Sins Against the Sea

by Nina Mason

  As she climbed the stairs, she hoped things with Kew-in would work out. Her logical mind couldn’t see the way, but her reason wasn’t in charge right now. Her heart was. All her life, she’d rejected that part of herself, rejected the magic in the world, and now she wanted to believe in it more than anything. Her scientific approach to life had never brought her happiness, so she was more than ready to embrace the wondrous and unexplainable for a change.

  Upstairs, Corey found Kew-in in the kitchen, looking inside the refrigerator. He lifted his head as she came in. “How did it go?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Aye.”

  As she made him a tuna sandwich, she filled him in on the plan.

  After he’d eaten, she kissed him, tasting fish. Kew-in returned the kiss and ran his hands up and down her back in a motion that reminded her of waves lapping the shore. It felt good to be in his arms. So good and so right. Yet, they were from two different worlds. To be together, he would have to give up everything he’d known before.

  Tell me about your world under the sea.

  His tongue swept into her mouth and clashed with hers in a tuna-flavored battle.

  What do you wish to know?

  Start with how it looks and go from there.

  I live in a beautiful city inside a cave under the Charmed Isles. The dwellings are built mainly of pebbles, coral, and driftwood, and, because of the dynaflagelites, everything, even the walls of the cave, emits a soft blue-green glow. At the center is the ruin of a castle that slid into the sea centuries ago. The warriors moved it, stone by stone, and rebuilt it inside the cave. The castle belongs to Murtagh, the chieftain of our clan. Since my father died, I have lived there with him and his son, Shan, my closest friend.

  Won’t you miss them if you don’t return?

  Aye, but I will miss you more if I do.

  How can you be sure of that?

  I know because I cared for another woman once—the breeding Nic who claimed me last springtide—and I felt like a crab with a missing claw after returning to my people.

  His words punched her heart with such force she found it hard to breathe. Breaking free of his mouth, she looked down at him with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Kew-in. Are you still in love with her?”

  “I might be, were she still alive,” he said with sadness in his eyes, “but she crossed over giving birth to my son. They both did.”

  She brushed his hair back from his face. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Death is a part of the cycle of life,” he said calmly. “Their souls will be reborn. Just as your father’s will.”

  The mention of her dad tore at her heart. She could keep her head in the sand no longer. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with the sinking of Nautilus.”

  “I wondered when this might come up…and why it had not before now.” He held her gaze. “I will not lie to you, Cordelia. I was there and, though I felt pity for him, I could do nothing to help. To do so is a capital offense in my culture. Any warrior who helps a human marked for death is impaled upon his own trident and left for the sharks to feed upon.”

  She cringed at the image of his skewered body being torn to pieces by man-eating sharks. “How awful!”

  “But also necessary to promote obedience.”

  For reasons she could not comprehend, she didn’t hate him for the role he played in her father’s death. Her dad had to have known what Conch intended to do with the submarine drilling platform. How could he have designed it otherwise? In her mind, that made him a coward at best and a willing accomplice at worst. He’d conspired with his employers to harm the sea and break the law—crimes he’d paid for with his life.

  Kew-in might be a barbarian, but at least he fought for his principles, which was more than anyone could say for her dad.

  Taking the merman’s hand, she led him upstairs to the bedroom they’d slept in the night before. Lying on the bed, she urged him to join her. When he did, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over so he was on top. She locked her legs around his hips and tangled her fingers in his hair. She rubbed her pelvis against his, denim to denim, pleased to find him ready.

  I want you inside me.

  I want that, too.

  Rolling off her, he sat up and stripped off his T-shirt, exposing his magnificent torso to her view. Tossing the shirt aside, he began to unfasten his fly. She stopped him with a hand.

  “Lie back,” she said, “and let me.”

  When he did as she bade, she straddled his thighs and, holding his scorching, heavy-lidded gaze, freed the metal buttons of his fly one by one. Reaching between the separated halves, she closed her fingers around his erection.

  His breath caught and he gave her a sexy half grin that unleashed a flood of desire in her own jeans. That mouth, those eyes, and that hair. He wasn’t just handsome; he was a miracle of nature—a living, breathing demigod.

  And, even better, he was hers. Or would be if they could find the magic herb that would allow him to stay on land.

  She ran her free hand over the sculpted terrain of his chest. He smiled again and flexed his hips, reminding her of the treasure in her hand. Taking his left nipple between her fingers, she teased it to hardness as she stroked and squeezed his sex. His mouth formed a circle and a breath shuddered out of him.

  Do you like that?

  Oh, aye. Very much.

  Letting him go, she moved lower, tugging down his jeans as she went. As his member popped free, she bent over him and took him into her mouth. His smooth skin tasted of saltwater. As she teased him with her mouth, her own arousal increased in step with his.

  Stop, Cordelia.

  She immediately let go and sat up. She took a moment to admire him. He really was an impressive specimen.

  He seized her by the waist and dragged her closer before pushing his long, webbed fingers under her sweater. His hands felt surprisingly soft and warm. Taking hold of both her breasts, he ran his thumbs over the nipples, provoking an onrush of moisture between her legs.

