Tempted by the Forbidden Mate, page 18
A training wand. I point it at the perimeter he’s about to patrol. The attachment on his tail buzzes when he goes too far.
M32 nips at the end of the rod that Milo is holding, and I pull Annabelle back.
He’s fine, brother. M32 just likes to play sometimes. Like this. Milo throws the rod, and M32 races off, his tail whacking the side of my leg. Easy, boy.
But M32 rushes after it, catching it in his mouth. He chomps on it, and the wand now has a big bend it.
Well, he doesn’t quite get it. He’s not great at bringing things back yet.
Come, Annabelle. I hold my hand out to her, but I can feel her resistance.
Thanks for coming out. M32 will be getting a friend soon—a few, actually. But they are all like him. And you don’t need to be afraid of them.
Oh, what are the other ones called? Annabelle asks.
T12 and C19. Milo shrugs as he scratches around the shark’s fin. They’ve been in the training program a while.
T12 and C19. They roll right off the tongue, or projection. She laughs, her mouth opening. And I can’t help but smile at her.
I’ll see you later. Milo looks at me. It’s been quite the topic around the dinner table, where I’m living and where I’m spending my time. And while he’s got a good head on his shoulders, he tends to mimic everything our parents say.
I’ll see you later, brother, I respond.
Milo nods and swims over to the other installer, who has been watching from near the windows the entire time.
Is there anything else you want to do while you’re out here? Holter is swimming backwards. His eyes on the shark, he maneuvers his body between the shark and Annabelle.
I’d love to see more of the reef.
And I’d love to show you. Holter guides her away from me. My stomach twists. I haven’t been to this section of the reef, ever. When I was young, we had a private reef farther out, one we can see from the top windows of my mother’s apartment. I suppose we still have the same reef. It’s just I haven’t visited it recently.
Over here, Holter calls.
I bring up the rear, following them. The corals are lovely, and the sea anemones bloom like flowers of the ocean. I can feel the excitement projected from her. She’s gliding through the water, and I almost forget she doesn’t have a fluke. You’re really getting the hang of this.
Thank you. Her tone is soft and delicate. Wow, look at those! She points to the anemones. They’re fascinating! She claps her hands together. What happens if they don’t receive enough nutrients?
That’s not a problem, Holter answers. There are gardeners basically who take care of the reefs. They manage everything inside the productive dome.
Really? I’ve been watching out the window, and I haven’t seen anyone out here. There’s a tremor in her tone. She has been watching out the window since they moved into the apartment because of the tampering with the airlock. Damn my family. I should be down here protecting her, not alone in my apartment upstairs. Oh, the champion of Hestertåtten is here. Holter wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Still, he’s only one person, only one male. Two to protect her would be far better.
I join them at the reef. Yellow box fish swim around our hands. Which is your favorite? I ask her.
I like the blue ones. She glances at Holter, whose eyes are as blue as the fish she’s called her favorite. I’m a bit jealous.
I’m to be king of the Veiled City. I can’t be jealous. It is not the Dorian way. Kings don’t pine over mermaids they can’t have—that will be better off without them.
I’ve been busy combing through other domes’ lists of eligible males to find one that will be the best suited for her. As of yet, each and every one I’ve found has issues. Too poor or has a temper. I won’t have her living in the basement apartment of Tinom. I glance at the outside window. There’s a difference. This was the only one open. And I know Soren will find her something better once construction is ready.
A school of painted parrot fish flits by. All these fish wouldn’t normally live this deep in the ocean, but with our outer dome controlling the current, light, and temperature, they are able to survive.
Holter holds out his cupped hands in front of Annabelle’s face; she taps on the top, and he opens them. A half dozen cardinal fish swim away. Her smile radiates brighter than the pink of the pink scorpion fish.
You must be hungry, I say.
Annabelle looks up.
Are you, Belle? I’ll make some lunch as soon as we get inside.
I’m fine. She darts away from us both, over to the side of the dome.
Her motion attracts more than our attention. M32 swims along beside her. The two are keeping pace.
Holter and I are right behind them, but the beast really is giving her space. The shark’s acting more as her bodyguard.
She flips and swims back the other direction. This is crazy how much fun this is.
We all follow her.
But I suppose we should go in. My skin isn’t as used to being underwater as yours. She touches the bandage of her supposed tattoo.
We can go in if you’re ready. I say.
I’m more nervous than she is as the water is pushed out of the first lock. I know she’s shifted back into lungs a few times now. But I’m worried. There’s an emergency refill button, and the water doesn’t drain swiftly just for that sort of emergency. It’s a debate a lot of people have; they want it to be quick. But then sometimes podlets and the elderly don’t shift as fast. These are some of the things the king makes the final decision on; it’s not all war and ruling the governors. This is exactly the sort of thing Atlas should be here for, not off on the front lines with the Vikings in a war that will never end.
Annabelle gives a slight cough but then smiles at us both. I’ve held off shifting until the last second, just in case. I don’t know in case of what. This female drives me crazy. I want to wrap her up in bubbles and keep her safe from everything.
“You did great out there, Belle.” Holter runs his fingers through his hair.
