The Merman's Quest

by Tamsin Ley

  Raking her hand off his biceps, she clawed at his ribs, finally settling on his hip. His erection pressed insistently between them, and she wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone before. She crushed her pelvis against him, delighted by his groan against her lips. His hand left her neck and cupped her ass, kneading it a moment before sliding up her side to find her breast. Sensation rocketed through her nipple, as if it had been aching for his touch all her life, and orgasmic electricity shot downward to pool in her abdomen.

  Her right hand, partially trapped between them, snaked lower to brush the head of his cock, surprised to find him already exposed, already naked. The throbbing member pulsed at her touch. She wanted to see him. Wanted to experience him with every sense. She opened her eyes and was met by unnaturally lime-green eyes in a face that could serve a Greek god, with chiseled brow and dark, stubbled beard.

  He pulled back, broke the contact of their lips, and stared down at her. Reason niggled its way into her brain. Where had this man come from?

  She reached up to touch his cheek, and alarm fleeted across his face. With both hands he shoved away from her. A whoosh of cool air separated them like a knife. He rolled, grabbed the nearest gunwale, and disappeared over the side. She was left blinking at a lingering impression of a bright green tail.

  Bolting upright, she knelt to peer over the side. Tail? But she’d been kissing a man. The two images didn't belong together. Mermen didn’t exist.

  Yet her lips still tingled from his kisses.

  Rubac plunged through the water like a harpoon from a hunter’s hand, a tether of lust trailing behind him. Why had he fled? It shouldn’t matter if she knew what he was. He needed to kill her anyway. If he wanted to be free of the mate-bond, he had the second part of his quest to finish. But for some reason, the question in the human’s eyes, the shift in her aura, had broken through his driving need. Reminded him of who he was.

  What the human thought of him mattered. He didn’t want her to see him as a monster. Even if he was about to be one by killing her.

  How could his entire being now hunger for a woman who was not his mate? For a human? Was this insatiable urge what mermaids felt all the time, what drove them to seek out new lovers again and again in spite of a dedicated man waiting at home? Yet he didn’t want other humans. He wanted the one right above him. Halting his descent, he rubbed his fingers over his meditation bracelet, seeking calmness. Seeking guidance. The desire boiling within him made him feel like an animal. His quest wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a chore. A burden. Done quickly and forgotten. Yet here he was, lurking beneath the boat’s shadow while his balls throbbed with need inside their protective sheath.

  Settle down. You simply haven’t been around a female in a while.

  How did mermaids do this on a regular basis? Would it be like this every time he met a human? A note of anger ripped from his throat, sending a nearby school of señorita fish scattering. He was breaking apart. He wanted this woman more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. Depths, why did he want her so bad? It had to be the damned fish harp song. It had captured him as much as it had the human. But the song was over, the fish harp broken. Its affects should be long finished. Why wasn’t it fading?

  Swimming in a tight circle directly beneath the hull, he fought the urge to surface. To caress those perfect breasts and kiss that warm brown skin. To sink his cock deep within her heated core. His entire body thrummed with need. You’re going to get yourself killed, he thought. She’d seen him. Was likely waiting with a weapon. Her kind was dangerous. Apex predators. They’d hunted merfolk since the sundering of Atlantis. Mermaids hunted their men in return. There was no love between the species. Why was he drawn to her so strongly? He felt as if the fish harp had been used on him instead of by him.

  Dread pooled into his stomach. What if it had? What if instead of freeing himself, he’d just lured himself toward a second mate-bond? Impossible. Mermen bonded for life to a single mate. No, it had to be the strength of the fish harp’s song. That was all. He would approach her again, this time without magic, and finish the quest. It was either that or succumb to his impending deterioration toward insanity and death.

  Seducing the human without magic would be tricky, however. Simply swimming up and having his way with her was not a safe option. He’d have to appeal to her other desires—assuming she didn’t have a weapon. He knew from her aura she sought knowledge. She’d have questions about him and his kind. Perhaps he could lure her with that. Get close enough to pull her into the water…

  No. He rubbed his index finger over his vision rod. Pulling her in would frighten her. He didn’t want to rape her. He wanted to seduce her. She needed to be comfortable. Confident. He had to take himself to her world. Allow her to see him. Touch him.

