The Isle of Eternal Happiness

by Kay Berrisford

  Ben clung tight as ever, pressing his cheek to Lyle's nape, though his thoughts danced uneasily. He tried to focus on the dragon's warmth, thrumming between his thighs, the sheer wonder of life with Lyle. It was no use. The more Ben mulled over recent events, the more annoyed he became.

  Maybe Ben should've predicted Lyle's reaction to the harness, given Lyle's traumatic past. Nevertheless, it would be nice if Lyle saw matters from Ben's point of view for a change, rather than being so touchy. Ben was constantly obliged to take responsibility, drip-feeding Lyle magic and keeping Lyle out of trouble, and he'd got the Dragon Rider prophecy to worry about.

  At first, Ben hadn't cared about the Dragon Rider's destiny to save Lyle's family in their hour of need, focussing only on the sword's useful side-effect of topping up Lyle's depleted magic. Lately, though, the responsibility weighed increasingly on Ben's mind, what with Lyle's merfolk family living a precarious nomadic life along the Cornish coast. Lyle ought to appreciate the pressure this put Ben under.

  Lyle banked sharply, jostling Ben back to the present, if just to hug the dragon as if his life depended on it—which, actually, it did. Damn it, why couldn't Lyle have let Ben put that harness on?

  "Look down there," rumbled Lyle. "You can see Highsands Castle. There's rather more leaves around it than when we got married."

  On spotting their wedding venue, perched on the cliff with its turrets poking above the treeline, Ben's heart melted a little. How happy they'd been that day. Everything had felt balanced and perfect, their love and their magic. So unlike now…

  Lyle levelled out, and motion sickness roiled Ben's belly. Far worse, he was sickened by his bitterness toward Lyle, which left him miserable and confused. He didn't resent Lyle, not deep down and was honoured to assume any responsibility that would aid them in their lives together. He fought a fresh wave of nausea with a deep gulp of sea air. He ached to get back to the flat, so he could have a quiet moment to gather himself… and to be alone with Clewell's sword.

  He'd feel better then, he was sure of it.

  *~*~*

  Once they'd arrived home, Ben left Lyle bustling in the open-plan living area, and hurried straight into the bedroom. His old tennis bag leaned upright in the corner, and he pounced on it.

  The bag didn't contain a racquet because Ben had sold that long ago. These days, the holdall contained Clewell's sword, wrapped in off-yellow crepe paper. Ben retrieved the weapon, handling it like the sacred object it was, then sat on the bed and laid it lengthwise across his lap.

  He took a firm hold of the dragon-topped hilt and carefully drew the weapon from its ornate sheath. When he angled the blade, his reflection flashed back at him, reminding him how much he needed the sword tonight. While Lyle, lucky bastard, had if anything become younger-looking since escaping Shanty Wood a year ago, Ben had aged, as a human must. Worry lines seamed his brow and pinched his mouth, though even his newly-receding hairline only bothered him for an instant. Magic prickled through him, the initial sensation akin to an electric shock before settling into a gentle glow. Ben rolled back his shoulders, heaving a nigh orgasmic groan.

  Ah yes, this was rejuvenating. A short while longer with the sword would ease all his aches and pains, and then he'd curl up with his latest book, a huge tome concerning fairy legend and lore. He'd reached an interesting chapter about secret fairy sanctuaries and was curious to find out more…

  "Ben?" called Lyle, from the next room. "What are you up to? Do you want anything to eat, or shall we watch something on the telly?"

  Ben harrumphed. He could've done with more "me" time to sooth his ragged nerves, but he packaged the sword away and left the bedroom. Lyle was poised behind the breakfast bar. In one of his upper fins, he held a bottle of sparkling wine.

  "What's that for?" asked Ben.

  "I magicked it up to celebrate your success," said Lyle. "I know it’s a tad premature, but I don't see how anybody could turn my lovely husband down. If they do, they're fools who don't deserve you."

  "Are you sure it's not because you fancied some prosecco, love?"

  "That too," admitted Lyle. "Anyhow, its six months and seven days since our wedding, and that's an anniversary that wants celebrating."

  "I see." Ben surrendered beneath the blitzkrieg of Lyle's sweetness, and a pleasing idea struck. "Seeing as you got the wine, allow me to get the glasses."

