by Joey W. Hill
Then there was the roaring. It had gotten so it took days of meditation after the battle was over for blessed silence to reign in his mind again. Saliva, vomit and blood. There was no way to get clean from it.
At least in this last battle, his men had gotten free. By the time they realized he was not with them, it had been over.
He drifted. He was not in the clouds. He was in the earth. Deep within the earth. Under water. Under an ocean. Far, far from the skies. But among the pain that was starting to return to him in full, throbbing measure, he remembered something not as unpleasant. The vague sense of it close by gave him an annoying will to return to consciousness. He would have preferred to accept oblivion.
But there'd been a gentle touch, the simple press of a female body against him, her hands guiding him. Her heartbeat fast but her eyes concerned, determined. So determined. He'd never seen such great strength in a face so fragile. Reaching down inside him with those great violet eyes, wanting him to survive, willing to do the unthinkable to get him to safety. Sacrifice. Goodness.
As an angel, he was helpless not to respond to it.
Blinking, Jonah found himself looking at the rocky, multicolored terrain of a cavern ceiling. The warm air told him he'd directed her down deep enough, but not too deep. He had no more desire than the Dark Ones to attract Lucifer's attention. The cavern was one of the far outer honeycombs of his domain. While Jonah couldn't draw healing energy from it without catching Luc's notice, at least it was dry and warm. He'd have to use another energy source. Something close at hand.
He turned his gaze, and there she was.
SHE hadn't wanted to leave him until he woke, for she didn't want him to think he'd been abandoned. Which was a ludicrous thought, considering that even wounded, he probably wielded more power than all the creatures in the ocean combined. But as a quarter hour passed and he hadn't moved, Anna knew she might have to leave him this way regardless.
She was so deep in such thoughts that when he shifted his head, she nearly stroked back ten feet like a startled guppy. She'd been sitting on the ledge, her feet in the water, watching him. She hadn't shifted back to mermaid, not knowing if her legs would be needed.
Until he moved his head, she couldn't tell he was looking at her. Without whites to his eyes, there was no way to detect shifts. Like a shark in some ways, every thought and potential action masked. But the language was there, rich and varied, just not comprehensible to her yet.
She thought about standing, but that seemed disrespectful with him supine like this. So instead, hesitantly, she turned, bringing her legs out of the water, folding them beneath her. Bending from the waist, she touched her forehead to the ground in respect. It felt odd, for she'd never offered her allegiance to anyone. But he was an angel. From the command in his expression, even when at rest, she suspected he was perhaps an angel more important than some others. Those horrible things had certainly been determined to find him.
She tensed as she heard his arm brush against the rock. Reaching out, he fingered a tendril of her hair coiled on the ground in front of her knees. She remained still, though it did odd things to her, feeling that slight pull as his fingertips gauged its texture. Then he turned his palm over, began to wrap it, shortening it, which would by necessity require her to come closer. Oddly, it almost made her smile, because it seemed a child's trick.
But she moved forward. When she dared to raise her gaze, Anna's humor fled. He was in pain. Sweat shone on his body and there was a tremor in the hand that held her tethered. She should have gone to Mina before he woke, had something she could offer to him . . .
"Come closer, little one. I need your help, if you freely offer it."
Well, that was something she never expected to hear from an angel's lips. Bowing her head, she dared to speak, hoping either that his words gave her permission or that the assertion that her tongue would burn to ash was an old wives' tale. "I am yours to command, my lord."
Anyone who'd ever told her about angels had said they were to be obeyed as if they were the Lady themselves. She'd always gone the opposite way in her life, respecting but resisting her great-grandsire's authority, living far outside the boundaries of the insular mermaid community. But she knew she'd do whatever this being required of her. There definitely must be something magical about him. With all the trouble she caused, she could almost hear King Neptune wryly asking if he could bottle it.
The angel shook his head, even as he continued to tug her forward. "I won't compel you to do this against your will, little one. I need energy to heal my wing, to reattach it, and it is more energy than I have."