“It was . . . fun. I never thought I would touch a shark or see a school of trigger fish. Their red tooth sticks out—it’s so cute. It’s magical really, and so peaceful. If I had a fluke, I might never come inside again.”
I laugh. “There are some that don’t. They spend all their time in fluke.”
“I can see why. But there are certain things I would miss. I however wouldn’t miss this wet robe.” She pulls at the wet garment, letting it fall to the ground.
Holter picks it up and wrings it out. When the door light turns green, we move into the next lock. I hit the button, closing us into the middle lock. Fresh water rains from the ceiling, rinsing the salt off us. The difference between us and the fish—I can hear my grandmother’s voice ringing in my ear. She was a great queen. My grandpa was a stoic king. He changed the education system; he lobbied to have mermaids be governors. I want to be like him. Like her.
Annabelle rinses the salt off her skin, head tilted back, pert breasts pink and pointing up. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.
Holter slams his fist on the next button. And I can’t agree more.
I put my hands around Annabelle’s waist. “You are so amazing. So brilliant and resilient.”
Her blue eyes hold mine. I want her so much, but I should resist her. I’m the one who has to be strong. But when she wraps her arms around my neck, I can’t help but take control of the kiss.
Our lips clash together. Even after a swim and a shower, she smells like herself: apples. She jumps, her legs swinging around my waist, gripping against me right where I want her. The whooshing noise announces that the next door is open, and I walk carefully into the third airlock. The whooshing fans blow Annabelle’s hair around in a whirlpool around us.
Then the final door is open. I know I shouldn’t take her to her pod bed, but I can’t stop myself. I want her too much. Holter has the door open and the duvet pulled down by the time we arrive.
I lay her on the bed, and he’s behind her, his fingers skimming down her waist. She grabs his hand while I kiss down the column of her long neck to her breast. I suck her nipple into my mouth, reveling in all things that are Annabelle. I give in to the moment, shutting off the rational voice in my head that says I’m heading into dangerous territory. I let myself go.
28
Holter
I should stop Castor. But I can’t. Neither of us are worthy of Belle, but I can tell she wants us both. Her hips are pulsing, and when her backside grinds against my crotch, I wouldn’t stop her if a tidal wave was overtaking us. I need her, and from the noises she’s making, she needs us too.
“That’s it, Annabelle.” Castor has lifted his head from her breast, and he’s got his hand between her legs. “You’re such a good girl.” Girl. It’s not a word you’d call a mermaid. But Annabelle is responding to it, the way her breathing has changed.
My hands are on her ass. Her soft round globes fill my hands, and with Castor’s head traveling downward, it leaves room for me at her neck.
“I shouldn’t be this full of need.” She tilts her head at me, but I’m not tempted by it. I know where I will leave my mark on her, and it’s not here. And not yet. Years will pass, decades of tides will come and go. But I will not leave her side. She will be mine.
I lick up the tendons of her neck and suck on the soft spot behind her ear. My other hand has her hair pulled up and out of the way. The little mew she makes when I put tension on her tendrils makes me tug harder. “You can’t deny yourself. Your needs come first. Your needs, above all.” It’s true in a pod. But what of a mermaid who has only the brethren geminae to take care of her? Fuck. This whole thing makes my blood turn to lava. I want to murder Nico myself for leaving her in this situation. Rushing, pushing. It’s what he does best. “I can’t keep myself from you. I know that’s what you want.” Her neck twists, and her lips are on mine. The burning of what she said scalds my skin when she comes up for air. I hold her head steady and stare into her eyes.
“I don’t want to keep myself from you. I was—” Belle gasps and her hips buck up. Castor has his tongue on her clit.
“I will always want you.” Fuck, I want to clamp down on her neck. Fuck polite society. Fuck the ways of the pod, discussing bringing in another member. Nico’s not here. Nor will he be here. He’s gone in all but name. And I will mourn him. But not now. Not now.
“Hold her leg up,” Castor says, surfacing for air.
I grab her leg, which was closing around his ears, and he tucks himself even higher into her core. Belle yells, her hands in his hair. She grinds herself on his face, hips rolling, the top of her head pushing against my chest.
“That’s it, Belle. Take what you need. He’s your servant today.” I look down at Castor. He’s as gone for her as I am. And hell, I wonder if we might end up with another single king after Atlas. I hold her shoulders down as she thrashes out her release. Her aftershocks quake through her body. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut.
“That was something.” Her blue eyes are sealed shut. “I’m so sleepy.” She reaches for me, but I hold her hand. I will totally shut Castor down if his cock gets anywhere near her. Swimming without a fluke has to be hard. It’s not something I’ve done in a long while. And I was born a podlet.
“You need your rest, Belle.” With my free hand, I pull her wet hair away from her face. “I’ll make you some food. Come on out when you’re ready.”
Castor is looking at me like I’m a kraken. I stand next to the bed and cock my head at the door. He licks his lips and nods to me.
We both left our clothes in the room I’m sleeping in. It has a small bed. In the normal apartment of an established mermaid, it would be her dressing suite. But it was the only other room here that had a bed.
Castor picks his clothes up off the bed and stabs his arm through his shirt. “You’re sleeping in here?”
