by Starla Night
“You were unprotected.”
“I don’t think the bad guys will attack here.” She flubbed her lips. “But what if you’d had to defend me? You’d have made your injuries worse.”
“I will fight until there is no breath left in my body.” Fierce, honest, and decisive. “And then I will dive so the breath is replaced by water and I will continue to fight.”
A lump formed in her throat.
“You are sad?” He tried to rise.
“No.” She waved her hand at her eyes to dry the threatening tears. “Sorry.”
“Again you apologize.”
“Let’s go to the kitchen. I want to start breakfast.”
He groaned to his feet, leaning on her offered shoulder and his wickedly sharp trident, and limped into the kitchen. She eased him into a chair, put on the kettle to boil water for coffee, and served him a jar of yogurt from the fridge while yesterday’s bread toasted in the oven. She spread butter and jam for him and he ate. Then, she cut and soaked potatoes for home fries, and cracked eggs for a big omelet.
“Your soul remains sad.” He pushed himself to his feet and rested one hand on the counter, hemming her into the corner. “If this sadness is ‘nothing,’ let me give you happiness.”
Temptation heated her.
She traced the deep sapphire tattoo slashing across Dosan’s forearm. “I almost married a guy who was too lazy to rescue me from a flat tire on a rainy highway in the dark.”
“He was not worthy of your love.”
“Everyone says that.” She swallowed. “You’re risking your injuries to make sure I’m okay and you don’t even know me.”
“I know you.” He gestured at the boiling water, the toasting bread. “You nurture all under your care. You are tireless.” He looked away. “I understand why you hesitate about me.”
“You do?”
A shadow of shame crossed his features. “I, too, once allied myself with unworthy males. But that has changed. The queen — queens — of Dragao Azul have shown us a better way.” He turned to her, again fierce. “You are destined to be a queen. Accept my claim. Join them.”
His intense gaze thrilled her soul.
Her heart thudded. Her lips throbbed.
He kissed her.
She let him.
His tongue plumbed her mouth, branding her as his, and she gave in to his masculine hunting and exploring.
He pulled down her tank top, exposing her loose breasts. His gaze feasted on her curves. He marveled.
Had any other man stared at her body with such hunger? She felt beautiful without him saying a word.
He knelt, hanging onto the counters for balance, and kissed her taut nipples. Pulling one in his mouth, he swirled his tongue over her hot skin. Pleasure throbbed in her core. She slicked with readiness for him.
Jen gasped and rolled back her head, opening herself to his delicious onslaught.
He peeled down her swimsuit bottom and kissed her feminine center.
She came alive with pleasure.
He latched on and sucked her, stroking and satisfying even as he left her aching. Above, his hands sculpted her curves and rested on her breasts, pinching the nipples.
She arched against the counter with a shocked gasp. Her orgasm reached a crescendo.
Jen fell back on her elbows, sweaty and trembling.
No one had ever taken her from interested to satisfied in mere seconds. Her sapphire warrior’s pleased gaze, as he looked over his conquered territory, made her shivery. She had been his plunder. Please, plunder her again. At least once more!
He knelt before her. His cock was hard and ready in the bulging Speedo. But he didn’t interrupt her glow to demand relief.
He rose, captured her hand, and linked their fingers.
“Come with me.” He kissed her knuckles tenderly. “To the sacred island. Drink the elixir and transform. We will go to my city and complete our marriage.”
Her glow evaporated with the intrusion of real life.
She was doing it again.
Jen grabbed the wooden spoon and held it between them in warning. “Not so fast. A yogurt and a piece of toast don’t give you free access to my body.”
He blinked. “I do not understand.”
“You have to respect me.” She swallowed. The harsh words stuck in her throat like splinters of glass. “No more kisses or, uh, anything else until you show that you understand.”
He frowned.
Old Jen would smooth his brow, laugh off her words, and embrace him with both arms. She’d cook him breakfast — and later, she’d be left crying at home, alone, while he photocopied himself with some woman who looked cuter in a bikini.
New Jen had to dole out her love, set limits on her generosity, and push away this mouthwatering male.
“How can I prove my devotion to you?” he growled.
Honestly? She had no idea.
“Figure it out.” She turned away, straightened her clothes, and washed her hands to start breakfast.
He sat reluctantly at the table and picked up his toast, consuming it with what was starting to look like a permanent frown.
The others wandered in, yawning, and exclaimed at the delicious smells of fresh coffee, crunchy toast slathered in warm butter and sweet jam, and a spicy omelet with chorizo.
Sydney, more awake than Jen had seen her, asked the warriors pointed questions about what life was like for a bride underseas.
Questions Jen ought to be asking, probably. If she wasn’t so busy trying not to think about Dosan’s mind-bending kisses on her mouth and still throbbing, deliciously satisfied lower places.
“And so would Jen stay home and take care of the kids all day while you go out hunting and exploring? Or do you stay home drinking underwater beer and Jen does everything?”
“What is ‘underwater beer’?” Xalu asked.
“Something I just made up.” Sydney scooped jam onto her toast. “I’m trying to ask what women ‘brides’ do underseas.”
