way, savoring each bite after the grueling day he’d endured. When he finished, he handed Caera the dish, the bones piled high upon it. She took it and offered him a smile. “I’m glad you had something to eat.” Her gaze was tender and caring, and Máelán once again felt the stirrings of longing spread through his body. Could it be that she wasn’t quite like the rest of them? She seemed gentle and kind, concerned about his welfare. She had brought him food, and talked to him as she would to another human. Maybe his lustful thoughts weren’t so treacherous after all. “Father would never forgive me if something were to happen to you before he returned,” she finished. The idea that she might be different from her kin vanished as quickly as it had emerged. Her only concern was keeping him alive until his tormentors returned, nothing more. He’d expected this, hadn’t he? After all, she was only human. So then why did he feel so betrayed as she turned and walked back to her cottage for the night?
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CHAPTER 3
The moon rose red that night, and Máelán watched it with growing dread. A red moon meant spilled blood in mermaid lore. The bright, unnaturally crimson orb that hovered over the darkness would have made a chill run up his spine even if he hadn’t been familiar with the tales the elders told when he was young. At least it wasn’t cold. Máelán splashed his tail in the water and sighed. His powerful muscles had already begun to atrophy. He yearned to be free, to swim in the ocean and explore its depths. And much to his surprise, he was even a little homesick. He longed to wander aimlessly around Rhoc, the emerald city of the merfolk, admiring the craftsmanship and beauty of the large castles and the grounds layered with long-forgotten treasure and ancient artifacts. He missed his sisters and the few friends he had. Even the merfolk who had pestered him over the past few weeks with their constant condolences and shared regrets would have been a welcome respite from the silence and the monotony of captivity. 24
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Most of all, he wanted to be out exploring, searching for those rare items lost forever to the rest of humanity, but treasured beyond all else by merfolk. Máelán’s kind prided themselves on their collection of treasure chests, pottery (broken and otherwise), jewels and precious stones, and even the occasional entire ship. If there were human bodies found onboard those vessels, they were always buried beneath the sea, laid to rest during the same sort of ceremony the merfolk would arrange for one of their own. Máelán had decided that when he got back, he’d try to have that ritual changed. What good did it do to treat human remains with respect, when human beings didn’t even show the same sort of regard to live merfolk? He smacked his tail against the surface of the stale water, anger surging through his veins. Rhoc was indeed beautiful, but Máelán longed to be with his family. If a choice were offered, he’d choose death over returning to a home where his sisters’ voices had fallen silent for eternity. To never again hear their song, feel their touch on his skin, or hear their laughter would be too much to bear. A soft, soothing sound reached Máelán’s ears and startled him out of his self-pity. It seemed vaguely recognizable. The faint noise turned into a melody, and though it still wasn’t very loud, it brought a grudging smile to Máelán’s lips. They had found him. Merfolk had two ways to communicate. When alone, they often spoke to each other as humans do, their voices carrying even through the depths of the ocean. The energy and sound waves they created would transmit over long distances, and though communication was always easy, it was not often private. Around humans, merfolk language took on another form altogether. It turned into song. Over the span of centuries, merfolk melodies adapted and 25
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developed. There were specific tunes to be sung when one was happy, or in danger, or simply lonely and in need of companionship. Gradually, those songs got more intricate, and melodies were created for different moods until merfolk had turned those simple tunes into a unique language of their own. A few notes sung in a high tone meant something entirely different than those same notes sung in a deeper, lower voice, and Máelán had learned them all as early as he’d learned to talk. He was able to communicate with his kind through melody as easily as he could through words, but this was the first time he’d ever been grateful he took the time to acquire the skill. Not all merfolk did. Many thought it was a useless talent, especially since they no longer ventured out seeking human surroundings. Still, those fascinated with humans continued teaching their young a safer method of communication. The voice that reached him now was melodious and distinctly feminine. The mermaid sang of danger, her concern for him clear on her tongue. Elaana. One of his oldest friends, Elaana had always looked out for him. She had even tried to dissuade him from going up to the surface alone, and Máelán now wished he’d listened to her warning. In the past he’d felt smothered by her care. After his sisters died she had appointed herself his guardian, or next of kin. Still, as frustrating as her constant doting was, Máelán was grateful for her concern. It couldn’t have been easy for her, leaving her husband and children behind constantly to watch over him and make sure he didn’t do anything foolish. Yet tonight, her warm, genuine worry washed over him, and he felt both guilt and sorrow at hearing it. “I’m fine,” he sang back. His response would be heard as nothing more than a harmonic hum to the human ear, yet he knew Elaana would understand him. “I don’t believe you,” she answered. 26
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“Go home.” Máelán wanted to keep his melodies short, so he wouldn’t attract Caera’s attention if she should hear him, while at the same time hoping to dissuade Elaana from whatever foolish plan she had to rescue him. He would never forgive himself if he put her in danger, and he wasn’t sure Caera wouldn’t try to capture her, too. Two merfolk would definitely garner her father’s good graces, and this Archbishop fellow’s as well. He didn’t want to think so poorly of the beautiful girl, with her curvy hips and soft, luscious lips, but he also couldn’t risk Elaana’s life on what was nothing more than a foolish infatuation. “I will get you out of there.” Elaana’s voice became louder, the melody more intense. He could almost feel her frustration at not being able to reach him. She’d probably swum as close to the shore as she dared, and could even see his small tank from where she floated close to the surf. He couldn’t bear to turn around and look. “Go home,” he repeated, knowing she’d refuse. He had to convince her he was beyond saving. They could still kill him and reunite him with his sisters. “You can probably see the tank from where you are,” he sang in a deep, clear voice. “I have no way to get out of here. I certainly can’t swim through the sand to shore. You must go home. Leave me. Go back to your family.” Máelán knew he was playing a dangerous game by singing so much. Caera would certainly have heard him, and she’d be wondering what was going on. If she came out and found Elaana… “I will get you out of there,” the mermaid replied. Angered, Máelán stuck his head up above the side of the tank just in time to see her perform a graceful dive and swim away. He curled his hand into a fist and pounded the edge of the tank. “Damn you!” he sang after her, knowing she wouldn’t hear him. He turned away from the ocean, dejected, unable to look at the waves crashing against the sand. The foam looked ominous, tinted in a deep 27
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pink from the moon’s glow, and he forced himself to suppress a shiver. He had intended to submerge himself at the bottom of the tank and try to forget. The memories of his sisters’ bodies and his own dire circumstance could be banished to the edge of his subconscious while he slept, but as he turned, preparing his body to switch from inhaling oxygen to surviving through the life-giving ocean water, Caera’s silhouette against the red moon made the breath catch in his throat. She stood as if frozen in place, staring at him, not a foot from the tank. She tilted her head, fixing him with her gaze. She didn’t speak, and she didn’t look as if she would move from that spot. Máelán imagined she’d stand there all night unless… In an instant, he knew what he had to do. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he sang to her, his voice melodious and warm. He tried to put all his emotion behind the melody, hoping she’d understand the intent if not the exact words behind it. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. We don’t have creatures like you in Rhoc. Mermaids are delicate and ethereal. You…you’re genuine, voluptuous, and inviting.” As he sang, he watched the expression on her face change from one of amazement to one of longing. Her desire was written plainly across her features, as if she perfectly understood the meaning of his wordless melody. She came to him then, crossing the distance to the tank in only a few seconds, but those moments seemed to last forever for Máelán. While she walked, he admired the bounce in her step, the way she held her head high and her chin just slightly lifted. She exuded confidence and sexuality, and Máelán felt the buried feelings of longing resurface. He had to have her. Tonight. *
*
*
Caera knew Máelán sang just for her. She was certain of it, though she couldn’t even explain the knowledge to herself. The haunting, 28
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lustful song seemed to come right out of his soul, and she felt each note reverberate through her entire body. She shivered, though she didn’t feel cold. The music was getting to her, she realized. The depth of emotion spilling out of Máelán as he sang was overwhelming. It ran through her, pooling itself in her midsection, causing the feelings of longing to intensify. The tank was only inches away now, and Caera stretched out her hand. She had to touch him, let him know that she understood, but he held himself just out of her reach and continued singing. The wind caught the long waves of his hair and tossed them back, while the skin around his deep green eyes crinkled from the effort he put into the song, but his gaze never left her face. She had to make him see that she felt the same way. His song was magical, but the overwhelming longing was already a part of her, and the beautiful sound only helped bring those feelings of yearning and lust to the surface. Caera’s attraction to this gorgeous merman had begun the moment she first saw him lying on the deck of her father’s fishing boat. Her heart broke for him as she struggled to loosen the net that bound him. She watched his scowl deepen when she didn’t seem intimidated by him, and realized he didn’t know how attractive she found him. And if she didn’t tell him, he probably never would. “Máelán,” she began, then paused, unsure how to proceed. He continued to sing, seemingly unaware of her need to explain. His voice grew louder, more insistent, each note taking on a life of its own and floating through the night air. She could hear the melody bounce and echo off the reefs, and for the first time, she was glad they were so isolated. She didn’t want to share Máelán with anyone. Not tonight. Caera gave a reassuring smile as Máelán continued his melody. Let him sing. He doesn’t need to talk. He has only to watch. Stepping just out of reach of the tank, she brought her hands up to 29
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her throat and ran a finger along the coarse collar of her wool dress. Hesitating for only a moment, she began to unbutton the garment, starting at the neckline and continuing until she could comfortably slide the sleeves off her arms, leaving the dress to hang off her midsection. Her breasts were bare, and she felt a chill as the wind picked up. Her nipples hardened into sharp points and she shivered, enjoying the forbidden feeling of being outdoors, baring her body to a man she’d only just met. Máelán had stopped singing, she realized with a self-satisfied sigh. “You approve?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She was pleased to see the way his eyes had widened as she slipped her dress of her shoulders. “You look amazing.” He had come up to the edge of the tank, as close to her as he could bring himself. Caera knew she was just out of his reach, and she grinned, planning to enjoy teasing him further. She brought her hands up to her breasts and covered the round, soft mounds from Máelán’s prying eyes, and saw the look of longing on his face replaced by one of confusion. “That’s it?” he growled. “You came out here to tease me? Or were you just trying to get me to shut up?” She laughed, and was surprised to realize the sound was melodious, almost like Máelán’s song. He heard it too, and his eyebrows drew up in surprise. “What did you say?” he asked. “I didn’t say anything,” she said between giggles. “But I was about to tell you that you’re wrong if you think I only came out here to get you to stop singing. You have a beautiful voice.” She kept her breasts covered, knowing she could continue to frustrate him by denying him the sight of her. He inclined his head and accepted her compliment gracefully. “Fine. I sing well. Now drop your hands.” Caera giggled again at the impatience in his voice, and she 30
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wondered briefly whether he would exhibit that same trait during lovemaking. She hoped not. She wanted her first experience with a merman to be memorable, passionate, and most of all, lasting. She didn’t remove her hands, but took advantage of the situation to pinch her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. They were already hardened by the cold, and she easily crossed the line between pain and pleasure as she fondled the hard buds. Her hair brushed her back as she tilted her head, trying to stifle a moan. “Damn it woman!” Máelán’s voice startled her out of her selfabsorption. “I should be doing that.” “You prefer to be in control, do you?” she asked. Máelán narrowed his eyes but didn’t answer. “It must be killing you to be stuck there, in that tiny tank, knowing that I’m only a few steps away, if you could take steps.” She stopped talking and wondered whether she’d gone too far. Insulting him definitely wouldn’t do. She meant the words to be teasing, just slightly playful, but the look in his eyes told her she might have crossed the line. “If you were in the ocean, you wouldn’t stand a chance. I would have had those clothes off you long ago. Instead of standing there touching yourself, you’d be begging me to keep fucking you.” “Arrogant, aren’t you?” she said, not bothering to hide a smirk. “I prefer to think of myself as confident. Now come over here before I have to dive out of this tank and crawl through the sand to get you.” Intrigued, she walked to him, shedding the rest of her clothes as she approached the tank. The dress slipped easily down to her ankles after she undid a few more buttons. She wore nothing underneath. Tossing a leg over the side of the tank left her fully exposed, and she felt Máelán’s hand on her thigh as she struggled to climb over. When his thumb brushed against her swollen lips, she couldn’t hold back a gasp, and the shock propelled her over the edge. She landed with 31
