Merman's Kiss (Merman's Kiss, Book 1)

by Dee J. Stone

  “Help me lift him.”

  “I don’t know how you always get me to do this sort of stuff,” she mutters under her breath as she joins me on the sand. We each lift an arm over our shoulders and heave him to his feet. “Holy hell,” she says. “What has this guy been eating?”

  My body is collapsing under his weight. “We can do it.”

  She grinds her teeth. “You so owe me.”

  We start dragging his body toward my house, but it’s not as easy as I thought. Even though we’re both toned and have decent muscles, we’re no match for this guy’s weight. We fall down on the sand and catch our breaths. My body is drenched in sweat. When I glance at Angel Guy, he’s still out cold.

  “We’ll never make it,” Leah pants.

  I can’t just leave him here. I won’t. “He saved me,” I say. “I need to save him.”

  “How noble,” she mutters. Then her face brightens. “Wait, I’ve got an idea.”

  She springs to her feet and runs after a group of college-aged guys. She talks to them, motioning toward me and Angel Guy. After a minute or two, the guys follow her toward us.

  “This is the friend I’m talking about,” Leah says. “We had a party here last night, and he got wasted.”

  One of the guys, tall with dark hair, whistles. “Totally wasted.”

  “Yeah, totally,” Leah says. “Think you can help us out?”

  The guys exchange glances.

  “I’ll pay you,” I blurt.

  Leah raises her hands in a what-the-hell gesture.

  The dark-haired guy says, “No worries. We’ll help you get him home. Free of charge.” He flashes a dimpled grin at Leah. She smiles back, her face growing a little red.

  “Thanks so much,” I say. “Really. I appreciate it.”

  The three guys step closer to Angel Guy. Two of them raise his arms over their shoulders while the third one lifts his legs. I lead them toward my house.

  I feel everyone on the beach eyeballing us as we trudge through the sand. I ignore them and continue on. We make it to my house in ten minutes. I unlock the door and show them into the living room, motioning for the guys to drop him on the couch. They do. Sweat shines on their foreheads. I guess he was a burden on them, too.

  I thank them again and they head for the door. But before the tall, dark-haired guy leaves, he looks back at Leah and flashes her another smile.

  “Ooh,” I tease once the door shuts behind him.

  Leah shrugs. “Whatever.” Her eyes land on the guy sprawled on my couch. “So what are you going to do with him?”

  He’s lying there, one leg hanging off the couch, the other bent toward his chest. His face is buried in a cushion. “I have no idea.”

  Leah glances at her watch. “Crap!” She runs to the door. “My shift started.”

  “You’re going to leave me with him?”

  She throws her hands on her hips. “Whose idea was it to bring a passed-out naked guy into her house?”

  I give her a look.

  “I’ll come by as soon as my shift ends, okay? In the meantime…” Her eyes rake over him. “Try to wake him up? Maybe you should call someone over in case he turns out to be a creep. Maybe the police?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Just be careful.”

  Once the door closes, a chill runs down my spine. I’m alone with him. Just yesterday I wasn’t sure if he was real. Now he’s in my living room.

  I hug myself. I am crazy. He could be a murderer, for all I know. But he did save me from death.

  I get down on my knees and study him. He looks peaceful. Kind of how Sleeping Beauty would look if she were a guy. I laugh to myself. Sleeping Beauty? I must be losing it.

  My hand moves on its own and brushes some golden strands off his right eye. Maybe he is the male version of Sleeping Beauty and needs a kiss from Princess Charming. I snort.

  “Hey,” I whisper. “It’s just me and you now. You saved me yesterday, and I owe you my life.” I push some more strands aside. “Why won’t you wake up?”

  I fall back on my knees and play with one of my braids. Then I reach for his hand and slide my fingers through his. His hand is cold and very soft, something I wouldn’t expect on a guy. It almost feels feminine, even though it looks very masculine. His skin is extremely white, nearly translucent. I squeeze, hoping to get a reaction from him. But he continues to lie there, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

  An idea pops into my head. I make my way to the kitchen and fill a glass with ice-cold water. When I return to the living room, there still isn’t any change. I bite my lip before splashing the water onto his face.

