An Elemental Tail

by Shona Husk

  “Do you want to get coffee?”

  Isla glanced up at the clock. She was tempted. One coffee, a simple thank you for stepping in even though he didn’t have to. Only Sarah had ever helped her. “I can’t, I really have to go to work.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed his features like a summer rain shower. He nodded and smiled. “Maybe next time.”

  Chapter Four

  Her bright red satchel bumped against her hip as Nik let her go. She had piqued his interest, and not just because she possessed his tail. After four centuries of being a lumbering land dweller, that was no small achievement. He waited, then from a discreet distance followed. He didn’t want to lose sight of the book or the storm-eyed woman. Nik pulled the cap out of his pocked and twisted his hair underneath. If he was going to stalk Storm-eyes, he would have to be unmemorable.

  But he wasn’t. Her thoughts rippled over his skin in tightening waves of desire each time she slipped her hand into her bag to caress the crimson flesh of the book. His body responded as if her hand were on him, sliding over his skin. Heat slithered over him and nestled in his pants. This time he didn’t have to fight it. She’d had ninety minutes to indulge; it was only fair he now got a turn. She stole his breath with each casual brush of her fingers, and she had no idea what she was doing to him. And what he would like to do to her in return. As Nik trailed her, he awaited her next caress. The next look into her being. Beneath her yearning, a dark, silent undercurrent moved. Regret. She’d wanted to accept his offer, not realizing coffee was an excuse to get her alone so he could take back his tail.

  She moved with ease, never touching another person in the crowd as she left the building and made her away across campus. In the open space, people moved slower. It would be easy to brush past, steal her bag, and then disappear. Storm-eyes turned a corner. He shadowed her, his lips curling at the game of dolphin and sardine. He didn’t want to end the game, not yet. As long as he kept his eye on the woman with the book, he couldn’t lose.

  An idea nibbled at the corner of his conscience, an affliction he’d developed while passing as human, quashing his rising desire. If he took the book from her, the only record of her attendance would be lost. He’d seen Mr. Gardner mark her absent even though she had clearly been there. Her teacher was up to no good. Nik took another step, then stopped and scowled at her retreating back. This game wasn’t simple, and he couldn’t force her into Mr. Gardner’s net.

  Light rain began to fall. His own element was mocking his inability to act, to take back what was his. He should’ve been able to feel the storm coming; instead he was trailing after the woman who held his tail while water slicked down the back of his neck. Thunder rolled across the sky and the clouds darkened, ready to release more trapped water.

  Storm-eyes paused and glanced over her shoulder. Nik melted into the shadows that climbed the wall, his breath tight, willing her not to see him. As the first fat drops of the real storm fell she looked up, her lips moving. Then, like every other person caught out, she ran for shelter. He let her disappear, remaining where he was, the bricks cold against his back, staring after her.

  He thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and glared up at the turbulent clouds, sure he could see the faces of other Elementals laughing at him but unable to hear their mocking cries. Unable to join the elements, unable to be human. He closed his eyes and tipped his face to the rain.

  ****

  Nik leaned against the solitary tree, his gaze focused on the second-floor window of the college dormitory. The breeze whispered through the movement of the leaves in a language he no longer spoke. The longest four days of his extended and unnatural human life had crawled past. Now, he counted down the hours until the next class to stay sane. He checked his watch. Two hours then he would be able to see her in the flesh.

  Time had no meaning to an Elemental. To a human it ruled everything, a lesson he had been slow to learn. His first few years stuck as a human had been abysmal. Human bodies needed sleep and warmth and food. His favorite island had become a prison, the ocean a barrier he couldn’t cross. He’d had to relearn how to swim with legs instead of a tail, or being fluid itself. Sharks no longer feared him; they saw him as a potential meal. By the time he’d escaped the island, the book had changed hands.

  He hadn’t wasted the days between classes. He’d learned her full name, Isla Williams, and where she lived. He’d almost convinced himself he was doing it for the love of his tail. A few careful questions, and he had found out she was here on a scholarship. Non-attendance to practical classes meant failure.

