Dead Sea

by Debbie Cassidy

  “I have a say, but I’m one voice amongst many, and I’m overruled.”

  “Was that why you came with me?”

  His throat bobbed. “Yes.”

  I nodded. I’d put Julian in his place, but that didn’t mean he’d back off. He was obviously a man who was used to taking what he wanted. “I’ll be careful.”

  Emory set the case on the ground and stretched, so his midriff was bared, smooth and hard.

  “What about the generators?” I pointed at the case.

  Emory shrugged. “I’ll get it set up when they ask. Everything seems to be running fine right now. I’m not even sure they need changing.” He frowned.

  I unbuckled the staff harness and laid it on the smooth, curved coffee table. It looked like it was made of polished and sanded coral. Beautiful.

  “Are you guys really okay sharing a room?”

  Deacon strode over to the nearest bedroom and peered inside. He came back looking grim. “Bed’s small, Emory, I hope you don’t mind spooning.”

  Emory stared at him with a sober expression. “I get to be big spoon.”

  Deacon nodded slowly. “Deal.”

  For a moment, I thought they were serious, and then I caught the twitch of Deacon’s beautiful mouth and the glint of amusement in Emory’s twilight eyes.

  “Idiots.”

  Emory padded toward the room Deacon had just checked out. “I’m going to take a shower.” He was already tugging off his shirt with his black-gloved hands as he entered the room.

  I caught a flash of his powerful shoulders, ripped back, and slender waist before the door closed behind him.

  Deacon cleared his throat to draw my attention. Shit, had he caught me staring?

  “You should get some rest. The sea dwellers keep pretty unsociable hours, and Rydian has a habit of calling on his subjects whenever he feels like it.”

  Sounded like a plan. I’d barely gotten any sleep last night what with my antics with Micha and then my late-night pantry sleuthing with Lyrian.

  “Can you wake me up in a couple of hours?”

  “Of course.”

  I closed myself into the other room. The bed was larger than the one at the Hive, but it would still be a squish for the guys to share one. Lyrian and Micha had shared mine with me when I’d been healing, but it couldn’t have been comfortable for them; they’d probably slept with their sexy butts hanging off the mattress.

  I peeled off my top, leaving my vest on, and kicked off my boots before crawling onto the bed and lying face down. I was asleep in seconds.

  A hand was on my brow, cool and gentle, and a voice was calling me, but I wasn’t ready to wake up, sleep was too warm and cozy, and then the hand was on my cheek, trailing down my neck.

  “Echo. Time to wake up, if you’re done with your Sleeping Beauty impression.”

  “Deacon.” I reached up to cover his hand with mine before opening my eyes. The room was shrouded in darkness, and his face was cast in shadow with only his eyes gleaming in the lamplight. I inhaled his sweetness, and in its lethargic, unguarded state between sleep and waking, my body reacted to his closeness instinctively by warming and tightening.

  I touched his parted lips with my free hand. “Aren’t you supposed to wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss?”

  His eyes darkened, and then he leaned in to brush his mouth over mine, leaving a tingle on my lips, but I wasn’t done with him. I needed him to kiss me like before, but this time there would be no get-out clause, no excuses. I grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth back down to mine.

  He groaned, and then he was sinking into me, hands sliding into my hair, body covering mine, and hips slipping between my thighs as he kissed me, deep and thorough and hungry. I arched into him, clinging to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, wanting to feel his arousal against mine. I was hot for him, so fucking hot for him, and it had been simmering under the surface for too long. I needed to peel back his layers and penetrate his heart. I needed—

  He tore his mouth from mine, panting, fangs exposed. “Fuck, Echo.”

  The curse was sexy and wanton falling from his lips, and when he looked at me, there was a primal need in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing you. Like you kissed me twice. But in my case, I make no excuses.”

  His eyes flared, and his lip curled. “You’re playing with fire, Echo. I’m not what you need.”

  “Maybe not. But there aren’t many things I need. But want … Want is a different story. I want you, Deacon. Just so you know.”