"I'm not so little," she assured him. "I can help."
A smile twitched at his mouth. Oh, dear Lady, what a smile did to his face, even if it didn't seem to reach those dark eyes. Grasping her hand, he drew her attention down. When he placed his palm against hers, he straightened their fingers and showed her the breadth of his palm, the lengths of his digits, dwarfing her own.
"Your heart has great courage, but your body is quite small. Another of the Lady's contradictions. What's your name?"
"Anna." She tried not to stare at the way their hands looked, palm to palm like that. "My name is Anna. My lord."
"Jonah," he responded. When he tensed, his mouth tightening, she curved her fingers into his, holding his hand through the spasm.
"Please, tell me how I can help. I can't bear to see you in pain."
His head tilted, and she sensed her words had startled him.
"Do you belong to another?"
The question hurt, though not as much as the answer. "No," she said.
"Then perhaps you can help. It is simple, old magic, little one. Did you like it when I kissed you?"
One of Neptune's guards had taken her hand once, a formality to guide her at some official function. It had been years ago, before she'd left the palace for good. That touch, one of the few she'd had in her life, had lingered in her young mind, so powerfully that she'd developed a short crush on the guard, slinking around and watching him. Nearly eight years ago, and she remembered it still, that brush of flesh against flesh.
Yes. Oh, heavens, yes. A flush rose in her cheeks as she realized he might be able to read her thoughts, since he'd spoken to her inside her mind easily enough. "I was somewhat hoping you'd forgotten about that, my lord. I hope I didn't offend you."
"I believe I should ask that, seeing that it was me who kissed you." That light smile again, but his eyes were intent upon her face. "Female energy is strong, particularly when defending what they love, or when they are aroused. You are willing to defend me; that much is obvious, as you did not heed my wisdom and leave me. I cannot wield much magic here without attracting unpleasant attention, unless I use one of the most elemental of earth magics. Joining Magic."
"Joining . . . Oh." She looked down quickly to cover the sudden widening of her eyes. Their interlaced hands suddenly seemed to have far too similar a symbolism, his long fingers resting inside the tender creases of hers. "I . . . If that will help, of course, my lord." She bit down on her tongue, willing herself not to babble.
Shifting his grip so he was holding her shoulders, he drew her down to him. His hands were confident, holding her easily as he brought her close enough to his mouth that she felt dizzy. It made her chest hurt, so full of her reaction her skin felt stretched, sensitive. She wanted him to touch every part of it. Yet she was nervous, and couldn't help the instinct to pull back. He let her, his grip sliding to her hands, and she swallowed.
"Please forgive me, my lord," she stammered hastily. He was hurting. What was wrong with her? Her body was an easy thing to give, something that meant nothing to anyone but her. "I can do this. I am not refusing you--"
"Sshh . . ." He shook his head, squeezed her hands. Then he let go so one could lift toward her face. Something altered in his expression as he eased his hand onto her cheek, his fingertips seeking beneath her hair. His thumb passed over her cheek. Everything in her heated under his
touch, liquefied. Her lips parted despite herself, making her uncertain of what her body was doing in uncontrolled reaction to that amazing touch.
"We're going to make something very clear here, little one. Anna. I do not command this of you. I don't wish you to fear me. Others fear me. Many others. And they should." A dangerous glint to his eyes, here, then gone before she could retreat, startled. But then something wistful went through his expression. "However, I think if this world was populated by more creatures like you, I would find myself with much time on my hands."
Anna put her hand tentatively on top of his, feeling the sensitive channels between his fingers, an intimate discovery, a vulnerability amid such obvious power. Faith, he was an odd being. Or perhaps she was the odd one. "I was told if you spoke to an angel before being given leave, your tongue would disintegrate."
His brow lifted. "Likely a rumor spread by one of my brethren who didn't want to encourage excessive chatter."
The brief, dry humor startled her, such that she giggled before she could stop herself. Reflexively, she put her hand over her mouth, but since their hands were interlocked, she managed to move his palm over her lips.