“Yes.” Is he nuts? “I’m not her mate.”
“How can you protect her if you can’t hear her at night?”
“You think I’m sleeping at night? I’m across the hall listening, but I’m not her mate. So I’m not in the podbed.”
He shakes his head. “No, no, you’re not. Neither am I. But she’s a mermaid in transition. She’s going to have needs. Needs that need to be eased.”
“Obviously. We had sex an hour before you got here.”
“You had . . . fuck, right.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t taking care of her. I said I wasn’t sleeping in the pod bed with her.”
Castor’s clothes are the finest you can buy. And I can’t help but glare at them. Pants for a king on a king-to-be.
“What are you glaring at?”
“You.” Yes, we have lived together for a decade. But most of that time I was on a submarine or he was in Athens. In those ten years, the actual number of hours we spent together added up to less than a week.
“I realize.” He tucks his shirt in and runs his fingers through his hair. But then he turns around. Finger pointed, he steps toward me. “Are you ever going to forgive my family? I didn’t do it. And we don’t know that my parents had anything to do with Richeal’s death either.”
“And we don’t know that they didn’t. And no. I’m not going to forgive you, because you’ve never admitted that your family is less than perfect.”
He shakes his head. “My family has kept you safe your entire life. My family has done everything they can for the dome, to make it the most prosperous and dominant dome of the whole city.”
“Your family has lined their own pockets with gold. It just happened to help the rest of us by default. Don’t go thinking that you’re above us. Viro, geminae—we’re all the same.”
“We’re all Glyden, and that’s what makes us better.” His fists are on his hips. He’s a few inches shorter than I am, but he’s a puffer fish with his spikes on display. Oh, he’s fit—years of swimming to Athens has given him that. But he’s not a soldier. The fact that Nico thinks of him as the golden boy of Glyden, the future king who will change our society, makes me want to laugh. “But you’re right. Viro, geminae, we are all the same. Together we will change the Veiled City. We will make our society stronger. We will overcome our population issue and defeat the Vikings.”
“That’s a mighty big list of campaign promises there, King Castor.” I glare at him, my chin tilted up. Daring him. Pushing him. I’ve never wanted someone to hit me as much as I’ve wanted him to throw the first punch.
But he shakes his head. “I don’t want to fight with you, Holter. I’ve had enough fighting.”
“Whatever you want, golden boy.”
“What I want is for you to realize I’m doing my fucking best. You think I don’t want Annabelle?”
I don’t say anything to him. Because I don’t know what he wants. And I sure as hell think he doesn’t know what he wants.
“I want her. I want to be with her so much, I didn’t know it was possible. Every night I practically have to use Nico’s straps to keep me from coming down here and mating her. But what I want—no, what I need—doesn’t fucking matter.”
And that’s it. He’s so lost in his head, he’s never going to see the truth. So there’s no point in saying it. “Whatever you think is best.” I shrug at him.
“Whatever I think is best? Fuck you, Holter. I’m sending another set of guards down.”
“I don’t need your guards.”
“I don’t give a whale’s cock about you, Holter. It’s for Annabelle.”
“Belle is better off without you.”
“On that, we both agree.” He’s out the door, and I’m guessing out of the apartment, because by the time I’m dressed and in the living room he’s gone. I glance down the hallway, but Annabelle hasn’t woken up. Which says more about the thickness of the walls and how tired she is than the level of Castor’s yelling at me.
It’s way past lunch when Annabelle comes out of the bedroom.
“Castor’s gone.” I look up from the sauce I’m making for dinner. It’s her favorite.
“I know.” She sits on the bar stool across from me.
“We were loud.”
“That’s one way to describe it. I was about to come in when I heard him leave.”
“I’m sorry, Belle. The two of us have a bit of history.”
“I guess so. Do you want to talk about it?” She’s running her hands through her hair, which is standing in all directions.
“Not really.”
Her blue eyes blink at me.
“It’s not even his fault, but . . .”
“But you’ve made it his fault.”
“Yeah, it’s just growing up . . . to me it was like he was rubbing the fact he had a mother in my and Nico’s faces.”
“Richeal? I’ve heard her name mentioned more than once.”
“Yeah. Nico’s birth mother. He was four when she died. I was a baby, or almost a baby. Alder insisted they still place me with their pod even though she was gone. It was fine until . . . Well, I was a teenager and I went digging in Alder’s back closet. It was locked, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.” Rocks hit me in my stomach. “I should have. I wish I had.”
“What did you find?” Her lips are parted in a small gasp.
“Lots of books, but it was a notebook that changed everything.”
“A notebook?”
“In a lockbox. As you’ve already seen, we don’t keep much paper around. Anyway, I stared at the lockbox for a long time. I even locked it back up and came back to it the next day. I can still remember the clothes I had on, and even the musty smell of Alder’s closet, from his toolbox.”
Belle is leaning on the counter. I taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning. It doesn’t need much, but I need the time.
“When I opened it the next day, it was full of notes about Richeal’s death. Where she was, how the three of them were killed in the solo accident. Notes about the solo, and in the back were detailed descriptions of where each of the Drakos pod were the week before the accident.”
