Immediately, she collapsed over him and he had to fight to keep her from flipping over into the water.
“Elanna,” he called as he felt her body shake with tears.
“What is wrong with me? I can’t remember, Storm! I can’t remember! And I feel sick, then happy, then mad, then sad!”
“You ingested some of my powder, Elanna. I won’t know how to help until Sting and Amadala get back with the pouch.”
“Pinkie hates me,” she sniffled as Storm managed to ease her back so he had room to maneuver.
“Amadala hates everybody,” he returned easily as he braced his arms on the stone.
With a push off from his tail fin, he was propelled through the air, to twist and land with a wet splat on the stone beside her.
“You’re sitting!” she cried excitedly as she stared in wonder at Storm.
“What? You thought we swam all of the time? I do have a butt, Elanna,” he laughed as he pulled her into his arms.
“Stop it! You are getting me wet!” Did she really say that? She began to giggle.
“What?” he asked, but used her weakening resistance to pull her into his lap.
“Nothing,” she managed, covering her face with her hands. “Why do I think of sex around you?”
“Beats me!” he replied, sucking a bit on his sharp teeth as his pale eyes bore into hers.
“I feel safe,” she said as she snuggled suddenly into his arms.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he returned, his mind again clouded by scarlet billows, flowing freely throughout the water.
Her body still shivered, but the convulsions seem to ease a bit. Maybe he was capable of heating her just a bit.
He closed his eyes and began to savor the feel of her in his arms.
She was softer than any other woman he had ever known! Plus, her skin pulsed with a heat of its own, something lacking in some Merfolk. Her heart beat rapidly against his chest, her warm breaths almost stung his neck as she snuggled in deeper. He sighed as he flipped back his hair with a toss of his head and rested his chin against her head.
“Get your hands off of my man!” a voice hissed as Amadala’s head poked through the water in front of them.
She had led Sting, as he had no idea where Storm’s private caverns were, so she was the first to see this intimate little scene.
And now she was livid! Storm had to mate with her! He couldn’t leave her at the mercy of that…that…that dark-haired shark!
“What?” Elanna stiffened up in Storm’s arms, and he tried to hold her back, but she was having another mood swing—this one vicious!
“You heard me, you filthy human!”
“Kiss ass, you undercooked pink fish stick! Fish Boy is mine!”
Before he could guess what was happening, Elanna launched herself out of Storm arms and flew at Amadala, never mind that she was treading in very deep waters!
Her anger and frustration had found a target! Her body was ready; her mind gave the call! Attack!
Amadala gasped as one hundred thirty-five pounds of enraged woman slammed into her!
Elanna wasted no time with hair pulling; she wanted to see blood!
Balling up her hand, she plowed her fist right into Amadala’s sharp-toothed mouth, cutting her knuckles, but paying it no attention!
“Bitch!” Amadala shrieked as she grabbed a fistful of Elanna’s hair and forced her under the water!
“Amadala, no!” Storm called up, but just wasted his breath!
One of Elanna’s legs flew up, catching Amadala in the stomach, forcing her to let go with a whoosh, as the air exploded from her body.
“That’s a fighting word!” Elanna shrieked as she laid her elbow across Amadala’s face, cracking sharply against her chest and spinning her body in a complete circle!
“Storm is mine!” Elanna shrieked as she felt arms reach around and grip her waist!
“Let me go!” she bellowed as she was swung around to face a black eye-patch.
“Cyclops!” she shrieked, then suddenly everything was amazingly funny to her!
She looked over her shoulder to see Storm hefting a shrieking Amadala onto a rock outcrop, holding her away from his body.
She looked pissed but Storm seemed to be holding in laughter.
She turned back to tall, dark, and not so dangerous. Who took a man with an eye-patch seriously in this day and age anyway? She exploded into laughter again.
“Female, are you hurt?” he asked as she realized she was lying limply in his arms.
“I don’t feel so good,” she murmured, before she exploded into helpless giggles.
“She inhaled the epimorph!” Storm exclaimed, his eyes crinkling up in concern.
“What is that?” Sting asked, unfamiliar with the powders and practices of healers.
“It’s a rebuilder! If a warrior were seriously injured in battle, I would use the epimorph to regenerate the injured parts, external to internal.”
“So it is good?” he asked, his one eyebrow rising up in question.
“It is bad! Very bad!” Storm sighed. “She is not of our people, does not have the same organs and parts! This power is trying to create what is not already there!”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it will soon kill her!”
Storm looked over at the slumbering woman, lying comfortably in Sting’s arms, patiently waiting for him to save her.
But this time he could not!
It turned his thoughts to another time, another woman who needed him, who he was not able to save. And his heart bled.
“So,” Sting began. “I take it you will be wed first?”
“What?” Storm cried out, turning to face the dark man.
“You will be wed first. If Amadala finds out, she will postpone until your human is dead, then you will have to produce another reason not to mate with her.”
“Oh, damn my fins!” Storm sighed, dropping his head into his hands.