A jaw muscle tensed, pain or something else, she didn't know.
"Taste me, little mermaid," he said quietly. "See if I am something you can create magic with."
She parted her lips, touched his skin with the tip of her tongue. Heat, if heat had a taste. That sensual warmth, like what she'd felt from his wing, coursed through her whole body at just that miniscule contact. It went to every corner, into every organ and artery, driving away the sense of being damp in her human form that the cavern's unseen heat source couldn't completely dispel.
Since his attention appeared completely riveted upon her, she knew she should feel terribly self-conscious. Here was this powerful being, probably ancient compared to her, patiently waiting for her to decide if something as insignificant as her innocence was worth sacrificing to his healing. He was in pain, she reminded herself. That was all that mattered. She could help.
Pressing her face into the span of his hand, she let his fingers graze over her brow, her nose, then her lips. Recognizing her acquiescence, he began to ease her forward.
"Do you know anything about channeling, Anna?"
She nodded. "I have been tutored in the way magic works." It had been necessary to learn because of her unusual shapeshifting abilities, and then there had been Mina's teachings as well. Anna had badgered her into it, and then absorbed as much as the seawitch would offer her.
"When we Join, I will direct the energy to my wing and the other internal wounds I have suffered. You may feel light-headed as I do this. Don't worry if you drop into sleep for a while."
He was speaking quietly, gently, as if he were explaining the mechanics of how to swim, or to fly. She found it unsettling, because what was fluttering in the pit of her stomach was not studentlike in the least. In fact, her female pride was ruffled, an unexpected reaction that discomfited her.
Am I simply a tool?
She didn't say the words, because it was a presumptuous question. He was in need, hunted, and this would help him regain his strength.
But it hurt a little. Probably because while he was unconscious she'd let herself have that ridiculous, over-in-a-blink fantasy of being his. His only. She'd had the silly impression she was special. She knew better than that.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked quietly.
He blinked, his dark eyes somehow softening and yet getting more intense at once, reflecting the fire that drew her even closer to the flame, to feel it spread over her body the way it was spreading inside.
"Just feel, Anna," he murmured. "Just feel, and do whatever you wish to bring yourself pleasure. Take off these garments you wear."
From a shipwreck she'd recovered a silken, nearly transparent purple scarf embroidered with silver threads. She'd added her own decorations of small shells and kept the garment tied over her breasts, knotted in the middle, the ends tied behind her neck. While mermaids didn't generally have a problem with modesty, most found it more comfortable to keep their breasts bound when swimming. Because of Anna's shapeshifting ability, she preferred to have something accessible for her lower body. Therefore, she also wore a similar scarf around the upper part of her hips. When she was in human form, it just barely covered the tops of her thighs and snugged down over her backside, but it gave her the decency needed to move on land to where she could get more appropriately concealing garments as a human.
Now she reached up and tried to unknot the scarf at her neck. The knot of course had contracted with the damp, and because of her nervousness, she was fumbling it. As she opened her mouth to say something awkward and incomprehensible, he threaded his hands along either side of her throat, his gaze holding her motionless. Her hands fell away, her lips pressed together, breath caught as he efficiently untied it, brought the ends forward and uncovered her upper body for his viewing.
Her breasts were neither overly large nor too small, a pleasing size that seemed to attract the eyes of other mermen, before those eyes quickly shifted. A nice pair of breasts was not enough to overlook her other drawbacks. But his eyes did not shift. He studied them closely, such that she felt the heat that emanated from him increase. Of course, at this point she didn't know if it was coming from him, or her.
Leaving the ends of the scarf trailing over her thighs, he unknotted the lower one, pulling that one completely away so she was naked except for the upper scarf's hold just below her breasts.
She'd never had any hair on her lower body like human women did, so the fleshy petals of her sex were there, unguarded. They felt somewhat swollen, and she shifted a bit. As a merwoman, her sex was completely concealed beneath overlapping scales, so she thought she probably felt more naked right now than even a human woman would normally feel.
