MERMADMEN (The Mermen Trilogy Book 2)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Funny, I thought Roen hated fish. Maybe he wanted to make an effort to change. Yeah, she could see him doing that. The man refused to be a slave to anything, including his fears.

  Except when those fears come to me. He refused to even look those fears in the eye.

  She walked around the aquatic wall, and the full view of the library came into focus. It was all one level that included a spacious sitting area with an old steam trunk for a coffee table, a worn, welcoming brown couch, and a very comfortable burgundy armchair angled toward a fireplace with a giant rusty anchor propped up on the mantle.

  No doubt a souvenir from some battle or ship they sank.

  She then turned her attention to the four aisles of shelves running to the back of a room the length of half a football field.

  Liv wandered down one of the center aisles, her eyes drinking in the floor-to-ceiling rows of thick books.

  You look fun. She plucked one off the shelf. It looked especially old with a faded light brown leather jacket and gold, hand-painted numbers on the spine.

  Liv opened to the front page, and the musty smell of old paper immediately hit her nose. Careful not to let the acid of her fingers touch any text, she gently flipped the pages by the corners until the word “Doran” caught her eye.

  Filled with a great rage, Segar Doran stood like a mighty oak, alone in the dark cold belly of the sacred mountain, a torch in one hand and lifeless mermaid at his feet. He wished to claw out his eyes. He wished to rip out his own heart. The creature before him had once been the most beautiful of females in all the world, with hair that flowed like golden ribbons and eyes the color of the deepest ocean. She had been his everything. She had been his mate.

  “Why? Why do you do this to us?” Segar wailed at the walls sweating with life-giving water. “Do not be a coward. Speak!”

  “You and I both know the reason, merman,” spoke the great voice of the island.

  “We will not drink the water,” he growled defiantly. “We will not bend to you. We prefer to die, leaving you to suffer a slow torturous death, infested by humans who will starve you with their greedy hearts.”

  It was what she deserved for having taken away their women, turning them into these ferocious sea creatures, these abominations of the night. For they had once been a beautiful people, like peacocks of the sea with flowing tails of every color and peace in their hearts. It was said they could control the sky above them and command the ocean around them, that they were loved by the Earth.

  Captivated by the story, Liv planted herself on the floor with her legs crossed. She wondered if this was the retelling of something that had actually happened or a made-up story. And if real, then where had their power gone? Had the island taken it?

  Now they were merely slaves—mad and weak.

  The island’s embittered laughter filled his ears. “Well, then, merman. I will continue to kill your mates. One by one. They will wash up on the shore so you may look upon their faces and be reminded of who truly holds all the power.”

  Segar had never been a man to hate. But he hated this place. He hated her—the island—with every fiber of his being. It was the reason he and his men had vowed to stop eating and stop drinking the sacred water that made them strong and live for hundreds of years.

  “Why do you do this to us?” he said.

  “Because you attempted to leave me unprotected,” she spat. “And my survival is far more important than your need for sex or female companionship.”

  “They are our mates. They are everything to us.” But she already knew that. It was why the island changed their women in the first place. It was why she made the sun poisonous to their skin and eyes—for where could they swim away to when the island’s underwater caves were the only shelter from the sun for a thousand miles. The waters of this island had become their women’s prison and, sea creatures or not, the men would never leave their mates.

  “I have already met with the elders,” Segar said, “and we have decided that if we cannot live as free men with our mates, we choose death.”

  Segar had already begun to feel the effects of not drinking the island’s sacred water. His body felt tired and black spots had begun to appear on his skin. Death would come swiftly now. However, he was far too old to care and far too weary of seeing his people suffer. Now that his mate had died, he had no reason to go on.

  Segar carefully lifted the creature with smooth black skin and long tendrils of dark seaweed-like hair and held her cold body tightly against his. “I’m sorry, my love, that I couldn’t save you. But the island will pay for her sins. Someday, she will pay for the pain she’s caused us all. I swear it.”

  He turned toward the jagged mouth of the cavern that led outside into the forest.

  “Wait. Perhaps we can reach a compromise,” said the voice of the island.

  “Those are stories written about our deceased elders,” said an oh-so-sensually masculine voice.

  Liv’s pulse spiked. “Jeez, you scared me.” Or was her heart racing because Roen now stood in the room, his sensual scent filling the air?

  Definitely Roen, she thought while her chest tightened along with every erogenous zone in her body.

  Liv looked up to find six and half or so feet of endless ropes of glistening, bronzed muscles on full display in his usual distracting “nothing of an outfit”—a strip of suede around his lower torso, long enough to reach mid-thigh. She really wished he’d start wearing clothing that didn’t make her want to light some candles, sacrifice a helpless creature, and throw herself at his feet every time he entered a room.

  Uh, you feel the same way when he’s in a suit, Liv.

  Then there was her heart. It fluttered and danced with joy every time she thought of him. Don’t, Liv. He doesn’t love you back. He doesn’t want this.

  She instantly felt her mood sour.

  “There are more translated texts,” he said, “in the next aisle over.” He flicked his thumb to his right and then held out his large, inviting hand to help her up. She stared at it for a moment, remembering how warm it was and the things it had done to her body.

