MERMEN (The Mermen Trilogy #1)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  When Roen had asked who, his mother lost consciousness. They would never speak again. And tragically, Lyle would die in the ocean two years later. From that day on, Roen hated the damned ocean, but he refused to fear it. No. He’d conquer the damned thing.

  “I need to see my family again,” Liv muttered. “I’m giving a speech at the party…” Her voice faded away and she was out again.

  “You’re going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” And strangely, he meant it, which shocked the hell out of him. It simply wasn’t like him to care about anyone but himself. This place must be messing with my head.

  Regardless, Roen had always been a man of his word, so he’d do his best to help her. He didn’t know where they were going, but from the slope of the steep snowcapped peak at the center of the island, he guessed any water would be at its base.

  After one hour of hiking with Liv in his arms, Roen found what he’d hoped: a small swimming hole filled by a trickling stream. Unfortunately, the water looked like an undrinkable, murky green mess.

  Well, at least I got a workout. Out of breath, Roen set Liv down, propping her back against a large pine tree. He bent over, blowing out an exhausted breath. Bloody hell. Now he was thirsty, too. And he wasn’t a damned boy scout, but he knew enough not to drink standing water that wasn’t boiled. The stream flowing in didn’t have enough current to assume the water was any cleaner.

  He glanced up at the sharp rocky peak, reminiscent of a dormant volcano, jutting into the bright orange sky. A damned weird sunset for a damned weird island.

  In any case, he could hike all the way up to the source of the water, but that was a few thousand feet and nightfall was approaching fast.

  He looked down at Liv’s peaceful face and noticed how her long, dark eyelashes fanned out and her lips naturally puckered as if she were begging for a kiss.

  Did you just hear yourself, man? Begging for a kiss? What the bloody foke is wrong with you? Stop looking at the woman.

  Roen also noticed Liv had a little burlap sack tied around her wrist and her hand had turned ghostly white. The thing was probably cutting off her circulation.

  He removed the small bag and looked inside, finding a few apples and a bottle of liquid that appeared to be water. Curious, he removed the cork and gave it a quick whiff before tasting it with the tip of his tongue. The flavor was purer than any spring water. He swallowed the few drops in his mouth and instantly felt a pleasant burning sensation in his gut like fine tequila.

  What the hell is this stuff? he thought to himself while taking a deep breath, savoring the euphoric rush unlike any high he’d ever encountered. Not pot—like he’d tried in college and put him to sleep. Not like cumming that made him forget who he was for a few lousy seconds. Not like the rush of acquiring a competitor in a hostile takeover. No, he’d never felt a rush like this.

  He glanced down at his arm, watching as the muscle seemed to fill out, stretching against the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. What the bloody f…? And in that moment, the painful tightening in his chest lifted, that invisible dark cloud dissolved, and he could breathe again.

  Liv wasn’t lying. She’d mentioned they’d given her some sort of drug-laced water, but he’d thought she was merely exaggerating as women often do.

  Not this time. He stared at the bottle, entirely unafraid but unable to come to grips with whatever was inside—some sort of miracle drug.

  Perhaps this was the real reason his father wanted him to find the island: Compensation for the lifetime of pain he’d inflicted. But then, why did the crazy bastard say this had to be hidden from the world?

  He was probably too damned insane to understand the value. Or he was too frightened that someone would try to take it away. But Roen wasn’t afraid. I know exactly how to protect what’s mine.

  His eyes gravitated toward Liv’s beautiful face—those pouty, sensual lips, those high cheekbones, that perfectly straight, perky nose. The fact that she had dirt smudged all over her face yet still looked so sinfully sexy was a testament to her natural beauty. Every time he looked at her, he became more convinced that she might actually be the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, which, frankly, said a hell of a lot.

  “Roen?” Liv’s eyes cracked open.

  He quickly looked away and slid his phone from his pocket. Stop ogling the woman. What the hell is the matter with me?

  “Roen?” she repeated.

  Ignoring her, he held up the phone and noticed a small signal. “There we go…” He punched in a number and held it to his ear. The thing rang, but heavy static filled the line, and then the signal dropped. “Sonofabitch.” He again raised the device, but it was no good.

  “Please. I’m so thirsty.”

  He glanced down at her face with wide dark eyes sunken from thirst. She looked like an angel who’d fallen from the skies, begging for her life.

  Stop. You won’t help anyone if you start feeling bad for her. Compassion made people vulnerable. It made them weak.

  She reached out to the pool of water to her side.

  “It might have parasites,” he said, “which in your weakened state would kill you.”

  “I don’t care. I need water.”

  Roen slipped the small bottle from his pocket. “This is the only water we’ve got, but it’s…” He paused, unsure how to describe it, frankly. “It’s that water you were telling me about.”

  She shook her head. “Then I don’t want it. I’d rather take my chances with the amoebas.”

  “The way I see it, you don’t have a choice; you’re too weak to crawl over to that cesspool on your own, and I’m not carrying you. So it’s this or nothing.” He removed the small cork and crouched, holding the bottle to her lips. “Drink.”

