One night, I used the maps Daq assisted me in preparing and swam to another island. There I met beings like me and like Daq, Cyra, and the others. I also discovered that it might be time to reclaim a hope I had long ago abandoned.
As a young man, before I left for college in the States, I met a woman on the very beach you are overlooking now. As you were once my student, I don’t wish to embarrass you, but suffice to say that I had never given my heart before, and I have not given it since. We spent the summer together—in some ways the happiest season of my life—and then I departed the island. We promised to stay in touch, but I never heard from her again.
I never forgot her, either.
Still, I went on with life until I visited my fellow Aquans. I knew, suddenly, that she had been one of them. And when I mentioned her name, one of them knew her. So, the moment I returned to Bequia, I began making plans to go on a search for my old love.
I must reconnect with her. I am therefore on the journey of a lifetime. Whether I will return, I know not. But better to die trying than go on wondering what might have been.
If in fact I am lost at sea, I have filed documents bequeathing you the house and the modest personal assets I collected over the years. I hope you can welcome the boys as part of your family, as I did. My instincts suggest to me that you will. Elsewhere on this computer are instructions on how to contact my attorney.
Whether or not we meet again remains in the hands of Fate. Until then, I remain,
Septimus
Despite the heat in the bungalow, by the time Maura finished reading, she had broken out in a cold sweat. Her hands shook so badly she could barely send the document to Septimus’s ancient dot matrix printer. Somehow, she managed to punch the appropriate keys and wait for the tired machine to crank out a faint copy.
She ran to the house, clutching the printed sheet hard enough to make her fingers ache.
“Daq!” she began shouting before she had even reached the steps of the verandah. She took them two at a time, continuing to shout for him all the way up. “Daq, I found it! I know where Septimus went!”
When Daq didn’t appear, she ran straight for the French doors, luckily remembering to pause and open them. Waving Septimus’s letter over her head in triumph, she charged into the modest sitting room. Two people were seated on the bamboo sofa with their backs to her, and Daq was standing in front of them, engaged in conversation. Apparently visitors had shown up while she was in the bungalow making her discovery. Maura regretted interrupting, but she knew he would consider the intrusion justified.
She hurried past the couch and right up to Daq. She thrust the letter out in front of him. “Daq, look! It’s all here—the whole reason Septimus left! Now we can—”
The words died on her tongue when she realized that Daq wasn’t responding to either the letter or her obvious elation. She scowled, perplexed at his expression. He looked passive, almost helpless. Maura’s eyes followed his as he tilted his head toward the couch.
She couldn’t believe what she saw…or rather, whom.
Septimus was leaning back in the cushions, looking tanned, healthy, and happy. His arm was draped around the shoulders of a woman, whom Maura instantly recognized as an older version of the one from the photo. Both of them were damp and wrapped in towels, as though they’d just come in from swimming.
“Maura! How wonderful to see you!” Septimus said. He tightened his arm and pulled the woman closer to him. She, too, was beaming. “I’d like you to meet Zaila.”
* * * *
Upstairs in her room, Maura wheeled around to face Daq, who had followed her there.
“Why didn’t you tell me before that Septimus was Aquan? Never mind denying it—it’s all here in his letter.”
Daq extended his hands to her in a pleading gesture. “I admit I did omit a few details. But Maura, I gave him my word.”
“A few details? I would say that was one very big detail, wouldn’t you?” Unexpectedly, she found herself blinking back tears. “You didn’t tell me the truth, Daq. You let me think Septimus might be dead. Janko and Ivar weren’t out looking for his body today. They were telling him it was safe to come back.”
Maura crumpled up the letter she’d printed off and threw the ball of paper at him. It fell ineffectively to the floor halfway between them.
“I swear to you that isn’t true,” Daq said. “We didn’t know where he was. We only knew was that he most likely didn’t drown. You heard him explain how he was driven off course in a storm? He’s new at underwater navigation and wasn’t used to the current. It took him some time to get back onto the seaway.”
She shook her head, exasperated. “All five of you played me like a fiddle. All six, if you want to count Septimus. Personally, I’m inclined to.”
He stepped aside as she charged past him to the closet, tore it open, and pulled out her suitcase. She moved to the bureau and started pulling out the clothes. In some ways, the day she’d arrived and put these away seemed like a lifetime ago. In another way, she couldn’t help but reflect that everything had crashed to a halt all too soon.
“What are you doing?” Daq asked.
“Just what it looks like,” she shot back. “I need to get out of here, Daq. I can’t do this anymore. Since I’ve been here—with all of you—I’ve become a completely different person. Everything I thought was true turned out to be an illusion at best, and a terrible lie at worst. Not even Septimus is who I believed he was. How could he mislead me like that? I realize he was in love and not thinking clearly, but still—”
She stopped sorting the clothes and looked up at him. Her lip trembled, and anger and heartbreak coursed through her.
“I understand,” Daq said. Maura saw the pain in his face, but she wasn’t sure whether that made her feel better or worse. “We can get a room for you at Irissa’s, or we’ll even take you to the airport if you want. All I ask is that you wait until tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted.
