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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Clear Blue Water

Summary:

In the middle of a storm, Elain Archeron hears a song that pulls her outside. There, laying among the wreckage of the beach, is a dying man who needs to be rescued.

Or is it her who needs to be rescued from the wreckage of her life?

OR: blah blah VANMERMAN blah blah blah

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Elain couldn’t remember the last time she’d witnessed such a vicious, violent storm. As if the god of the sea had opened his yawning mouth and decided to scream his fury, wind and water pounded at the coast line in an endless deluge. At first it was a reprieve—Elain was supposed to be announcing her engagement, officially, that evening. Lord Graysen would make a fine match, even if his motivations were purely money.

He was handsome and he seemed kind, and Elain thought that was the most she could hope for. Certainly better than a match to a man twice her age, if nothing else. And still, Elain was grateful for a little extra time where she could still be just herself, still unattached without the heap of responsibilities about to be placed upon her shoulders. Graysen was merely a lord, while Elain was a princess. He’d inherit her kingdom, her throne, and take over as King Graysen, while she remained merely his queen consort.

She tried to pretend that it didn't disappoint her, if only a little. Her father had loved her mother so deeply that he’d made her his equal until she passed. Graysen, while pleasant, had been quite clear that Elain would only ever be his wife. He’d seemed genuinely surprised to learn she had any training in politics at all

Elain shuddered to imagine what kind of education the women of Graysen’s home were allowed. She supposed she’d learn, and perhaps would be able to sway him in the way that wives could. There was a small amount of peace to that thought. She could still have her say in small ways.

Alone in her bedroom with nothing but the howling wind and pelting rain, Elain could do little more than pace across the marble floors in a thin nightdress. Arms wrapped around her body, hair unbound, feet bare. She had a vision of herself flinging open the double doors of her bedroom balcony and letting the wind sweep her away. Not so she would die, but so she might wake up somewhere else.

She might pretend she was someone else, too.

More than once, Elain reached for the silver handle and almost turned it. And then the wind would knock at the glass, daring her to actually do it. Elain knew the more likely outcome. She’d slip and fall to the river's mouth just below and either drown miserably or dash her head against the rocks.

Among the rageful world was a thread of music—something mournful and sweet. Something that beckoned her to follow through, to go outside and just see. Palm to the cold window, knees drawn to her chest, Elain tucked herself onto the window seat, wrapped in the heavy duvet from her bed, so she could listen.

It might have just been the storm playing tricks on her. But something made her think that there was something out there. Some creature in genuine pain mourning some unspeakable loss. It made her heart ache as she wondered what could produce such sounds, even as her mind screamed that it was just a trick of the trees or some building clinging desperately to its stone foundations.

The night wore on, evidenced by her shrinking candles, until Elain was all but bathed in shadow. She knew the morning would bring gray clouds and destruction—none of which was her problem to solve any longer. Her new soon-to-be husband would be tasked with the cleanup, the rebuild, and everything else. It would be his first test before he ever wore the crown, and if he succeeded, he’d be beloved by a populace otherwise not inclined to trust a mere nobleman’s son.

A nobleman’s son in desperate need of money given how his father had squandered their fortune building his high walls and funding an army of mercenaries.

Now his son would be a king, and his money problems would forever be over. His father could build stone walls to the heavens themselves, and privatize her kingdom's military so they served him first, her people second, and there was nothing Elain could do about it.

Her father was charmed, and every other suitor had been awful.

In the morning, a new engagement party date would be set and the noose around Elain’s neck would begin to tighten again, inching her higher and higher until her legs dangled and she couldn’t catch her breath.

And when the wind seemed to die down, and the rain softened, Elain let the duvet slide from her shoulders, pooling on the floor like gold threaded daylight. She pushed open the door, letting cold air whip the curls of her hair around her face. The wailing was louder, though the notes had begun to shift into something almost joyful. A revelation of the world, as though it knew the sun was coming eventually, that the storm would fade.

Ignoring the rain running over her cheeks, Elain gripped the slipper balcony and looked toward the sandy shoreline. It was hard to make out much in the darkness, but there, among the scattered trees and debris, was a sprawled, glowing object. A beached animal, she thought at first, caught in a silvery beam of moonlight.

But the clouds overhead shrouded any light that might have been had, which meant the light was coming from the creature. Elain leaned forward, trying to make out what sort of fish was slowly dying in the sand. It was too small to be a whale—perhaps a shark? Or a dolphin, even? Though, neither had fins that color, for the creature laying on the beach was covered in what she thought was gold scales.

The music that had beckoned her out abruptly stopped and Elain’s heart ached knowing whatever it had been was finally gone. She stayed, just in case it was merely unable to sing but still needed to die with someone nearby when the creature twisted onto its belly. And she realized it was no sea animal at all, but a human.

A human likely tangled in something gold, which from a distance, made it seem like a fin. Elain gasped, turning back for her bedroom without thinking about anything but helping that injured person. If she’d stopped, she might have remembered she was in a now soaking nightdress or to call for a guard in order to help.

Time felt as though it moved impossibly fast, and every step toward the beach was another that man might die. Elain knew the secret way out, through winding corridors where her bare feet slapped over smooth, dark marble and doors that opened on hinges that were still well-oiled.

Elain was her fathers perfect daughter, in part because she was careful never to get caught.

She wasn’t prepared for the outside world. There was still a storm, even if the worst had died down. Lightning flashed the moment her feet touched spiky grass, bringing with it rumbling thunder and that strange, mournful wail. She knew now it was just the wind and not a dying whale, which made her strangely sad.

Still, she needed to get to the injured man. Elain could bring him inside if she could get him on his feet. He must have washed up from shore, his boat wrecked when it was thrown off course. The docks were far off, further in and impassable given the swirling mouth of the river, and she supposed he’d tried to outrun the wind.

Foolish, but he wasn’t the first to attempt such a thing. She still remembered a shipwreck years before in which bodies washed up on their private beach for months. She didn’t want to see another unmarked grave dug.

Elain’s steps didn’t falter, even when grass became nothing but wet, soft sand. Not even when, certain her eyes were deceiving her, she made out the thick, long outline of a gold-scaled tail. It wasn’t a tail, merely a trick of the light.

Elain fell to her knees beside the man…if that was even what he was. Because surely no man was half as beautiful as the one laying before her, nor had any man ever been born with slits against his neck.

Or scales carved against his warm brown skin. He peered up at her, one eye slashed with a trio of scars, and opened sand caked lips. Auburn hair, tangled around little sticks, fell unbound around his powerful shoulders, just as finely scaled as the rest of him. She caught sight of little fins running the length of his spine, a sight she didn’t know what to make of.

“You,” he whispered, reaching a clammy hand for her cheek. “It’s you.”

Elain blinked. She’d heard stories of creatures like this. Half human, half fish…with a song capable of luring those to a watery grave. She couldn’t move, battered by rain and wind. Not when those cool fingers brushed over her skin, tracing the outline of her bottom lip. A vicious gash was cut over his bare torso, still weeping blood and making a mess of his lovely skin.

She should run—she knew she should. They were too far from the shoreline for a wave to drag them both out now, and he was clearly hurt. If she left him, he might die. The kind thing was the drag him back to the water and hope someday he repaid her for it. That he’d find her near death, clinging to a life raft and settle the score between them.

She looked back at his face, intense despite his wound. Waiting, she realized.

“You need to get back to the water,” she finally managed, inhaling a breath of salty sea air. “Will you let me drag you?”

He hesitated for a moment before raising himself with a loud grunt of paint up on his elbow. “Good,” she said, terrified to touch his skin. Golden scales ran over his naked biceps, powerful and heavily muscled from a life of swimming. His whole body was like that—carved and broad like she imagined a warrior might be.

Perhaps among his kind, he was.

Elain outstretched a hand and he took it without hesitation, though that wariness remained. Together, they managed to drag a path through the storm, leaving the dragging imprint of his tail in the sand. Elain tried hard not to think about that or she might have begun to panic. Only when her feet hit the foamy, debris cluttered water, did she release him.

He vanished for a moment, quicker than she’d thought possible. One moment he’d been sitting in the surf and the next he was gone. Elain waded out just a little, waiting to see blooming red in the water or some proof she’d made things worse and not better.