  Nothing. He’s still lying there, the water dripping down his face, his chest, and all over the couch. “Great,” I mutter.

  But I’m not giving up. I refill the glass and splash his face another time. I jump back when his arms and legs flail around. He springs up and looks around frantically. Then his eyes land on me.

  I stumble back. His eyes—they’re even more mesmerizing than I remember. Dark blue like the deep ocean, but also bright. It looks like light is coming out of them. My heart races so fast I think I might faint.

  He blinks at me as if he’s never seen a person before. Then his gaze moves down the length of his body, and his eyes widen. He scuttles back like leeches are attached to every part of him. If not for the wall, I’m sure he would have toppled right over the back of the couch.

  I take a hesitant step forward, but freeze when his gaze flits to mine. He looks terrified, like a little kid who lost his way home. My chest rises and falls rapidly as ragged breaths escape my mouth. Maybe he hit his head swimming or surfing and lost his memory?

  He just stares at me, blinking like he can’t believe where he is.

  I take another step closer and try to muster a sweet, friendly smile. “Hi. I’m Cassie Price. I found you passed out on the beach and brought you to my house.”

  His face looks blank. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m saying? If he’s an angel or whatever, maybe he doesn’t communicate like we do.

  “Do you…do you understand me?”

  He opens his mouth a bit, then quickly shuts it. Opens it and shuts it. He wraps his fingers around his neck and croaks. Then he coughs.

  I take a step back.

  He opens his mouth again and sputters something I don’t understand. I move closer. “I’m sorry?”

  His eyebrows knit together. “D-Damarian.”

  “What?”

  He stares down at the towel around his hips, then slowly touches it. Oh God, is he going to take it off?

  “My…name,” he says softly, bringing a hand to his muscled chest. “Damarian.”

  I feel my jaw hang open as I try to process his words. Damarian. That’s his name—Damarian.

  He’s rubbing his hand up and down his right leg, feeling his calf muscle. Then he raises his leg in the air and bends it. Raises it and bends it again. The expression on his face is pure wonder. Like he’s never seen a leg before.

  “Do you recognize me?” I ask. “From yesterday? You rescued me when I wiped out surfing.” Something that hasn’t occurred to me suddenly fills my mind. Maybe he nearly drowned saving me yesterday and that’s how he ended up unconscious on the beach.

  His intense eyes land on me. They bore into me, inspecting every feature on my face. He shifts on the couch until both his legs hang over the edge. He stares down at them, then at the floor, looking perplexed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Do you need help getting up?”

  He places both his hands on the couch’s armrest and slowly heaves himself to his feet. He lets go of the armrest and sways a bit before crashing down on the couch.

  I rush over. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes widen at his legs. “Not quite as simple as I imagined.”

  Now that some of the weirdness is gone—sort of—I hear his voice. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It sounds almost musical. B
ut still masculine.

  He curls his toes. He raises his hand and widens his fingers apart, bending close to examine the space between them.

  What exactly is he doing?

  “Um…Damarian?”

  His head snaps up for a second before he focuses on his fingers. “How peculiar, the way they part.” He fits the fingers from his other hand between them and slides them up and down.

  Am I in the same room as a nutcase?

  Damarian rests his palms on the couch and lifts his body. He slowly raises his right leg and presses down on the floor. He does the same with his left. He starts to walk on shaky legs as if balancing on twigs.

  When he sways, I reach out to help him, but he recovers. What exactly is he? Who is he? He’s acting like he’s never walked before.

  After taking a few steps forward, he turns to me and grins, his face bright. “Magnificent.”

  I shift from one foot to the other and tug on my left braid. My gaze drops to the towel that has loosened around his waist. I hope it doesn’t fall off.

  All of the sudden, he grabs both sides of his neck and bends over like he’s trying to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls as though he ran a marathon.