  He’d have to seduce her using himself as bait.

  4

  Madison remained frozen, staring at the water where that perfect specimen of a man had disappeared. A fantasy with abs like a washboard, shoulders like a gymnast… and a tail like a fish.

  Her head swam and her legs felt almost too weak to stand. Had any of that really just happened? Lifting a hand to her forehead, she felt the lump there. She’d had worse. Certainly the injury wasn’t enough to cause hallucinations? Strong hallucinations could elicit a physiological response. Her fingertips moved to her lips, tracing her swollen flesh while she examined the smear of blood on her palm from three tiny pinpricks. His fin had been sharp. Both were real enough.

  A breeze off the water sent a rush of goosebumps over her skin through her wet clothing. On trembling legs, she rose and moved into the semi-protected space around the pilot’s chair. Before stripping down, she scanned the surrounding water, but the glittering surface refused to reveal its secrets. She shivered again, needing to get warm.

  Peeling out of her pants, she dropped onto the swivel seat in only her panties while she wrung seawater from her clothes. Doubt crept in. Mermen didn’t exist. Every nerve in her scientist body denied the possibility, in spite of her tingling lips and bleeding hand. She flung her clothes over the seat next to her to dry. Yet if it had been a dream, it was the most realistic dream ever. She yearned to feel his body against hers again and finish what they’d started.

  Ducking into the tiny cabin under the boat’s foredeck, she struggled into fresh clothing, her skin sticky with saltwater. She’d definitely gone over the side. And somehow gotten back on board. There could be no scientific explanation for that. So exactly what had happened? And why had the stranger kissed her, gotten her all excited, only to flee?

  Back on deck, she approached the side where the man or whatever he was had disappeared. The chopping waves still held no sign of him, be he human or merman. A human would’ve had to come from somewhere—gone to somewhere. But there was no land in sight, no vessels. An underwater habitat? A submarine?

  She bent over the edge to look. The memory of a bearded face and disconcertingly green eyes rising out of the depths toward her about knocked her backward. She remembered the pulsing song that had seemed to center directly in her vagina. And she definitely remembered the ravenous impulse to consummate the promise of that song.

  Straightening, she ran her fingers through her damp hair, eyes unfocused as she searched her memories. “Worse than a drunk girl at a college frat party,” she murmured, shaking her head.

  She recalled the thick pressure of his cock against her hip, the velvety surprise of his nakedness beneath her fingers. Of course he was naked. Mermen didn’t wear clothes.

  She licked her lips, realizing what she was thinking. What she couldn’t deny. She’d kissed a merman. She darted a look around the boat, half expecting a grad student to pop up and say “gotcha.” But of course she was alone. This discovery was her own. It was real.

  Her heart thundered against her ribs. A hybrid dolphin would be chump change compared to documenting a merman. Unprecedented. Yet claiming the discovery of a merman would make her more of a laug
hingstock than she already was if she didn’t gather irrefutable proof. She took a moment and logged her coordinates on her GPS. Would he come back? Why had he come to her in the first place? Certainly not just for a kiss. He had wanted something, but what?

  About all she knew of mermaids were old wives’ tales of them seducing men to watery graves. Yet he hadn’t taken her with him over the side. In fact, he’d pulled her out of the ocean and put her back on deck. She would’ve surely drowned without him. No, he couldn’t mean to harm her. He just wanted…

  Her pussy tightened, thinking of what he wanted. Or was that what she wanted? After all, he’d left without finishing what he’d started. Why? Tiny electric jolts pricked her nipples as she remembered the absolute magic of his kiss, the tantalizing grip of his hand on her neck, on her ass, cupping her breast. Good Lord, if she kept thinking like this, she was going to need to finish what he’d started by herself.

