Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  She marveled at the girl’s tenacity and chuckled at each prayer said into the wind.

  “I wonder,” Hermione spoke softly into the dark abyss, “should I help this little mermaid or take the young human stud-male for myself? He is beautiful and strong, even in his sleep. And I can save him, where she cannot. It would be a pity to waste him on such wide-eyed innocence as bedevils the young princess. Still and all, something must be done. It is a rare novelty that fate tosses such an opportunity in one’s path with such fortunate happenstance. It must be Providence and that surely should be taken seriously and with leveled intent. One wouldn’t want to raise the ire of the Gods by ignoring their gifts, would one? Hummm, what to do...?” She laughed at her good fortune and thanked the Gods for looking upon her with their favor.

  She added thanks to the Goddesses and Queens of the Sea and land water, Salacia and Amphitrite for their generosity in matters of the heart and passions of the deep.

  Hermione watched as the crisis played out and the mermaid struggled to surface the young man and now revive him. She swam, holding the limp torso of the man tightly to her breast as she struggled to reach the sandy beach. At once, a rogue wave tossed the two as one onto the beachhead to safety. She embraced the handsome man, breathed into him yet again, finally raising a gasp from his weakened lungs.

  Soon, overcome with exhaustion and satisfied that he would live, the little mermaid fell into a deep sleep on the smooth, bare chest of her charge. Hermione swam closer to examine the two and realized the little mermaid was none other than the young royal, Princess Saira, youngest daughter of her most formidable adversary, the Sea King. He had cast her out of the kingdom in shame and, in the end, blamed Hermione for the Queen’s untimely death. She did not recognize the young human male, but his golden rings and necklaces, the jewel-encrusted gold buckle on his wide leather belt told her he was a human of some stature, wealth, and power. She thought not to cross these two, if she valued her life or her own fortunes. Deciding the situation needed further thought and some serious consideration, she departed to take her time and to observe them. While they slept, she paused and pondered, scheming in the face of their innocence.

  When the sun rose the next day, Prince Draédon awoke slowly, embraced by the most beautiful flame-haired creature he had ever seen. Remembering the events of the night before, he knew that if not for her, he would have surely perished with his ship and crew. Holding her so close to his heart, he gazed at her. His heart beat and he felt a familiar stir in his loins and a painful reminder of the tossing seas of the dark night before. He raised his hand to his head and felt a lump the size of a goose egg and when he touched it, a sharp pain sent a bolt through his body.

  Eager to know more of the girl in his arms, he inhaled the salty fragrance from the flowers in her hair and continued to caress her. Her skin was pale and soft. He lifted the red curly ribbons of her hair that fell across her face so he could see her. Her cheeks were a soft peach and when he touched her skin, it felt like the velvety soft petals of a silken flower. He watched the pulse in her temple announce the tempo of her life. She was a beauty unlike any other he had ever seen, a vision of loveliness and purity yet deceptively strong and resilient. Obviously. His safety was testament to that alone.

  When he dropped the curls of her scarlet hair behind her shoulder, her breasts were slightly exposed. They were full, round and one was pressed against his side while the other lay untouched on his chest. It was exquisite, soft, and the aureole rich with color...and temptingly hard at the tip. He remembered seeing her touch them as she swam outside his cabin window the night before. Everything was coming back to him now...

  And it showed in the erection that grew with each added reflection.

  He ran his hand softly down her neck to her shoulder, which was strong and firm. Her flesh was cool to the touch under the warm morning sun and soft to the long elegant fingers that she used to save his life the night before. His fingertips glided down her arm and dangled in a light touch on her gorgeous back. That was until his hand came to her waist and abruptly stopped as he realized she was but half of a woman’s body. Where the nip of her tiny waist widened to her hips, she was covered in the shimmering scales of a fishtail.

  The young prince had heard lore and songs of beauties of the sea, half-woman, half-fish but he himself had never seen one in the flesh. Not until last night when the faint and distant memory of a red-headed beauty bobbed outside his cabin window in the rising, shifting violence of the sea. He thought it had been a wine-laced dream, a vision he would not soon forget. Clearly, it was not and he owed his life to the bravery of this...this...this amazing, beautiful creature of the sea.

  To be blessed by such a being only to be denied his passion was cruel and painful. He closed his arms around her and kissed her deeply as she slept, finding himself drawn to her regardless of her unusual features. Breaking the kiss, he cursed aloud at the fates who would bring him a gift he could not keep. And he buried his face in the soft ruby ribbons of her hair.

  Hermione heard his cries and woeful despair. She was not moved by compassion or empathy. She did not feel badly for the pair. She was not unhappy at their plight. His cries and the soon-to-be cries of Princess Saira were music to her ears. They soon gave rise to an intriguing, sinister plot. In the raw early stages of thought, her design would require some refinement and further consideration but...She could seem to be a friend and present herself as helpful. Who would, or even could with any logic or reason, hold her responsible when these two youngsters were thrown together not by her own hand but by that of the Gods? This could well work so much to her own advantage and self-promotion.