  I released him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get up and shower.”

  He stared at me in surprise for a long beat, and then rose off me with a smirk.

  I sashayed past him, all nonchalant, acting just as cool and composed as he’d acted after our two encounters. Ha. Take that, Blondie.

  “Well played, Echo. Well played,” he said smoothly. “But you forget something. I can hear your heartbeat.”

  Aw, shit. I shut the bathroom door between us.

  The sea suit was skin-tight, leaving nothing to the imagination, not on me and most certainly not on the guys.

  Eyes up, Echo. Eyes up. But, damn …

  My cheeks were on fire from the view, but Emory and Deacon were too busy staring at me.

  “This is indecent.” I indicated the skin-tight outfit that molded to my curves and every line of my body like a second skin. I may as well have been naked, and from the way the guys were staring, they were probably thinking the same thing.

  Emory tore his gaze away, but not before I caught a flash of gold.

  Deacon cleared his throat. “We’re at a great depth here, and the suits protect us from the water pressure. The masks”—he held up the balaclava-type mask with a glass section for the eyes—“siphon the oxygen from the water and allow us to breathe.”

  My feet were covered in the plimsol-type shoes that were more one-size-fits-all socks than actual shoes. Emory pulled his mask on, careful not to knock his glasses off. Deacon followed suit. They both looked dangerous and faceless, and my mouth was suddenly dry.

  I tugged on my own mask, and we headed for the door. Our guide was waiting outside. A slender female with pink and green hair that fell in waves down her back, her eyes were a little too large and dark to look human, but they lit up in amusement at the sight of us.

  “I forget how ridiculous the sea suits are. My name is Orlina, and I’ll be your emissary while you’re with us. I’ve arranged for meals to be brought to your chambers, but you’re free to roam the domes during the day.” She smiled again, and I noted how the inside of her mouth was a dark blue color. “Follow me.”

  She led the way, taking us out of the entranceway and back into the tunnel, but instead of turning into the dome she went straight onto the passage that Julian had avoided earlier.

  The tunnel was relatively short and led to a small holding room. Orlina shut the door behind us, and I backed up to give her room only to find myself sandwiched between Deacon and Emory. My breath froze in my lungs, because shit, it was like being pressed to their naked bodies, sandwiched between muscle, sinew, and heat. Emory’s hand, encased in the special gloves made for the suit, came up to rest on my hip, and Deacon’s hand clasped my waist. It was intimate, and my skin beneath the suit was suddenly too hot. I kept my gaze trained on Deacon’s chest, not trusting myself to look up into his eyes.

  “Are you ready?” Orlina asked.

  Oh, thank God. “Yes.”

  Emory broke away, and I noticed the glass wall for the first time. Beyond it, the sea waited for us. A huge eel swam past, making my pulse jump and sending me stumbling back into Deacon.

  Orlina giggled. “Mouri won’t hurt you, silly.”

  “Ha, of course he won’t.” My pulse was still hammering but now because of Deacon’s proximity. We really needed to get out of this little chamber.

  It looked like Orlina had the same idea because she was pushing the buttons to open the wall. Befor
e I could think too much about it, water flooded the tiny room. Even though I felt the force of it, my skin remained dry, and then it was over my head and over my mouth, and my instinct had me holding my breath, because damn I was underwater, really under the fucking water.

  Panic gripped me, and I turned away from the open door and swam for the main doors back to the tunnel.

  I needed to breathe. I needed to breathe now.

  Deacon gripped my face and shook his head. He pointed at his mouth, but no, how could that work? How could it be true? Shit, I needed to—

  My lungs burned, and there was no choice. I took a deep breath and didn’t die. Deacon continued to cup my face, his eyes behind the glass of his mask filled with concern.

  I nodded to let him know I was okay, and he released me.

  Orlina swam ahead, her hair floating around her head like a colorful cloud of seaweed. Deacon took my hand and tugged me out into the great expanse. The panic fizzing in my veins warred with awe, and awe won. Emory swam up on the other side of me and took my free hand, and together they propelled me through the water, past the multicolored fish and coral, past the crystals that glowed with ambient light and toward a thick tower that rose up into the blue.

