Lovers Catch

by Dani Stowe

  This was my idea. Shelley tried to kiss me the second she saw me in the water, but I couldn’t allow it, not without telling her the truth first. Per the arrangement with the sea witch, I have to confess everything to Shelley and I need to do it before the sheriff wakes up and tries to take at least one of us off to jail.

  Yanka was able to revive the sheriff and Doc says he’ll be okay, which is great news, but I’m sure the lawman will be looking to hang someone for all his misfortune and humiliation.

  As Lenora stated, if Shelley forgives me, she and I will be able to live out our days together as human beings; if not, I will be cursed to the sea for all time, minus the gifts Poseidon bestowed me.

  Shelley’s upset and indifferent towards me because I ignored her advances. She even tried to hold my hand as the deputy drove us back to the beach house and she almost kissed me when she helped me learn to use the zipper on these denim pants, which are sewn together by rivets and are rather too tight and stiff to be comfortable. I do like the many pockets, which must be the only reason they are so popular and I enjoyed when she stuck her finger in one of my pockets.

  “Talk to me,” she said, but I couldn’t. I just wanted to enjoy her company, at least for a few hours before the truth about her parents is revealed and she will likely leave me.

  I could take her right now. She wants me and, by the gods, I want her, too. She’s as in love with me now with legs and a voice as she was on the beach the first time we made love and I was only half human. She has not questioned my transformation, so I’ve chosen to do right by her. I’ve elected not to take her so she will not be disappointed to have given herself up to the murderer she suspects I am. Instead, I suggested we sit together so I may profess my sins, receive my punishment, and release her from the pain she’s been carrying of never knowing what happened to the pieces of her that were lost at sea—her parents.

  Thus, here we are beneath the stars and cloudless sky on a blanket on the sand next to a warm fire.

  “You know what happened to them,” she says. “Tell me.”

  I throw the stick in my hand into the fire and scoot back next to her. Glancing at her one more time, her face is full of determination and wonder, just as it was the first time I saw her ready to brave a mountain and not more than a day ago when I took her beneath the ocean. Her green eyes are like emeralds in the light of the fire and her hair glows red. The second I speak, I know that gem of a face might forever become lost to me.

  “Tell me,” she says again.

  “I killed your father. He was as mad as your mother and at his request, I dragged him to the bottom of the sea where he drowned.”

  Just as I had suspected, the face I love is gone.

  “I don’t understand,” Shelley says bobbling her head, lost in confusion. But she doesn’t leave my side, so I try to explain what happened as I recall the events...

  Blood trickled into the water causing a frenzy among the creatures of the deep, but it wasn’t the woman’s blood that attracted me—it was her wailing. When I arrived, I knew immediately there was something wrong with her, something erroneous with her mind. Now I’m aware this was a result of the poison called mercury, as Athena explained.

  The woman, Shelley’s mother, was alone, but she could not stop talking to herself as she cut herself. She was beautifully dressed in a red gown fitted over skin as fair as Shelley’s though she had thinned long blonde hair.

  I feel guilty knowing now it was Shelley’s mother. I found her amusing at the time, up until a man with fiery red hair, Shelley’s father, showed up. He rowed himself to where she was and the second he climbed on board, she gazed at him and slit her own throat.

  She fell into the water and I summoned the lightning to strike the beasts of the sea so they could not make a meal of her in front the man who obviously cared deeply for her. Shelley’s father took note of me, but he was not as shocked to see me as the few who have before and tried to escape. Instead, he dove in and, of all things, he could not swim.

  It took every ounce of strength I had with my two arms to pull him back onto the bigger boat as he fought me. That son-of-a-bitch kicked and punched me until I was so sore I had to let him go.

  He dove back in, but by then, his wife sunk to the depths of the ocean.

  “Help me!” he cried. “Take me to her.”

  All I could do was shake my head, No!

  “Please, you don’t understand. She’s my wife. I swore to her I would never leave her. Please take me to her. I cannot bear the thought of her alone.”