  The teacher was blackmailing Isla.

  His lips twitched, and he shook his head. Definitely too human. He was starting to give a damn about the woman who stood between him and returning to water.

  The light in her room went out. Isla was off to her first class of the day. Nik eased away from the tree. He had a few things to do before he was required for her life drawing class. Heat shimmied down his back as she caressed the book again. She’d handled his tail at what felt like every opportunity, her emotions pushing against his until he wasn’t sure who was feeling what. If the weekend were any indication, it would take more than thoughts of plankton to keep his dignity intact.

  ****

  The model lay on his stomach this time. Acres of unblemished skin stretched taut over broad shoulders, tapered at his waist, curved over his buttocks. Muscles didn’t come without work. He was, or had been, a swimmer. He was too lean for anything else. Isla ran her fingers over the page, smooth and firm. In her mind it was his skin. The sunlight gave him a pale glow like a luminescent deep sea creature. Delicate, yet tough enough to survive the pressure of life at the bottom of the ocean. Images drifted past in her imagination, blurring with the body on display. She saw a series of works, of the man and ocean creatures fused, blended.

  His back flexed as he coughed.

  Isla’s pencil rested unmoving in her hand. She refocused on the jumble of shadows on the page, as if by not drawing the model’s beauty she wouldn’t be drawn to him. Testing her self-imposed limits. She could look and draw, but never touch.

  She worked quickly; she needed as many sketches as possible. The crimson-haired model would form the basis of her work. Researching the creatures would come later. She wanted the weird, unknown ones. Ones whose only beauty was in their shape. The perfect critter floated past her eyes like a dust mote. Something she’d seen in high school biology. Microscopic, like snowflakes, but the name eluded her. She’d have to go through the textbooks on her shelves.

  A hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t sensed Mr. Gardner sneak up.

  “Interesting. What exactly are you drawing?”

  Her heartbeat doubled, the nails of her left hand pressing into the leather cover of the book. She shouldn’t be giving him excuses to talk to her.

  Before she could answer, he ran his finger down the edge of the pages. “Strange book for a student. Expensive.”

  Anger welled inside her. He was touching her book.

  “It was a gift.” Her throat closed on the rest. Saying Sarah was dead was still too much, the loss too raw to be put into something as fleeting as words.

  He grunted but didn’t move on.

  Isla forced out a breath and put pencil to page. Her hand was stiff under the unwanted and unneeded supervision. With more detail, the drawing emerged like a surfacing whale. The curve of his shoulder, the crook of his arm, a shadow where his face was hidden. A bubble of satisfaction popped in her stomach and sent its glow rushing through her blood.

  “See, I drew the shadows first. I wanted to try something different. I read about the technique.”

  Jealousy and distaste scored Mr. Gardner’s features. “My offer is withdrawn.” He snapped as if it were Isla threatening him. “You can’t make up any of the classes you’ve missed.”

  Sweet relief pumped through her veins instead of blood. She hadn’t missed enough t
o affect her scholarship, and she was no longer fighting unwelcome advances. She had won. She bit her lip to keep from grinning as her finger stroked the edge of the leather book cover. Her lucky charm.

  With renewed enthusiasm, she changed pencils and started a new drawing. Her eye trained only on the shadows and the way they filled the dimples at the back of his hips. The shapes his vertebrae cast on his back. Her hand wondered what the bony bumps would feel like beneath her palm.

  The play of light and dark consumed the rest of the class until the partial body on the page looked like it would stretch and wake. For a moment she let the illusion take over. While she’d drawn plenty of nude men, she’d never had a man. What would it be like to have a man in her bed? To fall asleep safe in someone’s arms and wake with the person there? To have someone who cared, who wanted her to succeed instead of cutting her down?