  He reached for his magic, picturing the objects he desired and willing them into existence. Despite his recent moment with the sword, success was far from guaranteed. So when two slender champagne glasses popped into existence on the breakfast bar, Lyle's burst of applause was matched by Ben's delighted cry.

  Lyle hurried around the bar and flung his arms around Ben. "You're learning so fast it scares me," said Lyle. "Now let's get those glasses full so we can empty them again."

  Ben watched Lyle pour, enjoying how Lyle scowled prettily with concentration. Lyle was delicate and careful about everything he did, and presentation was one of his many strengths. Lyle wouldn't let the wine froth and overflow, unlike if Ben had poured. Their skills had always complemented each other, and Ben mentally slapped himself again for considering Lyle any sort of burden. Lyle brought much of practical use to Ben's existence, let alone the joy and love.

  When both flutes were filled to a neat half-inch beneath the rim, Ben stretched out to take one. Lyle feathered a fin across his forearm, stopping him.

  "One thing first," said Lyle, forming a loose loop about Ben's wrist. "I wanted to apologise about earlier. I appreciate you meant no harm with that gift. I felt… Oh, I don't know. The prospect of moving has unsettled me, but I'll grow accustomed to the idea. Either way, I'll always be there for you, darling. I promise."

  "Thank you," said Ben, overcome with contrition. He had no right to resent Lyle at all. It was a damned privilege to be with Lyle. Ben would never lose sight of that, even when every last hair on his head turned white and fell out. "I'm a lucky man to have you."

  "And I'm a very fortunate merman to have you." Lyle plucked up both glasses and handed one to Ben. He raised his in a toast. "To us."

  "To us," echoed Ben. He chinked his wine against Lyle's. Both vessels shattered on impact, and wine sprayed across the breakfast bar and carpet.

  "Whoops." Laughing, Lyle put down the stem of his glass, which was reduced to a jagged stump. "I don't think your glass was thick enough."

  "Seems it wasn't," mumbled Ben. Blood seeped from his finger, where a sliver of glass had cut him. "Careful picking up those pieces," he warned, sucking his injury and already on his way to the cupboard to grab a dustpan and brush. When the phone rang, his heart kicked in his chest, and he performed a swift turnabout. "I better get that. It could be Janine with a job offer."

  After a far too swift exchange, Ben placed the phone down. Lyle, who'd emptied the contents of the dustpan onto a piece of newspaper, turned to him.

  "What did she say?" asked Lyle, eyes wide and anxious.

  "I didn't get the job." Ben answered in a monotone, the news still sinking in. Then he spotted it—the faintest relaxation of Lyle's crystal-cut features and the merest sigh of relief. Both vanished the same instant Lyle disclosed them. He hurried over to Ben, arms outstretched and his bottom lip wobbling, the perfect portrait of sympathy.

  "I'm so sorry," said Lyle. "They obviously don't know the best man for the job when they see h—"

  Ben placed a hand on Lyle's chest, keeping him at bay.

  "What is it?" asked Lyle.

  "Nothing." Ben forced the words from a tight jaw. He shouldn't be angry with Lyle. He well understood why Lyle was wary of change. But crap, Lyle had done the damage himself, in that split second of unguarded reaction. "I don't want to be fussed over right now, that's all."

  Lyle stiffened, backing away. "I understand that—"

  "You don't understand anything, Lyle. How can you?" An unfamiliar burst of rage claimed Ben. "The responsibility for everything never lies with you. All the pressure is always on
me. On top of that, I'm the Dragon Rider. I have to support you and your family."

  "That's not exactly true." Lyle spoke quietly and defensively, looking as startled as Ben was furious. In the back of his mind, Ben vaguely acknowledged that he'd never shouted at Lyle like that before, had never shouted at anybody like this. Lyle had the hot temper, yet Lyle was calm. Excruciatingly so. "My sister looks after my family now."

  "Stop arguing with me. Look, I'm sor—" Ben left the apology unfinished, his fury setting him rocking back on his heels.

  Why should I apologize? Lyle should accept he's the lesser partner in this relationship, and that he should listen to what I ruddy well say.