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an unceremonious splash at the bottom of the tank. She resurfaced quickly and brushed her wet hair out of her eyes. Máelán’s makeshift prison was shallower than she’d thought, and she was able to stand comfortably, the water only barely covering her breasts. “You’re beautiful,” Máelán said, his gaze roaming over her naked body. Caera shivered, the breeze traveling over her wet shoulders, making her even more aware of her nudity. “There,” she said. “Now we’re both naked.” Máelán’s smile was so seductive that Caera’s knees buckled slightly. God, but she wanted him. It made no difference to her that he wasn’t even of her species, unless… “Oh, my, I didn’t even think to ask…” A rush of color crept into her cheeks. “Ask what?” “How you…if you can…you know,” she stammered, the blush deepening with each word. What’s wrong with me? I can stand here perfectly naked before him, but I can’t ask to see his cock? He seemed to sense her discomfort and swam closer, enveloping her shoulders with his muscular arms. She fit perfectly against his chest, her breasts rubbing against him in the water. He claimed her mouth, prodding her lips open with his tongue and Caera moaned and relaxed against him. She deepened the kiss, returning the favor by thrusting her own tongue into his mouth. He gasped and grabbed her tighter, pressing her closer against his chest, his tongue continuing to explore and caress her with its velvety softness. It was then that she felt it. His erection was unmistakable, pressing against her lower belly. She gasped and drew away from the kiss, eager to explore his masculinity, wanting to know exactly how it was possible that his cock was as big and thick as any man’s. No, bigger, 32
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she realized as she cupped him in her hand. “I want to see you,” she whispered breathlessly. The moon continued to cast its pale red light, bathing them both in its crimson glow, but beyond the surface of the water everything was obscured in darkness. “I know.” Máelán’s hands reached out to cup her breasts. “I want to see more of you too, but for tonight, this will have to do.” She nodded and ran her tongue over his lower lip. Her hand moved in small, tight circles over his cock, and she heard his breath come in short, uneven gasps. Relinquishing his lips, she leaned in close to his ear. His cock had grown incredibly hard in her hand. “I assume,” she whispered in what she hoped was her most seductive voice, “that you know how to use this thing?” *
*
*
Máelán tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a growl instead. He buried his face in Caera’s wet hair, breathing in her earthy scent. He couldn’t think straight. Her hand on his cock felt incredible. He’d never been touched so sensually, with so much thought given to his arousal. The few mermaids he’d been with hadn’t given a second thought to what he wanted. They were too needy when they made love, too enamored by their own lust and their own need for release. Sometimes, he had the distinct feeling he was only a vessel, a way for them to get what they needed. Often, he wondered whether it was really him they wanted, or whether any merman would do. He thought about how often he saw mermaids swim up to the surface, looking for a lonely human to entice. Perhaps he was wrong. It wasn’t a merman’s cock they lusted after, but any cock at all. He gripped Caera tighter around the waist, pulling her closer to him. Her hand had slid through the protective slit in his tail, and she cupped his balls, running her thumb sensually along the base of his shaft. He 33
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didn’t think he could take much more of this. “Stop,” he whispered, closing his eyes and willing himself not to come in her hand. “Oh, by the gods, stop.” She chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that made its way straight into his heart. He gasped at the unexpected feeling that washed over him. His arousal was to be expected. After all, no merman could resist such curves, such incredibly delicious lips, such perky nipples. That feeling just now, there was more there than just the heat of the moment. Máelán didn’t even want to consider the possibility that his feelings for this soft human woman went deeper than his lust. He covered her mouth roughly with his, forcing her lips apart, thrusting his tongue against hers. She gasped, but didn’t back away from his fierce assault. Instead, she leaned into him, rubbing her breasts along his chest in slow, sensual moves. Her tongue explored his with the same passion he forced on her. Fine. If he couldn’t intimidate her with his kiss, then perhaps he could drive her over the edge in other ways. Her intense need for him would be enough to drive any thoughts of real affection out of his mind. This was sex, nothing more. He broke away from her lips as suddenly as he had ravaged them. Her mouth glowed in the eerie moonlight, her lower lip already beginning to swell from the forceful kiss. A satisfied smile broke over his face, and to his surprise, she smiled back. “Can you take as well as you give?” he asked her, trying to hold the tenderness back from his voice. He wanted no affection tonight. No compassion. If he was going to die in two days, he wanted to fully experience the passion his body ached for. And he wanted what only Caera could give him. Máelán didn’t wait for an answer. He dove beneath the surface, holding back for only a moment while he adjusted to breathing in the ocean water. Reaching out his hands, he found Caera’s knees and 34
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parted them slightly. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a gasp, muffled by the water. He wished it were brighter. He wanted to see all of her, but instead focused on touching her. She had the most exquisite legs. They seemed to go on forever, long and lean, and soft. He caressed them slowly, running his fingers up the length of her calves, over her knees and between her thighs. When his fingers met the fleshy lips of her pussy he grew harder, and for the second time that night he was afraid he’d spill his seed before he could plunge deep into her soft core. So soft. There was no other way to describe her. Every curve, every inch of skin was like velvet to his touch. He continued to explore the slit between her legs, eager to find out what made human women so unique. Mermaids were nothing like this. They hid their sexual organs inside, as he did. Their slit was small and slick, barely enough for him to shove his cock into. Caera was full of folds and crevices, intimate parts that begged to be explored. He slid a tentative finger inside her opening, and felt her knees buckle at the contact. She likes it. Good. He began to thrust his finger in and out, slowly at first, then faster and as deep as her opening would allow. The feeling of being so intimate, of touching her in such a private way made him lightheaded with desire. He moved his head up closer to her mound, and ran his tongue over the length of her slit. There was no mistaking the scream that broke out of her throat this time. She leaned against him; her fingers found his hair and drove his mouth deeper into her luscious cleft. The taste of salt water mingled with her own sweet juices, and he lapped at her core, savoring the delicate, fleshy texture. When she could stand on her own, he lifted his head, regretting having to relinquish his hold on her pussy. He’d have to do that again soon. She tasted so good, and thinking of the pleasure he had given her 35
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caused his own desire to intensify. The thought that he wanted to give Caera that kind of pleasure every day for the rest of her life was as unexpected and frightening as the sudden grasp of the net the previous morning. He had to stop this. He wasn’t being himself. These thoughts were irrational, illogical, he couldn’t be… “Oh, God, that was incredible,” Caera gasped as his head broke through the water. “Fuck me,” she whispered. Before he could react, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her legs, tightening them around his midsection, the water helping to keep them both afloat. He wanted to push her away, but his desire was stronger. Just one night. This can never happen again. All logical thoughts flew out of his head the moment she impaled herself on his cock. He felt the heat emanating from her wet core seconds before she covered his cock, driving him so deep inside her that he could feel her inner walls with the sensitive tip of his shaft. “Caera.” Her name came unbidden to his lips, although he realized that he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to. The feel of his cock inside her made him lose complete control over his thoughts, his reactions, and his emotions. He wanted to stay buried within her for as long as possible. The desire to come at the first moment of pleasure had fled, only to be replaced with the need to prolong this sensation, this incredible feeling of fulfillment and arousal. Caera, however, had other plans. She began to move her hips in a demanding, possessive rhythm. She entangled her fingers in his hair, and tightened the grasp of her legs around his midsection. Forcing him to plunge deeper into her with each thrust, he could only obey as she set the pace of their lovemaking. Lovemaking. When had that happened? When had it gone beyond pure lust and crossed the line into this forbidden territory? Máelán couldn’t think. He 36
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didn’t want to ponder all the thoughts swimming in his head just beneath the memory of Caera’s sweet pussy, her soft folds, and the heat that radiated from her as he plunged inside her inviting core. Her teeth sank into the tender flesh of his shoulder, and the pain traveled along the length of his body to culminate in his already overheated cock. Unable to hold back any longer, he arched his back and released his seed into her. She cried out again and he felt her shudder and go limp as he pumped his come into her. Caera continued to hold him, her arms still tangled around his neck, her fingers gently running through his hair. Her legs loosened their hold, and her pussy relinquished its grasp on his softening cock. Still, he didn’t let go. The feel of her firm breasts against him was as comforting as it was arousing, and he couldn’t seem to detach himself from the way her upper body molded itself so perfectly against his. The familiar tang of salt air stung Máelán’s nostrils and behind them the ocean stretched to infinity. The steady rhythm of the waves crashing against the surf matched Caera’s heartbeat against his chest. “Was that good for you?” she whispered, and then bent her head to nibble on his earlobe. “You have no idea.” He couldn’t suppress a sigh as she detached herself from his body. Closing his eyes, he could imagine she was still there, pressed against him. “I should go inside,” she said. He opened his eyes just in time to see her climb over the edge of the tank. Her hips swayed as she walked, the moonlight glistening off her wet, naked body. Her firm ass beckoned to him, and again he cursed his nature for not being able to follow her inside. What would it be like to curl up with Caera in her bed? To hold her as she slept, inhale her scent and listen to her rhythmic breathing? There was no sense fighting it anymore. Being with her tonight proved that. She had unearthed something deep inside him, feelings of loneliness and need. He was falling for her, hard, and suddenly the idea 37
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of dying at the hands of those evil men no longer held the same appeal. Caera was all that mattered. In her arms, he had found the real reason for living. And if they were ever going to be together, he had to get away from her first.
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CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Máelán woke feeling lightheaded. As he took deep breaths of the stale ocean water, he struggled to determine where he was. He stretched, and his fist hit something solid. The tank . He opened his eyes quickly and surfaced, looking around for Caera. He had expected her to be there, standing by him as she had done last night while he communicated with Elaana. But this morning, the beach was deserted. It stretched out on either side of him to infinity, and there was no other soul around, human or otherwise. Individual sand granules sparkled in the morning sun, and the ocean beckoned to him. He could almost imagine the merfolk frolicking around on a day like this. Máelán sank down to the bottom of his prison. What was the use of hoping for things he couldn’t have? And longing for a woman he couldn’t have was just as useless. But last night he’d felt more than he’d ever expected to feel again. He had been so convinced that his 39
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ability to love had been destroyed when his sisters were killed, that he had refused to even consider the possibility that a woman might one day love him. But those were foolish thoughts. It would do him no good to consider a future with this human, enchanting though she may be, especially when he was stuck in nothing more than an oversized bathtub. Máelán opened his eyes and stared through the water at the clear blue sky. The sun’s rays penetrated the surface and managed to warm his skin even as he lay at the bottom of the tank. On a typical morning like this, he’d be out scouting for treasure with Elaana. He remembered the mermaid’s laugh as he once dug out a pot from a long forgotten ship and placed it on his head. Encouraged by her amusement, he’d begun to dance, the way he imagined humans must have done when they’d entertained each other on those great big ships long ago. When they arrived home with the treasure, she begged him to do it again. Máelán had enjoyed being the center of attention for once, and his sisters had laughed along with everyone else and elbowed each other, proud of their big brother. But his sisters were dead. And he’d never be able to speak to Elaana again, much less go treasure hunting, or do any of the other things normal merman did. He’d never have a family, or children. That net had sealed his fate when it crept over his body, binding him. They would kill him; it was only a matter of time. But he welcomed death, didn’t he? Máelán wasn’t so sure anymore. He felt the need to swim to and fro, to think this through. He propelled himself through the water and gave out a yell of frustration as his head hit the tank only moments after he’d began to swim. He broke through the surface and rubbed the top of his skull. Only yesterday, he’d welcomed the chance to see his sisters again. He’d wanted to be with them more than anything else. 40