  Was this the palace? But no, we were skirting that, swimming around it, and then the seabed dropped, taking my stomach with it, and in the drop, nestled like a jewel, was the hugest shell I’d ever seen. It was open, and laid in its mouth was a palace hewn from cream and pink coral.

  Deacon and Emory’s hands tightened on mine, and then we were swooping down into the dip and into the mouth of the shell.

  Chapter 11

  I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the chic minimalistic décor that greeted us. Cream, gold, and silver were the palace colors, and the shells and coral that had been used to create the structure glistened with iridescent light. The suits dried quickly, and we’d pulled off the masks as Orlina led us quickly through a network of corridors past sea dwellers dressed in gauzy fabric or simply in their scales. There was so much variety there. So much I’d like to see and understand, but I doubted the palace would be a regular haunt for us.

  The sound of voices drifted toward us, and then Orlina was ushering us through an arch and into a huge dining room with a domed glass ceiling. A long oval table laden with food stood in the middle, and several sea dwellers lounged around it laughing and talking. The females had skin that glittered and gleamed as if covered in shimmering oil. Their long hair was braided or piled on top of their heads in elaborate coils and curls. The men were bare-chested, some scaled, some gilled. Several pairs of eyes strayed to me, lidless and dark, or slanted and wide apart. The dwellers came in all shapes and sizes, all humanoid but completely alien. Julian turned away from a conversation to watch us enter. His gaze lingered on me and then hardened as it landed on Emory.

  If Emory noticed the look, he didn’t give any indication. He followed Orlina as she led us toward the table and indicated three empty seats. Emory pulled out my seat and then took the one to my left. Deacon took the seat to my right. It was weird sitting here in our sea suits, but at least I could pull off my gloves. I set them to the side of my plate and glanced across the table.

  Orlina’s positioning had put us opposite Julian. Great, I’d have to eat my food with him as my view. Fantastic.

  The seat at the head of the table, which I assumed was reserved for the king, was empty. I guess if you were royalty you could turn up late for a meal and have everyone wait on you.

  Yeah, the plates in front of each dweller were empty. No one was attempting to sample the many dishes on the table—dishes that looked strange and alien but smelled divine.

  The door on the far side of the room opened, and Rydian swept into the room followed by an entourage of females dressed in gauzy dresses that left nothing to the imagination. Their webbed feet were bare, and they practically glided across the floor behind their king. The king himself was bare-chested, showcasing a toned, muscular torso that had the same sheen that seemed to be common among the sea dwellers. He wore the same kind of skin-tight slacks as he’d donned at the Hive. They molded to his powerful thighs and calves like a second skin. His hair fell about his shoulders in messy, dark waves, and the golden highlights glinted in the light from the lamps built into the cream walls. His face was set in stern lines, and his brows were low over his white eyes.

  Eyes. Shit. I dropped my gaze quickly to his hawkish nose, just as he dropped his wide-shouldered frame into the high-backed seat at the head of the table. He took a goblet handed to him by one of the gauze-covered females and held it loosely in his hand.

  I made sure not to look him in the eye. The last thing I needed was another attack of terror, and I wasn’t the only one avoiding eye contact. It seemed that no one wanted to look directly at the king. Would he hurt them just for looking into his eyes? It made no sense … unless … Unless the terror he provoked was something he had no control over? Could that be it?

  Interesting.

  Rydian flicked his wrist, and the occupants of the table fell upon the buffet eagerly. Aromas, stirred by the movement, filled the air.

  “It’s all edible to us,” Deacon said. “Nutritious too. Fish and oysters and this is sweet algae.” He piled food onto my plate like a mother hen, his expression serious. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  There were no utensils; everyone ate with their hands and then dipped their fingers in little bowls of water to cleanse them. The conversation was a low hum, and even though I didn’t catch anyone looking at me directly, the attention of the other guests was a warm pressure on my face. Rydian didn’t speak, he didn’t smile; he sipped from his cup, moodily watching the proceedings.

