But he had done it for this moment. He needed Zara. Not her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. Just her.
His bride. His wife.
“Forget my people. Give me another chance,” he said tightly.
“It’s too late. Go back.”
“Zara—”
“I don’t want to be with you.” Her words cut like practice daggers slicing into his exposed chest. “You promised I could stay with you after our time was up. You promised no one would drag me out. You promised to protect me. And what happened?”
She glared, raw pain shimmering in her auburn-gold soul like shards of bone. “You failed.”
Zara was right.
He had promised to take care of her. He’d promised they could remain together, despite the sacred covenant requiring human-mer couples to part. He’d made her believe he was trustworthy — and that she could trust in their future together.
And on one bloody night almost a year ago, every one of his promises had been broken.
She’d been betrayed.
But he needed her. The entire mer race needed her. She was their only hope for survival.
“You stole my trust,” she continued. “You stole my innocence. And on top of that, you stole my son.”
“Our son.”
Pain slapped her face. She quickly schooled her features and made a flicking gesture for him to go. “This is our last conversation. Farewell.”
“It is our first,” he corrected. “Today is our new beginning.”
She turned and cast a skeptical dismissal over her shoulder. “We’re over. There’s not a single thing you can say to me that will change my mind.”
“Zara.”
Simply saying her name, threaded with command, made her pause.
“I will keep my promises.”
“I think I’ve covered how you didn’t.”
“From this day forward, I keep them only to you.”
She turned in irritation. “Stop saying that!”
“That is why, today, I came for you.”
“It’s already too—”
“And I brought our son.”
She froze.
He moved aside the woven seaweed covering. In his arms, cushioned by the soft, green tangles, stared their one-year-old baby.
Zara sucked in a breath. “Zain?”
Her voice broke.
So did Elan’s heart.
Round and chubby from a well-fed, gentle infancy, Zain stared at his mother for the first time with wide, dark eyes. Little chips of midnight blue flecked his irises and his skin. Zara’s same rich, dark brown hair curled from his head. His fat fingers curled into the seaweed.
Shock swept her so-certain anger clear and then agony crushed her. Her brilliant soul light flashed erratically, plunging to the pit of blackness.
Baby Zain’s little soul light also darkened. He made a mewling whimper and burrowed into Elan’s crooked elbow to escape her cutting sadness.
Elan patted Zain, bolstering his baby with strength. “Calm.”
Zara’s knees buckled.
Elan stepped forward and caught her with one arm around the waist. Her soft hip meshed his and her delicate hand rested on his shoulder. She sagged against him, finally where she belonged.
Zain’s feet fell loose from the seaweed. His chubby legs were identical to a human’s all the way down to the toes, which flared into tiny mer fins.
“Fins.” She swallowed hard. “He has fins. He’s…”
“Yes.” Elan angled Zain within easy reach. “He must learn how to shift.”
Her chest heaved. Her heartbeat fluttered. She was unstable. So unstable.
He stroked her hip gently with his thumb.
She covered her cheeks with her hands. Her dark eyes reddened with unshed tears. “He was happy? He was well taken care of? Everyone loved him?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Good. I worried about that.” Each word punctuated a gasp as she tried not to let out the wrenching sobs contained just below the surface. She scrubbed her cheeks. “That’s a relief. Can I … um, touch?”
“Of course.”
With a trembling index finger, she stroked Zain’s leg from knee to ankle to toe-fins.
He buried his face in Elan’s chest and wiggled to escape.
Zara curled her finger away.
Although the baby was frightened by the newness of air, gravity, sunlight, and by his reunion to a mother he hadn’t known since the womb, their soul lights connected. They had never truly been severed. As soon as Zara calmed and Zain stopped reacting, their year-long rift would be healed.
Elan wanted that healing connection for himself.
Her soft hip pressed against his. Her full breasts pillowed his bicep and pearled nipples teased his chest. He wanted her skin in his mouth, sensitized by his tongue, while they rediscovered their marriage bed. She belonged in his arms.
He needed her to let him in. Once more, let him into her life, to her body, to her soul. Hers was the only home that mattered. The only home he had left. The only home he ever wanted.
She was home, and he was so weary of searching the bones of his soul ached.
“I waited so long for you,” she whispered, echoing his thoughts. “When I surfaced, they said mermen didn’t exist. I was out of my mind. Drugged. Even I started to think I was crazy. Then, those videos were posted and your existence was revealed.”
“Now you are sober. We are a family. No one will separate us again.”
She tore her gaze from Zain and looked up at him. So unguarded. So vulnerable. “How…”
How had he brought Zain to her? Shame stabbed into him like a thousand urchin needles. He closed. “Never ask me.”
“…dare … you?”
He dropped silent.
She looked down at their son, agony once more darkening her chest. “I was so ready to end this. To find closure and walk away. How dare you bring me Zain? How dare you force me to feel?”
Perhaps coming to her today would become a regret. But right now, he would do it all again. A hundred times. And even her anger, fear, and sadness would not change his gladness at having her, once more, in his arms.