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And yet, the idea that he’d be dead in a couple of days no longer held the same appeal. The will to live had become stronger overnight, and there could only be one explanation. Caera. What had she done to him last night? Was plunging into her depths and tasting the sweet flesh between her legs all it took to make him forget his sisters? But he hadn’t forgotten. The pain was just as fresh today as it had been a day ago, only now, there was another feeling swelling inside his chest. Could it be…? No. Máelán was certain it couldn’t be love. He’d only just met her. And she was human! A more unlikely pair wasn’t possible. And besides, he hated humans. All of them. Even the ones with silky red hair, soft curves, a firm ass, and legs that held his cock in place so securely in her tight sheath. What was wrong with him? He should have been mourning his sisters, contemplating ways to take his own life, not drooling over some human. And yet the stirring in his groin and the longing in his heart told him that this human was different. He wouldn’t be able to get her out of his mind so easily. If he had to spend the next couple of days with her, he was afraid he’d lose whatever control over his emotions he still had. There was only one choice, then. He had to get away from her. Máelán peered over the edge of the tank, judging the distance between him and the ocean, about forty feet, give or take. He couldn’t walk— and swimming through the sand certainly wasn’t an option. Could he roll, like he had tried to do the day before? It was farther than the distance he would have had to cross yesterday, but it was still within the realm of possibility. The more he looked out at the pure blue ocean, the closer it seemed to get. 41
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It’s really not that far. Once out of the tank, he’d have only to close his eyes and roll for as long as he could. When scouting for treasure, he had been able to lift entire chests up using only the strength in his upper body. His tail was equally as powerful, so using those muscles to make his way toward the ocean should be easy. Effortless, really. “Here I go,” he mumbled, grabbing the side of the tank with his hands. He lifted himself up using only his arms, and tried to hoist his tail up over the edge, but he couldn’t make it. His tail was strong, but he couldn’t lift it all the way up to his midsection in its entirety. Damn. He gritted his teeth and tried again, able to get his powerful lower appendage higher this time. “Come on!” His voice was hoarse to his own ears. Biting his lip, he heaved one more time, using one of his hands to shove his tail upward, while holding on to the side of the tank with only one arm. He knew the strain he put on his body. Blue veins stood out on his arms like ink on a map. His teeth ground against one another as he set his jaw, swinging his powerful tail over the edge. He landed with his face pressed against the ground, the sand biting into his cheek, but he felt euphoric. He’d done it. He’d escaped his metal prison. The beginning of a smile formed on his lips and he took a deep breath, appreciating the feeling of freedom. Only then did he see the water spilling over the edge of the tank. His lungs were full of fresh air, and he managed to gulp a large mouthful of the water that drenched his skin and sunk into the sand. He gasped, the water burning as it went down his air passage. He tried to turn away, cough into the sand and expel the liquid that rapidly descended into his body, but the tank toppled over completely, and he cried out instead as the sharp metal edge landed on his arm. Almost instantly the blood burst through his broken skin to trickle 42
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down into the sand. Pain washed through him, and it felt like his arm had suddenly caught fire. He didn’t want to look, afraid it might actually be true. If it wasn’t on fire, then it had to have been entirely severed. Máelán kept his eyes closed, bit his lip and willed the waves of pain away, but the sharp stabs in his elbow didn’t subside. They only seemed to get worse, spreading to his wrist until he could no longer move his fingers. Fighting the bile rising in his throat, Máelán turned his head. His arm was trapped under the tank, and moving it only sent more pain rushing through him. On the other side, the ocean lay farther than it ever had before, mocking him. So, this was to be his end, then. He’d die here, on dry land like a fish out of sea, with no one around to even care what happened to him. It was no less than he’d wanted, he supposed. It occurred to him that he could call for help. Caera had to be inside; it wasn’t as if there was anywhere within three days of here she could have gone. But what would she do when she found him? Laugh? Shower him with pity? So much for the evil demon. He tries to escape and only succeeds in trapping himself further. His disgust at himself overwhelmed even the stabbing pain in his arm. He no longer felt anything other than anger, and shame. Closing his eyes, he once again wished for a swift death. *
*
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His arms tightened around her, pulled her closer to him. She moaned, but his mouth smothered the sound as it hovered over hers. He ran his tongue over her lips, gently parting them, and she eagerly obeyed, giving in to him. The water enveloped them both as he dragged them down, and to her surprise, she didn’t drown… she wasn’t sure how she was doing it, but the water brought nothing but comfort, and she smiled against his mouth, her hands probing lower. 43
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The fins on his tail were a strange combination of silk and sharp edges, and she ran her fingers over the front, eager for his cock. It sprung out of its sheath, long and hard, ready for her, and she gasped as it found its way into her moist core. Nudging her open as his tongue had done, it demanded entry, and she eagerly gave it what it sought. Máelán’s face shone with pure contentment . He bent his head back, closed his eyes and sang softly, that same surge of emotion in his voice. Somehow, she knew the song was for her. He called her name, described his ecstasy, the way he felt inside her. The world exploded in a myriad of colors, and she could hear Máelán scream. The orgasm washed over her, tightening every muscle, and she gave in, content in the knowledge that Máelán enjoyed that same feeling of rapture along with her. But when she opened her eyes, his face was no longer blissful. Instead, it was contorted in pain, and he pushed her away. She drifted through the ocean suddenly gasping for breath. The salty water invaded her lungs and she struggled, trying to scream out his name. He didn’t answer, and the knowledge that something horrible had happened to him overwhelmed her like the excess water in her lungs. *
*
*
Caera bolted upright in her bed, taking deep, gasping breaths. She had run out of air. Shaking her head to dispel the remnants of the nightmare, she inhaled deeply, making sure her lungs still worked. Sweat trickled down her spine and drenched her nightshirt. She leaned her head against the wall, willing her mind to clear and trying to shake off the disturbing dream. But it hadn’t all been disturbing. Máelán’s touch, his kiss, the way he felt inside her, those memories washed through her, awakening her arousal and reminding her of the night before. That hadn’t been a 44
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dream. Máelán’s cock had certainly felt real as he plunged inside her, filling her with its size, and giving her more pleasure than she’d thought possible. Máelán. The way he’d looked in her dream, his eyes wide with unspoken pain. She couldn’t forget that either. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she shrugged out of her flimsy nightgown and pulled on a long, woolen dress. Drab and grey, at least it was tight, fitting her curves in all the right places. She stopped in front of the mirror and smoothed her curls before throwing open the door to her bedroom and stepping into the small kitchen. She saw him through the window. Lying on the ground, the tank toppled on top of him, his tail thrashing violently; he looked on the brink of death. Caera ran out the cottage as fast as her feet would carry her. She fell on the sand on her knees beside him and touched his forehead. “Máelán?” He grunted, but made no other reply. Her gaze darted to his arm, pinned beneath the heavy tank. How could it have overturned with him in it? Unless—was he trying to escape? Caera’s eyes filled with tears as she realized that Máelán was willing to put himself through the torture and humiliation of having to drag himself through the sand. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” she whispered. He didn’t answer. Whether he pretended not to hear her, or whether he was in too much pain to speak, Caera wasn’t sure. She moved along the sand to where the tank lay on top of his arm. It had cut deep into the flesh just above his elbow, and a large pool of blood had seeped into the ground, turning the white sand an ominous shade of red. Just like the moon last night. Using all her strength, Caera tried to push the tank off Máelán and into its upright position. It budged a few inches, but it was much 45
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heavier than she’d expected, and she couldn’t overturn it. She bit her lip from the strain but continued to hold the tank above the sand. “Can you move your arm?” she asked through gritted teeth. Máelán grunted a gruff acknowledgement, and out of the corner of her eye she saw his arm slide away from where it had been. She breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the heavy tank back on the sand. “We have to do something about that arm,” she said, glancing wearily at the blood seeping out of the wound. The lower half of his limb had turned purple, and she was certain he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. “Water,” came a hoarse whisper from deep within Máelán’s throat. “I need to be back in water.” “Your arm…” Máelán shook his head as well as he could as it was still pressed into the sand. “Only ocean water can heal my wounds. Please.” He added the last word, almost as an afterthought. Caera stood in the middle of the beach, her hair falling over her face as she debated what to do. He didn’t want her to look after his arm, that much was clear. And his demand for ocean water had to take precedence. Still, how could she fulfill his wish? The tank had tipped over, and thus, was empty of all its contents. The ocean was much too far for Caera to be able to drag Máelán in his current state. There was only one thing she could do. She had to refill the tank and get him back in somehow. Though she hated the thought of keeping him prisoner for one moment longer than absolutely necessary, she couldn’t see what else could be done. She gave another half-hearted attempt at pushing the tank, but got the same results. She needed something to help her, like a lever of some sort or… or a crowbar. The small shed where her father kept all his tools was just behind the cottage, and she ran to it, hoping she’d quickly find what she was looking for. Her eyes filled with tears as she barged in through the flimsy 46
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wooden door. The shed was an absolute mess. Fishing equipment of all kinds lay on the ground: nets, poles and lures tangled together with fishing spears, reels and tackle. She trudged forward, shoving the equipment out of her way as she made headway into the small, cramped room. The black metal crowbar rested against the far wall, and Caera almost yelped for joy when she saw it. She stepped on top of the rods without flinching as they snapped under her feet, then grabbed the crowbar and ran out of the room as fast as she could. Caera almost sighed in relief when she saw Máelán, still lying on the ground, then chided herself. Where could he have gone, anyway? With his arm in its current condition, it wasn’t as if he could easily drag himself away, or even roll through the sand. She wedged the crowbar in slowly beneath the edge of the tank and pushed down with all her strength. To her surprise, she was able to lift the tank, and it squeaked a metal squeal as it fell back on its four legs. Glancing at Máelán, Caera said a small prayer to anyone willing to listen. She wasn’t nearly as religious as her father, but she had to believe someone watched over them now. Her disturbing dream played in her mind again. It couldn’t have been simple coincidence that had made her jolt awake, and it had been a pleasant dream until its dark twist. She rushed to the house and grabbed the largest bucket she could find. Sighing in aggravation, Caera realized it would take at least ten trips back and forth to the ocean before she could fill the damn tank again. That metal monstrosity on the beach had begun to fill her with dread, and she hated the fact that getting Máelán back in it was the only way to help him. Gritting her teeth, she hurried to the ocean to fill the bucket. It took fifteen trips, and by the time she was done, at least an hour had passed. Her back ached from the heavy lifting, and her skin burned from the harsh glare of the sun. Still, she had one more thing to do before she could even think about resting. 47
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Kneeling beside Máelán’s still form, she bent her head and touched her mouth to his dry, parched lips. His eyelids fluttered and opened wide, and she found herself fixed in his unflinching stare. “We have to get you back in the tank,” she said, shrugging apologetically. He glared at her and turned his head to the other side. “You asked for water,” she said defensively. “Please, Máelán. It’s the only way I can think of that will help you.” “You know I can’t heave myself in there. Not like this.” He tried to make an effort to move his arm and she saw him grit his teeth in response to the pain. Even now, blood seeped slowly from his open wound. “I’ll help you,” she said. Máelán had been right. There was no way he could get himself back in the tank, and Caera wasn’t strong enough to lift him up on her own. “You have to help me,” she whispered, smoothing his green hair back from his sweaty brow. “Please,” she repeated. He gave a brief nod, and grabbed on to the edge of the tank with his good hand, while his other arm hung limply at his side. For a moment, Caera hesitated, unsure whether she was doing the right thing. His harsh voice eliminated her doubts. “Do it,” he insisted. “Grab my tail.” Obeying him, Caera grabbed his large tail and lifted it off the ground. It, too, was heavier than it looked, and her muscles strained in response to the effort. She looked at Máelán for confirmation, and he nodded, giving her permission to swing his tail over the edge. He followed her lead, pushing himself up with his strong arm and toppling over the side into the tank. The splash he made would have been reassuring, if it hadn’t been accompanied by his cry. Oh God! His arm! Caera glanced over the edge, and saw the water turn red before her eyes. She could no longer distinguish Máelán’s shape at the bottom of the tank, and she closed her eyes and prayed he was all right. 48
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How badly he must have wanted to get away from here to put himself through that. His escape plan was foolish at best, dangerous at worst. Tears spilled down her face as she realized he must have been desperate to escape his captors, or to escape her. She dug her fingernails into her palms, concentrating on that pain rather than the pain of disappointment crushing her chest. Running the back of her hands over her cheeks, she wiped away the tears. Stop it. He’s the one in pain here, not you. Why shouldn’t he want to get away? What have you done to help him since he got here? A quick fuck isn’t enough to solve his problems. She grimaced at the realization that her guilty conscience had a point. She’d done nothing to help his situation. He had been right to try to leave, and she admitted she probably would have done the same in his place. Still, she had two more days to redeem herself. She’d wait until he was strong enough, and then, she’d do everything in her power to get him out of here. Until then, though, she needed to get his spirits up.