“You decide.” Dosan pledged his attention only to Jen. “Dragao Azul’s queen does not stay in our city. So, if you will stay, then your choices will determine the roles of future queens.”
She sucked in a breath.
Wow. She could set the precedent?
Her brother and Sydney stared at the sapphire warrior.
“You want Jen to be royalty?” Ian asked, around a mouthful of egg.
Dosan nodded. “She must use her nurturing powers to rebuild our civilization.”
Ian raised a brow at Jen and half-grinned. “No pressure or anything.” He scooped another helping of spicy sausages.
After breakfast, they canceled tour plans and settled in for a relaxing day. Dosan rehabilitated in the pool with Xalu. Beneath the surface, he looked so free.
Sydney spent the day with Jen painting nails, exchanging opinions about new designers, and being the funny, vibrant best friend she hadn’t realized she’d been missing for the last, oh, decade.
“This day has been so much fun,” Jen finally said. “Being single suits you.”
Her eyes darted to the left. The pool where Xalu and Dosan both dove beneath the waves. “Yeah … about that…”
Jen watched as well.
To think, it was possible to transform into a whole other person ideally suited for floating in the pristine ocean and letting go of earthly cares. And there was an entire city waiting for a queen.
Waiting for Jen.
She carried an iced juice to the side of the pool.
Dosan surfaced.
She offered him the drink.
He rested his elbows on the tile. “When I am recovered, you will receive my castle’s finest offerings. I will provide for you. I swear it.”
“Respect is about more than gifts,” she said.
“You are my treasure. How can I show you my respect is more than desire?”
“I’ll give you a checklist.”
Mer warrior Uvim and his girlfriend, human tour guide Milly, stopped by in
the afternoon.
The warriors huddled over Dosan’s injuries.
Milly shared the police’s efforts to find out who had imported and sold the deadly dynamite.
No one mentioned Dosan’s proposal.
Jen didn’t know what Milly would say about a recovering warrior seducing her twice. Sydney peppered Milly with questions about being a queen underseas, so Jen didn’t have to stress about it.
Milly had barely gotten to enjoy transforming into a mermaid with her mysterious, deadly serious warrior.
“I’ve always been a diver,” Milly said. “Being underwater is so freeing. I’d dive even if it weren’t my job. Now I have the power to transform into a mermaid, it’s even better.”
“But how did you know it was right for you?” Jen pressed. “How did you know Uvim wasn’t taking advantage of your generosity?”
“I’m not that generous.” The young guide laughed.
Uvim’s gaze moved to her. Amethyst tattoos ran in geometric designs like fractures across his olive-colored skin.
Silent communication passed between them.
Milly faded to a soft smile. “I fought my feelings but, in the end, I had to admit the truth. The heart always knows.”
“Oh, I think your heart can give you the runaround,” Sydney disagreed and sipped her icy virgin drink. “A decade of running around, stuck on the same, stupid guy, refusing to admit defeat.”
“That sounds like your head substituting fear for loneliness,” Milly disagreed, showing wisdom well beyond her years. “Stop running and listen.”
“Yeah, well.” Sydney sighed on her new black-tipped nails. “You’re not wrong. Most likely.”
Jen avoided her sexy warrior that evening, leaving Dosan once more under the care of Xalu. She insisted he spend the night in his own bed. He could surely hear her scream for help if needed.
Sydney was up early for once and she talked Jen into heading into town for an early morning shopping trip. The males needed more than a pair of Speedos apiece, Sydney said, although the gleam in her eye suggested she didn’t mind enjoying the warriors in the small, tight fabric that left no bulge to the imagination.
They arrived back at the rental to face two furious males and one amused brother.
“Where did you go?” Xalu demanded of Sydney.
She stroked his forearm, soothing him in a decidedly intimate way. “Wait until you see what I bought you! You’re going to flip.”
“Flip? Why would I perform a flip?”
“Oh, you’ll see. Here.” She opened the shopping bags and lofted shirts against his bulk. Again, a little too intimate.
But Jen couldn’t concentrate because Dosan drew her into his arms. “I must protect you. Never leave my side.”
He was looking healthier. And she loved the strength in his arms and the fearless way he held her despite Ian’s side-eye.
“I got you clothes,” she said. “So you can go out in public.”
“I do not need these things if it puts you in danger.”
She needed to dole out her love.
Even though it hurt her.
“So you’re saying you don’t like the shirts.”
“Jen.”
She pulled back. “I’m sorry trying to do something nice for you turned into an issue. I’ll let you go nude next time.”
“Your generosity endangers you.”
Pain squeezed her heart. “That’s just what Ian and Sydney say. I’m surprised to hear it from you, too.”
“We do not need these ‘shirts’ on the bottom of the ocean.” He tried to draw her into his arms again. “You are destined to become Dragao Azul’s queen. Our savior. My bride and the mother of our young fry.”
It sounded wonderful.
She crossed her arms. “We’ll need them when we surface and visit.”
“Then we will not surface.”
Whoah. “Um, okay, you’re right. We won’t ‘come to the surface’ because I’m never going down there with you.”
“Do not reject our connection.”
“What connection? We’ve known each other for three days.”