  Ben would have shouted as much in Lyle's face, but he couldn't bring himself to. Lyle looked crestfallen, and besides, Ben loved Lyle far too much to say anything so cruel. Ben's anger was stress speaking. It had to be. He must fight his bad temper boldly… though he'd need his sword.

  "I want some space." He turned his back before he could gauge Lyle's reaction, hurried to the bedroom, and grabbed his tennis bag. Thus far, he'd rarely carried the sword outside with him, in case he got arrested for possessing a weapon or the thing got stolen. His need tonight was great enough to override those concerns. Seconds later, he slammed the front door behind him, then barrelled down the stairs of the apartment building and off into the night.

  Chapter Three

  Cully drained her pint of Wessex Pride and smiled casually at Judith, who was drinking with her at the pub bar.

  "Can I buy you another?" asked Cully.

  "If you like." Judith, who'd finished her wine a while ago, didn't smile back. She had glossy black hair that coiled in braids about her shoulders and an incredibly expressive mouth, designed for kissing. Cully was keen to taste Judith's lips tonight, and try a billion other things with her gorgeously curvy date, if Judith was up for it. Nevertheless, conversation was stilted. As Cully checked her mobile for the umpteenth time, she began to suspect this was her fault.

  Confirming she'd no messages from Lyle, Cully slipped the phone away into her clutch bag. Silently vowing not to check it for another five minutes, she waved at the barman to grab his attention. "What do you fancy?" she asked Judith. "We could move onto cocktails."

  "I really don't mind," said Judith. "Though I'd suggest you order one for your brother too and ask him to join us. You've looked more at that phone than you have at me, and told me more about him than you have about yourself."

  Cully swept her fringe from her eyes. "Have I really been that bad?"

  "You really have, hon'," said Judith. "For example, I know Lyle is an artist, has been married for just over six months, and earns his daily crust in an ice-cream parlour. He's three years younger than you, and you're über protective of him because he was seriously ill in the past. Lyle's new husband Ben had a job interview today. This might lead to big disruptions in your little brother's life, and you're desperate for news. As for you, Cully? I haven't a clue where you live or what you do. And you've not even asked what I do for a living."

  "Yup, that's pretty bad." Cully cringed because Judith divulged no less than the truth. Cully had rocked by to see Lyle the previous weekend, and for the first time since the wedding, found him out of sorts. She'd managed to wheedle from him a certain apprehension at the prospect of a move. Still, she'd sensed there was more to his unease, despite his protestations otherwise, and couldn't stop fretting.

  Judith slapped her with a full-on glare, breaking Cully from her rumination. The barman, who'd finally made his way over, cleared his throat impatiently.

  "I'll have a Sex on the Beach," said Judith, thumbing at Cully. "She's paying."

  "Cool, I'll have a Long Island Ice Tea." Cully forced her attention back onto Judith and attempted to transmit the vibes of smouldering attraction Judith deserved. The barman turned away to sort their drinks, and Cully trailed her fingers sensuously up Judith's arm.

  "Let's start again," said Cully, stroking through the crook of Judith's elbow, delighted when the edges of Judith's sexy mouth quirked upward. "I promise, I won't mention Lyle again all night."

  "This is an all-nighter, is it?"

  "You said you wanted to find out where I live."

  They exchanged flirty chitchat until the barman brought over their drinks. They were topped with those naff paper umbrellas, which Cully always hated, but Lyle, with his ridiculously fancy tastes, loved.

  Cully all but groaned at how quickly her thoughts reverted from the delicious Judith to her brother. She looked into her bag to fetch out her wallet and pay. A message flashed up on her phone.

  One new voicemail.

  Cully handed the barman a twenty pound note. "Keep the change," she murmured, and then hissed apologetically. "Judith, I uh, need to check this. One moment, then I'll turn it off for good, I promise."

  Judith mumbled a justified obscenity. As Cully listened to the message, her heart plummeted. A night of passion was definitely no longer on her agenda.

  "I'm sorry," she said to Judith as she slipped her phone away again. "I'm going to have to run out on you."

  "Lyle?" Judith sounded drearily unsurprised.

