Ben dropped to one knee on the pine-needles and felt in his pocket for the little box and its contents, which had cost him three months' wages.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked.
Lyle, reeling from the kiss, braced himself with a palm against the tree-trunk and drew a deep, fortifying breath. The gaze he fixed on Ben remained resolute. "I've never been readier. Are you?"
"Nearly. When do you think you'll be able to get to the Wish Tower," asked Ben.
"Be there on the next full moon," said Lyle, although a note of doubt crept back into his voice. "You will be there, Ben? If I'm delayed, you'll wait for me?"
"I will. I promise. I swear on my life… no, on my love for you. Besides, if I didn't intend to come for you, I don't think what we're about to do will work anyway. Don't I have to love you with all my heart and mean what I say to break the curse?"
Lyle paused, thoughtful, then shrugged. "Good point. Well, what are you waiting for, hazard man? Don't tell me you're making another risk assessment."
"Shut up." Ben laughed. He pulled out the box and inhaled slowly, fortifying his nerves. He flicked open the box to reveal the simple platinum band he'd chosen, nestled on a bed of red velvet. Lyle's quick, happy gasp thrilled him.
"Lyle," he said. "Will you do me the honour of marrying me?"
"Yes." Lyle offered out his left hand, lifting the fourth finger in invitation. "Yes, yes, yes."
Ben grinned up at him, praying that nothing drastic would happen yet. He wanted to relish this moment. He slipped the ring onto Lyle's hand then leaned forward to kiss it.
Blackness descended, a sudden gale pummelled him. Ben discerned a remote, desperate scream. His lips met thin air, and he tumbled forward, hands slamming the moist earth.
"Lyle!" The pitch black receded and Ben stumbled to his feet, flailing wildly around. "Lyle? Lyle! Where are you?" A cloud covered the moon, an owl screeched, and Ben wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.
Magic had fled this place. There was nobody about, just a deserted ruin and a dark and lonely bog. Lyle had been taken far away.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben sat on the stony beach, watching the full moon rise over Eastbourne pier. He clamped his palms to his stiff thighs and waited.
The evening pressed on. Ben had been waiting on the small beach nearest to the squat round Wish Tower all day. The grey colour of the tower seemed dull compared to the red stone of Lyle's old stomping ground, and there were no showy gargoyles, just a single old cannon on the roof. Ben worried the tower wasn't visible enough from the sea and that Lyle would have difficulty finding it, but he trusted his love would come. He had to.
Soon, the tide covered the last piece of shingle. He leaned on the railings of the promenade behind, and gazed out to sea, watching the white cliff called Beachy Head disappear in the blackness. All he could discern far off was the flash of the lighthouse. He attempted to keep his strength up with a fish and chips supper from the nearest stall he could find; he didn't want to leave the shore for a second. He ended up binning most of it, anyway. His stomach was too tight with nerves and anticipation to eat.
The lamps in the apartments and hotels in the parade behind went out, one by one, and the final evening revellers went home. Though it was May, his feet grew frigid despite his second pair of socks. The night proved damp and cold. The dawn felt colder, bringing with it the screeches of the gulls, ruddy-faced joggers on the prom, rubbish collectors, and for Ben, exhaustion and a faint, sickly wisp of despair.
Lyle hadn't come.
Ben sniffed, massaged a crick from his neck, and steeled his nerves for another day's watch.
*~*~*
In July, the gardens in front of Eastbourne's grandest hotels were in full bloom. Ben couldn't afford to stay in them, of course, though he liked admiring the fountains and flower displays as he walked by on his daily journey from the backstreet flat he rented to his new job in an ice-cream parlour.
It'd been a wrench, of course, quitting the County Environmental Office and finally leaving his family home. His mum, particularly, hadn't understood what'd possessed her sensible lad to do something so rash, though she'd supported him in the end, like she always did. His parents had gifted him the deposit for the flat. Ben had been sorry to pass on the Oakey Dell project, but Kristof had returned to work, and had now set his iron determination to ensuring that the infants got their treetop walkway.
Ben had set his will like iron too. He'd uprooted his life and come to Eastbourne to wait for Lyle, and wait he would. He would never break a promise to Lyle again. Never. In his darkest moments, he couldn't help but wonder if Lyle was going to keep his side of the deal, but he refused to give in to such fears. Lyle was brave and Lyle was strong. Heck, he'd stood up to his family and made the bravest decision Ben could ever imagine in choosing his gender in the face of hostility and derision. Lyle deserved Ben's faith.
On the night of the July full moon, Ben raced to the beach as soon as he'd pulled down the shutters on the ice-cream parlour. He didn't even bother to change, sprinting along the promenade with his raspberry-ripple and mint-choc-chip splattered apron still on. When he neared the Wish Tower, he hurdled over the railings and onto the shingle. Raising a hand to shade the bright evening sunlight from his eyes, he scanned the sea. He spotted one or two bathers, mature Eastbourne residents taking a late-afternoon swim. No sign of Lyle.
Ben settled down on the beach with his back against a wooden breakwater and resumed his vigil.
*~*~*
When Ben awoke, night had fallen.
"Bugger, bugger, bugger!" He couldn't believe he'd nodded off. Yes, it'd been a busy day and he'd not slept well in the last few weeks for fretting about the myriad of horrors—including fratricide by Welwyn—that might've detained Lyle. Ben was still livid with himself. He jumped to his feet, then ripped off the apron and threw it down.