  “Damari—”

  He lets out a wail and collapses to the floor, curling into a fetal position and scratching at the sides of his neck.

  I bend down to touch his shoulder, when he lets out a howl and I lurch back. It doesn’t sound human, but like a whale crying out in pain.

  It’s so loud that I’m forced to cover my ears.

  “What’s wrong?” I yell over the dreadful sound. “Why are you doing that?”

  He’s murmuring something I can’t hear. I scoot closer to try and make it out.

  “W-w-ater.”

  “Water?”

  He releases another wail, scratching his neck harder. Examining it closely, I realize it’s all red. A rash?

  “I…need…water.”

  He’s wheezing now. That mixed in with the sound causes me to leap to my feet with my heart pounding. Water. He said he needs water.

  I grab the glass off the coffee table and rush into the kitchen. I don’t wait for the water to get cold—I just fill the glass and hurry back to him. I kneel down and hold it out. “Here.”

  His face is no longer as translucent as it was earlier, but peach-colored. He opens his eyes, and I notice they’re a lighter shade of blue. When he sees the glass in my hand, he shakes his head. “Me…in water.”

  “What?”

  He squeezes his eyes shut and croaks, “My body…in water.”

  I gape at him. “You need to be in water?”

  He nods weakly.

  “I have a pool,” I say, jumping to my feet. “Can you stand?”

  He nods again, weaker. I throw his arm over my shoulder and help him to his feet. He’s so heavy, my shoulder’s about to snap. More determined than I’ve ever been in my life, I muster up all my strength and we stumble toward my indoor pool. I practically have to drag him down the stairs. He’s still howling and wheezing, and it seems to be worsening with each step we take.

  “We’re almost there,” I assure him.

  He doesn’t respond as his head lolls onto my shoulder and his hair brushes against my nose. I inhale his ocean scent, and for a second I feel like I’m surfing. But his screeching makes me quicken my pace. His neck is extremely irritated.

  We enter the pool room and I lead him toward the ladder. His eyes crack open and his body perks when he sees the water. I’m about to help him down the ladder, but he dives inside. A second later, his head breaks the surface. He thrashes around. The sounds don’t disappear and he keeps sinking like his body is too weak. Or maybe he can’t swim? What if he drowns? Why did he insist I bring him here?

  My hands tremble. He’s dying and I don’t know how to help him.

  He moves his mouth, but I can’t hear him. I lean over the edge of the pool.

  “S-salt.”

  “What?”

  “Salt…need…salt.”

  Salt? What the hell? But his eyes look terrified and pleading, and I nod and rush to the kitchen. Salt. Salt. I rummage through the shelves until I find it. When I bring it to him, he motions for me to spill it into the pool.

  He can’t be serious. He falls to the bottom of the pool. I open the salt and pour it in.

  Damarian swims to the area that’s concentrated with salt. Then he breaks the surface and cries, “Salt. More salt. More salt.”

  More? This is all the salt we have in the house. The only way to get more is to run to the store. I don’t understand why he’s even asking me to do this.

  He splashes around and yells, “Seawater.”

  Seawater? I hold out my hands in a helpless gesture.

  He sinks to the bottom of the pool and breaks the surface again. “Seawater. Please.” It sounds like it takes every last bit of his energy to utter those words.

  “I don’t have seawater,” I shout over all the thrashing. “I’m sorry.”

  I bite my lip and spin around, pressing my palms to my temples. Then an idea hits me. I rush back to the edge of the pool. “I have synthetic sea salt in my basement.” Mom bought me a huge tank with marine fish and a bucket of sea salt a few years ago. My fish didn’t last more than a week and the bucket’s been gathering dust ever since.

  Still flailing, although with less energy, Damarian nods urgently. “Yes! Sea salt.”

  “But why would you need that?”

  “Please!”

  I dash toward the basement and stumble down the steps. Where did Mom stash the bucket of sea salt? I open one of the storage rooms and see it sitting there with other useless things piled on top. I throw them off and grab hold of the handle. Holy crap, it’s heavy.