  She looked away, but opened her mouth. He could see she didn’t like being pushed around, and he couldn’t blame her. He hated it, too.

  She gulped the entire contents, and right before his eyes, he watched a bit of color return to her face. Whatever was in that water was powerful.

  She sighed and rested her head back on the dirt. “It’s not enough. I need more.”

  “I don’t have more.”

  “Give me that.” Her eyes focused on the pool.

  “It’s not—”

  “It’s not your fucking choice,” she said. “You’re not the one dying, Roen Doran.”

  “Yes. That is correct. However…” He stopped himself mid-thought. He’d been about to say that she was his, but that was ludicrous. She wasn’t his anything because they’d only just met. He’d agreed to help her find water, and that was all. That’s right. Stop thinking with your cock, Roen.

  “If that’s what you want,” he said.

  “No. It’s not what I want, but a giant bottle of chilled orange juice isn’t going to walk out of that forest.”

  “Not likely.” He picked her up and brought her to the edge of the pool. She began scooping and slurping with her frail hands. After a few minutes, she rested her head on her arm. “Oh God, that was sooo good.”

  The way she’d said it evoked a highly sexual image of him on top of her naked body, pounding himself between her thighs, cumming inside her while she—

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of panic in it.

  “I wasn’t looking at you.” He moved to take her from the water’s edge, but she held up her hand.

  “Please don’t touch me,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “You looked at me like… It was just strange; that’s all.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  She coughed. “Maybe I am. And maybe I should take my chances alone.”

  He shook his head. “I may be a coldhearted bastard, but I’m not a prick who’s about to leave a sick woman in the middle of the forest.” Why the hell am I saying that? I am that sort of prick. I should leave her here. Send someone back for her later.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted
to…

  Keep her. You want to keep her. Don’t fight it. Roen blinked and held in a sickness crawling up his throat. Those words had not come from him. Yet they had.

  Roen cleared his throat, denying that what just happened was real. Because it wasn’t. It had to be the damned stress getting to him. “By the way, in case you’re wondering, this island is completely off the grid, out in the middle of the Pacific. You don’t have a chance of leaving it without me.”

  “And if I refuse to go anywhere with you?” she muttered with eyes closed.

  The sun had already begun to set and the temperature was dropping fast. These were not the tropics, and he guessed it would only get colder. They’d probably be warmer if they stuck near the ocean. “Then I’ll take you with me anyway. Because while I’m a coldhearted bastard, I’m also a prick who listens to no one.”

  She chuckled underneath her breath. “You’re a funny man, Roen.”

  “No. I’m not.” He lifted her from the muck and sat her against a thick tree trunk again. He tried not to think about how good she felt in his arms and how touching her sent a quick rush of blood into his cock. Not enough to give him a raging erection, but certainly enough to let him know the damned thing was awake.

  “I’m sorry I just said all that,” she grumbled. “I think I’m in shock.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her the apple he’d found in that small sack she’d carried with her, “you need to eat this.”

  She pushed it away. “I’m not hungry. I’m thirsty.”

  “Yes. You said that already. Eat the foking damned apple.”

  “Why do you sometimes have a Scottish accent when you swear?”

  Roen inhaled an impatient breath and stood. He hated it when people asked him personal questions. His accent wasn’t any of their damned business and why should they care? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He went back to trying his phone.

  Liv chuckled quietly underneath her breath. “Okay, foking toof guy.”

  Roen shot her a quick look of disapproval, but let it slide. He had more important things to worry about.

  “At least tell me why you’re helping me?” she asked in her faint voice. “I can tell it’s not your style.”

  He frowned down at her. She knew nothing about his style. “I’m not a fan of men who hurt women. And I’m a lesser fan of watching people die.”

  Her large brown eyes opened and pinned him with her inquisitive gaze. “So you’re a sentimental do-gooder.”

  Truth was, he’d hated seeing his mother always on the verge of a mental breakdown because his father didn’t care enough to do right by her. It was what eventually broke her. So if there was one thing in this world that got under his skin, it was men like that. “I simply do not see the point in taking advantage of the weak.”

  “No, where’s the fun in that?” she said sarcastically.

  He smiled, masking the serious undertones of the conversational path they’d veered down. “Exactly. So who’s Dana?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “My sister. How’d you know her name? Was it in the papers?”

  “You were mumbling something about her and a party. You also mentioned Krista likes to keep company with penguins.”

  Liv made a little laugh. “I must’ve been talking about my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. It’s in a few months. Dana—my younger sister—and I have been helping with the planning.”

  “And Krista?” he asked.

  “My older sister. She lives in Portland and works at the zoo. How about your family? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. No family,” he replied curtly. “None who are alive, anyway.” Why were they back to speaking about his personal life?

  Because I brought it up. Which, in itself, was odd. He rarely felt any curiosity regarding the personal lives of others. He simply never saw the point when he had no interest in getting close to anyone.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Liv said with heartfelt sympathy. “It must be hard.”