Nothing but the turbulent water sloshing up to her knees greeted her. Stupid, she thought, to have come out on a night like this. She was soaked to the bone, was likely to catch her death in the cold.

Fingers curled around her ankle the second she started to step away, dragging her under so quickly that when she tried to scream, she nearly inhaled a lungful of sea water. He was going to kill her, then. That was her very first thought. But the next moment her head was back above the waves, her body carefully bracketed in his strong arms.

“No!” she exclaimed, twisting against him to look at the palace in the distance becoming smaller and smaller with each powerful stroke of his tail. “Please, my father—”

He stopped, cocking his head to the side curiously. Waiting, once more, to hear what she had to say.

“My father needs me,” she managed, heart racing in her throat. “I’m supposed to be married—”

A soft, animal-like snarl slipped from his throat. She saw gleaming, sharp teeth in his mouth and shuddered. He didn’t understand, but she wasn’t a meal.

“Please,” she tried again. “You owe me your life.”

He held her gaze in the dark, the only light emanating from his skin. She could just make out the curiosity etched over his features. There was no hatred, no malice.

“Tell me your name, princess,” he finally demanded. His voice was rich and warm and somehow familiar to her.

“Elain,” she said before foolishly asking, “Do you have a name?”

Perhaps fish didn’t get names, after all. Or, mermen, which she assumed he was. He paused again, considering.

“Lucien.”

“Lucien,” she repeated, forcing her best courtiers smile despite her feet dangling in the open ocean and how shivers wracked her body. “That’s a nice name.”

He didn’t respond to that, which left her to repeat her plea. “Please, Lucien. Will you take me home?”

He nodded his head, and all at once they were moving again. Elain clung to his neck, telling herself she was merely afraid she’d slip and vanish to the bottom of the world, though in truth she wanted to know what his scales felt like.

Not much different than those of a fish, she learned. If he knew she was running his fingers over them, he didn’t say anything.

Elain had a million questions, and yet only thought to ask once. Still holding him as tightly as he held her, though she could feel the sand just beneath them, Elain asked, “Were you singing?”

His eyes widened in the dark. “Yes.”

“Why?”

A smile ghosted his features, as both mournful and joyful as the song he’d been singing had been. “It was a mating call. I could sense her near.”

“A…” Elain didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know what he was saying. By the look of understanding, and then satisfaction that seemed to warm his features, Lucien did.

“You’re my mate.”

Elain pushed away from him, slipping from his arms because he allowed it. Lucien merely watched, his auburn hair floating gently in the water which hid his form to his neck. It did little to disguise his gills, his scales, or the strange orangey-brown of his eyes. A lie was forming in her mind as she raced back toward the palace—one that said the whole evening had been a dream. Concocted from the stress of her impending engagement and the storm around her, she’d found a man lying dead in the sand and decided she’d found a merman instead.

But even as she made her way back to her room, leaving a trail of wet footprints against the marble, Elain couldn’t get the feel of those scales off her finger tips.

Nor could she stop his parting words from ringing in her ears.

Mate. You’re my mate.

Elain had been right about one thing—being out in the storm had caused her to wake with a scratchy throat. Bleary eyed in the gloomy morning light, Elain was certain her night had been, for the most part, a dream. There had been no man, no mermaid, no talk of mates. Just her awake too late and scared because of a storm. It made sense the stress of everything would cause her mind to split a little. She needed a hot meal, maybe some tea and honey, and a reminder that things were going to be okay.

Elain got a bath and fussed over by servants who reprimanded her for leaving her balcony doors open in a storm.

You’re so pale, they moaned, touching rouge to her cheeks. Elain didn’t bother mentioning that her father hadn’t allowed her out all last year for fear of her skin freckling. Back then there had been a lot of suitors competing for her hand, and who knew which of them would like a woman who spent so much time in the sun? Better not to risk it, had been her fathers thought.

Elain made her way downstairs where her father, his advisors, her betrothed, and his father all sat at the dining table. They rose, this group of dull-eyed men, the moment she swished into the room.

“Lady Elain,” Graysen said, unaware of how that title made her cringe. She was princess, technically, but Graysen had never addressed her as such. Charitably, Elain had wondered if someone had told Lord Nolan that she didn’t like all the formalities…which would have included lady as well.

But privately Elain suspected he disliked that she outranked him, and so she was restyled to be Lady Elain for Lord Nolan.

Still, Elain let him take her hand and brush a kiss over her knuckles. “You slept late.”

“It seems the storm kept me up,” she admitted, her eyes sliding to her father. Where was she supposed to eat?

He answered before she could ask.

“I’ll have breakfast sent up to your rooms,” her father began carefully as Elain pulled her hand from Graysen’s. “It may be best if you keep to your quarters for a while. Some of the fishermen were displaced and will be staying in the grand hall. I would hate for one of them to harm you.”

“Why would they harm me?” Elain asked, her temper rising in her chest.

“Because you’re so beautiful,” Graysen said quickly, smiling as though she must know it. “Come, it’s only for a short time and then we’ll announce our engagement and everything will be as it was.”

“A masquerade ball, this time,” her father said, eyes sparkling with delight. Just like he’d had with her mother—it was where she’d first met him, hidden behind a mask and unaware she danced with a future king. Her mother had once said that she’d been allowed to fall in love with him as little more than a man, and Elain had always wanted that.

It was a bribe. Her father must have known his request would upset her, so he dangled the promise of getting to know Graysen under the guise of anonymity to pacify her.

All the fight wooshed out of her. “That sounds lovely,” she told them. “Will you ask for honeyed tea to be sent up as well?”

A nod was all it took to eject her from the room. She wondered what would have happened if she’d pushed, if she’d demanded to be included in the recovery and rebuilding efforts. They didn’t even bother pretending and that was her fault.

She felt anger, but she swallowed it because that was what a good princess would do. What a good wife, a good queen, even, would do. Elain wanted to make her father happy, and as she made her way miserably up the steps, she wondered what would make her happy. Maybe nothing, and she was still a bad daughter and a terrible choice in wife because she couldn’t just be grateful for everything she’d been given.

Elain’s door was ajar when she stepped back inside. A cool, windy draft whistled through the room, and as she made her way through her sitting chamber to her bedroom, she found she wasn’t alone. A man in a rather fine green tunic was crouched beside her balcony doors with a box of tools set just beside gleaming black boots. He seemed too polished to be a repair man, and his clothes far too nice.

“Can I help you?” Elain asked. He turned and her stomach fell to her feet. “You.”

He raised well-groomed, auburn brows. It was the man from the water—the merman, though gone was his tail, the fins, the gills. Replaced by unblemished, warm brown skin and that thick, long auburn hair now neatly pulled off his beautiful face. When he offered her a smile, Elain counted two rows of perfectly normal white teeth.

“Me?” he asked in that same warm, honeyed voice. “Have we met, princess?”

Yes, she wanted to scream. Those russet colored eyes sparkled with mischief, practically daring her to say what she was thinking. Already, Elain was second guessing herself. Maybe she’d seen him around the palace and the whole thing had just been a dream, featuring a normal, if not beautiful, man.

“Yes,” she heard herself say even as she felt that old, familiar temper rising in her chest. Everyone else could make her feel stupid, but not him.

He grinned, twirling a screwdriver in one broad, large hand. “Tell me more. Was it how you came to break the lock on your balcony door?”

She held his gaze. “How is your chest today?”

He ran his free hand over his gold buttons. “Would you like to take a look? The rest of the locks in your suite work quite well, I’m told.”

“Just—” Elain forced herself to take a breath. He knew—he knew, and it hadn’t been a dream, and he knew. “Just tell me your name.”

He took a step toward her, his smile softening into something that made her heart race. “You already know it, princess. I told you last night. Don’t you remember?”

“How are you here, Lucien?”

He shuddered a breath. “You know why I’m here—”

“I’m not your mate,” she hissed, pointing a finger between them. “I’m not your anything. I’m going to be engaged, and I will marry him, so whatever notions you have ought to be abandoned right here, right now.”