  Caught in her dream, she packed away slowly, moving as if she were underwater. She watched him as he eased up with no trace of stiffness from lying motionless. He ran his hand down his side where four red crescents marked his skin. She turned the book over: four nail-marks dented the cover. She rubbed them with her thumb; she hadn’t meant to damage the book. A frown formed. Isla returned her gaze to the model, but he was already robed. She shook her head. She was imagining things. The model caught her watching and gave her a smile that was meant for her alone.

  Her cheeks burned brighter than his crimson hair, giving away her true feelings like she’d whispered them in his ear. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t think about him. She’d never seen a man do anything but take over. Her mother’s life was always dictated by her latest boyfriend’s wants, her kids picking up the scraps of attention and fighting for them like starving puppies. She’d traded her mother’s control for college and the demands of the scholarship, an exchange she was happy to make. Now the model was taking over her thoughts as well as her book.

  Isla ducked out of the room and into the eddy of students moving between classes. Two sets of eyes watched her go. One scored her flesh with tightly leashed anger; the other caressed with an interest she shared, but wanted to deny. Both men were an obstacle to be climbed over.

  ****

  Isla’s daydreams invaded her life when the model turned up at her work for dinner again. He sat fully clothed in black at a corner table reading the morning’s newspaper. Isla smoothed her apron and fished out her notepad. He wouldn’t recognize her, but he was unforgettable, and not just because of his brilliantly colored hair falling over his shoulders in a curtain of red and black shot through with turquoise.

  She approached the table and cleared her throat. “Hi, would you like me to run through the specials or are you ready to order?”

  “I know what I want.” He raised his gaze and pulled his eyebrows together. “But what is an art student doing here?”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. He did remember. Those smiles hadn’t been imagined, or meant for someone else. They were for her. Inside she melted, but to him she presented a cool façade as if all the charm in the world would leave her unmoved.

  “I’m practicing for when I finish my degree.” Waitressing was where everyone thought she’d end up. But Isla had bigger plans. She wasn’t only a fine arts major.

  His lips curved in a lush smile that turned her ankles to water and threatened to send her sprawling to the floor. Get a grip, Isla. She was able to hold his overly familiar gaze because she didn’t have to imagine him naked; she knew what lay beneath his clothes.

  He laughed, the gentle bubbling of spring water, breaking the tension of the moment. “This is a little uncomfortable. You’ve seen me naked, and now I am at a disadvantage.”

  “And I have the drawings to prove it.” The words slipped out as she basked in the playful banter.

  He placed the newspaper down and leaned forward. “So how do I even the playing field?”

  Isla raised one eyebrow at the blatant suggestion. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Nik.” He offered his hand.

  She hesitated for a second then shook his hand. Sarah had instilled manners and grace where her mother had failed. His skin was cool and smooth, but behind the casual shake was an iron grip. “Don’t you want to know mine?”

  “It’s on your name tag, Isla.”

  She shifted, as if her well-worn shoes were suddenly uncomfortable. Of course it was. The order was taking too long, and she had other tables to attend to. She tapped her notepad with her pen.

  Nik got the hint. “Coffee and a piece of the most deadly cake you have.”

  “Healthy.” And not what she’d expected him to order. There was nowhere for the calories to hide on his body.

  “Everyone deserves a night off.”

  Did she imagine the glint in his black eyes and the lowering of his voice? She didn’t wait to find out. She took off with his order, her body jumping with instincts she’d spent her teenaged years suppressing. She didn’t meet his eyes when she returned with his coffee and a large piece of white chocolate and raspberry gateaux. But her body was aware of every move he made and the lazy way his eyes followed her around the restaurant as she worked.

  This time of night, customers were either picking over the remains of dessert or heading home hand-in-hand. She threw herself into scrubbing down tables, working ever closer to Nik.

  “There’s a twenty-four-hour coffee shop over the road. Can I take you out for a drink?” He asked like it was the most natural question in the world.