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CHAPTER 5
Though Caera’s footsteps had made no sound on the soft sand as she approached the tank, Máelán knew she was there. He could feel her presence, could feel her hovering over the tank, watching him. Annoyed, he lifted his head, fixing her with what he hoped was a vicious stare. “Go away,” he growled. She smiled, which only served to annoy him further. “I said, leave. What part of that is difficult for you to comprehend?” His face twisted into a sneer. “Or are you here to kill me and get it over with?” His arm throbbed, and although the bleeding had stopped, the pain was still strong enough to make him take deep breaths as he spoke. “Is that any way to treat a woman you fucked?” She answered his question with a question, and Máelán felt whatever was left of his patience completely dissolve. “Listen, woman.” He said the last word between gritted teeth, as if it were an insult. “I did what I did because I wanted to. Now, what I want 50
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is to get away from this place, but seeing as that’s not likely to happen, I just want to be left alone.” Caera shrugged, a look of indifference on her delicate features. The freckles on her nose stood out against her pale skin. She looked radiant, standing there in the sunlight, flecks of gold speckled throughout her red hair. The slow movement of her shoulders had made her breasts sway slightly, and Máelán groaned as he felt the familiar longing stir in his groin. He had to stay angry. He had to. Going soft and lovey-dovey wasn’t going to help him get out of here, and no matter how much this beautiful woman distracted him, he had to stay focused on his goal. Deciding he didn’t want to die was like having a weight lifted off his shoulders, yet since his only escape plan had failed so miserably, he couldn’t help but consider the possibility that his earlier wish would actually come true. “Well, I’m not leaving,” she said, lifting a bucket from the ground. Before he could protest, she started scooping out some of the water in his tank. Máelán’s mouth hung open. “You mean to leave me with no ocean water, then? You might as well kill me.” “Oh, hush!” she snapped, her calm façade gone for an instant. “Do you like lying in a pool of your own blood?” He bit his lip, and she smirked. “I didn’t think so.” She strutted to the ocean, those maddening hips swaying with every step, and dumped the dirty water before scooping up a fresh bucketful. “This is going to take you forever, you know,” he said when she returned. “You don’t really want to spend the rest of your day doing this, do you?” She shrugged again. “What else have I got to do? You won’t let me look at that arm, and you don’t seem inclined to talk to me, so I might as well make myself useful. At least one of us should be concerned with making you comfortable.” She eyed the gash on his arm 51
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meaningfully, though he knew it had to look better than it had a few hours ago. The fresh ocean water served as a natural healing salve for his wounds. “Hey! It’s not like I intended to do that,” he said, aware that he sounded more sheepish by the moment, the anger quietly fading into the background of his mind. “No, it’s not. You intended to escape.” She lifted the bucket, now full of bloody water again, and held it to her chest. “I can’t say I blame you,” she murmured before walking back toward the ocean. Máelán crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the tank. He watched Caera’s breasts bounce as she hurried back, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “How is the arm, by the way?” she asked as she dumped the water into his tank. Small beads of fresh, salty spray landed on his skin, making him long for the feel and the depth of the ocean. “Fine,” he lied. In truth, it hurt like hell. At least he was now able to move his fingers, if only a little before the pain overwhelmed him. She looked skeptical. “It stopped bleeding,” he said, as if that would convince her. “If you say so.” She leaned against the outside of the tank and ran the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat that had drenched her skin. Her face glistened, giving her a healthy, radiant glow that took his breath away. When she turned her head and fixed him with those unbearably blue eyes, he bit his lip, afraid that he might moan aloud otherwise. “Tell me about your family.” Well, that ruined the mood in a hurry. The longing he felt for her was replaced instantly by sorrow and guilt. He turned away from Caera, unable to meet her gaze. “I have no family.” He thought she’d stop asking then, respect whatever privacy he still 52
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had left. She didn’t. “Well, you must have had one once,” she said, without a hint of malice in her voice. Her statement tore at his heart anyway, and he hesitated for a long time before speaking. Should he tell her? Would she even care? And yet, what did it matter, anyway? Any plans he had of rolling away or crawling through the sand were gone now. Considering the tear in his arm, it would be a miracle if he’d be able to swim again when he got back to the ocean. If he ever got back to the ocean. “You’re right. I had a family once.” The words stuck in his throat, and he doubted he could go on. He expected her to keep prodding, but she only leaned against the tank, watching him. He took a deep breath and continued. “My parents both died when we were very young. It was an accident,” he said. “They went out looking for treasure one day and never returned. We sent searching parties to scout all the well-known treasure troves, but they couldn’t find them either. Weeks later, a new site was discovered, though apparently not for the first time. My parents had found it first. It was a huge ship, ravaged by time and barely holding together. They’d gone inside to search…” he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memories away. He hadn’t thought about his parents in years. “They shouldn’t have, you see. Our rules are very specific about that kind of thing. Every new site must be examined thoroughly before any kind of search can take place. They both knew this…and yet, there must have been something that drew them inside.” He felt Caera’s hand on his brow and he opened his eyes. Her face was inches away from his, and she leaned over the tank and kissed his cheek. “Go on,” she encouraged him. “They found them there, clutching one another, beneath a mound of 53
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fallen debris. The hull must have collapsed after they went in, and they were trapped. I’d like to think they went quickly, perhaps killed instantly by the force of the impact, but I have no way of knowing what really happened.” Her hand continued to smooth his forehead, soothing the pain that had culminated between his wrinkled brows. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. It was his turn to shrug. “It was a long time ago. After they died, I was so grateful to have my sisters. They became my lifeline, my reason for living.” “Oh!” Caera’s face brightened, and she took a step back. “You have sisters! How wonderful!” Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she took in the look on his face. Máelán gritted his teeth, and bunched his hands into fists at his sides. “I had sisters, yes. Before people like you took them away from me.” He spat out the words and pointed an accusing finger at her, and she shrank back, away from him. The sudden surge of fury disappeared as quickly as it emerged to be replaced with sorrow, and loss. He wanted Caera’s hand on his brow, her arms wrapped around him. He would have done anything to feel the comforting weight of her body close to his. But she had taken a few steps back, and continued to stare at him, horrified. “They were killed?” Máelán nodded, letting his hair fall around his face to hide the tear that fell down his cheek. “A few weeks ago,” he whispered. “My God!” Her cry was one of outrage and horror. “The demons— I’d heard stories—I mean…” The words spilled out of her at once, and she stopped briefly to take a deep breath. Then she plunged ahead, her pace just slightly slower. 54
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“I saw the boat as it came in to shore. We rarely get visitors here, so I remember it because it was so unusual. Father went to speak to them, and when I came out to ask what the fuss was all about, he practically shoved me back inside. I watched from the window, there,” she gestured aimlessly with her hand toward the cottage. “I heard cheers, and, oh God, laughter!” Tears began to run freely down Caera’s cheeks, and Máelán closed his eyes as tight as he could, trying to picture his sisters’ faces as they had been, alive and gloriously happy, instead of twisted into the macabre look of death. “When Father came back, he was in the mood to celebrate. Dead demons were always a cause for a toast, he said. Then he described them: three of them, with pale silver hair and lithe bodies, long, emerald tails like yours,” she finished the sentence with a whisper. Máelán nodded slowly, afraid to speak, but a question firmly embedded itself in his thoughts. What happened to them? As if she’d heard him, Caera went on. “They took their bodies to the Archbishop. Father said there was a reward for dead demons, but that they were worth more alive.” Máelán inhaled sharply and stared at her. “Alive, like me.” The pain in her eyes was unmistakable as she lifted her head to look at him. “Yes,” she whispered. “Like you.” *
*
*
Dusk crept up slowly, casting long shadows over the pale beach. The ocean lapped at the shore, the comforting sound of water helping to soothe Caera’s fears. She couldn’t seem to stop pacing since Máelán had told her about his sisters. If those “demons” had indeed been his family, they’d suffered worse than any being should ever have to suffer. 55
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She couldn’t get her father’s laughter out of her ears. At the time, the sound had delighted her. She liked it when her father felt jovial. It sure beat his normal, surly manner. She’d even joined him in a drink, though she wasn’t quite certain what they were celebrating; and now she felt as if that drink had turned to lead in the pit of her stomach. Máelán watched her, wordlessly, from his confine. The tank seemed to shrink around his massive body as she watched, and Caera started feeling nauseous and claustrophobic. She couldn’t even imagine how much worse it must have felt for Máelán. “I can’t stay here,” Caera declared. She stopped pacing for a moment and fixed Máelán with a pointed stare. The merman laughed, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “You can’t stay here? Well then! That changes everything. Why don’t you run away, and I’ll stay here and face your father’s wrath when he comes back with the Archbishop in a couple of days? Maybe he’ll think I ate you, and they’ll kill me that much faster.” The smile disappeared, and he narrowed his eyes. “But they’ll kill me anyway, won’t they?” He turned his head, and stared into the endless blue of the ocean. “Perhaps you should go,” he whispered, so softly she barely heard him. “It would be easier on both of us.” “Must you always be so fatalistic?” Caera snapped. “I have no intention of leaving you here. Not after everything that’s happened between us, and not now that I know what happened to your family.” Her voice faltered, and she tried to find the right words. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain. “I won’t let my father, or the Archbishop, destroy any more merfolk. And I certainly won’t let them kill you.” “And why not?” Because I’m in love with you. The answer was so clear and sudden that it made her stagger. Where had that come from? She liked him, yes. Lusted after him, sure. Máelán 56
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was intriguing, with his exotic looks, his long hair, and that luscious, warm mouth that knew how to explore her body in ways she’d never thought possible. But love? She placed her hand on the tense muscle of his forearm and finally answered. “Because I feel responsible.” It was partly true. Humans like her had killed his sisters. She’d celebrated their deaths with her father. She’d aided in Máelán’s capture, in a way. Well, perhaps she hadn’t quite helped, but she hadn’t hindered the process, either. “Well, that’s reason enough, I suppose.” Máelán shrugged. “And how do you plan to get me out of here? I’m not exactly in the best shape to be rolling around on the sand, and of you plan on hoisting me up over your shoulder, I think you need to rethink that one, too.” Caera scowled. “I’m not going to carry you. I think your tail alone weighs more than I do. To be honest, I don’t have a plan,” she admitted, shaking her head. “But I’ll think of something. We still have two days.” Máelán crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Your father warned me about you.” “He did?” Caera asked, surprise registering in her voice. “What did he say?” “Oh, you know, the usual.” He gestured flippantly, as if what the old fisherman had told him was advice every father offered. “I shouldn’t try to kill you because I’ll come to regret it. That sort of thing.” It was Caera’s turn to laugh. “Well, you did try to kill me,” she reminded him. “I think I still bear the bruises.” Tilting her head to one side, she approached the tank to let him get a better look. In an instant, Máelán’s hands were around her throat again, but this time they were gentle, barely brushing the sensitive skin. She suppressed a moan and leaned over the edge of the tank, her need to be 57
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closer to him driving her every move. “I want to make love to you,” she whispered in his ear. Large, powerful hands made their way over her shoulders and down her arms. He kept his injured arm close to his body, but his movements were fluid, and the pain didn’t seem to hinder him. Máelán’s thumb circled her erect nipple and she pushed up closer, grasping his lips with her mouth. He responded, deepening the embrace, urging her lips open with the tip of his tongue. The metal edge of the tank cut into her stomach, but she barely felt it. The only sensation that mattered was the kiss, and it made her head spin. Their tongues tangled, seeking, searching, tasting, touching, deepening the kiss and the emotions it evoked. She broke away reluctantly, but only because she yearned to be in his arms. “I’m coming in,” she said. Máelán moved back to give her enough room to climb over. His tail splashed the water, sending small, rippling waves to the surface. Was that a sign of impatience? Caera tried to hide an amused grin. No matter, she wouldn’t keep him waiting. Swinging a leg over the side, she climbed in, and fell into the water fully dressed. The water soaked her wool dress, and the garment clung to her body, revealing her shapely curves and pointed nipples. She shivered and waded through the water toward Máelán, arms outstretched, ready to envelop him in the deep embrace she’d been craving. When their bodies collided, Caera couldn’t shake the feeling of being complete. Holding him in her arms reminded her of the dream she’d had the night before, and she looked up into his face to see if the pain she’d registered earlier was still mirrored there. Her heart beat wildly as she looked into his eyes, expecting the fear and hurt that would translate into anger and resentment. But that wasn’t what she saw when she looked at him. Long, dark green lashes covered most of Máelán’s eyes as his gaze 58
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remained fixed on hear breasts. She grinned and wiggled, making her chest bounce. His eyes widened, and he bent his head to grab a nipple in his teeth through the thick material. The texture of the wool combined with his grazing teeth felt so incredible, Caera sighed and tangled her fingers in his long hair. “Look at me,” she whispered. Yearning to see the desire in his eyes, Caera placed a hand under his chin and tilted his face up to hers. His green eyes radiated with warmth and mischief as he stared at her, and his tongue darted out just long enough to lick through the wet material again, sending a shiver through her. “Tonight, you’re mine,” she told him as she began unbuttoning her dress. She peeled it off her wet skin and dropped it over the edge of the tank to the sand. “Tonight, we’ll both forget why you’re here, and how we came to be together.” He lifted himself up to his full height, and beams of fading sunlight played on his hair, making it shimmer. In the dimming twilight, Caera knew he could see all of her, just as she could finally see him. Through the water, his cock looked long and hard, just as she’d imagined. “Pretend it’s just the two of us in the depths of the ocean. We’re happy.” She trailed kisses over his bare shoulders, and down his chest, pausing to flick a nipple with her tongue and grab it lightly between her teeth. He moaned and thrust his hand between her legs, and she chuckled at his eagerness. “Patience,” she whispered against chest. She wanted to feel him inside her, but there was one thing she wanted more. Grabbing his hard cock, she stroked him, slowly at first, then faster, while her tongue continued to tease his nipple. Caera took a deep breath, and dove under the surface of the water. It only took a moment for her to orient herself, and soon, she had firmly grabbed on to Máelán’s waist, her mouth hungrily searching for his hard cock. It pushed against her lips, seeming to need the feel of her mouth as much as she needed to taste it. Opening her mouth, she was 59
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suddenly aware of salt water bursting in through her parted lips, but she didn’t care. It was the cock she wanted. She had no idea giving him pleasure this way would be this tough . His cock slid into her mouth and she ran her tongue over the smooth skin while fighting to keep the water from flowing down her throat. Her hand grasped the base of his cock and she pushed him in farther, until the tip of his length nudged the back of her throat. That would keep the water at bay, if only for a while. The engorged shaft expanded in her mouth as she sucked on it. Máelán’s hands grasped her hair, and she felt him urge her head closer against his body. She took the cock deeper into her mouth, feeling her lips graze the sharp scales that covered the opening where his cock lay hidden when at rest. His hips jerked against her and she struggled not to draw breath as his come exploded inside her mouth. It mingled with the salt water already there, and she held him as he continued to pump his seed. Finally, she released him and surfaced, drawing a deep breath through her nose and swallowing both his semen and the ocean water. The two textures mingled and slid down her throat. He panted and leaned back against the side of the tank as he looked at her. She licked her lips. “I think you’ve been spending too much time in the ocean,” she said with a grin. “If it wasn’t for the heavy texture, I don’t think I could discern your come from the taste of the water.” Máelán laughed and pulled her close, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips. She groaned and rubbed against him, letting the scales on his tail tease her engorged outer lips. Grabbing his hand, she led it down between her legs. “Now touch me,” she said. He didn’t need much encouragement as his thumb found her engorged clit, and his fingers slid along her slick opening. His other hand cupped her breast, squeezing slightly as he slid a finger inside her, and then another. Caera gasped and bit his lip, pushing herself down on his hand. 60
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His fingers felt so good, but she wanted more. He thrust in and out of her pussy, and she quickly found a rhythm to match his. The water helped her feel almost weightless, and she bounced easily on his fingers as he filled her opening. He pinched her nipple and she screamed, plunging herself down on his hand. His thumb had only to graze her clit and she came, hard and fast. Máelán covered her mouth with his and muffled her groans of pleasure, his tongue thrusting into her along with his fingers. She wasn’t sure whether she came again, or whether she hadn’t stopped, but as a second violent wave washed over her, she bit down on his lip and felt her knees buckle. When it was over, she held on to him, limp against his body. The ocean pounded behind them, the rhythm vaguely soothing, blending with the more labored sound of their breathing. Caera’s pussy continued to clench its muscles around his hand, unwilling to relinquish its hold. He began to pull his fingers out of her tight opening and she moaned and wriggled back onto them, sending another wave of pleasure through her body. “God, Máelán,” she whispered, her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was possible to come like that. Don’t ever stop.” Her responded by grazing her nipple with his thumb and pulling out of her in one quick movement. The emptiness inside her was thoroughly and completely overwhelming. “Help me get out of here,” he said, his voice soft yet determined. “And I’ll make you come again and again, for the rest of your life.”