  Research. She needed to focus on research. Proving the existence of a merman would be the find of the century. She needed to keep her wits right now, not be thinking of her vagina. She had to plan her strategy. Not think about how good it would feel to wrap her legs around his hips, press her breasts against that sculpted torso…

  Stop it. She picked up the biopsy gun and tucked it into her waistband. Stuffed her small camera into the breast pocket of her shirt. She had to be ready for anything. Her data had to be comprehensive. Tissue samples. DNA. Maybe she could devise a way to capture the creature if it came back, a net of some kind...

  She froze, realizing what she was thinking. Was he a creature, or a man? Part of him was definitely all man. She was about to set a precedent for how he was treated by the rest of humanity.

  Maybe I should just fuck him. How’s that for precedent? Her pussy tightened in agreement.

  But seriously, if he did come back, what was she supposed to do?

  Talk to him. Could he talk? If he could, she would film the conversation. Document first contact. Well, second contact, but who was counting?

  Grabbing a folding chair, she settled in to wait for her fantasy lover to reappear.

  5

  Madison didn’t know how, but she was looking directly at the spot when he resurfaced. He rose silently, cautiously approaching from about a hundred feet away with the afternoon light behind him and the water glittering all around. Swallowing, she pulled her camera from her pocket, aimed it, and hit record. Then she rose and approached the gunwale.

  “Hello!” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed again. Could he speak English? Could he speak at all? He was magnificent, broad shoulders, glistening tanned-gold skin. But from here she could see no tail. No sign he was anything other than human.

  He paused his approach around thirty feet out. “Greetings.” His deep voice rolled across the water like the promise of a storm.

  Thank God, he can speak! She checked the camera’s view screen to be sure she was capturing him. “My name’s Madison. What’s yours?”

  “Rubac.”

  “Are you… what are you?”

  The wind had picked up with the falling sun, and his torso rose and fell with the roll of the sea, yet never exposed what lay beneath. “Your kind would call me a merman.”

  Waves slapped the hull loudly. She prayed the audio was capturing his words. “Can I… can I see you?”

  He smiled, then bent into a dive. A spiked green dorsal fin cut the air, followed by an emerald tail. She gripped the gunwale to support her suddenly weak legs. The roll of the deck had never felt so unsteady. “You’re real.”

  “Now it’s your turn,” he said, drawing nearer.

  She frowned. “My turn? What do you mean?”

  “I want to see you,” he rumbled. The cool bite of the breeze alerted her that her panties were wet. They grew even wetter when he commanded, “Take off your shirt.”

  For the first time, it occurred to her that this man could mean her harm. She was alone out here. Her stomach tightened and her free hand flew to cover her chest. “Are you…” She swallowed. “Why?”

  He dropped his gaze, as if shy, and sank into the waves until only his head was exposed. “I am curious about you, too.”

  She licked her lips, gaze remaining on him. He was curious, too. Fair enough. What was the harm in showing him? She’d never had issues with her own body. Didn’t wear a bra unless she had to. Wasn’t wearing one now, in fact. She could edit the audio out of the video later, and no one need know what she’d done. Besides, she wanted his eyes on her. Wanted a lot more than that, actually.

  Setting the still-recording camera on the gunwale, she looped the wrist strap around a fishing pole grommet and then stood to face him. The bite of the evening breeze made her hyper-aware of her own skin as she lifted her shirt slowly over her head. His hungry gaze sent tiny thrills racing along her sides and pooled in a mass of heat in her belly.

  To her gratification, more of him appeared above the waves, water running off his arms and ribs in glistening rivulets. His nipples were hard, perfect circles in the center of nearly square pecs. Damn, she’d never seen a human man who could rival his chest and abs. She wondered what the lower half of him really looked like.

  She allowed the fabric to slide sensually off her arms and fall to the deck. Her nipples hardened as if inviting his hands to tease the peaks. Jutting her chin, she said, “Your turn.”

  He smiled and put both hands behind his head, then leaned back until he floated face up on the surface. His shining green tail stroked the water with leisurely sensuality, the fin at the bottom a wide, rippling fan. Yet in spite of the fascination his tail had for her, what caught her most was what lay just below his navel, rising from a slit where his tanned abs merged into his bright green tail. His engorged cock seemed to pulse in response to her attention. He stroked one hand along his length and she shivered.