  Isla stopped wiping the table next to his. It was the cleanest table in the room. She opened her mouth to refuse. His words resurfaced in her mind. One night off. Why not? “Sure. Then you can tell me how you ended up in my class and at my work.” As flattering as it was, it was too coincidental he was turning up wherever she was.

  ****

  Nik placed the cups on the tiny table in the coffee shop and sat down opposite of Isla. He’d only planned to check on her, to see if she was at work tonight. Instead he’d gone and mooned over her like the half-wit human he was. He was sure that every day he spent as a human he became more like one. If he was truly Elemental, he would have checked on her then broken into her room, taken the book, and headed toward the islands where he was once worshipped as a god. Instead, he was having coffee with her. Was he stalking her or dating her? As long as the result was the same, did it matter?

  “Thanks.” She poured in a packet of sugar and stirred the coffee without looking up at him.

  “Only fair, since you’ve already waited on me.” He sipped his coffee. He’d be up for two nights straight after two cups in one evening, but he couldn’t drink decaf; it was an insult to the water it was mixed with.

  They sat in silence. However, it wasn’t the most uncomfortable silence he’d ever experienced. He should have taken her to a bar, where the music would have masked the pauses, but she wasn’t old enough to drink in this country. He shook his head. He had to focus on the prize. To get the book, he had to fix the lecherous teacher. Mr. Gardner’s fingers trailing over the skin of his book had revealed more about the thick slime that passed for personality than he ever needed to know. Mr. Gardner was bitter, jealous, and teetering on the edge of sanity. He’d failed as an artist and hated those with talent. Isla had talent in buckets, but Nik was biased.

  The object of his fickle attention set her cup down. “So, Nik. Do you often pose for art students?”

  “This would be a first.” Truthfully, if he’d stumbled on it years ago he would have made the most of it. Easy work, safer than pick-pocketing, better than shoveling coal and harvesting fruit, or any of the other menial tasks he’d done to survive before he’d got in on the share market. These days his bank account allowed him to exist in modest comfort. This job was a means to an end. An end he would have already reached if not for Mr. Gardner.

  “Enjoy it?” she asked with a little too much glee, as if she knew about his struggle on the first day as she’d petted the book.

&nbs
p; “Not as much as the students. Lying there, they seem to forget that I’m alive and listening.” Their eyes met. “Mr. Gardner gives you a bit of grief.”

  She gave a one-shouldered shrug like it meant nothing. “He has a reputation for sleeping with his students.”

  He nodded, pleased with her tough nature, and felt a fraction better about himself. More like a man and less like a sea cucumber. He wouldn’t damage her. She was resilient. She would recover when he took the book. Of all the hands the book had passed through, only Isla’s had made him pause. He swept aside the tingling sensation that crept up his spine like paralyzing venom. His problem was with Gardner. Once that was sorted, he could take the book, Isla’s scholarship would be safe, and he’d be water. Everyone would be happy.

  Nik pressed on, determined not to be put off by her reluctance to talk. “Does he blackmail them all?”

  Her cup clanked onto the saucer. “He’s backed off.” Her voice held an icy tone, a warning that he should do the same.

  Nik ignored it and sailed into the brewing storm. “He’s still marking you absent.”

  “Why do you care?” Her gray eyes darkened.

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Beneath his fingers a small, ever-shrinking patch of scales remained. Why did he? Gardner was none of his business, but Isla was. The moment Isla had held his mutilated tail, she’d become his concern because she held the power of the oceans in her hands. If she chose, Isla could wreak havoc or becalm seas. Water would obey her will as if she were Elemental. Except Isla wasn’t interested in power; she loved her art.

  A whisper of a thought surfaced: maybe he wouldn’t have to steal from Isla. Maybe she would be willing to return the book if her scholarship was secure.

  “I don’t. But you do, and since I’d like to take you out for a few more coffees, I’d be willing to back your case with the dean.” He wasn’t lying. If he was looking to pass the time while waiting for the book to reappear, Isla would’ve been a very nice distraction.