Paradise of Shadows and Devotion

by Gaja J. Kos

  “How did they even manage to hire Kauer and his men?” I asked, hoping that if I focused on the questions of a more practical, reasonable nature, I wouldn’t crumble under the phantom weight of my sisters’ wrath. “We have no money in the morass, and a Rusalka’s voice can only kill, not compel a person to do her bidding.”

  Santino glanced at the rearview mirror then took a right turn off the main road. We entered the line of woods we’d been following for a while now, the treetops swallowing us with only a sliver of the starlit sky still visible above. The forest was beautiful, but not even the placid nature, so lovingly blanketed by night, could calm the maddening rush of my thoughts.

  Santino’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he asked, “You said three of you have been affected by the shift, right?”

  I nodded.

  “The one they were killing when you escaped… Liana, did you actually see her die?”

  The memory of Angela shrieking as the Rusalkas swarmed her erupted in my mind. My stomach clenched at the grisly images, at the echoes of her cries… But for once, instead of pushing the horrifying reminiscence away, I tried to take note of every detail.

  Even the ones I had locked so deep inside me I believed them to be lost forever.

  There was so much blood. More than I’d ever seen. And the undulating vibrations of her screams…

  I glimpsed a shredded bit of fluke floating on the currents, the wild mass of Angela’s hair as she fought back in a desperate attempt to twist away from the onslaught of sharp fingernails, clawing at her far more ruthlessly than any dagger ever could. Another burst of blood filled my nostrils and overflowed in my mouth as I inhaled, but by that time, I couldn’t see Angela any longer. I was swimming with every ounce of speed I could muster, straining this new body to its limits as I propelled myself towards the stream that would take me deeper into the encompassing woods.

  My heart pounded in my ears, the deafening roar of panic blocking out Angela’s cries—or had it been them that had stopped, leaving nothing but the explosive pulse crashing off the walls of my mind?

  But the water… It carried the sickening traces of blood, not—

  My surroundings snapped back, the oppressive darkness of the morass shifting into the shadowed comfort of Santino’s car. I gasped as I smelled a faint coppery tang fill the cabin and when I looked down, I saw that I was bleeding.

  Four lines of brilliant crimson trickled from the small half-moons I’d made in the palms of my hands, their sting matching the vile, horrid ache in my heart.

  “I have tissues in the glove compartment,” Santino offered, watching me not with pity but a kind of silent concern that once again stole away my breath.

  It was only when he nudged his head towards the narrow compartment before me that I remembered the warmth that continued to trickle across my upturned palm. Mindful not to smear his car with blood, I wiggled out a tissue with a single hand, then pressed it over the injured skin.

  Crimson spread across its white surface like spilled ink, and I breathed past the nausea, past the realization… And, worst of all, guilt.

  “No,” I whispered. “I didn’t see Angela die.”

  I looked out the window to watch the smattering of yellow creep deeper and deeper into the receding night sky, shadows fleeing in its wake. Santino remained perfectly quiet by my side, giving me the time and space I needed.

  I sighed. It wasn’t as if he had to utter the words for me to know what this meant.

  If the Rusalkas had taken Angela captive, there was nothing keeping them from exploiting her mermaid magic to compel Kauer or his men to hunt me to the end of the world. A mermaid’s spell bound its recipient unequivocally, and could only be broken by his death—or the will of the one who had placed it upon him, once they were face-to-face again.

  No, if my sisters had Angela, Kauer wouldn’t stop until he brought them the requested bounty. And neither would his men.

  I shuddered, only it wasn’t fear of my own fate that tightened my chest. It was the dread I felt for Angela’s.

  Had they already killed her, now that her magic was woven in the essence of Kauer’s being? Or were they still keeping her trapped, locked away somewhere for future use—and their own sadistic enjoyment in-between?

  I closed my eyes. Santino was right.

  People deserved second chances. It didn’t matter what Angela had done before the change, before the core of our sisterhood deemed her an abomination.

  If she still drew breath, I had to get her out.