  “Trust me, my life is nothing to pity.”

  “No—I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, flicking a fallen pine needle from her lap. “It’s just I can see you were probably good at it.”

  “At what?” he asked.

  She flashed a little smile up at him. “Taking care of them, protecting them. I bet you miss it.”

  He’d never thought about it and had no desire to start now. “I thought you said that caring about others wasn’t my style.”

  She shrugged a little. “That was a test to see what you’d say.”

  Normally, he’d tell people like her—the prying, prodding kind—to go fuck themselves, but he found her oddly enticing, which is why he simply stared at her, mentally scratching his head.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I crossed the line, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  She shook her head at herself. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent so much of my life thinking about how people’s connections mold their lives and who they are, I’m hardwired now to try to figure everyone out.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “And what have you figured out?”

  She placed her hands in her lap and stared at them for a moment with tired eyes. He suddenly wondered what she might be like when she wasn’t feeling so weak. I bet she’s a handful. Something he liked the idea of, to be frank.

  “I think,” she said, “that you are possibly the most misjudged man I’ve ever met.”

  He laughed. “Really now? Why’s that?”

  “Because your face is the least beautiful thing about you.”

  What sort of bloody line was that? “What game are you playing, Miss Stratton? You don’t even know me.”

  She huffed and then looked up at him with such intense emotion it halted his breathing for a moment. “No games, Mr. Doran. I happen to be exceptionally good at reading people. And I might not make it to morning, so I thought I should tell you the truth since you asked.”

  Roen’s heart pounded and his body filled with a wave of indescribable, overwhelming emotion, somewhere between anger and excitement. Who the hell was this woman? And why did she have such an effect on him? It was like she’d just reached right inside and started stirring him around.

  Because she’s yours. Claim her before someone else does.

  Roen froze, unsure if he’d really heard the voice or if it was his own thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

  “What did you just say?” Liv asked, clearly alarmed.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes. You did,” she argued. “You gave me that weird look again and said that I belong to you.”

  No, he hadn’t. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just met you, and I’m not the sort of man who wants to own anyone. I rent at best, but never own.”

  Yours. All yours, said the voice.

  “Stop,” he said.

  She blinked. “Stop what?”

  Jesus, I’m losing my mind. “I’m not interested in you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You think I was just flirting with you?”

  No. But he had to say something. Because something was…wrong. Very wrong. “If I want a woman, I tell her.”

  She scowled. “I wasn’t flirting with you, you idiot—are you all right?”

  Suddenly, they both saw a flare sail through the early evening sky.

  “It came from the shore,” he said. Likely close to the spot where the helicopter had gone down. His crew probably assumed he was somewhere on the island. If they could even see the island. He still didn’t understand how this damned place wasn’t visible until they were right on top of it.

  He blew out a breath. Lucky for him, he was in great shape due to his daily, two-hour workout regimen of weights and cardio. Because now he would have to carry Liv back to the beach and hope his people were still there in an hour.

  His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He quickly dug it out, seeing it was his ship’s captain
. About time.

  “Hello?” Roan said, but no one replied. “Hello?” Roen repeated several more times.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing with that?” said a strange male voice from behind him.

  Roen swiveled on his heel, finding the man he’d hit over the head earlier, accompanied by nine others. Unfortunately for him, they were all taller than his six-six height and probably double in muscle mass, which said a lot. Roen was no scrawny runt. Not that size could trump the razor-sharp machetes each man carried.

  “I’m guessing you’re not here to offer us welcome mai tais,” Roen said, while quickly assessing each man, trying to determine what he was dealing with.

  You’re in deep shit. That’s what you’re dealing with. The colossal men with long hair—some with dreads—wore nothing but black cloths around their waists. Some had elaborate black tribal tattoos—fish scales, sea monsters, tridents—over a good portion of their excessively ripped bodies. And from the ferocious look in their light eyes, they were not the sort to shy away from a little bloodshed.

  “Sorry,” said one of the men toward the back, “you missed cocktail hour.”

  Roen cracked his neck. “So then why the fuck are you here?”

  The man who’d attacked Liv scratched his bearded chin. “I asked you a question, pretty boy. Who said you were allowed to make calls from our island?”

  The men exchanged glances, grinning at each other.

  Pretty boy? Last time he’d checked, he was anything but that. A good-looking asshole maybe. Either way, who were these guys? Perhaps mercenaries paid to protect this island from intruders.

  In those outfits? Not likely.

  “Who’s asking?” Roen said, hoping to get some sort of clue as to what they wanted and intended to do—kill them, take them as prisoners, or send them on their way.

  “My name is Shane,” he answered with an evil gloating grin. “And you?”

  “I’m the guy who has no issues with you,” Roen said, “but could change his mind.”

  Shane glanced down at Liv. “Go ahead. Change your mind. Because someone attacked me, and you’re now in possession of our property.”