  After he’d teased her into a state of desperation, he told her to raise her arms, which she did. Off came her sweater, exposing her bra to his view. He reclined, taking her with him. Her hair tumbled around his head in a wild mass of auburn tendrils. His hands were on her ass, kneading and squeezing. She was sitting directly atop his sex, which pressed deliciously against her own. Bearing down, she circled her hips. Climbing off him and the bed, she peeled off her jeans and stripped off his before throwing a leg over him. The feeling of fulfillment she experienced when she took him into her was nothing short of divine.

  You feel good, Kew-in.

  As do you, Cordelia.

  Placing his hands on her hips, he held her there and pushed up, burying himself still deeper. Sublime sensation radiated through every nerve in her body.

  Do that again.

  He grinned lazily as he obliged.

  Moaning, she threw back her head, her hair tumbling down her back, and very slowly rose off him, stopping when they remained connected by only the merest measure. Then, she plunged downward, taking all of him into her again.

  She held out her hands and he gave her his. Gripping them as tightly as his webbing allowed, she began to move, up, down. Up, down. His eyes burned with passion, his breathing grew ragged, and he started thrusting up to meet her when she reached the bottom, giving her a boost. They picked up speed. Up, down. Up, down. Damn, this felt good.

  Their gazes were locked, their breathing equally heavy and labored. They were a team, working together in blissful harmony. When he seemed to be close, he freed one of his hands and pressed a finger against her clit. The finger stayed with her, circling and flicking, as she rode him like a seahorse. Someone had trained this merman very well, and she was grateful to whoever it was.

  As they both drew nearer to their climaxes, she studied his face, overwhelmed by a sense of wonder. This was magical. He was magical. And he was hers. The elation the thought inspired pushed
her to the breaking point. She cried out as pleasure exploded through her body. Grasping her hips, he held her down and drove into her again and again and again, before finally lifting her off of him. As he spilled himself with an unearthly cry, she fell down on him and peppered the sweat-salted skin of his face and neck with grateful kisses.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cuan awoke with a jolt, relieved to find Cordelia was still in his arms with her beautiful auburn hair fanned out across his chest. In the dream he’d been having, she had disappeared and he was searching for her in unknown waters, where he met a full-blooded Finmaid who was about to tell him how to counteract Finfolk vanishing magic. The dream had seemed very real, and he was almost sure it was another premonition.

  He pulled her closer and sniffed her hair, smelling the sea. Soon, she would be his home. He only needed to find a spae-woman who could provide the magic weed to keep his tail from growing back. Then, he could stay with her in that cottage by the sea they’d talked about.

  Perhaps this cottage would do. He liked Ronay well enough. Once the oil was cleaned up, there would be plenty to eat and no people around. Only his half-human wife and their children, if she gave him any. He hoped she would in time, but, if they should have sons, he’d have to give them some of the same magic weed he’d taken or lose them to the clan.

  Cordelia.

  She moved atop his chest and made a small, sleepy sound.

  Please, wake up. There are things I must say to you before we set off for Lochmaddy.

  She rolled her head against his chest and made a smacking noise. What time is it?

  He did not know the hour, only that the sun had not yet risen. A glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was just after four o’clock, which he, in turn, told her.

  She yawned and rubbed his chest, which felt nice. “Do we have time to fool around before we get up?”

  “Aye, but first I need to tell you the story of Gille-Gorm and Kerling, so you will know how to call me from the sea.”

  She pushed up on her arms and kissed his mouth, kindling the desire to be inside her again. That, however, could wait. If the dream was a premonition, her knowing how to call him from the sea was more important.

  “Their story took place in Kintail on the Black Isle in the fourteenth century. Kerling was the daughter of the Laird of Lovat, who ruled the clan of that land. Kerling was beautiful, independent, and, as a priestess to the mother goddess, was well-schooled in magic. Owing to her beauty, many men wanted Kerling, but she took up with a barn man who, though handsome, was beneath her station. When her father forbade them to marry, Kerling hid her heart and bided her time. When she came of age, she married her lover, estranging herself from all of her friends and relations. Soon enough, she came to learn she had made the sacrifice in vain. For the barn man, who cared only for Kerling’s money, treated her like a servant. Dissatisfied by her husband’s neglect, she decided to take a lover—only she wanted a merrow warrior instead of a human man to fill the role.”

  She kissed his chest and teased his nipple between her fingers. “I can see why.”

  Though her affection both pleased and tempted him, he needed to finish the story. “Early one morning, Kerling went down to the shore by the Sound of Sleat and climbed a rock at the high-tide mark, whereupon she shed seven tears into the sea and said these words:

  “Hear me, Blue Man, hear my call!

  Seven tears I have let fall.

  Salty ocean, salty tears,

  Come to me, I have no fears!

  Stormy ocean, stormy hearts

  We shall play our destined parts!”

  He licked his lips before asking, “Are you awake enough to remember that?”

  “I think so.”

