Cid (Oceanids Book 2), page 1
Cid
Oceanids II
Olivia Hutchinson
Cid
Copyright © 2019 Olivia Hutchinson
Cover design by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Also by Olivia Hutchinson
Wild and Untamed
This book is for my ride-or-die, BFF, sister from another mister. You are one of the best things to come out of the crappiest times in my life. You’re my emergency number on speed dial and the one I can always count on to have my back.
Love you Annia.
1
Mia
“Oh, come on, Mia, stop being a party pooper,” Gabby says, thrusting another plastic wine cup in my direction.
I take it so she’ll get it out of my face. I have zero intentions of drinking it, unlike my esteemed co-worker here who is already refilling her seventh glass. Yes, that’s right. Her seventh.
And we’ve only been on this boat for an hour. Music blares over the speakers, making it difficult to hear her as she complains about me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t block her out completely.
“I’m sorry if I don’t get off on half-naked guys and alcohol,” I snap, putting the wine down on the bench next to me. “And you should really chill out otherwise you’re going to be puking all over one of your Latin lovers over there.”
Gabby rolls her eyes and plops next to me on the bench. If I’d known what a shitty drunk she was, I would’ve left right after the conference instead of agreeing to stay a few extra days. The days in the sun on the resort weren’t bad but by dinner, she was usually three-sheets to the wind. That was even all good until she decided she wanted to take an evening cruise around the island. She forgot to mention it was a party cruise, complete with drinking, dancing, and ridiculous sexual games that I have zero interest in participating in.
Now I can’t get her to slow down. I’m sorry, but my idea of a relaxing vacation isn’t babysitting a grown woman who doesn’t know when to stop. If she’s not unconscious by the time we’re back, then she’ll be vomiting all over me. Who is going to help me drag a puking woman back to a resort? I’ll give you the answer: no one.
She’s also mad at me because I stopped her from pulling one of the crewmembers into the latrine. I’m not going to say bathroom, because it’s not. It’s a fucking latrine. It reeks of fish and shit and is maybe two feet wide. Somehow she thought that would be more than enough space to give a stranger a blowjob.
I can’t deal with this chick. My vacation shouldn’t be about keeping someone else from making one horrible decision after another. Maybe that makes me selfish but I don’t care anymore. I’ve refused offers to dance; I’ve refused three different men’s offers to buy me drinks. I can’t even try to have fun since I’ve been deemed the responsible one. Now I’ve been deemed a prude and shunned to the lonely bench at the back of the boat.
“I don’t know what crawled up your ass,” Gabby sneers, her body spread out on the bench. She kicks my thigh with her heel as she tries to stretch her leg. “Ever since the conference ended you’ve been intolerable to be around.”
“Knock it off,” I snap, slapping her foot off me. Her leg hits the deck with a thud.
“You know, Mia, I don’t think we can be friends. You’re such a bitch.” She’s playing with her hair, frowning at me.
Like I’ll mourn the loss. I roll my eyes and look away from her, already knowing how this is going to go.
“You know what, go do whatever you want,” I say to her, done with this crap. “If you want to go back to Denver with something that Ajax won’t wash off then please, don’t let me stop you.”
She staggers to her feet, grabbing the railing to steady herself as she bends down, inches from my face. Her breath reeks of cheap wine and cigarettes. She’s wavering and I have a hard time telling if it’s from the waves under the boat or her inebriation. My guess would be the latter.
“You’re not my mama,” she slurs. “You may think that every man wants you, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong. Everything you got, everything you have, you earned on your knees.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about but I don’t like what she’s implying. I know better than to argue with a drunk, however. “Whatever.”
She waves her hand in front of my face and I think she’s trying to snap her fingers, but she’s failing at that, too. Standing up straight, she wobbles away from me, back to the rest of the crowd, leaving me to my lonesome. Good.
I’m pissed. I was just offered a promotion a few days ago. There wasn’t much of a pay raise, but the position am better than where I was now. It was a step closer to where I want to end up so I’m happy with it. And there was Gabby, making snide, nasty comments as usual. I may just see if I can hop a flight home whenever we get back to the hotel.
At least I’m alone now. I stretch my legs out and look out over the dark waters. We’re not moving very fast but there’s whitewater trailing behind us. I can just barely make out the lights of the rapidly disappearing coastline. The ocean is dark, the full moon reflecting off the water, and I take a deep breath. This would be relaxing if it wasn’t for Gabby’s drama.
I’m looking out over the vast Caribbean when I see something move in the water. The dolphins had been somewhat active around the resort, so I squint, trying to see if they’re following the boat, but I don’t see their telltale fins.
Climbing to my feet, I stare out over the waves. For a split second, I see movement again. I swear it looks like someone swimming but what fool would be this far out? Especially in the middle of the night.
“Hey!” I yell when a dark head bobs out of the water. It’s a man. Or at least I think it’s a man. “Hey! Are you okay?”
“What are you doing?” Gabby asks, coming up behind me.