He rested his forehead against hers. “You have too much passion to walk away from us.”
“I’ve been numb for so long I don’t remember any other state.”
“You remember our passion.”
She licked her lips. “No. I’ve forgotten everything from our time.”
He nuzzled her, brushing his nose against hers. Her skin was so soft. Beneath the waves, she felt slippery as silk, and above the waves, she was downy soft and feminine.
With his familiar touch, her soul light flared to a bright, sweet heat. The air between them flooded with pulses of arousal. Her flush awoke his hunger.
They had exchanged a million kisses. Morning kisses, welcome kisses, hungry kisses. And then, none. In days of endless darkness, he had dreamed of her fiery taste.
Elan tilted his head to fit his lips to hers.
Her hand cupped his jaw to stop him.
He hesitated.
Her slender thumb stroked his cheek. Plump lips teased his rough chin. Her whisper emerged as a desperate, hungry plea. “You can’t. I’ve forgotten.”
“Remember. Now.”
“I…” She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath as though savoring him. “No. I just can’t.”
“Then I will remind you.” He buried his mouth in her kiss.
2
With the touch of Elan’s lips, Zara’s world collapsed.
His firm lips stamped hers like a promise and then softened, nibbled at her resistance. His tongue stroked her seam and teeth scored her plump lower lip. Sensation cascaded over her in a waterfall.
This was Elan. Elan was life. She needed him like she needed oxygen. She’d been numb for a year. Desperately, she needed him filling her body with sensation.
Zara opened her mouth to him.
His ton
gue delved in, tasting and exploring, curling around hers in a sensual dance, giving and taking and giving again. She almost cried. He tightened, his only sign of triumph to press her closer and make her more aware of his desire.
She couldn’t melt. She couldn’t fall back into this all-consuming passion. She wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same.
But…
His scent, ocean salt and masculinity, entranced her nose. Strong biceps secured her to his side and his arousal pressed against her hip, sending little rivulets of hunger to her feminine center. It had been so long, and she had only ever, in her whole life, wanted him.
He kissed her as if there was no tomorrow, no yesterday, only now.
She sank into his delicious embrace, savoring his addictive flavor. Every thrust of her tongue only heated her with more desire, feeding her need as it stoked her hunger. Her heart pounded, breasts swelled, thighs squeezed together as the ache of reawakened pleasure brought her back to life.
The male who had been her husband knew her body, knew what she liked, and generously gave it to her. He always had. He always would.
Or would he?
Shock cut through her passion. She shuddered and pushed free.
Elan released her reluctantly. Dark shadows scored his passionate, aquamarine-threaded blue eyes. He breathed heavily.
So did she.
She pressed both hands against her racing heart. Elan made her too vulnerable. And the only way to keep herself safe was to cut him off now. Before once more he curled around her soul and awoke her old, shattered fantasies.
He started to reach for her. “Zara—”
She stopped him with everything she had. “This can’t happen again.”
His jaw flexed. Unspoken in his powerful stance was that it would happen again. But he dropped his hand.
Good.
In Elan’s arms, her son Zain watched them with wide, beautiful eyes. He’d spent the whole kiss nestled in the crook of Elan’s right arm.
Need to touch her baby surged again. Prove he was real, stroke his baby skin, and apologize for the twisting, shameful ache. She had failed to protect him and this year of lost time was her fault.
Zain turned away, intuiting her desperation.
Her heart broke. Again.
“Your sadness is too heavy.” Elan covered Zain’s trembling shoulders with seaweed. “Calm yourself.”
“You try,” she snapped, cinching one arm around her waist to keep her eviscerated feelings from spilling out.
Elan’s jaw tightened.
Yes. She was out of line. Zara didn’t want to yell. She wanted her baby, who she hadn’t seen in a year, to nestle in her arms. Not burrow away in fear.
She forced her apology through her teeth. “Sorry.”
Elan’s brows drew together sadly. “Do not be sorry. He needs your calm, not your apology.”
How could she be calm when emotions bulged out of her chest like a shaken soda can? Desire — fear — horror — need exploded in her heart. Seeing Zain and Elan tore down her very foundations, leaving her raw and pulsing heart flayed open.
Zain whimpered.
Hurting Zain was literally the last thing she wanted to do.
Zara hardened herself.
She wouldn’t frighten her son. She wouldn’t touch him until he no longer feared her. She wouldn’t traumatize him with her brokenness and need. She’d take her time and make their relationship right.
Elan was another story.
The crowds on the other side of the Azores beach barrier grew louder and the island polícia, behind her, discussed what to do with Elan and Zain. The head officer asked her sister Milly, who was standing just inside the barrier, about where they were staying.
“We have a house,” Milly answered. “But it’s not open to guests.”
“They may be placed in a detention facility,” the officer said in excellent, nearly accentless English. “No merman has ever requested asylum. This matter could go in front of the President.”
Zara couldn’t leave them in a detention facility. She had to recover her equilibrium to reconnect with her son, which meant that right now, she needed to keep Elan close. Even though he destroyed her equilibrium like a sand castle under a crashing wave.