He had forgotten all about the pink wonder!
After the fight, Amadala had gone to her own cavern, but promised to be back soon.
He had to protect Elanna from the queen, even if it meant mating with her.
“Tomorrow,” he sighed. “Then I’ll have to find some way to tell her that she only has a few days to live.”
Chapter Eleven
“Storm,” Elanna gasped, fighting for each breath. “What’s happening to me? And please don’t lie.”
“Elanna,” Storm began running his fingers through his hair, not even caring that being this close to the heat of the perpetual fire was painfully drying out his skin.
What he had to say hurt him more than any torn and ripped flesh ever could.
“Please, Storm. Until now you have been brutally honest,” she said, her voice weak with the constant fight to stay focused.
Her hair, a dry mass of tangles on top of her head, perfectly matched her inner self, dry, brittle, and twisted. She forced her eyes to look up towards his face, to read the truth of her situation there, and then she had to fight against the urge to laugh hysterically.
“Curiosity does kill the cat!” she crowed as tears of anger, frustration, and amusement filled her eyes to track down her salt-encrusted skin.
“I am so sorry,” Storm began, feeling the responsibility of this tragedy.
“You didn’t do it, Fish Boy!” she laughed. “I did it to myself! I knew better than to go messing around with chemicals unknown to me! I did it to myself, and that’s what hurts the most, or is the funniest, depending on how you look at it!”
A small chuckle escaped her lips, before a broken sob exploded from her chest.
“This feels so familiar,” she gasped and laughed as she dropped her head back to the hard stone, but grateful she could still experience this discomfort. For her, it was a last minute pleasure to be savored.
Storm looked at the woman, the human woman who bravely faced her death and felt the urge to slit his wrist.
Again the thought of an
other woman, a dying woman, filled his mind.
Had it been ten years?
Ten years to mourn, only to be pulled away from his morning by another woman, only to watch her perish as well.
The council was responsible for his first tragedy, while he alone would bear the burden of this death.
Ten years to mourn, to think, to blame, and now again he was faced with the death of someone he cared about. It was almost too much to bear.
Her name had been Neima, and she was about as plain as a Merwoman could be.
Her hair and eyes were a pale gray that blended with the water, but her spirit was such a beautiful thing to behold.
It was she who led him away from his countless studies as both a warrior and a healer, she who had taught him to trust in his powers, to not be afraid of them. She had also helped him control his temper, the thing that made him such a feared warrior and left him alone most of the time.
“Come play with me!” she would laugh as she tugged at his long hair, ignoring the occasional zing of electricity as he lost his hold on his talent. And laughingly, he had joined her in frolicking in the sea.
This was the strongest and most feared Child of Triton, the future leader of The People. He played like a child in the water, frolicked like a child, and loved every minute of it.
The council, on the other hand, felt such frivolity was dangerous and ordered him away from her. And when that didn’t have the desired effect, the council turned on her.
She was warned the fate of her family was in peril and the only way to prevent something from happening to them was to no longer see Storm until he was fully grown.
Stricken, she tore herself away from his life, away from the one thing that had brought her joy, and withdrew into a protective shell. A shell that could only be breached by the blue-haired Merman named Storm.
Understanding her predicament, Storm vowed to her that when his training was complete, he would return to her, and that was a promise he kept.
As soon as he was old enough to make a pledge, he vowed his eternal love to Neima, swearing on his life to protect her in all things.
Safe from the council and a man proven in battle and in knowledge and treatment of others, Storm had no reason to deny himself the company of his one true love.
The future King of The People held enough influence to see that her family was safe and nothing would stand in the way of their mating.
But certain members of the council, people who believed in the old way of mating power with power, felt Neima and her quiet beauty and charm not fit to be the mate of the king.
Their plan was simple, and although the other members of the council did not approve, they did nothing to stop the plan being hatched.
On the day of their mating, Neima was sent off to a far quadrant of the civilized territories to fetch some supposed traditional sea flowers to present to her mate and future king.
While she was gone, another was put in her place, in the guise of being the love of Storm’s life.
It was a good plan and would have succeeded with no harm to anyone, except a few bruised feelings.
Storm could keep Neima as a plaything, while fulfilling the old traditions of marrying into power. This woman, this replacement, did not possess the powers of Triton, but it existed in her blood, and that was enough for them.
The plan would have worked, but for one thing.
There was no way any amount of cosmetics could transform brightly colored pink tendrils into Neima’s long gray locks that escaped from around the long veil hiding the woman’s face.
Amadala never knew of this plan and thought she was entering into a willing mating with the future king, but as soon as she saw his stricken face, she asked him if this was not his desire.
“Who are you and where is my Neima?” he asked coldly, stunning the people who had gathered for the ceremony, and frightening the council with his steely-eyed glare.
“My name is Amadala, and I was led to believe you wished this joining,” she returned bravely, turning to glare at her parents, who had to have known what was going on.
“You are not my choice,” he said, recognizing the truth of her words. “I must know where she is.”