  I pointed at him and then into the water and wrapped both hands around my neck so he understood what I was gesturing—he would drown and die.

  “My friend, there is a reason why you are here at this time and this place. There is a reason why you are in the shape you are in—you are here to help me. If I should die, if I should drown down there with the woman I love, you will not be responsible. I absolve you of whatever sin you think you will be committing. I forgive you and may whatever god or gods in our universe exist hear me say this: you must not only be forgiven, but rewarded for the act of love you are about to carry out. Please, I cannot wander this earth alone without her.”

  I knew how it felt to be alone, to be without companionship. I ruminated, but I decided to take him. I took him to the bottom of the sea to be with his wife, who was already drained of blood in the eternal tomb of the ocean.

  I watched him caress her dead face and hold her lifeless hand as he swallowed with heavy gulps, the salty sea, allowing it to fill his belly and keep him anchored beside her.

  At that moment, I felt more alone than ever before. I had lived without affection or any kind of human contact for nearly three hundred years, so I prayed to Poseidon, to any god listening, to perhaps help me find a love like that one day. I, too, would give up all I had—immortality and power, to receive such a reward.

  I feel a hard smack on my face as Shelley strikes me.

  “How could you do it?!” she screeches in my ear and I turn my head to see her face look as lost as her father’s did on that dreadful day.

  Shelley strikes me again and climbs on top of me trying to choke me, this time looking as mad as her mother.

  Shelley hits me a few more times, but I take every blow until she starts to sob and lays to rest on me. I roll us over so I’m top of her and kiss the chubby part of her cheek smeared with salty tears streaming down her face.

  She stops crying and just stares at me. I don’t move or say anything. I’ve saved her twice, but I need her to save me this time. I need her to forgive me.

  She lifts her head, closes her eyes, and puckers her pretty pink lips against mine.

  I change my mind. I don’t give a fuck if she forgives me. I’m taking this moment like it’s the last one. Just like Shelley’s father couldn’t let his wife go, I’m not letting this moment with Shelley get away either.

  I wedge my knees between her legs and it dawns on me—I’m about to take her like I haven’t been able to before; the way I was meant to, as a man.

  I get up on my knees and take my shirt off. I watch Shelley lift off her dress. She’s got no undergarments on; she was hoping this would happen. We both wanted this to happen.

  I reach for my button and undo the clasp and Shelley gets up to help me with my zipper, pulling down each pant fold. She pulls out my Man Thomas, taking it into her mouth and sucking on it. I run my hands through her strawberry blonde hair and watch her engulf me. It feels too good and I’m close to reaching my peak. I haven’t had a woman suck on me for centuries and, as much as my Man Thomas would love to ejaculate in her mouth, I’m not ready for that yet.

  I pull her by her hair and push her back onto the blanket and admire her. She’s so soft, so fair. There is so much I have yet to discover about her as if she’s a new found land. I want to run my hands over every peak and valley and make claim to every inch of new territory.

  I rub my hands over Shelley’s inner thighs; she smiles and trem
bles simultaneously. I stand to slip off my pants and remember thinking—dreaming, I’d run like a madman for miles if I ever got my legs back, but I’m not going anywhere.

  I get on my knees, digging them into the sand and wiggle my toes to wedge them for leverage. I slip a finger along the slit of Shelley’s privities, which she removes the hair from and I find different, but whatever makes her comfortable is fine with me.

  She’s wet. She’s so fucking wet and I want to taste her. I dip my head down and take a lick as she moans. I lick the upper, small nub between her slit and her legs shake as she gasps.

  I reach up with a hand to grab her plump breast and massage it as I stroke her most pleasurable knob with my tongue.

  Shelley grips at my hair. “Fuck me,” she says. Her eyes squint as they peer down at me. “Blue, fuck me.”

  I stop, getting up to lean on her. Her hands run over my chest, my sides, and scratch down my back. I lie on top of her and whisper in her ear. “Henry,” I tell her and I slip my hard cock into her.

  She hitches and closes her eyes.

  “Henry,” I say again and thrust deeper.

  She moans.