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CHAPTER 6
The light of dawn streamed in through Caera’s bedroom window, pale pink and gold, as she brushed back her unruly curls and finally decided to tie them back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She scrutinized her appearance in the mirror, pinching her cheeks to add color to her pale skin. She sighed in frustration and wished she had some makeup to apply, but her father wouldn’t allow it—as he wouldn’t allow a great many other things. Like his daughter falling in love with a demon. She threw the hairbrush on the bed and bit her lower lip, her eyes shining wetly back at her in the mirror. How would she ever explain this to her father? He’d never understand. He wouldn’t even want to know that Máelán could not only speak, but that he was intelligent, and kind, and hurt, in more ways than she’d ever imagined. His arm was the least of her worries, although it hadn’t deterred him last night from giving her the pleasure she craved. The memory of his fingers pinching her nipples brought a fresh hint of color to her cheeks. 62
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She had to get him out of here. He belonged in the ocean; he needed to put his life back together. She was certain Máelán had friends who were worried about him, even though his family was gone. She stood up and brushed a speck of lint from the long black skirt she’d chosen to wear that morning. It wasn’t much, but at least it wasn’t as drab as the rest of her clothing. A hint of lace trimmed the bottom of the garment, and a silk white shirt that had been her mother’s completed the ensemble. As she walked out of the cabin, she saw Máelán lean over the tank, his hands crossed in front of him. He smiled as she approached. “Sleep well?” he called out to her as she rushed toward him. “I couldn’t sleep a wink,” she admitted, returning the smile. “I kept thinking about your cock in my mouth, and the taste of salt water.” Máelán chuckled and reached out his arms. She fell into the embrace swiftly, barely noticing the tank that stood between them, barring their intimate contact. “I missed you,” he whispered into her ear. “I missed you, too,” she said, pulling back to look at him. He looked better this morning—there was more color in his cheeks, and his green eyes sparkled with something akin to happiness. The smile on his face seemed to be a permanent fixture, and Caera ran her thumb over his bottom lip, tracing its curve. “You look happy,” she said finally, as he nibbled at her finger. Máelán nodded. “I am. I can’t quite describe it, except to say that while I’m still stuck here in this tank, with no way of getting out, and fully knowing that my life will end tomorrow when your father returns, yes, I’m happy.” He grinned and lowered his eyes, looking as shy and innocent as she’d ever seen him. It made her heart ache. “Crazy, isn’t it?” She couldn’t take it anymore. Brushing his lips with hers, she reached out and curled her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. She licked his lips with the tip of her tongue, nudging them open. He 63
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responded with a low moan, and pulled her closer, meeting her tongue halfway and deepening the kiss. When she pulled back, his grin was even wider. “It’s not crazy at all,” she said, running her finger lightly over his brow, feeling the tension ebb away. “We’re going to find a way to get you home.” Caera stared out at the ocean, so close, and yet so out of reach for Máelán. Somehow, she had to get him out there…and she only had a day to do it. He shook his head, the happiness on his face diminishing a little. “It’s no use, Caera. I’ve thought of all the possible options. With my arm in this state, I’m of no help at all. And the tank is much too heavy to be moved…well, unless you were intending to topple it over.” She winced at his words, remembering the way he’d looked, sprawled on the sand, a pool of blood seeping into the ground beneath him. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.” She sighed in frustration. “That’s the problem. I can’t think of anything else. But I swear to you, I won’t let my father, or anyone else, lay a hand on you.” He bent his head and his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes, and she did the same, listening to his breathing and letting the intimate contact wash over her. The sound of horses’ hooves was so unusual, it startled her out of Máelán’s embrace. She jumped back from the tank and looked around her, but the beach was as deserted as it always was, and for a moment, she thought she’d imagined the noise. She was about to reach out for Máelán when she saw them. Three horses, their brown manes shimmering in the morning sun, galloped toward the cabin. They were still too far away to make out any distinguishing features on the riders, but she didn’t have to. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told Caera everything she needed to know. “They’re early,” she whispered, tears streaming freely down her 64
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face. “Oh, God. They’re early.” Máelán didn’t answer. He reached out and gently ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears. “It’s over,” he said, as the riders came closer and he moved away from her. “I’ll be dead by sundown.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay, but it was of no use. She didn’t want her father finding her in this state—she could never hope to explain to him why she was so distraught. Máelán’s gaze became so intense, she could hardly maintain eye contact. She turned away, only to hear him whisper. “Don’t be sad, Caera. I’m not. Not any longer. At least I had a chance to know you, and to love you.” The tears she thought were finally subsiding gushed with renewed force at the sound of his words. She collapsed on the sand, anguished sobs rising from the depths of her heart. She saw her father stop his horse, leap off its back, and run toward her. He hesitated for only a moment to throw a chilling gaze at Máelán before he fell beside her and took her into his arms. *
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“Hush, Caera,” her father said, holding her head to his chest. “I don’t know what this monster did to ye, but I promise, he’ll pay.” Caera lifted her head from his chest in a moment of horrified clarity. “No!” She yelled, jumping to her feet. “He didn’t do anything to me. You have to let him go!” She tried in vain to stop the flow of tears, but they continued to fall, unbidden, down her cheeks, staining her silk blouse. Her father narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what ye think ye’re doin’, but by God, I’ll not have ye speakin’ in that manner around the Archbishop.” He gestured with a small incline of his head toward the horses, and the two men approaching at a leisurely pace. Caera 65
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recognized her brother’s lanky form instantly. Beside Angus, a short, pudgy man in long, white robes trimmed in red silk sauntered toward them. The ring on his right hand flashed brightly in the sun. Caera risked a glance at Máelán, but she couldn’t see his head above the side of the tank. He must have submerged when all the commotion began. Stay there. She dropped back to her knees and lowered her head in the proper position of respect and obedience. She waited for the Archbishop to approach, watching the sway of his long robes above the sand. When he halted in front of her, he thrust his ring before her face and she touched her lips to it. “Rise, child,” he said, and she obeyed, brushing the sand off her skirt as she stood. She was a good deal taller than the Archbishop, and she felt discomfort creep up her spine as she stared down at him. A bald, shiny patch of scalp showed clearly through the Archbishop’s thinning hair. “Where is the demon?” he asked, looking around. His stance was leisurely, casual even, as if he had all the time in the world, and he inspected “demons” on a regular basis. Caera felt bile rise in the back of her throat and she turned away from the little man, willing herself not to be sick in his presence. Caera’s father scrambled to his feet and pointed to the tank. “I left him in there,” he said, throwing an accusatory glance at Caera. “That’s where he should be.” The Archbishop nodded, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Both her father and Angus backed up a few steps, allowing him to approach the tank alone. Caera, however, had no intention of letting him near Máelán unescorted. “Archbishop,” she said, her voice as sweet and calm as she could make it. “You’ve traveled a long distance. Would you not rather come in for a bite to eat?” He shook his head, but she continued, undeterred. 66
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“A warm bath, then, to wash the dirt of the road? No? A drink, perhaps?” The Archbishop stopped and considered for a moment, and Caera held her breath. If she could only get him away from Máelán. “Thank you, no,” he said and kept walking. He approached the side of the tank a tad more cautiously, and stood on his tiptoes to peer inside the basin. Short as he was, the edge of the tank barely came past his shoulders. A grin broke over his pudgy features and he clapped his hands in a gesture of pure glee. “Yes! He’s just what I had hoped for! The perfect sacrifice!” Sacrifice? Caera cleared her throat. “Pardon me, Archbishop, but would you care to inform us of your plans?” Her father had come up from behind her and he yanked her arm. “The Archbishop needn’t do no such thing,” he said, rolling his eyes at Caera and then giving a small shrug toward the Archbishop by way of apology. “His plans are his own. Only God may know of them.” “No, no,” the Archbishop said, waving a hand dismissively. “The girl can ask. Let’s go inside. You can fix me that drink, and I may share my thoughts.” The three men headed toward the house, but Caera remained behind, hoping to get a chance to speak to Máelán alone. If she could only get him to herself for a few minutes, the two of them could conjure up a plan; but he only lay at the bottom of the tank, his eyes closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive. “Caera!” Her father’s gruff voice startled her, and she backed away from the tank. “Coming!” she yelled, and pretended to smooth her skirt until she saw her father disappear through the doorway. “I love you, too,” she whispered to the ripples of water that marred the surface of the tank. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t have heard her. She took a deep breath and headed for the cottage. 67
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*
*
*
“Where is he?” Caera asked as she scanned the kitchen. Angus and her father stood on either side of the door, barring the way to Máelán. “The Archbishop’s gone to pray,” Angus answered, flicking a loose curl out of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do the same.” Her father’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye? Since when do ye pray?” “Since you’ve begun slaughtering innocent beings.” She blinked back the tears that burned behind her eyes. “One of us has to pray that you’ll find the reason you’ve lost.” Caera bolted through the doorway to her room before her father could chastise her for voicing her thoughts. She took a deep breath and leaned against the door. He hadn’t always been like this. When her mother was alive, he was kind, loving, and generous. He was a different man then. I wonder if this is what losing the love of your life does to you? She lay on the bed and buried her head in her pillow to stifle the sobs. Máelán’s face blazed in her mind, beckoning her, his sad eyes reflecting unshed tears. She hadn’t meant to sleep, but when she awoke a few hours later, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows through her room, and her puffy eyes throbbed along with her head. She shuffled to the kitchen, where the Archbishop sat at the head of the table, her father seated to his right. If they noticed the state of her appearance, neither mentioned it, but kept their heads lowered and continued talking in hushed tones. She had no doubt what the conversation entailed, and she thought she was better off not hearing it at all. They were going to kill Máelán. And it was up to her to stop them. A tea-kettle sat on the stove, the water inside slowly coming to a boil. Her father must have set it down before becoming engrossed in his 68
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conversation. She needed to keep busy while she thought up a plan. She had to get out of here somehow. Máelán would be waiting for her, then she could help him escape. But how? She stood on the tips of her toes and reached for the tea on the top shelf of the cabinet. Her hand hovered in mid-air as she spotted a jar of herbs nestled at the back, the sight of its green powder making her heart pound wildly against her chest. Valerian root in its concentrated form was a powerful sedative. It would only take a pinch to knock a man out. She glanced behind her to make sure the two men were still unaware of her movements, then sprinkled half a teaspoon’s worth of the herb in each cup. “Don’t you have anything stronger?” the Archbishop wrinkled his nose in disgust as Caera placed the cup in front of him. “Whiskey? Gin? Vodka? A cool bottle of beer?” “Archbishop!” Caera’s father seemed to forget himself as a look of shock registered over his features. “We have no alcohol in this house. Tool o’ the Devil, that.” He nodded, as if to convince himself, before taking a sip of his own tea. Caera slid into the chair across from her father and stared intently at the Archbishop. So much torture and death for such a little man. Doubt stirred in her mind as she cast a glance at the cup in his hand. Could she truly be sure he was behind the murder of Máelán’s sisters? Perhaps he intended to let Máelán go—although the way he’d looked, so purely content as he spoke of sacrificing the merman didn’t bode well. Caera forced herself to suppress a shiver. “Come now, Archbishop,” she ventured, “you came all this way for one mer—demon?” The Archbishop nodded. “Indeed. He’s the first live specimen I’ve encountered in years. When your father arrived and told me of him, well, I just had to have him.” His eyes sparkled like two small, dark marbles inside his head. “I took three of our best horses and rushed right over.” 69