There was no growl this time. “Oh? Princess Elain is going to marry the ruined son of some minor nobleman?”

“How do you know that?”

“You fascinate me,” he said simply, daring another step. “What sort of woman runs out in the middle of a deadly storm to risk her own life on another's? You could have been swept away.”

“You lured me,” she accused. His smile faded into something a little darker, something laced with pain.

“How was I to know my mate was you?” he asked her, inching even closer. Close enough he could reach for her pointed finger and hold it gently in his hand. Elain yanked back, stumbling a step to get away from him. “I would have employed more care had I known you were so fragile, so—”

“I’m not fragile!” she snapped, furious he’d think so. She would never have dared to use that tone with Graysen, but with Lucien it was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her, though she couldn’t explain why she thought so. Only that she was certain he wouldn’t—that he couldn’t. And something about the way his eyes sparked when she raised her voice made Elain think he rather liked her irritation.

“No, I suppose you’re not. You haven’t screamed for help, though I am most definitely not supposed to be in here alone. Why is that?”

“You don’t scare me,” Elain told him with all the defiance she could muster. Lucien’s grin returned.

“That makes one of us, then,” he replied, turning back to her door. “I think I fixed it, by the way.”

“So it’ll keep you out?”

He chuckled. “Oh, quite the opposite. You’re not engaged yet. Until you make a choice, I intend to visit you again.”

“What if I don’t want you to? What if I want you to stay out?” she demanded. Lucien picked up his tools, a contemplative look on his face.

“Do you?” he asked.

No. Lucien was, despite being a fish or a monster or a little bit of both, the first person in what felt like forever who’d actually looked at her and heard the words coming out of her mouth. Elain felt the pull to him, but more than that, she didn’t want him to go and leave her to people who looked beyond her, who spoke at her without caring about what she said in return.

“Yes. I do want that.”

He snorted. “Liar. Your breakfast is coming. You should eat.”

Lucien stepped past her, and she thought he might leave without another word. As if he couldn’t resist, he slid a hand around her waist and drew her closer, dipping his head so he could breathe in the scent of her hair.

“You should sleep, too,” he murmured. Elain was suddenly very aware of how close they were. The memory of the night before, of their slick bodies pressed together as he held her tight, flooded through her. Was he thinking about it, too?

Lucien spoke again. “What would it take, princess? To see you smile? What is it that makes you happy?”

She should have told him to shut his mouth. That the only thing that could possibly make her happy was him leaving, swimming back to wherever it was he’d come from. But Elain, perhaps over tired and wrung out, told him the truth. “I want to be outside again. In the sunlight,” she added, just in case he didn’t catch what she meant.

He tugged her close enough she threw her hands out against his chest, leaving a whispered breath between them.

“Doing what?”

Elain thought of her rotted, ruined garden that had once been so beautiful. “I had a garden,” she admitted, holding his gaze. What had caused those scars, she wondered. He’d been lucky to keep his eye, which seemed a brighter shade of gold than the other. Magic, perhaps? Or something else entirely.

His free hand came to her face, stroking her cheek. “What’s stopping you.”

Lie, don’t give him ammunition to use against you, lie— “My skin might freckle.”

He didn’t understand. There was a helplessness in his eyes, an unspoken explain this to me that saw her trying to rationalize her first statement. “I’m to be Graysen’s wife, and the expectations—”

“Fuck his expectations,” Lucien snapped, realization dawning against his features. “Why should he get everything and you get nothing at all?”

“I gain a husband,” she told him, though it was hollow even to her own ears. “And someday, children.”

“Is that all you want?” he asked sharply, eyes searching her expression. The question broke whatever spell had settled around them. Elain shoved at his muscular chest and Lucien released her without complaint.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. You need to leave—don’t come back.”

If her father or Graysen learned she’d entertained a man alone in her bedroom, the whole engagement would be called off and worse still, no other suitor would want her. She could not be a fish man’s bride, nor did she want to be.

“It matters to me,” he said, a ringing finality to the words. “And I will be back. All the things you dream of, princess? We share those dreams. I can give them to you.”

“You can’t give me anything but a miserable, watery death,” Elain snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

Lucien’s smile told her she didn’t know enough. “We’ll see, pretty mate. We’ll see.”

And that was the last thing he said before vanishing through the archway that led to her sitting room. Elain took a breath, and then another before chasing after him, but he was gone and the only tell he’d ever been there at all was a puddle of water sneaking toward a rather nice rug.

Leaving her to once again wonder if she hadn’t made the entire thing up.

One day trapped in her bedroom, and the western wing it was housed in, stretched into two and then three. By day four, Elain woke up burning hot and with a throat so sore she couldn’t stand to speak at all. That was the day Graysen crept up to see her. Under the watchful eye of a servant, Graysen held her hand and urged her not to speak.

“A date has been set for the engagement,” he said in soft tones. His eyes were strangely earnest and though Elain’s body ached and her heart pounded, she wondered if Graysen didn’t prefer her like this. “Once things are settled, I thought you might like to visit my home up north. Spend some time there recovering…and I thought that, once you and I are with child, it would be a good place to convalesce.”

Elain tried to speak, but her throat burned from the effort. Still, she managed a soft spoken, “No.”

Graysen leaned as though he might kiss her before thinking better of it. “You’re delirious. Your father says the commotion of the palace often overwhelms you. Just consider it, Lady Elain. A little solitude up by the mountains…someplace safe, where you can be free to roam the grounds…I think it would do you well.”

Elain merely closed her eyes and drifted back into sleep. Her dreams were fraught, cut by moments of lucidity when a servant would prop her up against a sea of pillows and force broth or water down her throat. Elain did as she was told, still thinking of Graysen.

And when she felt hands on her shoulders, gently propping her up, she blurted out, “Don’t lock me away.”

Cool skin pressed against her hot cheek. “You really don’t understand how the sea works, do you?” An all too familiar voice was teasing her. Exhausted, Elain twisted in the grip of the merman, half naked like before. No tail—he’d shucked on some pants at least. Damp hair told her he’d come from the water some time recently, but not so recent he’d leave her bed wet. Elain reached for the braid arched over his ear. Little gold cuffs jangled softly when he turned his head, metal clanking against metal.

“He’s going to lock me away,” she whispered, letting the monster hold her.

“I’m sure he’ll try,” came Lucien’s murmuring voice. “For now, all you need to worry about is getting well.”

“Why are you here?”

“There is a rumor my princess is sick. I came to see for myself. You should be more careful, running around in storms,” he said, though Elain detected a note of worry in his voice.

“I thought you wanted to eat me,” she grumbled, huddling closer to his body. Elain hadn’t felt anything so deliciously cold in days, and his skin eased some of the burn from the fever.

“You have such tempting ideas,” he replied. “But tonight is for my good ideas. It’s like your human healers have never heard of cold water.”

“What?”

No healers had come to see her. Elain might have told him so, or she might have merely thought it. The world spun, causing her to once again cling to him desperately. Elain understood what he meant when she saw the bathing chamber illuminated by candles.

“Took me forever to haul water in here,” he grumbled, stepping straight into the tub filled with what she assumed was sea water. “Don’t suppose you’d take off your dress?”

“I’ll kill you if you try,” she whispered, knowing full well even at full strength she couldn’t hurt him. Still, the merman merely chuckled.

“I believe you would. Stop thrashing,” he added, perhaps unaware that the sight of his massive, golden tail curled around the large tub had frightened her. When had that changed?

“How do you do it?” she whispered, closing her eyes again. “The tail…the legs?”

“I can call a two-legged form when it suits me, though it’s taxing. I’ve never had to before I met you.”

“How long can you stay like that?”

“Not long,” he murmured into her hair while gently scooping cool water over her shoulders. Elain shivered, though the cold was reprieve from the constant heat. “It risks being trapped this way forever.”

“Why risk it?”

He didn’t answer that. Elain drifted back to sleep, her dreams shifting from high walls and gloom to glittering water and a sun so hot the bridge of her nose was perpetually burned. Elain didn’t feel Lucien return her to bed which was for the best given she woke up in a new, dry night dress. Her body still ached but the burning in her throat and beneath her skin was gone.