  Come on, Liv. Don’t torture yourself.

  She closed the book in her hands with a loud thwap! and popped from the floor on her own. “Will any of them explain why you insist on wearing such skimpy clothes?”

  He dropped his hand, his eyes noting the rejection, while his mouth formed a teasingly sensual smile. “To tempt the ladies, of course. Glad to see my strategy is working.”

  She arched an irritated brow.

  He shrugged those broad, naked, smooth shoulders. “Sounded more appealing than the truth—we live here alone most of the time and considering our tolerance to the cold, we don’t need clothes.”

  “Are you trying to say you all hate doing laundry?”

  “Exactly.”

  “We wear these,” he looked down at his suede, “burn them, and order more when we run out.”

  That was so manlike. “Then why not go around naked?”

  “We’re not savages, Liv.”

  Again, she threw a raised brow his way.

  “All right. Perhaps we are. However, full nudity is reserved for fighting. Or sex. But usually fighting since most of us prefer women and there aren’t many of those around here.”

  “So showing your penis is equivalent to throwing down the gauntlet. Does size come into play?” She had to ask.

  “Are you asking if we’re intimidated if the other man has a larger penis?”

  She nodded.

  “You must think us shallow.”

  Yep.

  “Fine,” he said. “Yes. A larger penis may create doubt in the opponent’s mind.” He shrugged. “What can I say? We are men. Mermen.”

  And there wasn’t a woman on the planet who wouldn’t feel somewhat intimidated or awed in their presence because of that.

  “What about the red, black, and suede?” she asked.

  “A tradition handed down for many generations. Animal s
kin was harder to come by due to the lack of animal life here—I think our early ancestors ate them all. So only the leader and elders were allowed to wear it. Red signifies those who have yet to find mates, and black means they have found someone.”

  Liv covered her mouth in horror. “Oh God.” All of the men she’d seen who wore black sarongs had women who’d been turned into creatures.

  “They wear the black in honor of their mates,” he added.

  Liv imagined it was symbolic of death and of mourning.

  “Are the colors they wear any indicator of who’s going to side with you?” The moment the question sprang from her lips, she remembered that Shane wore black and he didn’t side with Roen on anything.

  “No. This is why the meeting with the elders took so long.”

  “What was the outcome?” she asked, hesitant to hear any more bad news.

  “They are all familiar with the scriptures—” he flicked his thumb to the aisle to his left this time “—and everyone agrees that the wheels are in motion as predicted with only two possible outcomes.”

  Liv remembered two of the men discussing some sort of prophecy triggered by Roen’s arrival. They didn’t seem aligned, however, on which outcome would prevail. Their healer Holden, a Harvard graduate and doctor, believed if the men stuck together, they’d be freed and their mates would be brought back. Jason believed it signified the beginning of the end.

  Liv shook her head. “What do you believe?”

  “That our next move must be thought out carefully and war among us should be avoided at all costs. We can only win this if we remain united. I also think that being in the same room with you is driving me foking mad.”

  He stepped in close and wrapped his strong arm around her waist, holding her to him. She gazed up into those shimmering green eyes filled with lust, knowing she should push him away after everything he’d said, but that wasn’t going to happen. Her lips craved his kiss, like her heart craved his love.

  Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, and the restrained kiss immediately sent steamy shockwaves through her body. She slid her arms to his broad shoulders, her hands taking their time to caress every bulging ripple on the way up. Meanwhile, his hot tongue glided between her lips and stroked her in the most sinful manner, each movement—a push forward and slow pull back—mimicking what their bodies wanted.

  The entire room filled with that strange buzzing sensation, and she leaned into him, letting the warmth and spicy smell of his body envelop her senses. Everything about Roen felt so right, so good, so irresistible. She just couldn’t help feeling lost in him and wanting more. So much more.

  Roen effortlessly lifted her by the waist, and she wrapped her legs around him, hiking up her dress in the process. He carried her back toward the sitting area, their mouths locked together in a fiery mess, their surroundings melting away. They could be anywhere right now, and it wouldn’t change a thing. They could only see and hear and feel each other.

  Roen slowly lowered Liv onto the soft brown couch in front of the fireplace, leaving her sitting up so he could kneel between her bare legs—bare everything. She wore no undergarments, leaving her completely exposed to him.

  He broke away from her mouth and slid his hot tongue down the length of her neck, stopping at the base to suck the sensitive skin. She threaded her fingers into his soft, caramel brown hair, and his hand moved to her breast, softly kneading and cupping the tender mound, instantly making the nipple pucker into a tight little bead.

  When Roen’s sinful mouth moved to that delicious spot between her shoulder and neck, she felt him scrape his teeth against the skin. Liv instinctually froze. Roen had bit her hard once in the throes of passion. He’d said he couldn’t help himself. This time, however, Roen bit down softly, like any man might, and the sensation was too sensual to make him stop.

  His warm, rough hand slowly slid down her body, making its way to her inner thigh, where the tips of his thick fingers made tiny strokes, back and forth, over the sensitive skin just centimeters from her hot slick entrance.