  With that, Hermione set off to go to the young man who continued to press kisses into the red-haired curls of his young beloved. As she closed the distance between herself and the sorrowful prince, her transformation began. Her tail began to drop its scales one-by-one, then two-by-two, then by the dozens, like jeweled sea ornaments, and what was once her tailfin became transformed into what they called two “separates” and distinctly long, lithe, shapely limbs. Her skin, bronzed and silken, glistened with a hunger to be touched. And her natural lustful eagerness increased with human ache, passion, and desire now that she possessed the body to enjoy it. Her new toes curled into the steaming, sultry sand as it squeezed between them.

  She bent to touch the human male and sang soulfully, tenderly about love and longing. The young man jolted. Startled by her presence, yet impressed by her dark commanding beauty, he was immediately seduced by her soft, melodic voice and tantric music that rose so suggestively from the very pit of her soul. Little did he know that she had nothing that even resembled a soul and because of it, he was in grave danger.

  “The little mermaid you hold so close to your heart and, more importantly, to your body is a Royal Princess, known as Princess Saira. I am not sure her father, the Sea King, would approve of so intimate a coupling. You run the risk of raising his ire in such familiarity with his youngest, fairest daughter whom he treasures with his life.”

  She spoke in low suggestive tones. It sounded more like a threat than a warning.

  “I, too, am of royal blood and lineage. I am Prince Draédon, first in line of heirs to the landed wealth of King Draévaan. I am only holding her because I awoke to find her asleep upon my chest and could not resist her beauty. She saved my life and has also won my heart.” The young man found his voice and replied with a strength of pride only the royal possesses.

  “Princess Saira is not a landed being, nor will she ever be,” lied Hermione.

  “Tell me, m’lady, from whence does she come?” Draédon’s disappointment was near palpable.

  “She comes from the sea. Her father is the Sea King and his palace is deep in the Valley of Senequa. His reach is far and wide as all of those that defied him or challenged his holdings are now dead. It turns out, it is not healthy to dare to test his patience or generosity. You are not planning on that course of carelessness, are y
ou, Prince Draédon?” Hermione smiled.

  She knew there were ways for Saira to live on land, but she was not ready to tell Draédon and, in the end, she may never tell him...or her. She thought it best to keep this information close for now. Besides there was something she wanted—something she needed. She was forced to use her wily magical powers and reached into Draédon’s thoughts for the information that could help her. Surely, a young man of his stature and position, his youth and yearning, had something to hide...?

  “Were you not planning to sail to meet your future bride today, after you celebrated your twenty-first birthday? How can you so easily give your heart to one when it is betrothed to another who is in wait for your arrival?”

  “Yes, I was on my way to be presented at court and to meet a Princess my father had asked me to visit in the distant hope that a betrothal would join the two Kingdoms in peace. But I know now this will not be possible for I have fallen hopelessly in love with Saira.”

  “But Saira will never be one of you. You cannot live below the sea at all nor can she live for long above the sea. You see, even now, her scales curl in the hot sun without the refreshing cool moisture from the sea. She has no legs or feet upon which to bear her weight as you do, nor will she ever. Her kind lives well into three centuries. Will you live that long? Would you ask her to give that life up for yours which is so short and only to die so much sooner? You would ask her to leave her family, her father, her way of life and her royal position, never to return? Can you not see the folly of this course?”

  Draédon was clearly unnerved by Hermione’s keen insight but he pulled Saira in closer and tighter to him. Hermione could see doubt creep into the heart of the prince and thus discovered his weakness.

  At that moment, Saira woke under the warm rays of the sun while caressing her skin were the hands of her prince. She couldn’t move much and thought she perhaps was injured from the night before. She released an involuntary moan as she tried in vain to shift.

  “You see, Prince Draédon? Even now she suffers from a creeping weakness that will progress, ending in her ultimate death, the longer she stays on land. Your love is already killing her. Would you, could you, live with that knowledge the rest of your life for such fleeting personal, selfish indulgence? And what of her father when he learns that it was because of your selfishness that his favorite daughter perished? I would not want to follow in your shoes, young prince.”

  “I must go,” Saira said, pushing away from the heart and warmth of the prince.

  “Wouldn’t you rather stay with Prince Draédon, Your Highness?” said a familiar voice.

  Saira turned to see Hermione, the wicked Saltwater Siren banished from the palace, in their company and a shiver of fear passed through her followed by pleasure as Draédon pulled her in close with tight reassurance.

  “What are you doing here? How are you upright? Where is your tailfin? What do you want here, Hermione? Have you been spying on us?”

  “I saw Prince Draédon lying in the hot sun on the beach and I came in to help. While you slept, we came to know one another, however briefly. The Prince seems to think a future with you is possible, so now, I’m here only to offer you hope, Princess.”

  “Hope? I do not need your help, Hermione, and my father would forbid it even if I did. And a future with the prince? What future? We have never even spoken to one another let alone spoken about a future together. You assume too much, Hermione, and as usual it serves no one when it lands you in trouble again and again.”

  “Your indignity is ill-placed and unfounded, Your Highness. Forgive my breach of etiquette, but while you slept, Prince Draédon placed his confidence in me and shared his feelings and desires. I only assumed that you would share those in like kind since you are here, asleep on his chest half naked. Permit me to continue?”