Bastard, she thought when she ran her hands over her form. He’d picked the slinkiest he could manage, with thin straps and a short hem. It was designed for summer when the heat was unbearable and there was no one to see her but herself.

Herself and a monster who’d decided they were mates. Maybe letting Graysen send her away was for the best. Lucien wouldn’t be able to get to her behind those high walls. Lucien had said he couldn’t use his legs for long stretches of time, and Elain happened to know that Graysen was landlocked that far into the continent and the river had become foul and polluted. He’d never find her.

The thought filled her with misery. She didn’t want that. And as she dressed that morning, it occurred to Elain that she ought to figure out what she did want, in order to know what she didn’t.

What she wanted was some semblance of freedom. Even if she was only ever consort to Graysen, who took all the things that ought to have been hers by birth, she wanted to remain in her home, wanted to be permitted on her own grounds, where she would raise her own children. Graysen wasn’t allowed to erase her and Elain wouldn’t help him do it, either.

There was no one in the dining room, nor any fishermen in the great hall when she made her way down. Nervous servants averted their eyes when she passed, but otherwise it was as though the castle had been emptied out entirely.

Her slippered feet made no noise as Elain traveled room to room, searching for some sign of her father, her would-be fiance. It was later in the morning, and yet she had the feeling they ought to be out and about. Elain marched into the courtyard. Her garden, wilted and dead as it likely was, should have been just to her left. Just through a low, stone wall and arching, iron gates. All of it was gone, demolished by some unseen hand.

And its place lay rows and rows of tents. Soldiers, she realized with no small amount of horror. Her garden had been torn apart and trampled and she told to stay inside so her father could camp an army within the palace walls. Why?

Elain spun, hiking up her lavender skirts to track him down. She knew if her father wasn’t sitting on his throne hearing out his citizens, then he’d be in his study. Since when did he keep secrets like this?

She flung open his door, stunned by the sight greeting her. There, behind his usual desk, sat her father. He looked exhausted, run down and bone tired. Dark circles lined the hollows of his eyes and his cheeks seemed sunken somehow.

Lord Nolan and his son sat across from her father, the picture of perfect health. Elain was plagued by a vision of what was coming before anyone spoke. Even as they all turned to look at her, sharing mixed expressions of disapproval and curiosity, Elain knew. Somehow the Senior Nolan was behind her fathers appearance, even if his son had no idea. It wouldn’t be long before Graysen ascended to the throne—likely just after an extravagant wedding that cast no doubt over Graysen’s right to rule.

And she already knew her fate. She’d be sent away, far from the water, far from everything she loved.

“Elain?” her father murmured, his voice a soft rasp. “You’re feeling better.”

“Are you?” she asked him bluntly. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do so, to speak so out of turn. “You look like you need rest.”

He waved a hand, earning a smile and an eye roll from the elder Nolan. “Women are so fussy,” he said, dismissing her concerns entirely. Graysen stood, earnest as ever. It was so hard to dislike him, though some small part of her wanted to scream in his face. Don’t you see what he’s doing? Don’t you see how he pulls the strings?

“Come, Lady Elain,” Graysen said in that smooth, placating voice. “Have you eaten? His hand was on her elbow before she could stop him, leading her back into the hall and toward the dining room. “It’s so lovely to see you again. You look radiant.”

“My father–”

“Stress,” Graysen interrupted smoothly, stroking his thumb over her elbow. “What with the storm, and the protests, and the engagement—”

“What protests?” she demanded, but Graysen merely shook his head.

“It's handled.”

The army, then. The army was putting down these nameless protests against a people who had once loved her father. Elain took a breath, thinking she’d force Lord Nolan to just tell her, when a new idea slithered into her mind.

Lucien.

Surely he’d return. He didn’t seem content to stay away, so why not pry for information? Perhaps he wouldn’t think so much about it, or care given he was merely a fish. She’d get no where with Graysen, and it occurred to Elain that a difficult wife without anyone to protect her wasn’t too difficult to dispose of, one way or the other.

“When is the engagement?”

“In three nights,” Graysen said, his expression relaxing. This was what he wanted. A wife who gave him no trouble, who did exactly as expected. He stopped her just before the doors of the dining room, cupping her cheek with warm, callused hands. What did it say about her that the touch revolted her? It felt all wrong—clammy, somehow, and too rough. “I am looking forward to announcing to the world you will be my wife. I…I have kept my feelings guarded for fear they will not be returned, but I am—I feel—”

What he felt clearly could not be put into words, though Elain thought it didn’t warrant being shoved up against wooden doors and accosted by his mouth. She squeaked with surprise, eyes wide open even when his own shuttered closed. It was strange—like watching someone else be kissed by Graysen rather than experiencing it herself.

But Elain felt nothing but aloof detachment, accompanied by a feeling that it was best not to fight, but to let him get on with it so she could go. It wasn’t pleasant or unpleasant. It just was, like taking a breath or swallowing a glass of tepid water.

He pulled away, breathless and eyes out of focus. “I…” he raked his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “I should go.” “Yes,” she agreed, fingers touching her lips. “Yes, I think that’s best.”

Graysen shot her one last lingering look, the sort that promised all the things that might happen between them, and then turned without a glance back. Elain watched him though, wondering why she felt nothing at all. Surely she should. He was nice enough, and likely to be a good husband, even if he wasn’t particularly attentive.

It was a question that plagued her long after Graysen had gone.

Lucien, Elain learned, was crawling up her balcony. She waited for him rather than sleep, tucked against the window seat of her bedroom with nothing but a singular candle burning. Not even the fireplace, though the cool air certainly could have benefited from the heat.

She saw his fingers first, gripping the edge of the rail to haul himself up. Legs clad in those same well-fitted brown trousers hid his lower half, but no shoes and no tunic, along with his damp hair, told her he’d gone straight from the beach.

He was surprised to see her, eyes glowing in the dark. The left was practically all gold, glimmering like its own sun against his handsome face. For a moment they merely faced off against the other, staring silently—wordlessly—waiting for the other to speak.

“You look well,” he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though I’d have chosen a different nightdress.”

He was outrageous. “Yes,” she hissed, wrapping her duvet tighter around her body. “You undressed me.”

He didn’t look ashamed at all. “I thought you’d be cross with me if I put you to bed soaking wet. And crosser still if you woke up in a tub with a merman. I could have left you naked, I suppose, but that also seemed undecent.”

It occurred to her that never once had she considered that he might have touched her. Lucien’s expression dared her to ask, but Elain hated to give him any self-righteous satisfaction. So instead, she told him, “There is an army in my fathers courtyard. I heard there are protests across the land. What do you know?”

He shrugged powerful, naked shoulders as he made his way over to her. Lucien dropped on the padded bench while Elain drew her knees closer to her chest. “I’ve heard a lot of things. Things I might be willing to exchange for the right price.”

Elain sighed, exasperated. “What could you possibly want? Krill?”

His laugh was like warm honey dripping down her throat. “Tempting. I do love krill. But no, I was thinking of something different. A kiss,” he added, when she didn’t immediately take his meaning. “And maybe more, if you enjoy it. After all, I hear you’ll be engaged by the end of the week.”

She hadn’t imagined the bitterness that plagued his words, nor the regret etched in his eyes. There was almost a plea to it, as if Elain could ever choose a man who was half fish. Elain swallowed, even as a little thrill raced through her. Where had that been when Graysen kissed her?

“Okay,” she agreed, because she thought it might be fine to kiss him. “A kiss, and nothing more—

“Negotiable,” he interjected smoothly. “I know a lot of things.”

And she didn’t think he was talking about mere politics. Still, Elain nodded her head. He could negotiate to his heart's content. That didn’t mean she’d have to say yes. Just the possibility was enough to settle him, though, as he drew a breath through his mouth and said, “I don’t involve myself much in your kind's business, so long as it doesn’t interfere with mine. I do know your kingdom is very poor, and your people suffer. Marrying the Lord’s son is, supposedly, supposed to make you seem like some kind of champion of the people. But there are revolts, because a marriage doesn’t fill empty bellies, and the Lord is well adept at putting down rebellions. It doesn’t help that two princesses have gone missing to the west and the north, and their kingdoms have fallen to democracy. Elected rulers seem appealing when your king shuts himself up in a castle and allows himself to be guarded by an army of mercenaries.”