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Caera’s father scoffed, clearly indicating what he thought of horses. “We’d have been here on the ’morrow had we come on foot, as I’d said. Horses ain’t needed.” As the Archbishop’s eyes darkened even further, the old man quickly continued. “But for yerself, Eminence, such luxuries are appropriate.” Close one, Dad. Caera tried to hide a smile behind her teacup, but her father had already seen it, and scowled at her intently. She turned away from his scrutinizing gaze and back to the Archbishop. “And now that you’ve seen him, what do you plan to do with him?” The Archbishop laughed, a sharp, squealing sound that matched his round, pig-like features. “Kill him, of course.” Caera tried to keep intact the calm mask she had so carefully set her features into, but the anger rising to the surface threatened to overwhelm her. “You don’t mean that,” she said, her voice as steady as she could make it. “Indeed I do!” The expression on his face was viciously cold. He fumbled around in his large robes and pulled out a wickedly sharp blade. The tip was curved slightly, and the handle shimmered brightly in his hand. Rubies, emeralds and sapphires glimmered in the faint twilight that forced its way through the windows in the small kitchen. “See this?” he said, turning the blade back and forth between his fat fingers. “It’s a ritual blade, passed down through generations. It’s said the first demon was killed with this blade.” He ran the tip of a finger over it admiringly. “I intend to see that the last of the demons will die by it as well.” Caera jumped out of her chair, sending it crashing to the floor behind her. Her father was instantly on his feet, grabbing for her, but she didn’t care. “But this demon isn’t the last of his kind! Surely you must realize that!” The Archbishop only nodded, and waved his hand. “No matter. One 70
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more dead demon can only mean their kind is on its way to extinction. God’s will shall be carried out in good time, my dear girl.” Murderer! She wanted to scream. Instead, she bit her lip until she was sure she wouldn’t do anything that would only get Máelán killed even faster. She shook herself free of her father’s grasp and took a step closer to the table. She leaned against the wooden edge, her head inches away from the Archbishop’s. “I refuse to believe you’re doing God’s will,” she said through clenched teeth. “What about ‘do onto others as you’d have done onto you’ and ‘thou shalt not kill’?” The Archbishop’s thin lips turned up into a sneer. “Those commandments only apply to humans, silly girl. Demons have no souls.” He stood up and caressed his knife before putting it away in the folds of his robes. Caera wanted nothing more at that moment than to yank it out and stick it into his gut. “I’m going to bed. The sacrifice will take place at dawn,” he announced. “If you care to watch,” he added with a sneer. Caera watched him disappear into the small guest room that Angus had set up for him. As she heard the door close, she spun on her heel and faced her father. “You! This is all your fault! You brought him here—both of them! Máelán would be in the ocean, where he belongs, and the Archbishop would be getting drunk in his chambers if not for you.” Her father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Máelán? Ye named the beast? He ain’t a pet, Caera.” Caera felt a wave of heat rush to her face, but anger quickly replaced her embarrassment. “He’s certainly not, Father. He’s no demon, either. Did you know he could talk? Like you and I?” At her father’s silence, she continued. “I didn’t think so. Why would you even take the time to find that out? He’s just another fish for you, isn’t he? I’m surprised you didn’t serve him up for supper instead of sending after the Archbishop.” 71
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“I’m only doing God’s work. Can’t ye see that?” He lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. The gesture made the old man look so much like the Archbishop, that Caera had to stifle a wave of hysteria that rushed into her chest. “No, Father. And sadly, I can also no longer see the simple man that came out here looking for a place to raise his children in peace after his wife died. All I see now is a killer. An old man who enjoys taking innocent lives.” She watched as her father swayed unsteadily on his feet. His eyes widened and he reached out for her, but she took a step back. “Wha—” he managed to say before collapsing to the floor. Caera stared at his unmoving form for a minute, trying to get a glimpse of the parent she’d looked up to for so long. When she could find no trace of him in the hard features of the old man lying on the floor, Caera stepped over him and reached for the door.
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CHAPTER 7
“Ye’ll die, ye know.” Máelán heard the boy’s voice, high-pitched and confident, as he lay at the bottom of the tank. He opened his eyes and saw the shape of Angus’s head looming over him. Daylight had all but faded, yet Máelán hadn’t felt like resurfacing. It felt almost peaceful, lying submerged in ocean water. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was resting at the bottom of the ocean. “The Archbishop’s gonna gut ye like a fish.” Angus’s hand sliced through the air as if he wielded a knife. “Then he’ll eat yer insides.” He laughed and shook his head above the water, then stuck his tongue out at Máelán. Máelán closed his eyes, willing the boy to disappear. The mean comments hadn’t bothered him; in truth, he was too concerned with finding a way to escape, though he realized that seemed less likely with each passing minute. Caera was inside with her father and the Archbishop, and they were probably filling her head with all kinds of horrible ideas about him. He clenched his fists at his sides. 73
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She’d said she loved him. She had whispered the words, but he’d heard her. Of all the bad luck, he had to go and fall in love with a human. And worse—she felt the same way. As if love wasn’t complicated enough on its own. He grasped his lower lip between his teeth as he continued to think of escape routes. None seemed plausible. The beach stretched out in either direction as far as the eye could see. The ocean continued to taunt him from a distance, and his arm still ached. The fresh ocean water was doing wonders for his wound, but it couldn’t perform miracles. It would take weeks to regain full use of that arm—much less the ability to roll around on it. “Have ye made yer peace with God, demon?” The boy again. Why wouldn’t that whelp just go away? Or had the old man sent Angus to guard him, to make sure he wouldn’t escape? Máelán stifled a laugh. If only he could escape, the boy would be the least of his worries. “What am I askin’?” Angus slapped a hand to his forehead. “Ye’r a demon! Better make yer peace with the devil, then. Soon, ye’ll be dead. Like all the other demons that’ve been caught before ye.” His sisters’ beautiful faces swam up before him. Therenia had been the eldest. She had the same green eyes that ran in the family, and she wore her silver hair loose down her back as custom dictated, but she had the lightest sprinkling of freckles over her features—like Caera, he realized with a start. Why had he never noticed that before? Shamera and Vasche were twins, and younger than him by a few years. Though identical by birth, they dressed and acted so differently that it was easy to tell them apart. “He’ll hang yer guts to dry for all to see!” the boy was saying. “He’s got a large room where he keeps the organs of demons stuffed in jars.” The thought of his sisters’ remains being disrespected in such a way made Máelán’s stomach turn. Anger found its way to the surface, and 74
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no amount of gritting his teeth would keep it at bay. Angus had just begun to turn around, apparently tired of this onesided taunting match. When Máelán’s arm clamped around his throat, the boy’s legs gave out instantly, and Máelán had to use his own strength to hold him up. “Now, what were you saying about death and guts?” He whispered in the boy’s ear, his words precise. Angus shuddered against him, and small sobs escaped from the boy’s throat. Máelán wished he could see his face as he spoke—that was probably something else the boy hadn’t expected. “Not so tough anymore, are you?” It occurred to Máelán that he could let the boy go. He’d probably be too afraid to do anything, then again, he might just run indoors and alert everyone, or come back with the Archbishop and have him killed sooner than they’d planned. Wrapping his arm tighter around the boy’s throat, Máelán squeezed until he felt Angus’s breath slow, and his body hang limp. He dropped him on the ground just in time to see Caera come out the cottage door. *
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Angus’s body fell to the ground in a heap, much like her father’s had done just moments before. Caera knew she should have felt something—anger, rage, hurt, betrayal—but none of those emotions surfaced inside her. Instead, all she felt was relief. Máelán was still alive, though the look on his face stopped her dead in her tracks. “I didn’t kill him,” he said quickly. “The boy’s just out for a while, that’s all. I’d never take your brother. Never.” He looked at her with such earnestness in his eyes, that she knew he meant it. A quick glance at Angus’ form assured her that he was still breathing; his chest rose and fell slowly as he lay on the sand. “He probably deserved it,” she said, coming closer. “And it’ll make it that much easier to get you out of here.” “Your father? And the Archbishop?” 75
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“My father won’t be a problem for a while. I slipped some herbs into his tea. He’ll be out for a while. I hope he’ll sleep long enough to let us escape.” She leaned over the edge of the tank and placed a firm kiss on his lips. “Us?” he echoed, arching an eyebrow. Caera nodded. “I’m coming with you. There’s nothing for me here. Not anymore. And you…you’re everything now.” Máelán’s brow furrowed as he looked at her, and Caera felt her courage drain away. “Don’t you want me with you?” He reached out and pulled her to his chest in a tight hug. “Of course I do. More than anything. But Caera…” He pulled back and ran his hand over the curls bound at the nape of her neck. “You can’t breathe underwater. You can’t live like me.” He said this as if it was the most sensible thing in the world; but Caera only shook her head. “I’ll take my father’s boat; we’ll go together.” She was on the verge of tears, and she knew her voice had taken on a pleading edge. She didn’t want to seem weak, and she didn’t want to beg him, but she couldn’t see spending the rest of her life here, with her father, brother, the Archbishop and those like him. “Okay,” Máelán whispered. “We’ll figure something out. But first we have to find a way to get me out of this tank and back into the ocean.” The wind blew ice-cold from the ocean, and he turned his head and stared out at the dark water that stretched out before them. It seemed so close, and yet Caera knew it might as well be miles away. It was unreachable. “Nothing short of a miracle is going to get me out of here,” Máelán said. Caera heard it first. The smooth, melodious female voice came out of nowhere, but it stirred the air around them with the power of her song, and Máelán’s eyes widened in surprise. 76
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“Elaana!” he cried out, hanging on to the edge of the tank and leaning over it. “I sent her away,” he said, turning back to Caera. “I told her not to come back, and yet…” Another voice joined Eleena’s in that same beautiful melody. Then another, and another. “There must be dozens of them!” Caera said, her heart beating faster. “Máelán! They can help us!” Not waiting for a reply, she ran to the shore and peered out into the ocean’s infinite stretch. “Wait here!” she said to the merfolk, unsure whether they’d even understand her. But then, Máelán had. She had no reason to believe they couldn’t. She ran to the tool shed behind the cabin, and cursed herself for not having brought a lantern, but there was no time to go back into the house for one. She wasn’t sure how much longer her father would be asleep. Angus could also come to at any moment, and the Archbishop—he hadn’t touched his tea! She groaned as the realization hit her. That meant his sleep was of the natural kind, and he couldn’t possibly slumber through the ethereal chorus going on outside his window. Caera rammed her foot into something hard and yelped in pain, but that only slowed her down for an instant. She jumped over the obstacles and continued to use her hands to feel for the objects in her way. She knew what she was after, and where it was kept. Coils of rope were tightly bound and hung at the back of the shed, if only she could reach them in time. Her hands grazed over nails and splinters sticking out of the wood, but she only bit her lip and kept going, even when she felt the warm blood spread over her palm. Her knees buckled under her when she finally grasped the two coils of rope in her hands. They’d been exactly where they should have, and she mumbled a quick prayer of thanks. The melody outside was louder now, as Máelán’s voice joined in with that of his kin. Caera narrowly avoided tripping over the stack of fishing poles in 77
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front of the door, but eventually made her way outside. She ran to the tank and kneeled down to wrap the rope tightly around one of the tank’s short legs. A moment later, she had it tied into a solid knot. “What are you doing?” Máelán asked as he peered at her. She looked up and grinned. “Getting you out of here. With your friends’ help, of course.” She reached over and tied the second rope to the next leg. “I need you to ask them to pull on these for me. I’m going to bring them over, but I need them to pull, Máelán, and pull quickly.” Her voice rose, and she couldn’t control her excitement. Máelán nodded, and understanding registered in his eyes. “They’re going to drag me along, then?” She only grinned in response before running back toward the shore. She halted when the merfolk lifted their heads from the water and stared at her. There were so many. She suddenly felt overwhelmed, and more than a little frightened. What if they wouldn’t listen to her? What if they thought she meant to harm Máelán and wouldn’t do as she asked? When Máelán’s voice boomed over the beach, the song sounded different than it had before. The melody was smooth, his voice authoritative. Caera saw the merfolk incline their heads as one, and a slender mermaid with long silver hair swam out of formation and headed toward her. Caera fought the urge to take a step back as the mermaid reached out her slender hand. “Give me the ropes,” she said, and Caera felt a wave of gratefulness spread over her. “Thank you for helping,” Caera said as she stepped forward. The water enveloped her to her waist by the time she finally reached the mermaid. When she handed over the ropes, the mermaid grabbed her arm. “If you’ve hurt him, I’ll come back for you,” she snarled between clenched teeth. Caera could only nod. I haven’t hurt him, she wanted to say. I love him. But this didn’t 78