“Well, sleep on it at least. And give Septimus a chance to explain, even if you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”
Maura sat down on the bed. Her throat felt so tight it took genuine effort to answer him. “I guess I owe him that much. I don’t believe he would deliberately betray me, so I assume he had his reasons.”
“So I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Her anger returned. “You, though, are another story entirely. You don’t even realize what you put me through. That’s the worst part.”
“I hope in time you’ll be willing to listen to my side of things, too. In the meantime, all I can do is apologize.”
She didn’t answer. With a resigned sigh, Daq went out and closed the door.
Next, she heard him talking to someone out in the hall—Septimus and the woman, she deduced. No doubt they were shocked at her reaction—hopefully as shocked as she’d been at learning she had been lied to and manipulated. Now that she’d had time to calm down, she regretted the way she’d blown up at first seeing them, demanding how Septimus could have been so insensitive to her feelings. Then again, what her trusted mentor had done to her, letting her agonize for days over his possible death, more than justified a confrontation, in her opinion. She had a right to yell a little.
She heard footsteps retreat down the hall and then down the stairs. To her surprise, someone knocked on the door a few moments later.
Maura opened it to find Zaila, Septimus’s lady friend, smiling at her. She’d changed into a white terry bathrobe that probably belonged to Septimus. Maura supposed that swimming over from Atlantis or some other distant world made it difficult to carry luggage.
“I understand you’ve been given a lot to deal with,” Zaila said. “Naturally the men are slow to comprehend your anger. But I do.”
“Oh?” In spite of her anger, Maura found herself soothed by the woman’s wide gray eyes and warm, clear voice. With her silvery hair and graceful figure, she reminded Maura of Irissa. She was
n’t surprised that Septimus had spent most of his life pining for her. There could be no doubt that Zaila, like all the Aquans she had met so far, was strikingly attractive. “Forgive me for saying this, but you don’t even know me.”
“I know what Septimus told me about you,” Zaila said. “He thinks of you as the daughter he—or perhaps I should say we—never had.”
“I’m glad you found each other again—really. I just wish Septimus had been honest with me from the beginning. I was genuinely scared that he was dead. Didn’t he give any consideration to what that would do to me? And even worse, didn’t anyone else? I thought the guys and I had a stronger bond of trust than that.”
“As far as the boys go, my guess is they were torn. Septimus asked them not to reveal anything to you, so they probably felt it best to wait until he returned. They had no way of knowing he would get lost and turn up late. His trust is important to them—but based on what Daq just said, you are, too.”
“I’d hoped I was,” she said quietly. “But suddenly I don’t know how I fit in here. Everything I thought I knew about life, about Septimus, and even about myself was just washed away by the biggest tidal wave I’ve ever seen.”
“As I said…I do understand. I also want to tell you something else—letting Septimus go was a mistake I relived every day for fifty years. I convinced myself at the time that I did what was best for him. He had another path to follow, one that would take him far from this island. But when he found me again a few days ago, I realized how wrong I had been. We can move forward, but we can never get those lost years back.” Zaila’s eyes dropped to the clothing scattered over Maura’s bed. “It’s worth thinking about before you finish packing that suitcase.”
She walked out, leaving Maura alone with her thoughts.
Chapter 8
The sun had already started its daily descent as Cyra walked quickly along the beach, her bare feet scrunching in the damp sand. Though she was alone, she couldn’t help but indulge in a little gloating laughter.
The scene at Septimus’s house had been everything she’d expected and more. The human woman had freaked out at the prospect of being surrounded by Aquans and was already making plans to flee the island—just as Cyra had predicted. Complete pandemonium had reigned in the house, with her brother and his friends tripping over each other to try and appease her anger. After a few hours of pouting in her room, she’d come down to dinner at their request. Normally, Cyra hadn’t planned to share a meal with that repulsively lovesick group, but it had been worth sitting through that insufferable dinner just to watch them all squirm. How childish humans could be!
Yet the odd drama unfolding in front of her had made her consider her own human. She had no doubt that Alan would react as impulsively as Maura if he found out the truth about her, but then again, Cyra didn’t plan to reveal anything. She would enjoy herself with him until she tired of his human ways and then move on, offering him a reason only if she felt like it.
She made her way through the underbrush to his cottage, which stood a few hundred yards from the edge of Septimus’s property. The bamboo shades were pulled, but a faint yellow light glowed from inside. Cyra paused on the front step, wondering whether she should knock or reject silly human manners and simply walk in when the door swung open. Alan appeared in the doorway, wearing a thin cotton robe, tied so loosely that she could see his erection pushing against the fabric and parting the folds slightly. In one hand, he held a drink that gave off the faint scent of dark rum.
Cyra pursed her lips, tasting him already.
“Come in,” Alan said, stepping aside to make room for her. He closed the door as soon as she was inside and leaned against it, looking her up and down. “I’m glad you came. Now take off your clothes.”
Cyra raised her brows. “Aren’t you going to offer me some refreshment first?”
“No.” Alan finished his drink in a single gulp, set the glass down on an end table with a bang, and pointed to a pile of body pillows in the corner. “Over there. Do as I say. You’ve kept me waiting long enough this evening, and I’m not in the mood for any further delays.”