  She forced her gaze to his face, her pussy aching in primal reply to his display. Her breathing quickened to little panting gasps. Focus, Madison. You’re a scientist, not a teenager looking for a hookup. Shaking her head, as if she could clear it of hormones, she remembered the camera. She readjusted its view and tightened the loop of the wrist strap around the grommet. Her gaze returned to the magnificent creature in the water, abs and chest glistening in the sun and muscular tail leaving a wake behind him.

  And then she realized—no matter how spectacular the footage, it would never be believed without accompanying data. Photos could be manipulated. She’d need skin samples at the very least. DNA. Blood. Her biopsy gun was still tucked into her waistband. The moment you draw it, he’ll flee. Maybe she could convince him to come on deck with her and even freely give a sample or two. Break the ice. Ask him some questions.

  “So, Rubac. Do you come here often?” Great. She was resorting to B-rate pickup lines.

  He drifted closer until he floated right alongside the hull. “I am a long way from home.”

  “What’s your usual habitat?” Better. Keep it scientific. But his engorged cock was damned distracting.

  “Merfolk range the entire ocean.”

  “I’ve lived much of my life on the ocean.” She crossed her arms. “I’ve never seen one.”

  He shrugged. “We choose not to be seen.”

  “Why choose to be seen now, then?” She narrowed her eyes, mistrust skittering up her spine. “And how do you know my language?”

  “We sing many songs under the water. Communicate in many ways.” His tail flicked, and he did a barrel roll, then ducked under the water. Quick as lightning, he reemerged closer to the boat. “What else would you like to know?”

  Her heart increased to a thunderous pace. “Will you come on deck and let me look at you?”

  His lips spread into a grin. “Take off your pants. Let me look at you first.”

  A shiver rolled through her. He wanted to keep playing? Fine. She’d play. She splayed both palms over her naked belly in what she hoped was a sensual manner and inched them inward to unfasten the button at her wai
st. His lime-green eyes followed her hands hungrily. She opened the zipper and slid one hand into the opening, cupping herself, making an intentional whimper of pleasure as her fingertip contacted her throbbing clit.

  His mouth parted slightly, tongue peeking forth. Just imagining that tongue on her clit made her insides tighten. His gaze lifted to meet hers. “Off,” he said.

  She pushed the waistband down around her hips, suddenly self-conscious of her plain cotton panties. Would a merman notice her lack of sexy lingerie? Her pants pooled around her ankles, and his gaze raked her up and down greedily. Guess not. Swallowing, she said, “Okay, they’re off. You said you’d come aboard.”

  He swam to the aft. Realizing she needed to capture this moment on film, she dragged her gaze from him and grabbed the camera, focusing it on the gunwale. The boat rocked beneath his weight, and a muscular heave of his shoulders lifted him with surprising agility. He cleared the edge, bringing along a surge of seawater.

  The deck wasn’t very spacious to begin with, and she was standing close, intending to capitalize on the proximity to document him. His flashing tail doused her with water. Worse, it tagged the camera, ripping it from her hands and flipping it over the side. “No!” she screamed, flailing for it. But it was too late. The camera and all its documentation sank out of sight.

  She turned to see him poised as if to roll backward into the sea once again. His triceps and lats bulged, tail fin pressed flat against the deck. His green eyes bored into her with uncertainty.

  She forced herself to smile and held up both hands in peace, even though her insides roiled. The video was gone, but she had the real deal right in front of her. An opportunity to get much more than footage. Don’t scare him away. “My fault. I should have given you more room.”

  His arms relaxed, and he eased to a sitting position on the deck with his back against the inside hull. His jewel-bright tail stretched toward her, fin resting only inches from her toes. This close, its bright green looked almost fake. She let her gaze travel up from his fin to where his crotch would be. His cock had receded back into its sheath, but the bulge remained there as evidence of its location. She realized she’d been focused on that spot too long and glanced up to see his lime-green eyes full of mirth.