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seem the time to confess her innermost feelings to otherworldly creatures. She trudged her way out of the ocean, her drenched skirts holding her back with each step. Frustrated, she grabbed on to the elastic band that held them in place around her waist and yanked them down. She watched the garment tumble into the ocean, rough waves sweeping it away. The sudden night chill ran through her, making her aware that she stood on the beach, wearing nothing but her white cotton panties from her waist down. She caught a glimpse of Máelán’s dazzling smile as she rushed to him. His tank had already moved a little, though progress was slow. A few inches at a time seemed to be the most the merfolk could pull, and Caera reached out her hand and touched his cheek. “You’re getting out of here,” she whispered. “In just a few minutes, you’ll be back in the ocean, with all your friends.” Caera looked out toward the merfolk that viciously tugged on the ropes. The tank had picked up a little speed, gliding along the sand as they jerked and pulled. “They really love you.” “I really love you,” Máelán said, reaching for her hand on his cheek. His hand was warm, hard and rough, and entirely gentle. His fingers wrapped around hers with firm possession. They faced the ocean together, Caera moving alongside the tank as it slowly made its way toward freedom. When Máelán gasped, Caera was certain the noise had been caused by his excitement, his happiness at finally being free. Only when the Archbishop spoke did she realize that Máelán was still a captive, and in more danger than ever. “Where do you think you’re going, demon?” The Archbishop asked, holding the knife to Máelán’s throat. His other hand was firmly embedded in Máelán’s hair, tugging his head back as far as it would go. The blade glinted dangerously in the moonlight, its tip pressed firmly against Máelán’s pale skin. 79
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The tank continued to move toward the ocean, which only seemed to infuriate the Archbishop. He pressed the knife firmly into Máelán’s throat. “Stop! Or I’ll spill your guts right here.” Caera stood motionless, still holding on to Máelán’s hand. The Archbishop’s eyes shone darkly as he turned to her. “And you. Assisting in the demon’s escape. God will punish you for this!” He brought his hand away from Máelán’s throat for only a moment in order to gesture with the knife toward Caera, but that was all the time Máelán needed. The Archbishop still held Máelán’s head back in his tight grip, but the merman brought his elbow up sharply and it connected with the man’s pudgy cheek. A loud crack pierced the silence, and the Archbishop’s head flung to the side. The man’s grip on the knife loosened, and the blade fell to the sand. Máelán yanked himself out of the Archbishop’s grip and turned, preparing to deal him another blow, but the man lunged toward him and wrapped his thick fingers around Máelán’s neck. The merfolk had stopped singing, and silence throbbed like a living terror. They continued to tug at the ropes, and the tank quickly neared the ocean. In only a few more minutes, Máelán would be able to dive into the water and swim to freedom. Caera was determined to let no one stop that from happening, regardless of religious authority, or even God’s will. She jumped on the Archbishop’s back, slamming his neck and shoulders with her fists. Enraged, the Archbishop growled loudly, but kept his hands firmly wrapped around Máelán’s neck. Máelán struggled, but he couldn’t get a good grip on the Archbishop. The loose folds of skin around the man’s neck impeded any attempt at strangulation, and Máelán renewed his efforts by going for the eyes. He dug his fingers into the Archbishop’s eye sockets, but as Caera watched in horror, she noticed Máelán had already started to turn blue. His lids began to close, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. “No!” she screamed as she continued to kick at the Archbishop. 80
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“Let him go, you murderer!” She saw the glint of metal on the sand from the corner of her eye. Without thinking, she jumped off the Archbishop’s back and fell to her knees, gripping the hilt of the jeweled blade. She rose and held the knife in front of her face, knowing she had no time to think this through. Máelán looked limp, hanging in the Archbishop’s tight grip. The sound of surging water sang in Caera’s ears as she brought the blade up over her head, then down between the Archbishop’s shoulder blades in one quick move. His grip on Máelán’s throat loosened, and Caera released the breath she’d been holding as the merman collapsed against the side of the tank, gasping for air. The Archbishop swayed, and then struggled to bring his large arms over his head and grab at the knife embedded in his back, but to no avail. He looked straight at Caera, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. “You—” he stammered, before falling on the sand. Blood had seeped through his white robes, and the large dark stain looked unnatural against the paleness of the sand in the moonlight. “Go,” Caera whispered, as the tank reached the ocean. “Please go.” Máelán reached out a hand to her. “You’re coming with me, remember?” Caera looked over to the cabin, where her father stood in the doorway with his mouth open, his jaw slack against his chest. “I can’t.” “Come on!” Máelán yanked on her arm and dove into the ocean over the side of the tank. Water rushed down her throat and Caera submerged for an instant before breaking the surface with her head and taking a deep breath. “You go,” she gasped. “That’s where you belong,” She looked around at the gathered merfolk and pulled away from Máelán’s grip. As she turned away, he yanked her arm and pulled her to his chest, crushing her mouth with his. The taste of ocean water blended with the taste of tears in her mouth, and she parted her lips, inviting his tongue 81
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to penetrate her one last time. She pulled away and tears fell freely down her cheeks. “I killed him, Máelán. He’s dead because of me. I’m no better than he. I can’t go with you.” He let her go, reluctance and sorrow clear in his eyes. Caera could no longer look at him, so she turned away and began her trek toward the beach. When she reached the shore, she collapsed on the wet sand, the waves lapping around her bare legs. The faint lap of the ocean against the sandy shore was the only sound that broke the stillness. Just inches away, the Archbishop’s body lay sprawled on the ground, the jeweled hilt sticking out from his back like a grotesque phallic symbol. A broken shard of moon glared down on the scene, casting its pale light over everything. Caera closed her eyes, knowing that she’d have to live with the guilt of what she’d done for the rest of her life, and realizing that her one true chance at love, happiness, and independence was gone forever. For the first time in her life, Caera wished for death.
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CHAPTER 8
It didn’t seem real. Caera sat in her cozy kitchen and traced the line of a small nick carved in the wooden table. Her father had built the table, as he’d built most everything else around here. And now, she was leaving him, and abandoning this place that had been her home for the past fifteen years. She glanced up when the door opened, her gaze resting on her father as he leaned against the doorframe. He stood with head bowed, his thin body silhouetted by the glow of the sun’s rays shining through the small window. “I thought ye might have left without sayin’ goodbye.” Caera shook her head, a wistful smile on her lips. “Never.” “Good.” He approached the table and leaned his hands against the back of a wooden chair. He kept his eyes lowered, as if afraid to look at his only daughter. “So ye’re really leavin’ us.” It was more a statement than a question, but Caera felt the need to answer it anyway. 83
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“I have to,” she said simply. “I can’t stay here. The way you live…” She bit her lip as she saw the pain in her father’s eyes. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. This place is beautiful. It’s quiet, and serene, and it allows you the independence you so crave. But I need that same independence, and I won’t find it here.” He pulled out the chair and sat down, then took Caera’s pale hand in both of his. “I always knew ye’d go off on yer own. Too stubborn, ye are. Like yer mother.” Caera smiled at the comparison. She didn’t remember her mother as well as she’d have liked. Caera had only been seven years old when she’d died, giving birth to Angus. But she remembered her voice, the soothing sound of the melodies her mother would sing before Caera fell asleep, and she remembered her fiery temper and the arguments that would erupt when she was told she couldn’t do something she really wanted to do. I guess I really am just like her. “I want to thank you,” Caera said to her father. “For everything. I had a good childhood, really.” She smiled at the old man and gripped his large hand tighter in her own. “And for—you know—the thing with the Archbishop.” Her father nodded. “I couldn’t let ye take the blame for that, girl. It was my fault as much as yers that he died.” “You can say it, Dad. He was murdered.” “Perhaps,” the old man admitted. “But when the constables came ’round askin’ questions, I knew I had to protect ye.” “So you told them Máelán had killed him instead.” Caera shook her head, still weary of handing off the blame so easily to someone who couldn’t even defend himself. Then again, he wouldn’t have to. The constables would never find him. All they had were the ramblings of an old man to confirm the existence of merfolk. They’d taken her father in for questioning, but in the end, they were forced to release him. They had no evidence to hold him, and the murder weapon had never been 84
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found. Caera jiggled the loose jewels that she’d pocketed earlier that morning. It had taken weeks for her father to dig them out of the hilt of the blade, but he’d finally managed to dislodge them all, with only minimal damage. Gems clasped firmly in her fist, Caera took her hand out of her pocket and dropped them on the table. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep these?” “What would I do with ’em?” Her father shrugged, pushing a ruby around with his finger. “Ye keep ’em. The Archbishop surely has no need of ’em, and I have no money to give ye for that fancy school o’ yers.” “Thank you,” she whispered, genuinely relieved that she could keep them. They should fetch at least enough for tuition at the University of Saint Andrews. She’d sent in her application as soon as the formal inquiry into the Archbishop’s death was over, and she’d received an answer within a few short weeks. “I’m going to like studying Marine Biology,” she said, assuring her father as much as herself. “I’ll be okay.” “Ye will,” he acknowledged. The old man’s eyes had become glossy, and tears threatened to spill down his weary face. “I should have let ye go sooner, but I—” “I know, Dad.” She leaned over and clasped him in an awkward hug. His bones jutted out through the thin shirt he wore, and his body felt fragile beneath her hands. Gone was the menacing, powerful man. Now, he was nothing more than a father, one who loved his daughter and wanted only the best for her. Caera rose from the table and grabbed her small bag. “Take care of Angus. Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” “Aye,” her father answered, dismissively waving a hand. “Ye know boys. They grumble and shut ’emselves out for a while, but in the end, they love their sisters.” Caera hoped he was right. Angus hadn’t spoken to her since the 85
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night Máelán escaped. He held her responsible for everything that happened, and he was bitterly disappointed that their father hadn’t allowed her to go to jail for the Archbishop’s death. She turned around and glanced at the small kitchen and at her father one last time before turning the doorknob and slipping out the door. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, and a damp wind greeted her as she stepped out into the cool autumn air blowing right through her clothes. The tank was gone; her father and Angus had removed it days after the Archbishop’s death. None of them wanted to be reminded of what had happened there, and now the beach seemed more deserted than ever. The ocean called to her, and Caera sauntered toward the shore. She needed to feel the water lap at her feet one last time. She looked out, as she’d done every day since that night, hoping for a glimpse of Máelán, and yet knowing he wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t come back since she’d helped him escape. He wouldn’t be returning. She had been foolish to think he loved her, or that they’d ever be able to live together as people in love should. A merman and a human, what a silly idea. And yet, she couldn’t convince herself that her thoughts were really so impossible. If she had gone with him, they would have made it work somehow. If he’d only come back, she would tell him how wrong she’d been not to follow him, she’d make him see that they belonged together. But it had been three long months since he’d dragged her into the ocean and pleaded with her to follow him. The fact that he hadn’t come back for her told her everything she needed to know. The early morning breeze whipped her hair around her face, and she sat down, her feet touching the surf. She rested her chin on her raised knees and stared out at the ocean, hoping fervently for the shape of a tail, the glimpse of green hair, or the sound of a familiar voice, but none of it came. 86
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*
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He’d finally found it. It had taken him forever, and he must have searched every sunken ship in the Atlantic Ocean, but as Máelán held the ring in his hands, he knew the search had been worth it. His parents had known a great deal about human customs. They knew what was worthwhile, and what was junk; what kind of items humans prided above all else, and what they’d happily let rot at the bottom of the sea. Engagement rings and wedding bands were among the most precious finds for merfolk, as they represented the kind of love and peaceful contentment humans rarely showed. Máelán held the ring in his hand and admired its beauty. He knew all about diamond rings, but he didn’t want one of those. Caera deserved better; something more special, with greater meaning for both of them. He’d finally decided on a finely crafted gold ring, with a pearl setting. The pearl would represent his heritage, his family, and his way of life. The traditional setting and look of the ring would represent hers. Máelán hadn’t known how right he was until he’d laid eyes on this ring. He’d found it just as he was preparing to give up on his search. He’d looked through all of the newly discovered sunken ships, and most of the old ones which had long since been stripped bare by his kin, but he hadn’t been able to find anything like the ring he’d had in mind. As he was leaving another wreck, disappointment weighing on his shoulders, he caught a glimpse of something shiny peeking out from among the moss and plant life at the bottom of the ocean. Intrigued, he’d parted the weeds with his hands only to gasp in amazement as he discovered what he’d been searching for all this time. It was truly perfect. Crafted from solid gold, the ring weighed heavily in his hand. Hauntingly beautiful, the black pearl glistened in its round setting. The gold that surrounded the black gem set it off perfectly, and it shone darkly in his palm. He closed his fingers around 87