He forced himself to focus all around, eyes adjusting agonizingly slow. The Wish Tower loomed, a blocky floodlit shape behind him; the moon roamed high. Chains of fairy lights, the resort's summer illuminations, glittered in a full rainbow spectrum between the lampposts on the prom. He muttered a desperate prayer, shoving his hair from his brow as he scanned the dark ocean. He hardly dared examine the near waters. He'd grown accustomed to disappointment, but that didn't blunt its barbs.
The playful laugh was barely audible but unmistakable. Ben's heart lurched toward his throat. "Lyle?"
Ben sprinted down the shingle to the edge of the sea, his gaze raking the mercifully calm waters that lapped the gentle slopes. Then he saw it: the dark silhouette of a swimmer's head and shoulders, low among the waves. Ben hurdled up onto the breakwater and tottered several yards out along its slimy top until the waves lapped high at its sides.
Arms flailing to keep his balance, he stood as tall as he could and yelled into the darkness. "Lyle! I can't see you anymore." Ben didn't know if he should laugh or scream with frustration; after so long, how could Lyle tease him? "Where are you?"
"Right here, Benjamin."
The voice came from by his feet. Ben swayed wildly and nearly fell, steadying himself enough to crouch down, lean forward, and throw his arms around Lyle, who smiled up at him from the water. Lyle returned the hug, and the fins Ben had missed so terribly slipped up beneath his clothes. They kissed, hard and frantic—resuming where they'd left off months past. Briny water spattered them, mingling with the distinctive, beautiful scent of Lyle and tears of hope.
"Oh God, Lyle." Ben drew back to gorge himself on the sight of Lyle, who edged out of the shadows to bask in the moonshine and the bright electric lights from the resort. He snatched the last of Ben's breath. He was bare-chested, his hair lush and flowing, the red streaks glittering as vibrantly as the illuminations. His shoulders seemed broader, although his arms were still sexily lithe rather than too thick. His long angelfish-like fins spread out sleekly in the water, and his grin grew mischievous, suggesting he enjoyed the sight of Ben eq
ually. Lyle looked ravishing, and Ben wanted to ravish him.
"I can't believe you fell asleep waiting!" Lyle tossed his chin and laughed, all while treading water apparently effortlessly. "I have been longer than I hoped, though. Thank you for believing in me."
"I'd have waited forever and a day," said Ben, not daring even to blink in case Lyle vanished again; it seemed like a dream. "I was so worried. I thought your brother—"
"Welwyn is dead." A shadow diminished the happy glow in Lyle's eyes. Then he shook himself, sending water droplets scattering. "So I am free to be with you—as long as we can figure it out, what with you being on land and me being here in the sea? Then again, we do have a wedding to sort out." He lifted his left hand proudly, showing the glinting engagement ring.
"Hell yes, we do!" Ben reached down so he could catch both Lyle's wet hands and ran his thumb over the band. "I've already moved my whole life to Eastbourne, and I'll move it again, a thousand times until we can… Fuck!"
Lyle tugged Ben forward, and Ben splashed into the water. Lyle caught him even as Ben kicked and thrashed. The cold of the English Channel pricked him like a thousand needles. Fortunately, Lyle's smooth chest was hot, and Ben regained his wits enough to stop struggling. He wrapped himself about Lyle, appreciating the strength of the arms that held him. Finding the water too deep for his sodden plimsolls to touch the bottom, he hoisted his legs around Lyle's slender hips and…
Ben gasped. His ankles failed to intertwine with any legs, instead tracing an unmistakable fishy shape, right down to a flaring double-pronged end. Lyle's chuckle shook through them both.
"Lyle," spluttered Ben. "Do you have a tail?"
Lyle bit his lip, coy, and touched Ben's cheek with the feathered tip of a fin. "Sometimes. I am magic, remember, and tonight I'm feeling so strong I could conjure the universe. Do you like it?"
"I love it," said Ben, so enraptured he could scarce feel the water anymore; although that might've been because his extremities were turning numb. "You're a true merman right now. I love all of you, Lyle, everything you are, and everything you choose to be. I love you."
"I love you too," said Lyle. "And don't worry. I can opt to let the tail go. Especially if you have a warm bed somewhere near and I need to use legs to get to it." He dropped his voice to an alluring husk. "And make love in it."
"I do," promised Ben, and he pressed his forehead against Lyle's and breathed deep of Lyle's bated breaths. He looked forward to getting back onto terra firma and into dry clothes. He also wanted to revel in the intimacy of their reunion, to let this sense of unity stretch into eternity.
He'd found his love again, and his life's purpose. What happened to them next would be up to them, nobody else.
"Shall we go back to my flat then," suggested Ben. Despite Lyle's closeness, his teeth started to chatter. "I b-brought towels and some c-clothes, in case you needed a-any."
Lyle's eyes, stretched wide, betrayed a hint of apprehension; Ben shared even that. Lyle's smile was genuine and heated Ben to his core. "I like that idea," said Lyle. "Let's go home."
Fin
About the Author
Kay’s been making up romance stories with m/m protagonists since the days before the internet, before she’d any idea what sex was, and when she believed she was the only little girl who did so.
She recently started writing her stories down again after a two-and-a-half year hiatus. Her sexy new romance tales contain an unholy concoction of fun and fantasy (dragons, fairies, and mermen, anyone?) alongside a strong dose of angst and hurt/comfort.
She is a bit of a social media recluse (sorry!) but loves to connect with readers. You can email her at [email protected] and she lurks on twitter a little – @kayberrisford.
Website: http://kayberrisford.com
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