  “I will hear you out, Hermione, but only out of respect for your deep and abiding friendship with my mother. Do not take unwarranted advantage of my generosity.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. You are weakening and will die if you don’t return to the sea sometime very soon. But I can give you something I can only assume you both want, something you need and must have. Time. Time to be together. Time to enjoy each other as you desire, as lovers perhaps. Time, conceivably, to fall in love and change your destiny. Without the time that I can give you, your fate, Your Highness, is sure and certain death. I can only assume you wish to live, in the strong and capable arms of this handsome Prince Draédon. I know that is the choice I would make if faced with the same decision. What say you, fair Princess Saira? Life and love with Prince Draédon or certain death, for surely a life of melancholy longing to be in his arms is just as surely death-like?”

  “What is the cost of so lavish and rare a favor?” Saira knew Hermione never gave without receiving something precious in return.

  “How you surprise me, Saira! I should be offended, but your child-like immaturity and inexperience is not your fault. You have been living in a sheltered environment surrounded by safety and the security of family love. You have never been in want to have any of your needs met in a moment’s notice. Of course, you have never been in love, most certainly not with a landed human. You know not the ways of the world and how the airbreathers unite with the sea-dwellers, like us.”

  “I have not known such willful philanthropy was a part of your character, Lady Hermione. Surely, there is a cost, for payment of such magnanimous virtue would be grand.”

  “There is no cost, I assure you, Princess. There are, however, certain procedures that must be followed from which we cannot deviate.”

  “Ah ha! Here it comes...”

  “How wicked of you, Saira, to be so untrusting of me. What have I ever done to you to deserve such unkindness and disrespect? Surely I am worthy of a better opinion...”

  “Well, if you must kno...”

  “Harrumph! Let’s not dawdle on the unimportant as you wilt and die right in front of me! Anyway, I use an incantation. So, therefore I must be present for your joining. I take no prurient pleasure in bearing witness to your union, I dare say. However, there is an invocation that must be recited into the wind as you both fulfill your passions or the spell will not work. If I fail at the spell, you will surely die.”

  She paced back and forth on her new limbs, stretching and enjoying their loveliness and strength, with excited delight at the prospect of plucking the virtue from the Sea King’s very own youngest and most treasured youngest daughter.

  Hermione knew her plan of seduction was irresistible to the two as they wore their loving innocence like a beacon. She also knew it would wield a vengeful blow to her most powerful nemesis, the Sea King. She would level a disastrous blow to the arrogant king, using his precious Saira to do so and she would enjoy every moment of the sweet chance at revenge while she used the innocence of Saira to weave her plot of deceit...

  The Sea King will be shamed and challenged forever if he offers up Princess Saira for a hefty betrothal dowry for an innocence the young Saira no longer possessed. His reign will be weakened and his power influenced as his integrity will forever be questioned. His subjects will no longer trust him, his wealth will be exhausted and he will die a shamed man at the hand of the very people he vowed to love and protect, just as he offered sanctuary to her at the hem of the Queen, once upon a time.

  Her plot of revenge would be met and Hermione would rise again to a position of power and respect by those that would so easily shun her with one word from the embattled Sea King. Ah, she nearly danced with joy at the prospects but thought enough to control herself lest she appear insincere.

  Hearing only of the possibility, the two lovers kissed and knew their only possible answer. Thinking they could never otherwise be together, they agreed to Hermione’s terms.

  “Hermione, you have known me all of my life and you are a hundred years or more my senior. You have seen me at my youngest and most vulnerable. You have born witness to my growth and taken joy and pleasure in
my education, an education you yourself often assisted with over all these years. I do not know why you are no longer in court, but I know you have always been kind to me. I hope, no, I trust because my mother loved you, that you will continue to hold my life near and dear to you as you introduce me to this part of my growth and development. I can think of no one better suited to help me, to explain to me what is happening to me as this love fills me with such desire. Please, will you help us? We will agree to your procedures, won’t we, Draédon?”

  “Yes, yes of course, Saira. I am out of my element here just as much as you. Lady Hermione seems to be much worldlier in these...endeavors...and matters of the heart. I defer to your experience, Lady Hermione. Will you help us? I have money to pay you, no matter the cost. How long will it last? How much time can you give us? A lifetime?”

  Both young faces turned hopefully to Hermione with a willful eagerness, dripping with an innocence she found intoxicating. This would be her finest conquest, her greatest revenge. It would wield and strike the most painful defeating blow to her arch enemy, the rich and noble, Sea King. Her superiority would never be challenged again and her place in the Royal House would be restored with the respect and grandeur fitting her station in life.

  And he would be reduced to a simpering broken man.

  Hermione sweetly, gently buried her hand and fingers in the red coiled strands of Saira’s radiant hair. She bent to smell the sea flowers adorning her beauty. She loved this child at one time, long ago before spite and bitterness overtook her heart. Now, she was consumed with anger and deliberation so she clasped her hair in her fist, twisted the knotted handful back, tugging Saira’s head backwards and clipping a handful of Saira’s locks with the edge of a sharpened clam shell, then disappeared.