by Dee J. Stone
The middle of the ocean? I shrug.
“He has a distinct accent.”
I take another swig of my water. Too bad I didn’t bring a cookie with me.
Dad moves closer to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Cassie.” I look into his face. There’s concern and wariness floating in his eyes. “Are you happy with him?” he asks.
“Of course, Dad. I wouldn’t be with him if I wasn’t. I…” I clear my throat. “I really love him. Like really, really.”
His eyes soften for a bit, but then they get guarded. “He’s treating you okay?”
“Dad!”
He pats my shoulders and takes a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m probably behaving like an overprotective dad right now, worrying about my little girl. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I rub his arm. “I am. Very.”
He nods and kisses the top of my head.
Chapter Eight
Damarian lifts the blanket and climbs into my bed. His leg touches mine, causing electricity to shoot through every cell in my body. His scent envelops my senses, a mix of masculine soap and salt water. Butterflies gather in the pit of my stomach and chills crawl all over me. I wonder if he’ll have the same effect on me sixty years from now.
“May I read this to you?” he asks, holding out a notebook.
He’s been having a much more difficult time writing than reading, so I advised him to keep a journal where he could write anything he wants. I promised I wouldn’t read it. The fact that he wants to share some of his private thoughts with me sends a jolt of excitement up my spine.
“Sure.” I gulp down some water from the glass on my night table, then sit up and give him my full attention.
“It most likely contains many errors. My apologies in advance.”
I wave my head. “Don’t worry about it.”
He nods, his face twisted in nerves. I rub my hand on his knuckles. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. After flipping through the pages, he settles on one that has a lot words crossed out. Like he’s been working on it for days. He looks at me, and I nod.
Holding the notebook tightly, he begins, stuttering a bit, “When I was a fry, I did not understand love. I did not understand duty. I was not aware that they were not one and the same. I was told it was my duty to take the crown. I was told it was my duty to take the princess as my mate. No longer a fry, I dreamed of many things. I longed to meet a female, one that would take my heart. One that would gaze upon me in a manner in which no other being would gaze upon me. One that I would wish only to please. One that I would love and cherish for all eternity.” He swallows. “I witnessed her sailing on the waves. She was a creature like no other, her beauty and grace captivating my soul. I was taught not to engage with her, for she was dangerous and would only cause me harm. But as she sank to the bottom of the sea, the life gradually leaving her body, I knew what I was required to do—save her at all costs.”
Damarian looks at me. “Do you wish for me to stop?”
I realize my eyes are brimming with tears and my hand is lying over my heart. Blinking, I shake my head. “Please continue.”
He nods and focuses his attention back on the notebook. “I feared I was too late, for she lay unconscious on the stone. I did not understand the ways of the humans. I did not wish for her to die. The very thought caused my chest pain. I took her hand in mine, felt the warmth of her skin, and I knew deep in my heart that this human would live, because I wanted it to be so.”
Damarian glances at me, like he’s worried this will offend or hurt me. I nod for him to go on.
“She stirred,” he continues reading. “She opened her eyes. Such beautiful eyes, the color of the earth, which I did not see often. In that moment, I understood there is a fine difference between love and duty. And that it was my duty to find love.” He raises his eyes to mine. “And I have found it in my sweet Cassie Price.”
He closes the notebook and grins, his lips quivering slightly. I taste salt on my lips. After sweeping my arm across my eyes, I take him in my arms and squeeze him to me. “That was so beautiful, Damarian. Thanks so much for sharing it with me. For a merman, you know how to melt a human girl’s heart.”
He turns his head so his lips graze my ear. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”
“Very much.” I bring my lips to his and give him a deep, loving kiss. We fall on the bed and continue to kiss each other with nothing but passion and urgency, like no matter how many times we kiss, it’s never enough and it never will be enough. Even if we live a million years. My nails dig into his skin and his hands knead my back. I moan as he fills me with feelings only he can give me.
When our lips come apart, our breathing heavy, our chests heaving, we just stare into each other’s eyes, reading what lies in our hearts. I stroke his cheek. “You’re such a wonderful person, Damarian. I feel so lucky to have you.”
“You are mistaken, my love. It is I who is the lucky one.”
I shake my head. “No, I am.”
“It is I.”
“Me.”
“I.”
I laugh and roll us over so I’m on top. “Damarian?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about what happened with my dad.”
He places both of his hands on the sides of my face. “To what are you referring?”
“He was being very hard on you.”
“It is all right. I find I like him very much.”
“You do?” I ask, totally shocked. I thought he scared Damarian away. I reach for the glass of water and drink.
“Certainly.” His eyebrows crease. “But I do not understand what he was referring to when he suggested a location where I am to work.”
I sit up and cross my legs. Damarian sits up, too. “Construction,” I say. “It’s building houses and stuff.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “It did not occur to me that humans build their houses.” He laughs sheepishly. “How little knowledge I have of humans.”
“It’s okay. I love teaching you.”
“And I love learning from you.” He kisses the back of my hand. “This building houses sounds intriguing.”