  Dawn had turned into day by the time the Jaguar climbed up a narrow paved road, then slowed as a lovely wooden cabin came into view. I rubbed my eyes, not even knowing when I’d drifted away, but once I looked past the thick veils of trees that blanketed the ground, every muscle in my body grew taut, the remnants of sleep long forgotten.

  Santino drove on unaffected, and I couldn’t tell whether he had noticed the sudden change, the suffocating silence now wrapped around me, or was ignoring it.

  Somehow, I didn’t know which was worse.

  He pulled the car into a small parking lot behind the cabin, and got out without a single word, then walked around the back to hold open my door.

  It was such a simple, gentlemanly gesture, yet dread became a leaden weight in my stomach, affecting my limbs to the point where I was unable to breathe, let alone move. Was he playing some twisted joke on me? Or had this been his plan all along? To give me over to the Rusalkas when fear swallowed me whole, containing me better than any bonds ever could?

  Gods, how could I have been so naive?

  My gaze flickered over to the lake extending beyond the cabin, its surface reflecting the bright rays of sun in a manner that was terrifying and inviting at the same time. A sob slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and I flinched as Santino’s hand came to rest on my shoulder.

  I hated how the warmth of his touch seemed to spread through my entire body, hated how much I wanted to lean into it, to turn that fleeting gesture into something more. Even now. I closed my eyes, knowing with frightening certainty that one look at his handsome face would be enough to wreck me completely and shatter those tethers still holding me in place.

  A mermaid, destroyed by the very prey she was destined to lure.

  The irony of it fed the ache in my chest, and I bitterly accepted that there was no escaping the thunderous landslide of fate. I’d cheated death for long enough. And it finally came to claim me.

  Only Santino didn’t force me out of the car. Instead, his fingers drew gentle, slow circles across my shoulder, then moved lower down my arm in tune with the shift of his body I’d heard over the serene nature.

  While I didn’t allow that flicker of hope kindling inside me to grow, I did open my eyes. Santino was crouching by the side of the car, his silver-blue gaze resting on my face and regret hardening his features.

  “I apologize, piccola. I should have warned you.” His fingers traveled down my forearm while his other hand cupped my knee. “I was a fool. I hadn’t thought about how it might affect you, seeing the water.”

  The lack of a threat in his smooth voice coupled with the abundance of concern softening his tone made me pause. If he wasn’t giving me to the Rusalkas, why would he take me near the one element they all but ruled?

  I must have asked as much out loud, because Santino’s lips pulled into an apologetic line, and he gently raised me from the seat, then closed the car door behind me.

  “It’s a seepage lake. There are no streams, cara, leading to or from it, no inlet or outlet connecting it to the wider world. I wanted you to have a place where you would be safe, and”—he hesitated—“a way to unlock your powers, should need arise.”

  My fingers tightened around his, the only thing I could do as his consideration left me speechless. With a weak nod, I allowed him to lead me down the earth-hewn path towards the lake. It was then that I felt the languid stillness of the water, the perfect calm in which it lay, surrounded by the vi
vid green spread of woods and the breathtaking white-gray of the distant mountains.

  Undisturbed. Serene. Safe.

  I brushed away a tear as I turned towards Santino, our fingers still entwined. The gentle wind played with his silver strands, and I watched them caress his high, prominent cheekbones, wondering how the gods had created someone this handsome. His inviting lips were pressed tight, yet there was no tension in them now, only a quiet kind of pensiveness, as if he was waiting for me say what I had wanted to ask since last night—and dreading it with all my being at the same time.

  The scent of pine and Santino enveloped me as I gathered enough courage to give voice to my thoughts, and in the embrace of that fragrance, I found my strength at last.

  “Why are you doing all this, Santino? You know who I am—who I was…”

  His thumb brushing over my lips silenced any further sound.

  “Because I’ve been unable to stop thinking of you ever since you walked through my door, wearing that turquoise sundress, with your hair as wild as the wind howling through Piran’s streets. Because I’ve wanted to ask you out, piccola, from the moment I heard your laugh, just so that I could be privy to such a melody once again, to see, even if only one more time, the way your eyes had lit up, casting away the shadowed burden.”