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it and sighed, already anticipating Caera’s reaction as he’d slip the ring on her finger. He hoped it fit, but he wasn’t too concerned. If it didn’t, they’d find a way to make it work, like they would everything else. Swimming toward the surface, Máelán fought back the feelings of apprehension that surfaced along with him. What if she didn’t want to see him? He’d spent every day of the past three months watching her from a distance. He couldn’t bring himself to go to her until he’d found the ring—the perfect ring. He needed to let her know that he wanted her as his mate forever, not just for a few minutes as the moon went down, when they were least likely to be seen. He wanted to take her down into the depth of the ocean, show her the most beautiful treasures imaginable, along with his home, and his friends. He wanted to introduce her to Elaana, and the rest of the merfolk who had helped him escape. They were all eager to get to know her after Máelán had spent just about every waking moment gushing about the most incredible woman he’d met. Of course, it had taken weeks just to convince them, but now that they’d been persuaded, they were also intrigued. A merman and a human? In love? The sight of the cottage came up in the distance, and Máelán shielded his eyes with the back of his hand from the glare of the morning sun. He could see Caera sitting on the beach, her head cradled in her hands. A large bag sat at her side, and Máelán couldn’t imagine what she would have needed to bring with her just to sit out on the beach. As he watched, she rose from her spot, looked out over the ocean, and then turned away. She grabbed the bag in one hand and began to walk away, though not toward the cottage. She moved quickly, her step sure and determined. She was leaving! “Caera!” he yelled, at the top of his lungs, willing his tail to cut through the brisk current faster. She didn’t turn, even as he continued to call her name. She probably couldn’t hear him over the roar of the 88
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ocean, since he could barely hear himself scream over the sound of the morning tide. The song. She’d have to hear the song. The melody he’d sung to her that first night they were together came rushing back to him and burst from his lungs before he even had time to put it into words. Caera stopped walking, the bag dropped from the hand and hit the sand. She spun on her heels and ran toward the ocean, her hair flying wildly around her, her breasts bouncing as she rushed toward him. She stopped at the edge of the ocean when she saw him. They watched each other for a moment, and the doubts that had been plaguing him returned. Would she want him, after all this time? “You’re beautiful,” he said, reverting back to speech from the melody he’d been singing. She blushed, but didn’t answer. Her head tilted to one side, her brows furrowed, and she placed her hands on her hips. Máelán grinned. He was in for it now. “What took you so long?” she yelled, taking a few steps through the water toward him. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” “I’ve been here all along,” he answered. “Well, not here, really. Out there.” He pointed behind him, to the infinite stretch of the ocean. “I’ve watched you every day.” “Why didn’t you let me know?” she whispered, the anger in her voice giving way to hurt. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said before he’d had a chance to answer. “You’re too late. I’m leaving today, and I don’t plan on coming back here.” Caera’s gaze took on a far away look, and she glanced out over the top of his head, not meeting his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do that?” She nodded, but took a few more steps into the ocean. The water came up to her knees, and she shivered slightly. Máelán yearned to take 89
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her in is arms, comfort her, assure her he’d never leave her again. “I have something for you,” he said, his grip tightening around the ring in his hand. “Thanks, but I don’t like fish,” she said, a glint of humor bringing the sparkle back to her eyes. She waded in deeper, the water enveloping her up to her waist. She was close enough to touch, but Máelán kept his arms at his sides. “It’s not fish,” he said with a shake of his head. “Come closer.” She did, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, letting the water current press her against his chest. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck; her lips lightly grazed his jaw. He tilted his head so their lips met, and hungrily thrust his tongue into her mouth. She moaned and rubbed her breasts against his chest, the nipples jutting out through her shirt and pressing against his bare skin. “I’ve wanted you so bad,” she murmured between his lips. Máelán pulled back, enjoying the hungry look on her face. Her eyes widened, their blue depths paler than he remembered. Her cheeks were stained with a blush of color, and she bit into her lower lip. He reached for her hand under water, and slipped the ring on her finger. Caera gasped as it settled perfectly around her slender digit. She brought her hand up, and the black pearl shimmered in the sunlight. Tears spilled freely over her freckled cheeks and she threw her arms tightly around him. “Will you marry me?” he asked, and she clutched tighter, until he was afraid he’d no longer be able to breathe. He couldn’t stop grinning, even when the flow of oxygen to his brain seemed to be subsiding. “Yes,” she whispered, and kissed him again, so suddenly that he lost his balance. They both tumbled into the ocean, the water enveloping their bodies as they clutched at each other. Máelán’s fingers grabbed at Caera’s blouse, and he tugged harshly, ripping the few buttons that held it together. 90
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Caera’s head resurfaced, and she laughed as she tossed away the torn garment. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and Máelán’s lips reached instinctively for her rosy nipple. His teeth grazed the tight bud and she moaned, thrusting her breast closer to his mouth. He chuckled and released the nipple, then ran his tongue lightly over her firm breasts, first one, then the other, pausing to slide his tongue in the valley between them. His cock strained in its protective slit, and Máelán reached down to tug it out of his tail. It throbbed, almost painfully. He held up Caera’s skirt and reached for the heat emanating from between her legs. He parted her lips gently with his fingers and brushed his thumb over her engorged clit. She shuddered and bit down on his shoulder. “Love me,” she whispered in his ear. That was all the encouragement he needed. Caera wrapped her legs around his waist, and he cupped her ass in his hand, guiding her down on his cock. She groaned when he entered her, and he had to struggle to hold back the climax that threatened to overtake him. Her pussy felt heavenly; tight, hot and warm, he could feel every twitch of her inner muscles as she gripped his cock. The freedom of the water around them made it that much better, as it was wonderful to no longer be confined to the small tank. He thrust his cock deeper into her, enjoying her moans as he set the pace. She tried to speed up, but he laid a hand on her back. “Slow,” he said. “We have to go slow or this won’t last long.” She giggled, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Grabbing her lower lip between his teeth, he nibbled gently, while his cock worked it way in and out of her. He lowered his hand again and reached for her clit. “Come for me, beautiful,” he said. She bucked down on his cock and screamed, the sound carrying over the surge of the water, his finger circling her clit as she came. The strength of her orgasm brought his cock to a sharp climax. He 91
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knew he couldn’t hold back any longer, no matter how much he was enjoying this. He thrust deep inside her as she brought herself down hard against him, and groaned as he filled her with his seed. Spent, Máelán held Caera close to his chest. The scent of her hair mingled with the tang of the ocean, and he breathed in deeply, feeling lightheaded and completely euphoric. Her fingers had found his right nipple, and she tweaked it gently, causing him to gasp. He felt his cock begin to stir again, and he laughed. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” She looked up and gave him the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen. “It’s my right as your wife, isn’t it?” She brought her hand down to cup his semi-erect cock. “Future wife,” he reminded her with a smile. “Technicality,” she answered, running her fingers over the tip of his shaft. Máelán groaned and tilted his head back, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. She’d said yes. A grin spread over his face as Caera slid her hand down the length of his cock, and he grew harder in her hand. “If this is what the rest of our life is going to be like, we should get married as soon as possible,” he said, reaching for her breast. “Is now too soon?” Caera asked, plunging his cock into her soaking pussy. “Maybe not quite this minute.” He brought his mouth down to her breast and grabbed a nipple between his teeth. “I’m busy right now.” The sound of her laughter resonated over the crash of the waves. Her hips moved against him, those gorgeous full hips that swayed so wonderfully on land, and moved so nimbly in the water. How could being captured be the best thing that had ever happened to him?
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EPILOGUE
“Doctor Geddes? Your husband’s here to see you.” Caera looked up from the microscope at the sound of her assistant’s voice. Blonde and petite, Joanna wore a genuine smile, and she winked at Caera. “Don’t be long. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.” “Let him wait,” Caera said, grinning. “It wouldn’t hurt him to learn a bit of patience.” Joanna chuckled and pulled the door closed behind her. Caera leaned back in her chair, watching the bright light from the microscope pool in a circle on her desk. The rest of her cramped lab was shrouded in shadow, but she could make out the oddly shaped beakers that lined the metal shelves. It would have been a typical marine biologist’s laboratory, if not for the view. The walls were made of pure glass, thick enough to hold the ocean at bay. Behind the sheer surface, life went on as it always did in the Atlantic. Schools of fish continued to swim, and they paid no attention to the unnatural construction that marred the bottom of the ocean. In the 93
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distance, Caera could just make out the tall towers of the merfolk city of Rhoc. Towers that had lain in the sand for centuries, undisturbed by humans. Caera had wanted to make sure she wouldn’t attract too much attention to herself when she built her research habitat. She didn’t want to disturb the mermaids, or become an intrusion upon their quiet lives. She wanted only to study them, learn as much as she could about all the wonders that had escaped human detection and intrusion. Of course, being married to a merman gave her the kind of opportunity other humans could only dream about. She rose from her chair and walked to the door, her heart skipping a beat as she thought about seeing Máelán. Ten years. And he still makes me weak in the knees. She walked out into a large room, a rotunda that held nothing but a giant pool. The smell of the ocean mingled with the scent of plastic, and bright light shone from a dozen large lamps scattered throughout the room, casting a dazzling glow over the shimmering water. An opening at the bottom allowed her husband and other merfolk the freedom to come and go as they pleased. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him, leaning against the edge of the pool, watching her with those clear green eyes. “Shouldn’t you rush out when your husband beckons?” Máelán raised his eyebrows in mock anger, and Caera couldn’t suppress a giggle. “I was busy.” She kneeled by the edge of the pool, and lowered her mouth to her husband’s inviting lips. His fingertips touched her cheek and slid back into her hair, and as he thrust his tongue inside her, she gasped, closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste of him. Need, sharp and bitter and sweet instantly sprang up inside her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ewwww! Cut that out, you guys!” Caera pulled away reluctantly, meeting Máelán’s gaze as she did so. 94
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The look of hot desire in his eyes was unmistakable. She turned to the small child who splashed the water with his tail. “We’re married,” she said. “We’re allowed.” “Not in front of the children,” the young one whined and stuck his tongue out at her. “Come here, you,” Caera grinned, and looped her arms under the boy’s armpits. She lifted him out of the pool easily, and watched as his tail begun its transformation into a long, lean pair of legs. The way Keene could shapeshift never ceased to amaze her, and even after having studied him since he was born, five years ago, she still wasn’t sure how it happened. “Did you two have fun?” she asked, clutching her son to her chest. “Absolutely.” Máelán replied. “Keene found a locket. He thinks it may have belonged to someone famous.” He reached over and ruffled the boy’s wet hair. “Really?” Caera asked, intrigued. “Like who?” “Oh, I don’t know, Mom. Like the queen. Or somebody. I gave it to Elaana, though. She said she’d figure out who it belonged to, and then give it back.” Keene dove into the pool, his legs swiftly shifting into a delicate tail as he hit the water. “Soon, we won’t be able to keep him away from the treasure sites. He wants adventure and excitement.” Máelán’s look was distant as he watched his son disappear through the opening at the bottom of the pool. “He takes after you.” Caera smiled and slid her dress over her head. Clad in a green bikini, she slid into the pool and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. She buried her head under his chin and kissed the hollow at the base of his throat, then traced the line of the scar on his arm, a reminder of a past that would always be with them. “Who says mermen and humans can’t live happily ever after?” Máelán brushed his lips over hers, and then lowered his head to nibble gently at her earlobe. 95
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She sighed and melted against him. “Not me. I’m a big believer in happy endings.”
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LACEY SAVAGE
Lacey Savage began her love affair with romance at an early age. In high school, she checked out steamy romance novels from the public library and would often be found reading them in the middle of class. Lacey still reads more than she cares to admit, and probably more than her husband would like, considering how many books she keeps bringing into the house. Her favorite genres have always been erotica, romance, fantasy, science fiction and mystery, so she tries to incorporate a little of each into her writing. She initially majored in Marketing, then went back to school to major in English Literature. After earning her degrees, she decided to turn her efforts to her true passion: writing. A hopeless romantic, Lacey loves writing about the intimate, sensual side of relationships. She currently resides in Ottawa, Canada, with her loving husband and their mischievous cat. Fans can learn more about Lacey at http://www.laceysavage.com, and can reach her at
[email protected]
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