  I pause when I don’t hear anything from upstairs. I strain my ears. No shouts. That’s not a good sign. Groaning, I use all my might and drag the bucket to the stairs. Sweat gathers on my forehead as I heave the thing up, one step at a time. I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to get it to the top step. Using all the strength I have left, I drag it to the pool room.

  Damarian is lying on the bottom of the pool.

  I push the bucket to the edge and lean over. “Damarian!” He doesn’t move. “Damarian!”

  I stare down at the bucket, then at him. He can’t possibly mean…? He’s just lying there. I peel off the lid and tilt the bucket over. The salt rushes out, like it needs him just as much as he needs it.

  Damarian rises to the surface and thrashes around, throwing water everywhere. My wetsuit and flip-flops get drenched. I back up to one of the lounge chairs. After about thirty seconds, he stops. So do the noises and wheezing.

  The room grows silent. Now I hear how heavy my breaths are. My forehead is covered in sweat.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I sigh in relief. I have no idea what just happened, but I’m glad he sounds normal again. “No problem. Are you okay?” I move toward the pool and look down. His arms are treading the water. Something shiny peeks out from underneath him. I squint. Dark blue, like sapphire. It looks like a…

  I stagger back, trip over my feet, and land hard on my side.

  Mermaid.

  Chapter Three

  No, merman. Merperson.

  I shut my eyes and mutter, “It can’t be.”

  Taking a deep breath, I get to my knees and crawl to the edge of the pool. He stares at me. The shine is back in his intense, blue eyes, but there’s also a hint of fear. His skin has regained its translucent color. I don’t want to venture to the lower half of his body. I don’t want to see something that shouldn’t be there.

  He leaps in the air and jumps into the water. His sapphire tail creates an arc that gleams in the sunlight creeping in through the windows. I stumble back, my heart thumping in my chest. This doesn’t make sense. It can’t be. Except, everything does make sense. He saved me when I almost drowned because he was there. He saw me wipe out, maybe even fished me out from
deep in the ocean. He ended up naked on the beach, because he has a tail instead of legs.

  He pops up in front of me. I yell and scurry back.

  “I am sorry, Cassie Price,” he says. “I did not intend to startle you.”

  I just gape at him.

  “Please, do not be alarmed. It is I who should be alarmed.”

  Taking another deep breath, I shuffle a little closer to him. He looks friendly enough, but I’m not that naïve to trust him. “Who…you’re a mermaid,” I breathe. “I mean, a merman.”

  He stares at his tail before returning his gaze to me. Unease clouds his face. “Yes.”

  “Mermaids don’t exist.”

  “Not to humans, no.”

  The unease on his face has grown to fear. Anxiety, terror. “I won’t tell anyone,” I say.

  “You will not?”

  I shake my head.

  A sigh escapes his lips. “Thank you.”

  I shift my position and sit cross-legged on the floor, studying him just as he studies me. “You saved me when I wiped out yesterday morning and left me on the boulder.”

  I hear his tail swooshing in the water. I’m tempted to bend over and look at it. From the small glimpse I got earlier, it’s beautiful. But I doubt he’d like that. It’d be like him studying my legs.

  He nods.

  He wasn’t an angel, but a mermaid. Merman. “Why?”

  He doesn’t say anything. It looks as though he doesn’t know the answer himself. Then he says, “Children of the sea are not to engage the humans.”

  That’s pretty obvious. But he broke the law. For me. Why? And why am I making such a big deal out of it?

  “You were beautiful,” he murmurs. I look at him, butterflies gathering in my stomach. “On the water. Sailing. I watched the water swallow you. I was certain you would die.” He lowers his head before raising it back to me. “I could not allow that to happen.”

  More butterflies gather in my stomach and goose bumps crawl over my skin. “And this morning?” I ask. “Why were you unconscious on the beach?” I can’t bear the thought that this happened because he rescued me. Maybe he swam out of his way to save me. Maybe merpeople can’t swim too close to shore.

  “The storm,” he says. “I should not have been swimming.”