  He stepped closer, gently tugging on our joined hands as he trailed his free one across my shoulders, then down my back. His breath caressed my lips, his eyes never leaving mine until there was nothing but the barest sliver of space left between us. And even it was fading.

  “I am doing all this, cara, because I might have been taken aback when you revealed your heritage the previous night, but realized, although perhaps not soon enough, that it held no sway over my affection for you. Nothing has changed from the day I met you, Liana. It has only grown stronger.” His hand stilled on the small of my back, and I could taste the warmth of his breath on my lips, my tongue. “You are in my heart, sirenetta, and I would be a fool to let you go. To not give everything within my power just to hear you laugh again.”

  9

  Words raged in my throat but failed to find my voice. All I could think about was the touch of Santino’s hands pressed against my back, the way his breath washed over my lips, as if promising the velvet cascade of pleasure that would ride in its wake if I only closed the distance between us. Heat flushed my cheeks, an ache I hadn’t felt for a century building up low in my body.

  Slowly, I lifted my hand to cup the side of his face, following those chiseled lines with the tips of my fingers and memorizing every exquisite detail of his smooth, sun-kissed skin. Santino leaned into the caress, his eyes becoming pools of liquid silver as they dipped to my mouth, then back up again, consuming me with tender, yet burning hunger. I was so caught up in him, I didn’t even notice when he took my thumb between his lips. It was only the sudden grazing of his teeth against my skin that tore my gaze from his. I moaned, closing my eyes to savor the sensation.

  His tongue continued its tantalizing path, gliding across the now impossibly sensitive skin wherever the edge of his teeth had dug deeper, replacing the gentle, fleeting pain. With a final lick, he released my thumb, then planted a trail of kisses, curving all the way to the tip of my index finger. His gaze devoured mine from beneath the thick crescent fall of his lashes, and I found myself shivering, my knees barely holding under the weight of his seduction.

  As if sensing my delicate state, Santino drew me closer. He never ceased his slow, captivating torture, even as my eyelids fluttered shut—even as he held me so close that my breasts touched the hard expanse of his chest and I could feel the evidence of his own desire pressed against my stomach.

  With every lick of his tongue, he unraveled me further, my need for him growing from an ache into an untamed storm that threatened to shatter the world and me right along with it. And when I opened my eyes anew, when I saw those curving strands of pure silver falling across his tanned features, his gaze fixed on mine, I knew this was a path I could never walk back from.

  “Santino,” I whispered, unsure whether the weakness of my voice even carried the word beyond my lips.

  He released my finger with one last flick of his tongue, my hand falling almost helplessly on his shoulder, then slanted his mouth over mine with such speed and fervor, I would have staggered if the embrace of his arms hadn’t held me in place.

  Every fear, every reservation etched deep inside me was suddenly gone, cast aside by the explosion of pleasure that swept through me as completely and as thoroughly as did his taste. I felt like I was burning. Santino’s scent replaced the air I breathed, the touch of him the only reality I still knew. The only reality that held substance.

  I wasn’t a stranger to men—no Rusalka was, as sin was a prerequisite for our kind—and yet when Santino kissed me, it was as if he were opening up new universes, creating worlds I had never before entered, but would venture into with him so willingly. As one.

  My fingers bunched in his hair as I pulled him closer, coaxing a masculine groan to spill from his lips onto mine. A groan that then reverberated through my body, tightening my enflamed core to the brink of release until I writhed, pressing myself against him until there was no space left between us.

  But Santino—he proved me wrong.

  Guided by his strength, we came even closer, the tangle of our bodies becoming a whole as his hand cupped my butt and he lifted me on my tiptoes, ensconcing me in his need and heat alike. The rigid swell of his demand rubbed between my thighs, my mind swimming from the possibilities, from the pleasure I had believed to be lost forever. I gasped at how hard he was, how right it felt, and I pulled away from his kiss to seek out those piecing silver eyes, as well as the lust that was lurking in their starlit depths.