  Emory placed slivers of white fish meat on his plate but didn’t eat the food. His fist was clenched on his thigh, gaze locked ahead. I followed his line of sight to find Julian staring at him. There was a strange expression on the dweller’s face, one that I couldn’t quite decipher but made me want to wrap Emory up in my arms and carry him out of there or slap Julian in the face with one of the strips of pretty colored seaweed that decorated the table.

  The king’s brother’s expression slipped into a smirk, and his eerie eyes remained fixed our way. I nudged Emory, and he turned his head to look down on me.

  “What is his problem with you?”

  Emory’s jaw ticked. “I have no idea, but if he doesn’t stop staring at me, he’ll be eating his teeth.”

  That wasn’t Emory speaking, that was … shit. I grasped Deacon’s thigh, making him flinch.

  Gideon, I mouthed.

  Deacon’s nostrils flared, and he looked around me to see Emory sitting with his lip curled. I couldn’t see his eyes, but there was no doubt in my mind that they’d be gold-rimmed. I needed Emory in the driver’s seat, not Gideon, because if Julian kept shooting sneers our way, Gideon would snap, and as much as I would love to see Julian get his arse handed to him, I wasn’t sure the penalty for attacking royalty was worth it.

  I slid my hand onto Emory’s thigh and dug my nails into his flesh through the material of his sea suit. Unlike Deacon, Emory didn’t flinch at the contact, but my throat was suddenly dry.

  Gideon turned his head slowly to look down on me, eyes flashing gold, and then his hand was gripping mine and sliding it up toward his crotch, and then my hand was on the hard length of his arousal. The material between us left nothing to the imagination, and my stomach flipped hard at the same time as annoyance bit at my mind. Without thinking, I gave him a punishing squeeze, and he growled low and deep in his throat, his pupils dilating behind his glasses. I leaned in and lifted my chin so my lips caressed his ear. “Back off, Gideon.”

  “Or what? You’ll blast me with arcana, here, right now?”

  “If I have to.”

  “And expose the fact that the stoic, controlled Emory Harker carries a beast inside him?”

  Fuck. “Just back off, please.”

  “Aw, I prefer m
y pleases in the form of a blow job.” He ran the tip of his tongue along his top teeth. “I’ll make an exception this time, but remember … you owe me one.”

  The gold retreated, and Emory was staring back at me with his deep twilight eyes. Thank God he was back. Why was he staring at me like that, with that look of part horror, part awe, and then something pulsed beneath my hand and heat flooded my cheeks.

  His hand was still holding mine over his cock.

  I yanked my hand away and fixed my gaze on my plate.

  Deacon choked back what sounded suspiciously like a laugh and tapped my plate. “Eat.”

  Had he seen what happened? Crap, my hand still tingled with the heat of Emory, or was it Gideon? My head hurt thinking about it. Instead, I focused on the food and the flavors and then my skin prickled with awareness. I glanced at Julian, but he was in conversation with the dark man sitting next to him. My gaze slipped past him, up the table, and froze.

  Rydian was looking my way.

  I dropped my gaze to his mouth, to the perfect curve of his bottom lip and the bow of the top lip under his light moustache. I wasn’t a fan of beards or facial hair, but he made it look good. He was still staring at me, because my face was tingling, and it took every ounce of willpower not to raise my gaze to lock eyes with him. I hated having to cower.

  His lips curled in a wry smile, and then the heat of his regard lessened. The breath I was holding exploded from my lips in a soft sigh.

  “Are you all right?” Deacon asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

  We ate in silence, and the king didn’t address us, not once, which made me wonder why the heck he’d insisted we dine with him. In fact, he didn’t speak to anyone, not even the women who fluttered their eyelashes his way and smiled coyly in his direction.

  “Groupies,” Deacon explained.

  “What?”

  “The women.” He popped a morsel of fish in his mouth, and my gaze dropped to his lips, which glistened with the oils from the meat; his tongue flicked out to catch the moisture, and my heart sped up a little.