“So…so I might marry Graysen, and the kingdom might still fall to revolution?” The thought genuinely scared her.

Lucien merely shrugged. “I can’t tell you the future, princess. You may marry the lord and he might quell the rebellions and you have a long and happy life.”

“And my children…” Elain chewed her lower lip nervously. “It merely delays the inevitable?”

Another shrug. “If you asked me…”

Their eyes met, held in the flickering glow of the candle.

“Asked you what?”

“To help,” he finally said, squeezing his fingers into a nervous fist. “I would.”

She didn’t mean to scoff, but the words tumbled gracelessly from her lips all the same. “What could a fish do to help me?”

She didn’t imagine the pain that flitted over his expression. Elain swallowed—that had been unkind. He was the only person offering her any information, who didn’t treat her like a decoration, and she was venting her anger on him.

“I–”

“I know,” he said, holding up a hand, though Elain didn’t think he did. So instead she scooted a little closer to him, holding his now wary gaze.

“I’ll take that kiss, I think,” she said, hoping to soothe his wounded ego. But Lucien merely shook his head and stood, filling the air with a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Not tonight, I think.”

And he would have left. By all rights he should have left. But Elain jumped to her feet, blanket pooling to the ground, and grabbed his wrist.

“Graysen kissed me today,” she told him when he turned his head to look. Anger replaced hurt, which was only a modicum better. “And I felt nothing. I just want to know…”

He waited, his head cocked like it had been that first night they’d met. Curious, again, to see what she might do, what she might say.

Elain took a breath. “I want to know if the problem is me or it's him.”

Lucien turned fully then, his eyes a brand on her body. “And if it’s him?”

“Then you can negotiate for more.” Truly, Elain didn’t know what else to say to him. It was enough to bring that mischievous spark back to his eyes, to draw him closer to her. And Elain, who’d spent so much time alone, found she wanted his attention, though she didn’t know how to admit it.

The thought crawled through her mind before he ever touched her. Don’t leave me.

He ducked his head, one hand cupping her cheek just as Graysen had done. She stiffened, bracing herself to watch another man kiss her. But Lucien didn’t shove her against something, nor did he press his body against her own. He merely threaded his free hand in the unbound curls falling around her face and brought his lips to hers.

It was the softest brush—tentative, a testing to see how he might go about it. Letting her adjust to him being so close, to sharing a breath. Excitement skittered up her spine as warmth spread through her limbs. He was watching her, gauging her reaction.

And Elain knew, mere seconds before he truly kissed her, that when he decided to negotiate with her, he’d have far too much leverage. Need raced through her at that soft touch. Lucien slotted his lips against her own, exhaling a soft breath that could have been a groan, though she wasn’t sure. Elain, who’d kept her arms at her sides, slid her hands up his bare chest without even thinking about it.

And she’d closed her eyes. She didn’t know why—maybe because she thought it would make things feel better, or simply as a reaction to being so close. All Elain knew was it was better to kiss him like this, touching his skin in an attempt to bring them closer. It was her who reached for his neck, and she suspected, her fault that the kiss didn’t stop right there.

A soft sigh escaped him, drawing them flush against the other. It was scandalous, having this half naked man in her bedroom—a fish, as she’d called him earlier. Kissing her like she was sweet, like she was special. He was kissing her like he wanted her to enjoy it, which was a problem because Elain was enjoying it.

What did it say about her that she liked kissing the monster, while kissing Graysen had elicited nothing at all? She had a flash of vision in which she left with Lucien—ran away, leaving this wretched kingdom filled with warmongering men to their fate so she could be with Lucien. And what, then? She’d live in a little cottage by the sea and Lucien would come by when he could? How long before he tired of her, of the novelty of a human? How long—

“Elain,” he groaned, teeth nipping her bottom lip. Elain gasped as pleasure bolted through her and Lucien took advantage of this momentary lapse to slide his tongue into her mouth. It was shockingly ridged but still pleasant, adding to the desire rapidly coiling through her. Tentatively, Elain returned the gesture, meeting him with her own tongue.

She felt his knees buckle. “I want to renegotiate,” he panted, gripping her face in his strong hands. “I need to renegotiate.”

“Okay,” she replied, unsure what else to say. Meeting his gaze, Elain found those mismatched eyes practically burning against her skin. “What do you want?”

He kissed her again, fervent and desperate, his tongue licking her own as his arms wrapped around her body so they were flush, without an inch of space between them. Elain squirmed, needing something to help alleviate the pressure that had begun to build between her legs.

He’d forgotten his negotiation skills or was merely utilizing what he knew worked best. Elain didn’t mind when he swept her up and walked her to the bed, nor did she complain when he joined her, breaking the kiss only long enough to settle beside her. His chest covered her own, one leg through between hers and when he pressed, Elain found it helped with the building need. She arched against him, fingers tangled in his surprisingly soft hair while Lucien groaned and grabbed her hips, stilling them firmly.

“I need to taste you,” Lucien whispered against her throat. She didn’t understand what he meant, though she knew he was asking for more than just kissing. And she wanted that, too—wanted all of it, all of him, which was maybe dangerous. But she blinked up at him, fingertips grazing his soft jaw, and said, “Please.” Another soft, almost desperate sounding groan fell from his swollen lips. He kissed her again, the sharpness of his real teeth glinting in the dark. Would he transform back into the tail, she wondered? And would she be upset if he did?

No. Elain was so curious how he made any of this work with his tail. Surely his kind must reproduce, and some depraved part of her wanted to know how, exactly. Maybe he’d show her if she asked. Not then, though. Not when he was slowly skimming down her body, his breath shockingly warm through the thin material of her night dress. He didn’t remove it, though she would have let him if he’d wanted to. Instead, he teased her against it, nipping and licking at her breasts while using the fabric to add additional friction. Elain writhed, trying to grind against him only to find there was nothing but air.

And then he was gone, laying between her legs and spreading her wider. Elain leaned up on her elbows, heart banging against her ribcage. “What are you doing?” she whispered. Lucien’s greedy eyes drank her in, realizing she had no underthings on. Not to sleep.

“Tasting you,” he replied, his eyes flicking back to her face. Elain swallowed her nerves while Lucien waited for her to revoke his permission. He seemed to expect it if that carefully guarded expression was anything to go by.

Elain laid back. She trusted the monster not to hurt her, to stop if she told him to. And more than that, Elain wanted to know what he’d do next, what she could expect when it came to the bedroom. She was nervous, but she wasn’t afraid.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, slicking a finger through her. Elain swallowed a gasp though she was unable to hide how much she’d enjoyed that one feather soft touch. Closing her eyes,

Elain rolled her hips in an attempt to get him to touch her again. She’d touched herself, of course—many times throughout her life, though she knew technically she wasn’t supposed to. Who was going to stop her? Her body was her own, not the property of some man she’d never met.

Elain’s thoughts were cut short by a new, wetter, softer touch between her legs. His mouth, she realized when she flew upwards to look. He’d licked her. Their eyes met, his wicked with delight and hers…well…Elain wasn’t quite sure. Heat throbbed through her, prompting her to say, “Do it again.”

It was with a deliberate slowness that he ran that ridged tongue up the length of her. He liked it, she realized with wonder. He liked the taste of her, liked the licking, and if she didn’t make him stop, would keep going until she finished. His mouth was nothing like her fingers—it was better. Lucien didn’t look away as he licked again and again, slow and soft as though working her into the sensation.

Elain reached for a pillow behind her, careful not to disturb her lower body or his clever tongue. She needed to watch him do this, well aware it was heightening her own burning pleasure. Elain intended to commit him to memory just in case it all went wrong. At least she’d have this—something selfish, something that was only for her. If he left, if she ended up with Graysen, she’d at least have this.

A sensual smile spread over his face. “You want to watch, princess?”

“Do it again,” she said instead. And again and again and—

He obliged her, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. She thought she ought to feel outrage that he found this whole thing amusing, but Elain could only feel the burning want coiling through her. Watching him only heightened her pleasure, though she couldn’t quite explain why. Only that the sight of him dragging his tongue over her cunt for the filthiest kiss she’d ever been given was driving her wild.