  Gods, I ached for him. Wanted him more than I’d wanted anyone in my life—or death.

  And yet the hoarse words that clawed their way out of my throat were not a plea to unlock that desire. But a warning.

  “This is dangerous, Santino,” I rasped.

  “I don’t care,” he growled back. His voice snaked beneath my dress, kneading my nipples and slithering down my skin, all the way to my core.

  But even as I moaned from the demand wrapped in his low, velvet voice, I took a step back, staggering in those few seconds I needed to regain my footing. My breaths were ragged, and every fiber in my body still burned with the overpowering craving for his touch, yet even the pureness and beauty of the sensation couldn’t suppress the dark tendrils of guilt that undulated deep within my stomach.

  I wished I could ignore their ugly whispers, ignore their taunt that no matter what I felt for this man, I was still a spirit locked in undead flesh. But they were right.

  Even if we somehow survived the hunters, Santino could never have a future with me. Just as I could never forget the deaths buried in the murky waters of the morass, guided there by my voice, if not my hand or heart.

  I—I couldn’t let him bring such taint upon his life.

  “We can’t…” I whispered, hoping the devastation laid bare in my tone was enough to fill the gaps my inadequate words created.

  Santino’s eyes still burned with silver when he looked at me, but the hunger pulsing from his body lessened. I let loose a breath. He understood.

  And yet the soft tug of a smile that played in the corner of his lips not a moment later shattered the brief spell of relief. I might have stopped us from going under the cascade of the waves we’d stirred, but he wasn’t running away. Not without a fight.

  More than likely noticing the ripples of my confusion—of desiring him, yet wanting to protect him—Santino offered me his hand. Not in a prelude to a whirlwind of passion, although I knew he would have given me it if only I asked, but in a gesture of gentlemanly elegance. An invitation.

  Grounding myself with a long breath, I accepted this temporary truce.

  He guided me up the earth-hewn path, away from the car and up the gentle slope leading to the cabin. The soothing ru
stle of leaves and the melodic chirping of birds accompanied our steps through the brilliant, untamed nature that stretched all around us, and even as the serenity and charm of the sight created an intimate atmosphere, Santino never changed his grip into anything more than I was comfortable with.

  Only support. Safety.

  Precisely what he had promised—and what I sought.

  But my heart continued to thrum erratically in my chest, the blush refusing to leave my cheeks despite the fresh air brushing against them and stealing away some of the heat. I focused on placing one foot before the other, using every last ounce of my scrambled will to gradually clear my head of the daze Santino had conjured.

  We ascended the short flight of stairs leading up the center of the widespread wooden porch, and for once, the presence of water at my back failed to infuse my body with fear. Whether it was Santino’s reassurance or merely his touch gifting me this unusual calm state of mind, I couldn’t tell.

  But I was grateful.

  The floorboards creaked gently as we walked up to the paneled door, and it was only then that Santino released my hand, retrieving a ring of keys from his back pocket. He inserted one of the more rustic looking ones into the lock, only instead of turning it, he turned to me.

  “I understand you think you’re protecting me, piccola. But I assure you, any danger you fear is coming—any danger you fear you might bring—I would take pleasure in facing head-on. However”—he smiled, silver eyes digging into mine and stirring the heat I had barely snuffed out—“if it puts you at ease, I will gladly grant you your space. I will give you all the time in the world you feel you need to come to me willingly, Liana. And willing.”

  I sucked in a shaky breath, but Santino simply unlocked the door and shifted aside, letting me pass before him.

  The instant I stepped over the threshold, I noticed that—much like his apartment in Piran—every inch of the space was imbued with his magnetic presence. From how the air carried his scent to the way every piece of furniture and decoration that occupied the spacious plan of the house seemed to echo his languid, alluring nature. I walked into the room, willing my body to go calm. Yet despite my efforts, I couldn’t help wondering… Couldn’t help asking myself if, perhaps, by escaping the morass, I had inadvertently chosen a path of a far more perilous nature.