  “Henry!” I snap in her ear and I fuck her. I fuck her so hard, her body is jerking from the force of my thrusts thanks to my legs.

  I grip one of her legs to pull it up over my shoulder and she finally croaks, “Henry!”

  She gasps as I get deep and she curses then bites my shoulder. This is the fire in her, the part of her that can be all-consuming but I need her to come back to earth. I still need her forgiveness. If I want to keep doing this to her—just like this, in this way with legs as a man, I need her to tell me I’m absolved.

  I slow my pace and grab her by the chin to turn her head to face me. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”

  Shelley opens her eyes.

  “Say my name and tell me I’m forgiven,” I say again.

  She sighs, “Henry, can we forget about everything that is right and wrong with the world? Can we forget any debate about whether the earth is round or flat and all the mystic and magic? Can we just be two people—you and I, a man and a woman, making love as we were meant to on this romantic beach?”

  I bite my lip. That’s not what I need but I nod.

  “Just make love to me, Henry,” she pleads.

  I push myself deeper inside of her and recognize the irony of our situation. I needed her that first time we made love on the beach; I was only half human, but she fully gave herself to me. Now, she needs me and I need to give myself to her completely.

  So, I toss and turn her, folding and bending her as I wedge myself inside of her, always making sure she feels everything I have to offer—my lips, my tongue, my hands, my strength, my manhood. The spark of her flame ignites with a fury, forcing her to come on my cock, and I extinguish myself inside her.

  My legs are weak as I lay on my back and Shelley tucks herself into my arm and at my side. I grip her tight as I stare up at the stars. In the morning, I won’t be able to speak; the magic will be gone. I should be encouraging her with words to forgive me so I’ll still be able to walk, but no words escape my mouth.

  Tonight, I was a man who made love to a woman, which was all she wanted. Tonight, I believe I was a hero.

  Chapter 19

  Shelley

  I RUN MY HAND OVER Henry’s chest. The fire burns low and a soft wind blows over our naked bodies, chilling me. The sound of small ocean waves tipping over the sand and fanning across the beach stirs me.

  My parents are out there. Deep down, I always knew they died, most likely of drowning, but I can’t fathom the thought they did it intentionally.

  I tip my head to look at Henry’s legs. Even with a fishtail, he could have stopped my mother from killing herself. With all of his supernatural powers, he could’ve created a typhoon of some type to knock her off the boat and swim her to shore before she took a knife to her own throat.

  Of course, there’s also my father. I’m sure he was having a moment of weakness and despair, but Henry had no right to lead my father to his death.

  “I cannot forgive you,” I tell Henry.

  He sits up. “What?!”

  “I can’t—”

  “Ah!” Henry cries and clutches his legs.

  “What’s the matter?!” I shriek as Henry looks like he’s in pain.

  “No!” he yells and starts to wail.

  Scales appear on his legs, popping up one by one like bubbles bursting over his skin. Henry starts wailing in utter agony. I grab his face and he screams again, pushing me away, as I hear his fibula and femur breaking and then crumbling into misshapen lumps of unnatural horror that illuminate under an unexpected beam of light.

  “What the fuck is that?!” shouts Pike. I look up to see the sheriff holding his flashlight and he whips out his gun. “Step away, Shelley,” he cries.

  “Put the gun down, Pike!” I bellow to him as a second light beams on Henry.

  “What in the world is going on?” the deputy asks as he also draws his radio to call for help then drops the radio to pull out his gun.

  Henry leans forward, still wailing, as he tries to haul himself across the sand with his forearms towards the water.

  “You stay right there!” Pike commands, pointing his gun at Henry. “I knew there was something fishy going on with you,” he shouts.

  “Stop it!” I say as I get up and run towards Pike to try to grab his hand and move his aim. “Henry saved your life, Sheriff!”

  I see the deputy put his gun back in his holster. “Shelley’s right, Sheriff. Whatever’s going on with the guy, we should probably help him.”