She gripped onto control like fighting for a handful of sand. “You and Zain will stay with me until we figure this out. But once I’ve calmed down, you have to go.”
The shadows under his eyes darkened. “Only me?”
“Only you.”
Even though Zain was heart-breakingly terrified of her, she would never let her baby go. Never again. His fear would fade. She would win him over.
His father was another matter.
“We’ll work out a custody arrangement for Zain.”
Elan’s firm brow said he would fight. But he was still too honorable to argue.
That’s exactly why he’d have to go.
Not only for her peace of mind.
For his sanity.
3
Zara’s younger sister drove a growling metal “car” around the primordial volcanic island and up into the verdant hillsides.
Elan held Zain to his chest, sheltering him from passing cars, lowing cows, and twittering birds inside the familiar weave of seaweed. Milly had requested he leave it at the shore, but he’d refused. It was one thing to expose himself to the surface-dwellers. Elan would not compromise his son in that way.
This wasn’t what he’d expected.
Zara sat stiffly in the passenger’s seat. From the corners of her eyes, she stole glimpses of Zain. She was clearly determined not to frighten him. And not to touch Elan.
This wasn’t what he’d imagined.
He’d wanted her to race into his arms. He’d wanted her to hold him tightly, shine with the brightness of a hundred suns, smother him with fierce kisses, and sparkle with their rekindled dreams.
He’d wanted his wife.
Instead, she was shut up tight. Just like their first meeting. A hard shell without any cracks, cold on the outside, like the dead. She wanted him gone. And she didn’t know of his violent misdeeds. How would she react once she knew?
Zain whimpered.
Ah, Elan’s own soul light must be darkening. Plunging into darkness repelled a child as surely as a reprimand. Worse, because Zain couldn’t understand what he had done wrong to cause his parents’ dark feelings.
Elan controlled his emotions with iron focus. Zain relaxed.
Soon, Zara would also learn this control. She was a disciplined student and would pick it up immediately. And then, he would be forced out of her life.
Forever.
Zain moved and whimpered again.
Zara glanced at Elan sharply.
Elan rubbed Zain’s back through the seaweed, shushing and calming him. These dark thoughts hurt everyone. He needed to show Zara his grit. She would fall in love with him again, and then he would stay. They would be a family.
He swore it.
“Here’s our house.” Milly brought the car to a gentle rest behind a white-washed house nestled in a hillside. Pots of blue flowers bloomed next to a closed door. “We bought it with the Sea Opal gemstone you gave us — er, Zara — for her, uh, stay.”
Some warriors might be upset to hear their treasured bride offering had been given away, but Zara had unapologetically declared his jewel would fund Milly’s college education. This advanced “college” training was apparently critical for Milly’s future and Zara’s sacrifice was a sign of her protective spirit. She cared fiercely for her loves.
Which no longer included him.
He tightened on the pain before it could affect Zain. “It is a good house?”
“Pretty good,” Milly confirmed, turning off the engine. “Two bedrooms, close to school, and you can’t argue with the privacy.”
“Then the jewel was not used for your college education?”
“Oh, it was. You gave her a huge Sea Opal. We had extra.”
“You did no
t keep the extra for your memories?”
Milly hesitated and glanced at Zara.
Zara made a flubbing noise. “No. Why? I was glad it was gone.” She exited the car.
Had he misunderstood? Had Zara rejected the mer from the very beginning? Dark shadows curled around his heart and squeezed doubts like poison into his blood.
Zara opened the door and helped unbuckle Elan’s seatbelt. She refused to look at him.
Zain suddenly cried.
Her face whitened and her expression turned stricken. She took a step back and put the car door between them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so close.”
This was his error. His out-of-control emotions.
He forced his fears and pains into the mass of dark matter deep in his chest, took a calming breath, and stepped out of the car, Zain over his shoulder. “It was not you.”
She didn’t look as though she believed him.
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. Whenever they touched, the dark fears plaguing him receded to silence. “He is sensitive. Our adjustment will take time.”
“I know. I’m just … I know.” Zara pulled back, closed the car door, crossed the dark gravel, and pushed open the thick, brown door. “This is the kitchen. Don’t touch. If you need something, ask.”
“Teach me.”
“No point. These appliances are finicky and old.”
“I desire to learn.”
Her jaw tightened. “You won’t be here long enough for it to matter.”
“Teach me for my future, then.”
“I…” She looked up at him for the briefest moment and then away. “The living room is through here.”
He took in the smooth rock floors and wood furniture. Unlike his undersea castle, this airy building was highly insecure. Open windows and multiple doors lowered defensibility. And the bedrooms were dangerously spread out. Her sister’s bedroom hid in a small, enclosed loft. On the ground floor, well away from the other rooms, was Zara’s bedroom.
She paused in front of her doorway. Inside, dusky furniture and quiet paint submerged the space in muted gray. “You may sleep here.”
“In your room.”
“I’ll be in Milly’s.”
Sirens and Scales Page 55