  “It’s important, Cordelia. If we ever become separated, you must know how to summon me so that I can find you. You must cry exactly seven tears into the sea and say the words that Kerling said, substituting my name for Blue Man in the first line. If you do not address your summons directly to me, any of my kind within hearing will answer the call. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I must cry seven tears, say the words, and address the summons specifically to you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you will know where I am and come to me, even if I’m on the other side of the world?”

  “Aye, but let us hope you are not on the other side of the world or it will take me a very long time to answer your call, if I am able to do so at all. For without a tail, I will have to travel as humans do, which will require money, documentation, and skills I do not have.”

  “We can take care of those things in time, Kew-in. I have my dad’s money, which will last us a few years, and I will teach you about planes, trains, cars, and anything else you might need to know to navigate the human world.” She stroked his chest. “Now, finish your story so we can make love again.”

  Through a luminous smile, he said, “When the first light of dawn turned the waters gray, Gille-Gorm emerged from the waves and swam toward her. When he reached her rock, she told him she wanted him for her lover. He was amenable to the idea and promised to return on Ostara, when he took on human form. True to his word, he came that first springtide and many thereafter.”

  “Mrs. MacLeod said he left the sea for her.”

  “He did, eventually, and within a few years was made constable of Eilean Donnan, a Highland castle, and over-chief of the Allies of the West—the sworn enemies of Kerling’s father, who never forgave his daughter’s defiance. One day, Lord Lovat’s clan attacked the ridge where Gille-Gorm had camped for the night, slaying all his men and mortally wounding their leader. Kerling, who was heavy with his child by then, tried to save her lover with her magic petals, but before she could succeed, the Frasers took her prisoner. Gille-Gorm died of his wounds and, when their child was born, the Frasers broke the baby’s back, turning him into a cripple.”

  “My God. How despicable.”

  “Aye, it was,” he agreed. “Though no more despicable than what my mother’s husband did to her…or what the MacLeod’s of Skye did to the MacDonalds…or what the MacDonalds of Uist did to get their revenge…or what humans do to the ocean on a daily basis.”

  * * * *

  A knock on the door downstairs brought Corey’s head off Kew-in’s chest. Assuming it must be MacInnes come to collect them for the trip to the cove, she climbed out of bed, pulled on her robe, and bounded downstairs. When she pulled open the door, the hard fist of fear punched her in the stomach. There stood Finlay Trowbridge, looking displeased.

  “There you are.”

  Still tingling from the shock, she scowled at him. “Where did you expect me to be?”

  “I expected you to answer your bloody phone, as does Mr. Blackwell. Or, to at least check your goddamned voicemail once in a while.”

  Corey licked her lips. “How am I supposed to do that when there’s no signal here?”

  “You’re supposed to be resourceful and find a way.”

  Fighting the urge to tender her resignation on the spot, she said, “Can you please get to the point and tell me why Peter is trying to reach me?”

  “The captain of Ketos is awake and Mr. Blackwell has called a press conference at the command center. He wants you there to handle things and conduct the briefing.”

  Stunned, Corey gaped at him for a moment before saying, “I thought he was the spokesperson now.”

  “Only when it suits him, lass, which this doesn’t.” Trowbridge grinned, a disturbing prospect. “So, get your clothes on and get yourself to Benbecula lickity-split.”

  Insides aflame, Corey slammed the door in his face before hurrying into the kitchen, where she’d left her phone on the charger. Her already pounding blood pressure escalated as she listened to her message from Peter. He started by telling her what she already knew—that Captain Armstrong was awake and carrying on like a madman about mermen being the cause of the accident.

  “I need you to get here a.s.a.p.,” he co
ntinued. “Armstrong’s crazy story is the ticket we need to draw media attention away from our culpability. If we can show that he’s a raving lunatic, we can pin this whole thing on him.”

  Corey was astonished and appalled, but probably shouldn’t have been. This was no more than another game of Chinese fire drill atop a rollercoaster. Little did he know, Captain Armstrong’s rantings were true. Blue mermen had driven Ketos into the rocks. Not that she was about to disclose that fascinating little tidbit to anyone.

  Shit. What was she going to do?

  She wasn’t quite ready to either fold her hand or put her cards on the table—and wouldn’t be until they found a way to counteract the magic concealing the unlawful drilling platform.

  Her thoughts skimmed from her job to Kew-in to MacInnes. Delaying the trip to the cove would be easy. Once MacInnes learned there was to be a press conference, he’d high-tail it to Benbecula without a moment’s hesitation.

  What to do about the merman in her bed was tougher to solve. She could neither take Kew-in with her nor leave him at the cottage. As much as she hated the idea of sending him back to the cave, it seemed her only option. There was no telling how long she’d be stuck at the command center, and Mrs. McLeod was sure to return with provisions. What might the poor woman think or do if she found Kew-in alone at the cottage? Especially if he asked her about the herb he needed to stay on land.

  Besieged by competing worries, Corey checked the signal on her phone. Miraculously, there were three bars. She called Peter first and told him she’d get there as soon as she could. Then, she got dressed and went to find MacInnes, who was waiting for her on the beach.

  “There’s been a slight change of plans,” she told him. “I’ve been asked to hold a press conference—to paint the captain as a lunatic and lay the blame for this whole mess at his door.”