I avert my gaze from him. When Dad first mentioned being able to get Damarian a job in construction, I was excited. He’s not the type of person to be cooped up all day in an office. But then something dawned on me. Damarian being out in the sun practically the whole day. Heat and lack of water causes his body to change into a merman sooner than usual, which is about twelve hours. He could always work part time, but what if something goes wrong? What if he desperately needs a pool?
But I can’t take care of him my whole life, can I? What am I supposed to do?
Damarian leans back with his arm around me. “The prospect of working and providing us with pay thrills me.”
I can’t help but giggle. “Providing us with money,” I correct.
He kisses me. “Forgive me. Providing us with money.”
He lies down and tucks me close to him. After a few minutes, I feel his breathing getting heavy. My eyes are wide awake as thoughts and worries crowd my head. Living in the real world just plain sucks. I can’t keep Damarian inside and protect him forever. This is just another thing we’re going to have to figure out.
I rest my chin on his shoulder and stare straight ahead. The future is one big unknown, but I’m really glad I have someone to travel down that road with.
Chapter Nine
After dressing into my wetsuit and tying my hair into two braids, I head downstairs to make breakfast. Damarian is still sleeping, and it’s my turn to treat him like a king. I’ve been his queen for too long.
I tap my finger against my chin as I scan the contents in my pantry and refrigerator. I settle on omelets, but this time I’m spicing things up with a recipe I found online. As I work on the food, I hear movement from upstairs. A few minutes later, Damarian comes down, rubbing his eyes. His hair is disheveled and his pajama pants hang low on his hips.
“Someone had a good night’s rest,” I tease.
“You are the cause of it. With you in my arms, it is possible for me to sleep for all eternity.”
I smile. “Please sit down.”
He eyes the omelets frying in the pan. “I wish to prepare breakfast for you. I very much enjoy it.”
My heart soars. “I know. But I want to do this for you.”
“Are you certain? For I don’t mind—”
I walk over to him and kiss his cheek. “A relationship is about giving and taking. Let me give to you, okay?”
“All right.” He puts his arm around me and tugs me to him. Leaning in close, he whispers, “Thank you,” in my ear. Then his lips rub against it. I shiver, despite the warmth radiating off his naked chest. Once he steps away, I feel cold.
When the omelets are done, I slide them into plates and join Damarian at the table. “They look scrumptious,” he says.
“Thanks.”
We clank forks and dig in. I have to say, this is delicious. The flavors work perfectly together, hitting all my taste buds. Damarian’s devouring his omelet like he’s been starving for days. I smile as I watch him, feeling giddy like I did the first time I cooked for him. It’s strange how even the smallest things like cooking for my fishman can make me feel so good.
Once he’s a third in, I ask, “Would you like another?”
He lifts his head. “If it is no bother.”
“Nothing’s a bother for you.” I walk over to the stove and get to work.
Just as I’m folding the omelet, Damarian’s arms come around my middle from behind. He digs his lips into the side of my neck. “You are too kind, Cassie. My love for you is as vast as the sea.”
I kiss the top of his head. “My love for you runs all the way to Earth’s core.”
His lips skim across my jaw. “I do not know what that is.”
“I’ll tell you all about it later.”
We return to the table, Damarian with his omelet and me with a banana. “We need to go to the mall after work,” I tell him. “There are still a lot of things you need to buy.”
When he decided to remain on land the first time, we bought only a few articles of clothing and other necessities, since he planned to stay only for a short while. But now that he’ll be here for a long time, we’ll need to buy other things, like another pair of shoes, more clothes, and whatever else he may need or want.
“All right,” he says. “Thank you.”
We get to the beach and I start my class. But halfway through my lesson, I start feeling dizzy and nauseous. I fall to my knees, grabbing hold of my head and heaving.
“Cassie?” Damarian’s scent fills my nose. His arms come around me. “Are you all right?”
“Miss Cassie?” Timmy asks.
“I’m thirsty,” I moan. And nauseous and dizzy, but I don’t want to worry Damarian.
“I will acquire water for you,” he says.
“You can have from my water bottle,” Timmy says, shoving it in my face.
I smile. “Thanks.” I don’t mean to, but I chug all of it down. Timmy’s eyes widen at the empty bottle. “Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay,” he says with a wide grin.
Damarian takes my arm and helps me to my feet. “You are ill. Perhaps we should go home.”
I look at my students standing in front of me, their faces pinched with worry and confusion. I can’t leave them hanging like this. “I’ll be fine,” I assure Damarian. “Don’t worry.”
I feel okay when I continue the lesson, but about fifteen minutes later, the nausea returns and my head throbs. All I want to do is curl up in bed, but I owe it to my students to finish the lesson. I push my pain aside and get through it.
When the lesson is done, I head back to Damarian, forcing a smile. I’m about to tell him to wipe the concern from his face, when I feel a sharp pain near my pelvis. I double over, and Damarian catches me in his arms.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
He searches my eyes. “How I worry over you, my sweet Cassie.”
I touch his cheek. “Can you please get me a drink?”