  Pike pushes me off and snarls at the deputy, “I don’t know what kind of crazy shit is going on in this town, but it’s clear I’m the only sane person left!” Pike points his gun and flashlight at Henry. Henry’s fishtail is completely intact and he’s only a foot from the edge of the water.

  “Stop right there!” yells Pike as he cocks his gun. “Somehow, you’re responsible for Shelley’s missing parents and I’m glad I came out here to check on Shelley because I’m sure you’re after her too. I don’t know what kind of devil you are and what kind of psychic bullshit Shelley’s family has been cursed with but you’d better stop. Right there! Or I’ll fucking shoot you.”

  Henry stares down the sheriff. His face is aglow from the flashlight making his blue eyes sparkle like gems. His tail glimmers under the moonlight. Henry scoots forward and I hear Pike’s gun go off.

  I’m screaming as I run towards Henry when another shot resounds through the shadowy seaside. I feel a stabbing pain in my arm, but I keep running to Henry whose face is down in the water and he’s not moving.

  “Henry!” I call to him and flip him over. He’s choking on the water and sand in his throat. I prop him on my lap and hold him. I hear the deputy and the sheriff scuffling in the background along with sirens approaching, but I block the noises out of my mind.

  Henry reaches behind his back and brings his hand forward. Despite the dark of night, we can both see and smell blood trickling over his fingertips from a bullet hole in his back. I start to cry and squeeze him tighter as my arm stings. Pike shot me too, but I believe it’s only grazed my arm so I’m okay.

  “The sheriff is right,” Henry says. “I think I could’ve saved your mother and all I did was drown your father. I’m responsible.”

  “That’s not true,” I say.

  “I’m responsible,” he says again as I begin to sob. “I never meant to let you live with all that pain—never knowing what happened to your family and chained to your past for so long,” says Henry.

  Steps approach in the sand. “What the hell?” screeches a man in the company of a woman. They’re dressed in black and white uniforms and carrying a stretcher.

  “He’s been shot in the back,” I say.

  “Yeah, okay. Let’s get him on the stretcher,” replies the woman, as if she’s completely unfazed by Henry’s fishtail.

  The parame
dics struggle to carry Henry, despite my help. He’s too long for the stretcher and, thankfully, the deputy comes to help us. We load Henry into the ambulance, but they won’t allow me to go with him. They say Henry is hardly responsive and they’re going to need all the room they can get to work on his wounds.

  The deputy pulls a blanket from his car for me; I forgot I’m stark naked so I wrap myself up. As the ambulance siren gets farther away, I hear the sheriff in the back of the deputy’s car pounding away at the glass like a crazy person; the deputy locked him in there after the shooting. I do feel a little sorry for Pike; I know what it’s like to be deemed crazy.

  The deputy states he’s taking Pike to the mental hospital to get the sheriff some help, which is fifty miles in the opposite direction of where Henry is going. Then, the deputy says he’s coming back to take me to the hospital to see Henry. He tries to reassure me Yanka will take good care of Henry as she was on her way to the hospital.

  I watch the deputy drive away with blue lights flashing and within seconds, I’m alone.

  Facing the beach, I skim my eyes across the vast ocean. Many times in my life, I wanted to get lost in that ocean to be with my parents and not feel so alone. Henry’s right; I’ve been living chained to the past for nearly the entire length of my life.

  “I’m sorry for you, Mom, and I forgive you, Dad,” I tell them and I can’t help but get the feeling they hear me. “I will bring Aunt Cora’s ashes so she can join you. And I hope you will all forgive me because I’m forgiving Henry, too.”

  Chapter 20

  Henry

  I DON’T WANT TO READ this book about green eggs, I tell Shelley with my hands. This is a children’s book. When can I read the book about the whale with big bawbels and a giant Man Thomas?

  “You’re not ready for that book yet, Henry. And Moby Dick is not about a whale’s big penis,” Shelley scolds.

  I close the book. In truth, reading is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be and I’d prefer Shelley read to me as she does sometimes in bed. Although it’s not because I want to hear the stories. It’s so I can grope between her legs while she’s easily distracted.