“Our souls resonate.”
So he also felt they were soul mates.
But she couldn’t give up everything. Sydney, Ian, her self-respect. Not this time. She had some pride.
“I refuse to rush into a rebound relationship,” she insisted, catching her breath on a sob. “And we will never be happy if you don’t appreciate who I am and respect my needs.”
“Jen.”
“Now, I got you clothes. Here.” She thumped the bag at him and darted away before he could convince her to change her mind.
Sydney found her a short time later wallowing on her bed amid the last wrappers from her chocolate. “Milly’s on the phone. She wanted to ask if you had any questions about the ‘cultural differences’ we might have.”
“These are more than cultural differences.”
“I know. So why don’t you talk to her and then we’ll do the girls’ spa day we promised? Take care of you, treasure you.”
“I could use a little treasuring.” She sniffed.
Sydney’s smile gentled. “You deserve it.”
Jen took the phone. “Have you ever been unsure whether you wanted to strangle a warrior or drag him to the bedroom and do something unmentionable?”
Milly, on the other side of the phone, choked on a laugh. “Why, yes. Yes, I have. What’s up and how can I help?”
It was good to talk to Milly. She reinforced what Jen mostly knew: That a warrior devoted himself to one bride for his whole life, and that his honor was his most important possession.
Which meant Dosan believed in everything he’d said.
The only one holding them back was Jen.
Gary had punched her in the heart. Now, she had a chance to open herself to another person and her heart shied away.
“Come on,” Sydney urged after the phone call ended. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Jen let herself get pulled to the rental car. With Dosan smoldering in the front seat, Jen sat in the back. Sydney, in the middle, pressed against Xalu.
Every time Jen caught his profile, she wanted to tell him. Dosan. I’m sorry I said those things. I do think you’re respectful. I want to be with you.
But then she felt giddy — and scared.
What if he was angry? What if he’d changed his mind?
What if he said yes and swept her away in his delicious embrace and everything changed forever?
She kept quiet.
Ian let them off at a hotel day spa; the men were heading to the beach to rehabilitate in the waves.
Dosan caught her eye from the window, his new cream shirt stretched dangerously tight across his broad chest. “Do not leave unprotected.”
A part of her thrilled at his protective instincts. He was a male who cared deeply.
“We’ll be careful,” she promised. “Just like we were the whole vacation before you came.”
His jaw flexed.
Did he think she was dismissing him? She wasn’t. A dynamite distributor would have to be crazy to attack them in daylight in the center of a large town.
He watched her until the car disappeared.
She joined Sydney inside the day spa. It was gorgeous and European; stained glass shone on their facials and experts plucked, plumped, sanded, and shaped. She lay in bubbles and was massaged next to her best friend, rubbed in sweet-scented lotion and released into the world to enjoy a long, fun, amazing dinner and half a bottle of wine all to herself.
“I really shouldn’t,” Sydney said, pouring herself a second glass. “Did you know I was numbing myself with alcohol for like a year?”
“Five years,” Jen corrected. Not that she was keeping track. “I missed you.”
Tears bubbled up in Sydney’s eyes. “Well, I’m back now. And I’m here to support you. Or at least support your choice of ordering dessert.”
“You’ve been a great suppo
rt,” Jen laughed, and she ordered a chocolate lava cake to share.
The cab back to the rental let them out across the street.
She faced the artful stucco-white Azores house and turned over the words she’d say to Dosan. Nerves glowed red like spreadsheet irregularities in her belly. She smoothed her emerald dress, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out. The sun was just starting to set.
Okay. Time to do this.
“Jen.”
She turned.
Sydney hesitated. “There’s something I was supposed to say.”
This sounded serious. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Sydney toyed with her tiny braids. “Uh, well, the thing is…”
A clunker van started up down the street. It approached them and the passenger rolled down the window. It was a young college-aged kid in a stained, sleeveless surfer shirt. “Are you two Jen and Sydney?”
He had a west coast accent — American West Coast — but something about him seemed off.
“That’s us.” Jen hugged her purse tighter to her chest.
“My friend has a question.”
The back passenger door opened and another college kid — this one with wonky teeth and uneven glasses — spread out a street map of the Azores.
She backed into Sydney and put up her hands. “Oh, we’re not from around here.”
“That’s okay.” The surfer got out and stood too close. His voice darkened. “You can both answer this question.”
She clenched her purse. “What?”
The glasses kid reached out and grabbed Jen’s forearm.
“Hey!”
With surprising strength, he yanked her into the van. She banged her shins on the van door. He hauled her across the dirty floor, smearing crap all over her blissful skin. Sydney collapsed on top.
“Go! Go!”
The van doors closed. The engine clunked again, and the floor vibrated as they careened down the street.
She struggled. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The surfer stared down at her like she was a worm. “We’re kidnapping you.”
The kids drove for not a terribly long time and hustled Sydney and Jen into a warehouse in a seemingly abandoned section of town. The kids marched them into the office and locked them in.
They sat on a couch.
“What do you want with us?” Jen demanded.
The surfer kid ignored her. He got a soda out of a mini fridge, turned away, and cracked the top. “Want a drink?”