“Luckily for you, I was just thinking the same thing.” Strolling over to the pillows, Cyra pulled off and discarded her sundress. She lay on the pillows, opening her legs and stroking the fiery patch of curls between them. She saw his gaze sharpen and his lips part slightly. Then he followed her across the room.
She expected he would shed his robe en route, but he merely stood over her and planted one bare foot on either side of her outstretched legs.
“Now undress me,” he said.
She blinked up at him, taken aback by his demanding tone. Such arrogance, she marveled, though she supposed it wasn’t unusual among humans. She would have to correct that later, but for now she decided to play along. Reaching up, she tugged at the hem of the robe until it opened all the way and slid down his shoulders. Alan’s single shrug sent it fluttering to the floor.
His exposed cock bobbed in front of her face, thick and hard, the tip already dark with lust. “Now suck me,” he said. “Don’t get me off. Just bring me to the edge, so I’ll be ready to come the minute I shove it into your pussy.”
“I thought you could use your tongue on me first,” she said, her own eyes narrowing. “Get me wet.”
He laughed as though her suggestion were utterly absurd. “You heard me. If you expect me to fuck you tonight, you’re going to have to do what I say.” Gripping his cock, he angled it so that it hovered directly in front of her lips. “I think you’ll find, my dear, that the greatest pleasure is giving pleasure to someone else. I realize you may not be familiar with that concept right now, but I intend to change that.”
Cyra sniffed. Frankly, she’d never heard anything so ridiculous. Still, he was tempting, and she’d waited all day to be with him. Saving her cutting retort for later, she leaned toward him and drew his cock in, sliding her tongue up and down the shaft and using her lips to put pressure around his base.
“Yes…good…that’s wonderful.”Alan stroked his hands through her hair, tilting his own head back and lunging his hips forward. He seemed to like it even better when she added some teeth into the mix. “Mmm. Yes. Perfection.”
It didn’t take her long to bring him to the edge, as he’d requested—or demanded, if one wanted to get technical about things. Cyra was gratified to feel his balls quiver against her chin. His fingers applied increased pressure to her scalp.
“Stop now,” he said. She did. It amused her to leave him hanging. She should do that a lot more, when he least expected it. That would help keep him in line.
“My turn now?” she asked. Her face felt warm with lust.
Alan smiled and batted his cock playfully with one hand. It was so stiff it vibrated in front of him. “In a way. Perhaps just not in the way you expect. Move over.” He sat down on the pillows and drew her between his legs, facing away from him. He spent a few moments kneading her breasts and kissing her shoulders and neck. The whole time, she was aware of his hard-on brushing against the small of her back. The plump head was moist with her own saliva and Alan’s bubbling pre-cum. Cyra had to admit that she hadn’t been so aroused in ages.
Suddenly, he stopped and pulled his hands and lips away. “Lie down across my thighs,” he said.
Curious about what he had in mind, Cyra shifted position and stretched out with her hips balanced over his legs. The body pillows supported her upper body. Alan skated a palm over her spine, her shoulders, and finally her buttocks. He spent a long time there, smoothing over the outside curve and massaging the tender place where the backs of her thighs began. Cyra shuddered with need, excited as she imagined what he might be building up to.
“Do you know why none of your other lovers has ever been enough for you?” he asked her in a casual voice she hadn’t expected.
“What do you mean?” She turned her head and shoulders to look up at him, but his strong hands kept her in position.
“I mean that y
ou’ve wasted a lot of years trying to find a place for yourself and a lover—or lovers—who can satisfy you. And I wonder if you’ve really given any thought to why you’ve never been happy with your choices.”
Cyra frowned. He’d used “lovers” in the plural, but how could he have known about her attempts to join Kral’s pod? She shrugged it off mentally. An incidental choice of words, perhaps. No doubt he could tell that she was far from inexperienced when it came to men, and she felt no shame about that.
“I don’t see why I should answer that, frankly. My past and my future are my own concern.”
He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. His hand stopped roving over her ass and settled in one spot, turning in a slow circle. “I probably didn’t mention it, and you didn’t care enough to ask, but this isn’t my first visit to this island. Over the years, I’ve spent time with many of the alluring women who come swimming past these shores. I enjoy their exoticism, though I admit I’ve never felt any strong desire to be part of a pod. I prefer to have just one woman to myself.”
She gasped, and he laughed.
“Yes, Cyra, I know about your Aquan culture. And I’ve made some interesting discoveries concerning the psychology of Aquan women. You, dear one, are a perfect example. You think you want to be in control of a man—of everything, really—and then can’t figure out why your life consists of wandering from one lonely place to another. What you really want is someone to guide you through life—someone who can set boundaries. Luckily for you, that’s something I’m rather good at.”
Moving his legs apart, he used the fingers of his free hand to spread her pussy open. Then he pushed his fingers inside her. She gasped again as he stimulated her. The hand on her ass only increased the pressure on her clit.
“I figure if I set some boundaries with you, you’re less likely to wander off on me,” Alan continued. “And I’ve decided that I’d like you to stay around for a while.”
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