He nods before lowering me to the sand and heading for the drink stand. I force away the tears of fear that are forming in my eyes. What’s going on with me?
Damarian rushes back with a water bottle, uncaps it, and hands it to me. I thank him before swallowing half of it down. The headache disappears and so do the pelvic pain and nausea. “All better, see? It’s probably the heat.”
Damarian doesn’t say anything as he studies the other people on the beach. I know what he’s thinking—that they don’t look sick like me. I take his hand. “Come. We have shopping to do, remember?”
As we’re on our way home, my palms get clammy. The nausea comes back, but this time it’s more intense. I jab the key into the lock and throw the door open. I make it to the bathroom just in time.
I slump against the wall, my eyes heavy and ready to close any second. But then I see Damarian standing in the doorway. I’ve never seen him look so scared. I raise my hand toward him. “It’s probably a stomach virus. Totally normal for humans.”
It would explain the nausea and thirst, since I’m probably dehydrated. I think. I hope.
Damarian gets down on his knees before me and sandwiches his hand between mine. “I do not enjoy seeing you ill.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t enjoy being ill.”
I want him to smile, but he just looks even more worried.
“It’s a virus, Damarian. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest and drink lots of fluids and wait for it to pass.”
He nods unsurely. “Shall I take you to bed?”
My head is spinning and I’m still nauseous. “Bring me to the couch?”
Lifting me in his arms, he carries me to the couch. He lays me down, then throws a blanket over me. He sits down on the corner and kisses my forehead.
I smile weakly. “You’re acting very human now.”
He presses his cheek to mine. “I wish to take care of you.”
My eyes start to droop. The last thing I feel is his soft lips on my skin.
***
My stomach is rumbling so hard that I wake up. Peering at the clock, I see it’s nearly three AM. If I don’t put something in my mouth, I think I might die.
After sitting up, I realize I’m on the couch. Damarian is slumped on the recliner adjacent to me. The events of this afternoon come back to me. My stomach virus. Have I really been asleep all this time?
My stomach rumbles again, so sharp it knocks me to my feet. I head to the kitchen. After flicking on the light, I open the pantry. The only things in there are cans of sardines.
The fridge is stocked with lots of food, but as I peer at the different options, my nose twitches. Nothing appeals to me. It’s weird to be starving but not in the mood for anything.
I close the door and straighten up. That’s when I see the mess on the floor.
That’s weird. Why are opened sardine cans littering my kitchen? Did Damarian come down for a snack?
“Damarian?” I call.
No answer.
I look into the living room. He’s sound asleep. I get back to the kitchen and stare at the cans. If Damarian didn’t eat the sardines, then who…?
Something smells. It’s too close to me. I sniff my hands and yelp in disgust. “Ew, fish!” Why do my hands stink? I hate all kinds of fish, except for the one who stole my heart.
My head thumps as my eyes move from the sardine cans to the pantry. Images fly through my head. Me standing at the panty, my hand reaching for one of the sardine cans. Scooping a handful and dumping them into my mouth. Moaning like I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life. Tossing the can aside and reaching for another.
I stumble back. “No,” I whisper. “It couldn’t have been…”
I fall to the floor and grab one of the cans. There’s nothing in here except for a small fish stuck to the side of the metal. My stomach recoils as
I take it in my hand. Closing my eyes, I throw it into my mouth.
And spit it out in the garbage. I rush to the sink for a glass of water. Did I eat those sardines? How could I when I can’t stand the taste of them?
The extreme thirst, the nausea, the dizzy spells, the headaches, and now a craving for fish. My heart sinks. Maybe something really is wrong with me.
With shaky knees, I go up to my room and plop down in front of my computer. Placing my hands over the keys, I type in Google, “I’m always thirsty and have headaches.” A few links come up. I click on a medical one. My eyes widen and my insides swirl as I see the possible diseases. I minimize the screen and grab hold of stomach.
After a few minutes of heavy breathing, I click back on my Google search page and type in, “Sudden craving for fish.” I check out a few sites, but I don’t find anything useful. I fall back in my chair.
Maybe it’s time I make an appointment to see my doctor.
Chapter Ten
When I open my eyes the next morning, Leah’s face is in mine. I yelp and nearly fall off my bed.
“Morning,” she greets.
I blink a few times. “What time is it?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“Almost eight.” She touches my forehead. “Your sweet merboyfriend told me you’re sick, though I don’t think you have a fever.” She leans in close. “I think human illnesses scare the crap out of him. He thinks you’re going to die.” She holds out a container. “I made you some chicken soup.”
My headache is starting to come back. “You cooked?”
“Fine, my mom made it. But I was the one who brought it.”
The smell reaches me, but instead of my mouth watering, bile rises in my throat.
Seeing my expression, Leah lowers the container onto my night table. “Maybe later.”
I scan the area and find Damarian standing in the doorway, his eyes uncertain, and again, full of concern. He approaches me and gets down on his knees, taking my hand. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” I lie. “Can I have a drink, please?”
“Certainly.” He dashes down the steps.