  "Actually, no," said Cully. "It's my cousin, Bella. There's been an incident, and I have to be there. I'll… uh, call you tomorrow."

  "Don't bother." Judith grabbed her drink and stalked off to seek fresh company. Cully couldn't blame her. She hurried toward the exit, wishing she weren't in London's busy West End. Even though it was dark, she'd have to work hard to find a quiet spot to shift into her dragon.

  But she had little choice; her family needed her, and she didn't want Bella bugging Lyle instead. As she stepped onto the congested pavement, she couldn't help grimacing. For the most part, she didn't miss her lifestyle from those hundred years when she'd thought Lyle dead, when she'd learned to not give a shit about anyone or anything. She only wished family responsibility would stop ruining her sex life.

  *~*~*

  When Cully reached Cornwall, it was getting on for midnight and a squall brewed. Spray from storm-tossed waves saturated the dark air as she ploughed onward, fighting a headwind. Nevertheless, her keen vision detected Bella, who waved a torch madly to flag her down. Cully alighted in a secluded cove, then shifted from her dragon and magicked up some clothing in order to stride up the beach and greet her cousin.

  "Thanks for coming," shouted Bella, hair going haywire and her robes billowing. "Sorry about my message. I panicked."

  "It's fine," said Cully, wondering if she'd ever get close enough to Judith to treat her to a night's fun with the tentacle-like fins she and Bella both sported. "This is exactly the reason I gave you a phone. So, what happened?"

  Bella recounted how human day-trippers had voyaged dangerously near to the latest sea cave where the family had been hiding. The upshot was they'd had to find a new home for the umpteenth time in the past eight months, since they'd been driven from their age-old dwelling on the Isle of Wight.

  "We're alright now we've found this new spot," said Bella. "Some of the little 'uns are a bit shaken, although they're getting used to the constant moving on. However, um… there was another reason I panicked. I, uh… I think one of them saw me."

  "That's no biggie," said Cully, trying to sooth Bella's fears. "Humans have been spotting us for centuries, and their lore and legends are bursting with us. Fortunately, when we get careless, they rarely believe their senses—not unless we win their trust first, and then we're usually fine."

  "Maybe," said Bella, fixing on her bare toes wriggling in the sand. "But, er, this girl held up her phone, and it flashed. I think she got a good shot of me—tail and fins and everything."

  Oh shit. Bella could be about to go viral.

  Cully managed to keep her features placid. Her blood and mind now raced. "Really, it'll be fine," she said, as much for her benefit as Bella's. Even if the girl posted her pic of Bella online, it would most likely be dismissed as a photo manipulation. "Just be more vigilant in future."
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  She gave Bella a reassuring pat, and then smoothed her own wrecked hairdo. She ought to go into the cave and say "hi" to the others, though she was hardly in the mood for kids and grannies. Anyhow, she needed to find somewhere with a decent Wi-Fi signal. In a worst case scenario, the shot of Bella could bring a deluge of humans to this part of the coast on a mermaid hunt. If nobody else was going to discredit it as Photoshop silliness, then Cully would have to log into her social media accounts and do it herself.

  "Bella, I'm going to head off to perform some damage control. You stay put for now, and—" Cully's phone vibrated and she whipped it from its pouch. She was proud of the magic elastic she'd created to keep her mobile attached, whether she was human, mermaid, or dragon. She'd gifted some to Lyle, who Ben had finally purchased a phone for. Lyle's name now flashed up. She pivoted about, turning her back on Bella.

  "Lyle, how are you? How did Ben's interview go?"

  A long crackling noise answered, and Cully feared the crappy line had cut them off. Then, at last, Lyle answered. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. But Ben didn't get the job."

  "Oh." Cully spiralled back around. She stared, nigh unseeing, through Bella, who hovered awkwardly. "Is that good or bad news?"

  "I'm honestly not sure," said Lyle, his brittle tone disturbing Cully further. "I'd like to talk to you about something."

  Lyle wanted to open his heart, confide in her. This wasn't entirely new. They conducted the occasional serious conversation, yet tended to keep things light between them, sticking to the banter and fun rivalry that suited them. Ben was Lyle's confidante, naturally…

  Cully inhaled sharply. Ben wasn't the one Lyle needed tonight.