She was going to come far too quickly. Elain reached between her legs for his hair, still as soft as she remembered. Lucien groaned when she tugged at his hair, urging him to go faster. Elain had only a vague awareness of her own body and the way she was grinding against his face. Desperation clawed at her chest as tension built in her body.

“Please,” she whispered into the darkness. “Lucien, please.”

He drew her clit between his lips and Elain came apart faster than she’d anticipated. Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to rip from her, Elain clenched her thighs tight around her head. Lucien didn’t stop, licking her through the orgasm until she was exhausted and overwrought.

“No more,” she begged, planting her foot against his shoulder to shove. Lucien pulled away looking wild, more monster than man. It ought to have frightened her, but as he rose up on his knees and she caught sight of the strange bulge in his trousers, it only thrilled her.

“It’s not enough,” Lucien told her, unaware she was thinking of undressing him. He grabbed her face, kissing her so thoroughly Elain didn’t think she’d ever get the taste of herself out of her mouth. The kiss was ruthless, his teeth sharp as they grazed her bottom lip. His tongue pushed and licked and danced with her own, concealing her hands pulling at the laces of his pants.

He gasped at the same time she did. Elain had been pretty sheltered, and what she knew of the male anatomy was limited. However, Elain was positive he was only supposed to have one appendage.

They looked between their bodies, panting heavily at her hand attempting to grip them both. In the dim light and the glow from his skin, Elain could make out a lot of things she didn’t think normal men had. The ridges, for one—and the scales he hadn’t bothered to hide with whatever magic he used to hide the rest of them. Rather than the rounded head she’d been shown in an illicit diagram, his tapered to a point. Thick and long, which the one just beneath a little longer—Elain understood the mechanics well enough.

The purpose, though, not as well.

“I meant,” he gulped, eyes rolling up into his head when she added her other hand so she could hold them both, pressed together as she circled her fingers around him, “To ease you into this knowledge.”

“I’m not fragile,” she replied, though perhaps some warning would have been nice. It was too late now, though, and Elain wanted to see him to completion, too. Besides, curiosity had gotten the better of her, filling her with a million questions. Why? Why could anyone possibly need two cocks?

Lucien quickly pushed off her, spreading his legs wide so she could better stroke him. He liked her touch, clumsy as it was, though she still asked, “Does this please you?”

“Yes,” he groaned, hips bucking into her hands. “Too much.”

The ridges were strange against her hand—firm, yet flexible. Not quite soft, but not so hard she thought they’d hurt. The sensation was rather pleasant against her fingers and Elain could almost imagine them rubbing against her still fluttering cunt.

How had she gotten here, imagining she’d sleep with the mermonster? But Elain wanted to. She almost regretted not offering herself up to him when she’d had the chance. It was too late now, given the pooling fluid at the tapered head of his cocks, beading against her thumb. Elain slicked through it, using his own moisture to help her hands glide over him. Lucien groaned again, throwing his head back as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

Elain had never felt more powerful in her life. He could have drowned her days ago. Could drag her back out to sea if he wanted to. And certainly, the merman possessed a strange sort of magic that allowed him to walk on land for short bursts of time. Something she’d never manage no matter how hard she tried.

And yet he was powerless beneath her, at her mercy as she stroked those double cocks. Lucien’s fingers gripped the silken sheets of her bed, his back arching toward the ceiling as he panted and moaned softly. It seemed obscene for a man to make those kinds of noises and Elain was desperate to hear more of them.

This was her doing.

Lucien came all over her hand, clenching his jaw to keep himself quiet. Elain marveled at the white that coated her skin, matching what she’d gleaned from the library book before it had been banned with reality. Lucien gulped down great breaths of air, relaxing his posture as he fell back to the bed. Elain felt shy, embarrassed almost to be sitting beside a man with his pants tangled around his ankles.

“Come home with me,” he rasped after a moment, his eyes closed.

“I—”

A shuffling in the hall silenced them both.

“Lady Elain?”

Lucien was already dressing himself hastily, eyes wide. Elain smoothed her hands over her nightdress and said nothing. Lucien vanished a moment later, back out the balcony without an answer.

Unaware she was about to tell him yes.

That if he’d offered, she would have left even with the maid just outside her door.

Lucien didn’t return the next night, much to Elain’s dismay. Nor the next, or even the one after that, leaving her to face the masquerade engagement on her own. Elain dreaded what was coming. Graysen was so earnest with his intentions, unaware she was desperate for escape. Elain was forced into a chair for the better part of the day so she could be laced into a dress within an inch of her life. Her face was painted, her hair pinned and a mask carefully glued against the rest of her skin.

And then…and then. It wasn’t quite night, and Elain, desperate to escape, slipped down the same emptied halls in her blush colored gown, thinking that the gold beaded accents reminded her of the monster's skin and scales. She just wanted to see him again. She wanted him to explain how they might be together—how they could make this work.

More than anything, though, Elain wanted him to just come back. Had he left her? Decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, that a mate wasn’t as interesting to him as he’d first thought? Maybe Lucien was filled with regrets that he’d hadn’t been given one of his own and had decided to cut his losses.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall sent Elain turning quickly, making her way toward an unused, dark room and then, when she heard the steps hurrying after her, to the balcony just outside. Go away, go away, go away—

“Princess?”

A gruff voice pulled Elain from her thoughts.

“Lord Nolan?”

What was he doing out at such a late hour? Unmasked, but in a finely cut jacket and well-tailored pants. He looked at her, blinking eyes the same shade as his sons. He wasn’t nearly as handsome, wasn’t nearly as kind. Elain’s slippers were made of satin, slick as she stepped toward the stone wall overlooking the sea.

“What are you doing out so late?” he asked, advancing a step. Elain had the sense she ought to run back inside—run straight to his son without looking back. Elain couldn’t help herself, twisting to look at the water lapping far below the marble balcony she stood on. It was a straight drop to the sea below, sparkling beneath the setting sun. This view was beautiful and treacherous.

Nolan was here, too. Casual as he took another step in those polished, dark boots.

“Just taking in some air,” she lied.

He took another step, and then another. Towering over her, he said, “The most curious thing happened today.” His hand was on her upper arm, tight enough she couldn’t easily pull away, but not so hard he was hurting her. Pink and violet light framed his sharp features, doing very little to soften him.

“What?” she whispered, reading the accusation in his eyes.

“Chests of gold from some far off prince were sent to you.”

Elain blinked. “I…” She didn’t know who would send such a thing, though truthfully was Nolan so surprised? He had no money at all, and princes had been courting her from the moment she developed a woman’s body. “Who?”

“Prince Lucien. From Rhodes. I’ve never heard of such a place,” Nolan said, searching her expression for some answer. Elain was certain her face was too expressive, her shock too easy to read.

Nolan backed her up against the railing, the edge digging painfully against her back.

What could a fish do to help me? She’d demanded. And he’d stood there, hurt and silent, well aware there he could do a lot of things. Prince Lucien. He was no mere fish, then. He was a prince and he’d… “Why would he send gold? Surely he’s heard of my impending engagement.”

Elain knew for a fact Lucien had heard.

“Perhaps he understands what you so obviously do not. You don’t need a husband if a benefactor is willing to dig your kingdom out of poverty. No army to quell the rebellions, no uprisings—”

“You make that seem like it’s a bad thing. People are starving,” Elain interrupted, her heart pounding as she understood the danger she was in. “Our marriage can usher in a new era of peace.”

“When I was a boy,” Nolan interrupted, his voice low and lethal, “my father used to tell me the story of the legendary city of Rhodes. Lost to the sea and built of nothing but gold. Many sailors have gone looking for it…and before yesterday, it was nothing but a myth.”

“I don’t know this prince,” she lied. He knew it, too. His grip tightened on her arm.

“My son doesn’t require you anymore. And frankly, I find you troublesome. Meddlesome,” he added with a soft snarl. “Did you beg the monsters of the sea to help you escape? Is this the price you demanded? Your maids swear they’ve heard a man’s voice in your bedroom at night.”