His hands closed on her shoulders, brought her back down to lie upon his chest, her breasts making contact with smooth, firm skin. She drew in a breath at the sensation, and something sparked in his eyes.
"You are pure goodness. That's rare, Anna. Do you know that?"
This was rare. Once in a lifetime. So instead of responding, she closed her eyes, experiencing the way his hands held her that way, so powerful and yet so gentle. It made her breasts feel fuller as well, the nipples tightening and hardening, the contact between them and the hard muscles of his chest distracting to her senses. A swirl of sea horses was fluttering in her belly now, galloping madly.
When he moved his lips to her temple, she opened her eyes to see the curve of his throat just below her own mouth. Energy already seemed to be weaving around them from that one contact, and she shuddered as his attached wing curved around her, brushing her shoulders, settling over her hips, giving her reassurance in the caress. Slowly, she turned her head, her hair brushing him. One bare inch, then another. Vividly she remembered that earlier touch of his mouth on hers when they'd been in the cold darkness together. She wanted another like that. One that dispelled every fear or moment of desolate emptiness she'd ever experienced.
Impulsively, she tipped her head up to find his mouth. He hadn't burned her to ash for presumption yet, so she was willing to take the risk. He went still beneath the press of her lips. Not unresponsive, just utterly still, letting her get the "taste" of him, as he'd said.
His mouth was so firm, and the fact it was held so still now was arousing in itself, for she sensed him holding himself back with a certain level of effort, his fingers curling on her leg as she shyly nibbled, pressed. Tasted. Dragging her lips like one of his feathers over his cheek, the side of his nose.
On instinct, she placed her hand on the top edge of his wound, just behind his shoulder. When he flinched, the reaction shuddered through her, tightening her body, rocketing through her. He needed her. Only she could do this.
Something different and more aggressive roused inside of her. The light, uncertain way she was touching him seemed inadequate to the compressed
feeling in her breast. One courteous hand from a guard she didn't even know was it, everything she'd ever had. She'd never been this close to anyone in her life, and she found herself on a knife edge of not wanting to hurry a single second and yet wanting to grab hold of something with both hands and tear it apart to get to the center of it. Whatever it was Jonah was offering seemed to have the weight and glow of treasure. And she wanted him to respond in kind, with the near violent need surging up in her now.
She should hurry. He was suffering. But this might be the one and only time she got to feel something like this. I'm sorry. I just can't hurry.
"Take your time, little one," he whispered. "My pain is eased by watching you discover your pleasure. Seeing what you will do next."
"You can read my mind?"
"Only when you speak directly to me. I like it when you do that." His mouth firmed, creating a sterner line from cheekbone to jaw that made those sea horses in her belly do somersaults. "I'll make certain we have speed when the moment calls for it."
This was a dream; she knew it. So before she woke, she was going to make sure she had the best memory ever to carry her through her waking hours. Maybe even into eternity, if the Lady was kind and allowed favorite memories to become the afterlife.
Anna knew she'd have no problem doing this forever. When she pressed against his mouth again, something else took over. Him. Apparently he'd decided that speed wasn't the only thing he'd control.
His lips moved onto hers, hot, parting and compelling her to do the same. When her lower body clenched like the coils of an eel, she felt a warm liquid on her thighs as his tongue penetrated her mouth. The sensation of want flattened her against him. She needed to feel the hard lines of his body press against the softness of hers. Yes, this was what she'd been craving, him to touch her in a way that was anything but gentle. Her one leg had been draped over his until he shifted, tilting her over his body. Catching his shoulders for support, she gasped as his thigh pressed between her legs, against moistness, flexing so her hips responded as if by instinct, rubbing her against him. When his hand went beneath the curve of his wing to grip her body, she moaned into his mouth as his large palm molded over her buttock, squeezing, taking possession. It gave the friction an even more delicious edge.