Storm felt his stomach lodge itself somewhere in the vicinity of his throat as he thought about his sweet and innocent Neima, off somewhere crying her eyes out for him.
“Where is she?”
After much hemming and hawing, he was told where to find Neima.
Turning without a word, he left the council chambers where the mating rite was to be performed, and raced towards the uncivilized part of their kingdom, Amadala following to offer her apologies for her family in this hateful prank.
He smelled the blood first, heard her low cry abruptly cut off and raced towards his beloved, fear lending him strength.
Storm made it there just in time to see what was left of his beloved being devoured by a pack of sharks.
“No!” he had wailed, rushing in and tearing at the pack, scattering them, trying to kill them with his bare hands.
It was Amadala who managed to pull him away as the hungry predators turned to attack en masse.
“Neima,” he had wailed, as Amadala rushed him back to the council.
When he reached their chambers, his fear and anguish turned into hatred and a deep dark killing anger.
“You did this!” he screamed, stained by the blood of his beloved, covered in scrapes and cuts. “You caused this! Murderers! Murderers, every one of you!”
Then in a feat of strength that had yet to be matched, Storm threw back his head and released his anger, his pain, his torment, into the sea!
“Murderers!”
The sea responded, absorbing his anguish and multiplying it a thousand-fold.
The usually calm waters of the deep sea began to churn and swirl as the cave walls began to shake. A low vibrating rumble of thunder could be heard, an impossible thing, but very true as the panic-stricken members rushed to leave the room, to get away from the madman and the power they had always feared.
“Run!” he screamed, the blood from his body swirling around him creating a tubular whirling cave of pale brown that more than showed his caged fury. “Run, you bastards! Run like she was not able to do! Run, you cowards, deceivers, killers of innocence! Run, or I will kill you in her name!”
The growling thunder increased as the oxygen began to leach from the water, causing a panic never been felt before! The council members struggled to find enough air to breathe and to make their escape, but the enraged Triton gave them no quarter.
“How does it feel to be helpless, to be scared, to know that you are going to die?” he roared as he began to tear the room down with the strength of his powers, the lashing water tearing into the stone as if it were the flesh of some small fish.
“Neima,” he screamed, his face twisted into the visage of an avenging angel. “Oh Creator…Neima! Why?”
The fury he began erupted as great flashes of lightning exploded from his body, striking without direction or control.
“Storm!” a voice called, tearing him back to the present and away from the screaming council that had begged for forgiveness, something they would never have from him.
“Storm?”
It was Elanna, beautiful, exotic, different Elanna with a fighting spirit which matched his own and whose determination far exceeded his own stubbornness. Beautiful, dying Elanna and again another woman that he was of no use to.
“Yes, human?” he asked, his voice raspy in the silence of the tunnel.
“If we get mated, will that pink-haired monster leave you alone?”
“What?” he asked, surprise deepening his voice.
“I am dead anyway, so it’s not like you are going to be stuck with a human mate!” She smiled around a sudden wince of pain as if the possibility of her lost future just occurred to her. “Besides, you saved my life, and if you had to mate with that witch, I think that it would kill you inside.”
“Paying back a debt, helping a friend,” she said as sudden tears filled her eyes.
“Hum…Elanna, what you ask is serious.”
“Please let me do this, Storm, this one last thing! Then I’ll know my life served a purpose. This must be it, as many times as you have saved me.”
“Elanna,” he began but she cut him off.
“Okay, Fish Boy! Enough of this!” Anger was taking over again. “Tomorrow we will be mated and I will die with some dignity!”
“Oh, Elanna,” Storm sighed. “If there was something I could do…”
“There is! This mating! Then I can die in peace.”
She closed her eyes again, resting her body on the hard stone, and missed the tears freely falling from his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
“It’s raining, it’s pouring! The mean old man is snoring,” Elanna mumbled as she felt water trickle down her face.
It seemed like only yesterday, or was it the day before, she was dragged down to this cave, but after weeks of waiting she was going to be a bride, at last.
Bride?
Who was she going to marry?
Then came the trickling again, forcing her to open her eyes and see what exactly was going on.
Her eyelids felt as if they weighed a metric ton and were gritty besides, but she gathered every ounce of energy at her possession and forced those peepers open and saw…
A black eye patch?
“The Willmar Eye Clinic is down the hall,” she mumbled as an equally black eye focused in on her.
“Female, I see you have awakened.”
“My name is Dr. Elanna… Who are…? Oh dear!”
She was in a cave! She remembered! She was in a cave and she was about to mate with… Why was she lying in the arms of a strange man, uh, fish?
“I am not a dear! I am Sting, Master of the deadly…”
“Where is my Fish Boy?” she demanded, cutting off his words as she sat up as fast as her weak muscles could work. “Why are you here? Only one mating per lifetime, pal, and you ain’t it!”
“Fish Boy?” he asked, a puzzled look creasing his face. “Fish Boy?”
Seascape Page 7