Elain’s blood froze. “They lie,” she whispered.

He only shook his head. “What a shame to see both the king and the princess die on the same day. What a tragic accident, to slip and fall to your death..”

“Don’t—” Elain’s panicked scream was swallowed by the air as Nolan shoved her back. She almost wished she’d smashed her head, if only to blot out the fear she felt when she hit the cold water. Elain’s dress ballooned around her, dragging her toward the silty bottom. Elain reminded herself she could swim. She could figure this out.

It was the battering waves that were the problem. They shoved her against the slimy wall only to suck her back out, preventing her from reaching the surface for a gulp of air. Elain knew Nolan would be watching, counting the seconds until he was certain she’d drowned. Her body would eventually wash up on shore, given credence to his story that she must have slipped.

Panic flooded her body. Think, she demanded. She reached the wall and clawed at the stone before she was dragged back out, doing little more than slicing open her palm. Salt stung at her wound as blood wound through the water. Relief filled her burning lungs—one more push of the wave, one more pull toward the sea.

And that was all she needed. Elain felt an arm wrap around her waist while a rough, musical voice murmured, “What are you doing down here, princess?” Lucien.

Elain wrapped her arms around his neck. She needed air or she was going to drown, but the merman kept her below the water. She could see him, hazy under the dimming sun.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her. She nodded, pushing her hair from her face. Lucien opened his mouth, drawing in a watery breath and then, with those viciously sharp teeth, bit the side of her neck. Elain tried to scream, given the pain was no small thing. Jerking in his arms, Elain tried to get away from him, to push toward the surface but he held steadfast, teeth buried in her skin.

Something was happening. Something terrifying, something…something that was filling her with air. Elain took a greedy breath, and then another. The pain subsided even as her vision had become spotty and black around the edges.

Lucien ran his fingers over her neck where her own joined him a few moments later. Little slits, just like the ones against his own, seemed carved into her body. Elain could taste the water the way she’d once tasted the air. Salty at first, and then nothing at all. Just warm air filling her body.

“I’m told the tail takes a little longer,” he said ruefully, looking at her kicking legs. A week to grow in.”

“Where were you?” Elain demanded, tears blurring at her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to be horrified with what he was telling her—he’d changed her. Made her into the same sort of monster he was.

Freed her.

“I had to track someone down,” he replied, raking his fingers through her hair. “My brother took a human as a wife and I needed to know how he managed it. She has the loveliest gold tail now, and has given him several younglings. Did you get my gift?”

Elain twisted. Was Lord Nolan still waiting, counting the time? “He’s going to kill my father,” she said with no context at all. And then, well aware of what she was asking of the scaled, terrifying man still holding her, she added, “Please.”

Lucien’s russet and gold eyes flashed with fury. “Did someone push you?”

“Please,” she repeated.

His lips skimmed her cheek. “Consider this another gift, then.” Lucien paused, face angled toward the surface. “A gift for my new wife.”

He gave her no time to protest, no time to argue. Though, Elain didn’t plan to. She wasn’t going back. Lucien surged upward, bringing her back to the surface. They broke into crisp spring air that tasted foul to her now.

“What are you going to do?” Elain rasped, not wanting to be out here. Lucien looked at her as if she hadn’t just pleaded with him to kill Nolan before he killed her father—well aware it was likely too late. She couldn’t go back, not without acknowledging what she’d become.

And maybe it was better to give the kingdom to Graysen. He’d treat it kindly so long as his father was gone. He’d be fair—and he had Lucien’s gold. Elain had never had the sense that Graysen wanted endless war. When he’d talked to her, he’d spoken of family.

“I’m going to kill him,” Lucien replied evenly, reaching for the cliffside like it was made of putty.

“Not his son!” Elain said, reaching for Lucien’s naked bicep. “Promise you won’t hurt Graysen.”

She could see he didn’t like that—that he didn’t understand why she’d asked that of him. But Graysen had been earnest, had cared for her in his way. He probably would have been a decent husband by all accounts had it not been for Lucien.

Lucien looked at her, his expression unreadable. But finally he nodded his head. “Not his son.”

He left her in the water, crawling up the cliffside toward the palace. Elain watched until the air began to burn and then, because she was curious, dipped her head back beneath the water.

It was an alien world beneath the waves. Where once the salt had stung her eyes, blurring her surroundings, now Elain swore she saw clearer. Saw for miles in every direction, could hear the soft sounds of creatures moving about, of sand shifting and even the waves which reminded her too much of the wind.

Lucien had told her she’d get a tail—that there were others like her, who’d been human once before pulled beneath the depths. Elain wondered where, and if she’d get to meet them. If they’d be friends, even. She wondered how far she’d get before Lucien found her, and without considering what other horrors might be lurking in the now pleasantly warm water, Elain began to swim.

It was a dream, to glide beneath the waves. Even with her kicking feet and her pumping arms, her body seemed designed to cut through the water the way her legs had once run through grass. Would she have fins along her forearms, her neck? Scales like he had? Elain tried to imagine it with delight. No one would ever lament over her beauty, would never try and lock her away like a delicate doll.

She’d have sharp teeth, she’d have fins and scales. Elain would be a monster, too, and after a lifetime of being thought of as fragile, she felt free. She wondered how long it would take Lucien to find her—if he’d be angry that she’d left. That would be the test, she decided. He wanted her as his wife?

Then had to accept she was not his to control. That she would do what she wanted or she’d leave and he wouldn’t have her, either. That was a sticking point, so critical that Elain didn’t realize he’d returned and was looking for her until she felt his arm snag around her waist.

“The son is alive,” he told her, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “The father is not. Your father is also alive.”

Elain twisted in his arms. “Really?”

There was no anger on his face, though there was the faintest trace of blood on his teeth. Elain could guess how Lucien had done it, what had motivated him to maximize both fear while prolonging that final moment of death.

And she found she didn’t much care.

“Really,” he agreed. “I’m sure he’ll mourn you, but…”

There was a question hanging at the end of his words. Elain reached for his face, her legs tangled along his powerful tail. “Sometimes I think I should have let you take me that first night.”

“I wish,” he agreed solemnly.

Elain drew a breath of warm water. “But maybe it was better for you to see what life was like for me. So you understand what I can’t go back to.”

Lucien looked beyond her. “The ocean is vast and open. There is nowhere I could cage you, even if I wanted to.”

“And do you?” she questioned, sliding her hand up his bare chest. He wore a golden circlet over his bicep, made of the same gold she supposed he’d paid to her kingdom. A bride price, she realized, done backwards—it should have been her family who paid him.

“I want,” he began, pulling at the laces of her dress. Elain had forgotten she was wearing it—had forgotten about the mask until she reached up and peeled it from her skin. “To show you the world. I want to see your legs gone, replaced by a pretty pink tail—”

“How do you know it’ll be pink?” she demanded.

Lucien huffed out a laugh, bubbles escaping from his lips. “It will be, princess.”

Princess. That reminded her. “Prince,” she replied, catching his flashing grin. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Lucien drew her closer, his fingers combing through her floating, swirling hair. “Would you have liked me better if you’d known?”

“No,” she replied petulantly. His smile didn’t dim.

“So why mention it? It never mattered to me, I suspected it didn’t matter to you. What mattered was the matter of mates,” he replied, lips ghosting her own. “I would have had you regardless of the status you occupied. It might have been easier, in fact, if you’d lived in a little seaside cottage rather than that miserable palace.”

“If you’re a prince, does that make your father a king?” she asked, curious about the sea politics she was about to wade into.

Lucien was still smiling, his hair a halo of red around his beautiful face. “Yes. And my mother is very excited to meet you.”

“No pressure, then,” she murmured, wondering what it would be like to kiss him under water. Lucien reached for her face, holding the entirety of it in his large hand.

“Exactly. Only freedom, exactly as you imagined it.”

“Will you take me to meet the other human?”

“I’ll take you anywhere you like,” he promised before slanting his mouth over her own. Elain tried to imagine that—anywhere she wanted in the entire world, assuming she could move between a tail and legs. They could leave the water and travel on land, or swim through the water.

Together.