  What was he trying to do to her?

  She nudged her hips toward his teasing hand in a silent plea to end the torture, but he denied the contact she hungered for, pulling his hand slightly back.

  She let out a helpless little whimper and rubbed the inside of her right knee and thigh against his hip. “What are you waiting for, Roen?” She panted her words.

  His biting, licking mouth broke away from her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you. You need to be ready for me,” he said in a husky low voice, his hot breath tickling her skin as he spoke.

  “I’m ready,” she panted. “I’m ready.”

  He pulled away, placing his free hand on her cheek, his thumb pushing and rubbing her lower lip while he stared into her eyes with an animalistic hunger. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He moved his other thumb to her entrance, circling and teasing, before sliding it up and down, spreading her wetness over the delicate, tingling flesh.

  Oh, God. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “You like that, don’t you, Liv? You like it when I touch you.” He possessively watched her wordless reply—her accelerated breathing, her eyes, her parted wet lips—as he expertly teased the tiny bundle of nerves ready to explode.

  “Yes.” She threw back her head, unable to stand the torture any further.

  “I’m the only man who can make you feel this good. Because you’re mine, Liv. Don’t ever forget that.” He then sharply thrust his thick fingers into her, and when her head snapped down, he smothered her gasp with a hot, demanding kiss. With each hard push of his fingers, his thumb continued working her throbbing bud while his tongue and mouth drank in her escalating cries of pleasure.

  By now, he had to realize she was ready. She had been from the moment he’d entered the room. She always felt ready for him. Always.

  “Damn, you’re so wet,” he said between searing hot kisses, “and ready for me.”

  Their tongues continued dancing wildly together, as if they couldn’t get enough of each other’s taste and touch; meanwhile their bodies moved in a wild sexual rhythm.

  What’s he waiting for? Oh God, I need him. She reached for his sides, trying to pull the two of them together, burning for more than just his fingers. She wanted to feel the girth of his silky, rock-hard shaft working into her, answering the call of every erotic pulse and throb deep inside her with his thrusting, pounding cock. She wanted to feel his velvety moist head buried deep, pushing against her until it hurt, until he could go no further. She wanted to experience the delicious twitching of his hard flesh releasing his cum inside her walls. The animalistic need burned through her, consuming any rational thoughts with its raging fire.

  “Please, Roen. Fuck me,” she said. “I’m begging you.” He answered her request by removing his fingers, gripping her firmly by the hips, and pulling her sharply forward on the couch, positioning the wet, heated juncture between her legs exactly where he needed.

  He once again sucked and licked his way down her neck and gently bit while grinding his erection against her, denying her body what it agonized for.

  “Is this what you want?” His voice was gruff and filled with the promise of hard, hot fucking if she simply pleased him with the right words.

  Did he want her to beg? Because she would. “Please. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

  “That’s good. Because my kind can go all night, and I plan to fuck you until you’re weak and raw and can’t take anymore. And then you’ll thank me by sucking my cock until I’ve spilled every last drop of cum left in my body.” He reached for the knot at his waist. “Now, open your legs nice and wide for me.”

  His raw, explicit words sparked erotic images in her mind of the two of them wringing every last ounce of pleasure from each other’s bodies. It nearly sent her over the edge.

  She did as she was told, spreading her thighs, her most intimate flesh opened to him, ready to accept anything he could dish out. Just as long as
he gave her what she needed and ended her agony. Her body felt like it was covered in firecracker fuses, each one lit, spitting out sparks of torturous yearning, but failing to make it home to deliver that grand explosion.

  Ohmygod. This is insane. If his touches and kisses alone could make her feel this sinfully tormented, she could only imagine the ecstasy of having him inside her. And it all felt so different from before, a thousand times more powerful than when they’d almost been together. It was like her love for him had only fueled her physical attraction. But did he know? Did he understand that this was so much more than simple lust? And that her body only responded to him like this because he’d won her heart?

  “Roen, I…” When she pulled her mouth away, she suddenly noticed how his half-mast gaze also held something more. Yes, something had changed in Roen’s temperament, too. She then realized he hadn’t been mauling her with his insatiable lust, like before. He hadn’t been trying to tear away her clothes in order to fuck like ravenous animals. His touch was still passionate and everything dominating she knew a man like him had to be, but he’d been holding back, making sure this moment wasn’t wasted or ruined by his primal desires.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded, too overrun with emotions to speak.

  “Good. Because I don’t want you to have any regrets, Liv. Not when it comes to me.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Oh God. I love him so much. I can’t do this. I can’t. She couldn’t keep going when it would only make her love him more.

  “Roen, I don’t want this.”

  “I won’t hurt you. I can control my urges. Except one. I need you. I need to be inside you.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “It’s not enough, Roen.” She maneuvered around his kneeling body to stand. She wouldn’t be able to say what was in her heart with their skin touching. “I love you. And I know you think it’s not real or some effect of being mates, but I know I love you. If we sleep together, I won’t be able to let go.”

  His head fell forward, and he ran his hands through his mussed hair. “I don’t think this confrontation will end well. I feel it in my gut.” She knew he referred to the brewing fight.