Elain’s back pressed against something smooth, pinning her between Lucien’s more powerful frame and wherever he’d brought her. Night had settled, turning the water into an inky abyss without the benefit of a silver hanging moon or twinkling stars. She expected to open her eyes and find the salt stinging her eyes again, but when she did she found Lucien’s glowing, brown skin and his auburn hair floating around his face.

And his tongue, in her mouth. Elain clung to him, drawing him closer and closer until her legs were wrapped around his waist. Using a sharp claw, he shredded the rest of her well-knotted laces, leaving her only in her shift beneath. Elain twisted, watching that gown float away. Would her father find it one day? She hoped so. And she hoped he knew that she was safe somewhere.

“Don’t,” she breathed when he reached for the scooping neckline of the last piece of clothing she owned. “I don’t want to meet your mother naked.”

A bubbling laugh slipped from between his lips. “Okay, princess. But—”

“No buts,” she breathed, running her hands down the length of his chest. Lucien shuddered when her fingers met his scaled tail, beautiful and golden in the otherwise dark water. He was beautiful, so achingly lovely it almost hurt. “Let me have this.”

Holding her face, Lucien swept his thumb over her cheek. “You can have whatever you like.”

She wanted him. Elain made that apparent by pulling him back against her, though not before twisting to see what they were propped against. Behind her lay a sprawling, ruined palace, crumbled and eroded from both the cruel embrace of time and the salty water. Beyond it, though, Elain swore she could see something glittering. Something warm, just like the man holding her.

And she knew without having to ask that they were near his kingdom. She ought to have asked him to take her home, to show her where he lived, where he slept. To have her first time be among the softness of his bed, assuming he had one.

But Elain was tired of waiting. She suspected her arrival would result in a big fuss and by the time her and Lucien were able to find a moment of peace together, they’d be too exhausted for anything but sleep. Elain wanted this. Wanted him.

Wanted the monster.

Their mouths collided with a hunger that should have scared her. Instead, a thrill shivered up her spine. She was far below the surface, so well hidden that no one would ever find her. In the morning, when the sun’s rays cut through the water, she intended to bask in the beams of light and warmth until she couldn’t stand it. She’d float on her back, kicking her legs until her tail finally came in.

And then she’d have Lucien take them everywhere. Places he’d never seen and places he had. Meeting the human who’d become a mermaid, too. But until then, she’d have this and she’d have him. Elain kissed him like he was the only way she could breathe, as if this were the only way to keep air in her lungs. He tasted warm like sunlight, his fingers tangled in her hair.

“How does it work?” she asked him, running her hands back over his stomach, touching the scales where his cock ought to have been. Panting, Lucien looked between them.

“You want to watch?”

“Yes,” she replied brazenly. Just as she’d done before when he’d licked her. Groaning, Lucien shifted, his fin flipping out behind him. Hands braced on the stone structure behind her, he pushed his hips out. Two panels right in the front pushed out, allowing the erect cocks she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since she’d first touched them. Mesmerized, Elain watched them bob like a spring that had been coiled back too far. She reached for them, holding them both in one hand so she stroke them just as she’d done before.

Lucien exhaled another bubbled breath.

“Why do you have two of them?” she asked as his own hand slipped beneath her shift.

“The only way my kind is able to reproduce is if our females enjoy themselves,” he managed, his voice little more than a rough rasp. “I suppose two cocks help maximize pleasure. I’ve never thought much about it. One seems insufficient.”

Elain might have told him one was standard among humanity, but his clever fingers had begun rubbing slow, almost lazy circles around her clit. Perhaps he was right—or maybe she just didn’t care anymore.

“Relax,” he murmured against her neck, teeth grazing her sensitive skin. Elain could feel the pulse point where he’d bitten her throbbing, but when her hands flew to her neck, she found the wound was gone. She’d forgotten about it entirely right until that moment. What sort of magic could do such a thing?

“Relax,” she repeated, capturing his mouth for another messy, desperate kiss.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he groaned, bucking into her slowly stroking hands. “I won’t hurt you.”

One kiss became two, became an eternity of kissing him with nothing but the sound of her own frantic heart and the music of the sea gently churning around them. Elain spread her legs wider, letting Lucien slick his fingers through her own wet heat, spreading it over her clit until she was grinding against his hand.

Elain whined when he pulled away, catching how he brought his finger to his lips for a taste. “It’s better on land, I think,” he said ruefully. Elain supposed the water washed away most of the taste and wondered if that wouldn’t make licking her better—or if he’d miss it. She’d ask him later and perhaps still suggest that little seaside cottage for when they got tired of the water. Even if it was just for a day, it might be nice to put their toes in the sand on occasion.

Lucien reached for her thighs, holding her up until she could feet that tapered tip rubbing against her clit just as his fingers had done. “Take a breath,” he said, head thrown back with obvious pleasure. He wasn’t even inside her yet.

“Do it all at once,” she said, certain it would be worse if he dragged everything out. All Elain had ever heard her entire life was the act of sex hurt, at least the first time. She suspected that might not be entirely true, but just to hedge her bets, Elain wanted to get the first moment of it over quickly.

He pushed, stretching not just her cunt, but her ass, too. Elain hadn’t really considered they’d both go inside her, nor had the thought of the implications beyond just wanting him. For a moment she forgot to breathe while he wedged himself into the tightness of her body, his eyes wide, pupils big and blown out. At no point did he stop, nor did Elain ask him to, though the stretch at one point almost became unmanageable.

Underneath all of it was an undercurrent of pleasure wounding itself tightly in her chest. She tried to keep her discomfort from her face until he gave one last small thrust, seating the largeness of himself entirely within her.

“Breathe,” he ordered and Elain did, sucking in a warm gulp of water.

“I’m fine,” she said, squeezing herself around him in an effort to adjust to the intrusion. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” Lucien replied, resting his forehead against his own. “I’m wrecked, Elain. You feel…your body…I…”

She’d never thought she’d see the day the monster was at a loss for words. Reaching for his face, Elain pressed a kiss to his mouth and squeezed again. This time, the fullness only felt good.

The ridges of his cock were nestled against each other, separated by only the thinnest layer of skin. She wanted to feel them rubbing against her.

Elain wanted to know what it was like to be with a man she desperately needed. That she cared about.

That she loved.

She wiggled, snapping him out of whatever trance he’d fallen under. Lucien withdrew nearly to the tip before pushing himself back into her, watching her expression the entire time. He could have gone harder, she reflected. Elain gasped as pleasure spiked in her gut, threatening to overwhelm her. Lucien panted, thrusting into her again all the while watching her expression. Elain had been right—the rubbing ridges was unlike anything she could have imagined. Delicious friction had her tightening both holes around him while Lucien used his hands to spread her wider, which only heightened her pleasure.

“Touch me,” he pleaded, pumping into her with wild, feral abandon. “Please.”

Elain reached up, fingers finding purchase in his hair. Elain pulled, ripping a whine of need from his throat. They collided for another kiss, teeth scraping against her bottom lip, hands digging into her thighs. Elain reveled in the sensation, the fullness of both cocks thrusting in and out of her, of this scaled tail teasing her clit with each pass. She was going to come—and as it built higher and hotter with each wild thrust, Elain decided she was going to be loud.

“Please,” she whispered into the sweetness of his mouth. “Lucien, please.”

Each new stroke was rougher, harder, until it all blended together. Pleasure frazzled through her, unspooling until Elain couldn’t do anything but breathe. Lucien whined, the veins in his neck strained. Elain came with a scream that echoed through the world around her. Lucien fell just behind, filling her with his own vicious orgasm. She could feel it, wet and warm in a way the water wasn’t.

Lucien clutched her to his chest, still buried to the gills in her body. “Mate,” he panted into her hair. “My mate—my wife. I love you, Elain, I—”

“I love you,” she agreed, arms around his neck, kissing just below his jaw. “Lucien?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take me to meet your mother now?”

He laughed, raising his head to look at her. “Yes. Let’s go meet my mother now, princess.”

“You have to pull out—”

“Let’s meet my mother in a little bit,” he said, his voice dark and sultry. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Elain grinned. “Good.”

#elucien #vanmerman #mermay?#back on my nice monster bullshit #mean monsters another day

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