“There’s someone out there.” I turn around. Her arms are around her waist, she has an entire wine bottle in one hand, and she’s glaring at me. She can’t leave the alcohol alone for a minute. It’s ridiculous. “Do you see him?”
She squints over my shoulder and I turn around again, but I don’t see him anymore. I hope some poor man isn’t drowning in the middle of the ocean.
“You’re crazy,” Gabby says.
“I’m not crazy. There was something out there.” I’m still looking out over the water, my eye flickering from one area to another, searching for any sign of what I know I saw. It was a man. It had to be. The coastline has disappeared now, and we’re surrounded by nothing but water. Why would someone be this far out? Did he fall off the boat?
There’s a thud and I look down to see the wine bottle rolling across the deck of the boat. “Are you okay?” I ask Gabby who is turning an unpleasant shade of green. When she wretches, she grabs my arm to steady herself.
“Oh my god!” she cries, clutching me. Terrified I’m going to get puked on, I jerk back, and trip over the wine bottle. My arms are waving in windmill fashion as I try to keep myself from falling. But before I can stop myself, I go down and whack my head on something hard.
My ears are ringing and stars are dancing in front of my eyes as I hit the warm water with a splash. I sink below the depths before I can even process what’s happening. Saltwater floods my mouth, drowning out my screams. I break the surface long enough to cough before a wave from the boat sends me back under again. Again, and again, I come up just long enough to sputter and gasp before sinking back down.
I try to swim to the surface, but I’m too woozy and disoriented to make any progress. I’m floundering. My head is throbbing and I’m not entirely sure if I’m heading up or down. It’s so dark that there’s no light to guide me in one direction or another. The realization hits me: I’m drowning. This is how I’m going to die.
What a horrible way to go.
2
Cid
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t her appearance that attracted my attention at first. The glow from the moon made her look like a nymph. Her hair is a golden hue and her face is pale, almost iridescent in the moonlight.
I’d been watching her for a while, following quietly behind the boat. I heard her arguing with the other woman.
Most of the other women on the boat were in bikinis but this one was wearing a sundress. It was downright modest compared to the others. She was very out of place and she seemed uncomfortable even being there. It sparked my curiosity.
Then she was alone for a brief moment and I dared to get closer. Of course, she saw me. How she managed to see me in the darkness, I don’t know. No one has ever seen me when I didn’t want them to before, but part of me liked it. It was dangerous, but I’m nothing if not a little bit of a trouble-maker. She seemed concerned for me, th
I sank below the waves, out of her line of sight, but close enough to the surface and the boat to see her. At that point the other woman returned, and my nymph tripped backward. There was no stopping her fall from the side of the boat. She’s bleeding when she hits the water, having whacked her head on the side of the boat as she fell, and now is only semi-conscious.
I hesitate when she doesn’t immediately sink. She flounders at the surface for a moment, but then goes under again. Between the currents, the waves from the boat, and her injuries, she doesn’t have the strength to keep herself above water. No, she’ll drown if I don’t do something. I can’t stomach that happening.
She’s flailing under the water, trying to get back to the surface when I grab hold of her waist. I pull her above the water, only to see that she’s lost consciousness. Panic rises in my throat but then I confirm that she’s breathing. I double check her pulse to be sure and find the strong thumping beneath my ridged fingertips.
Anchoring her under my arm, I swim through the water, pulling her with me. The swim to my island doesn’t take long when I’m by myself, but toting around a human and making sure her face remains above water is certainly going to slow me down.
Blood is running down her forehead, mixing in with the salt water. I don’t think she’s lost a lot but the smell of the blood in the water is a nice beacon for company we don’t want. I double time it, keeping an eye out both above and below the surface.
The boat she’d been on is long out of range and the populated coastline is far behind us. It would probably be the wiser choice to have just taken her back to land, but I don’t want to. Okay, so I’m selfish. That’s nothing new, and besides, I want to keep her. I wanted to keep her before she happened to fall into the ocean. Now it’s just my good fortune.
The moon is high in the sky, lighting my way. By the time the small island comes into view, she’s been in the water for hours. I’m growing concerned since she’s still unconscious. I would’ve thought she’d have awakened by now. Much to my relief, the blood has congealed on her forehead. But still, why isn’t she stirring?
I’m careful swimming over the corals of the reef. They’re sharp, and while they won’t easily puncture my tail, they can do some serious damage to human skin. Once we’re beyond the reef, I let the current pull us to the shoreline, flicking my tail to give us the extra push.
Beached on the sand, I use my arms to pull us over the waves. It’s awkward dragging her behind me, but I need to get my lower half out of the water entirely if I hope to dry out quickly. I lay next to her, hovered over her body so I can peer down at her face. Plump pink lips are slightly parted, and she’s breathing evenly. Her eyes are still closed, dark lashes fanned over her sun-kissed skin.
Between the light of the moon and the water still clinging to her skin, she’s almost sparkling. Between the slightly upturned nose and the delicate albeit slightly bruised jawline, she really does have the look of a nymph. There’s a regal air about her, even when she is unconscious.
I’ve only seen a real nymph once, and even that was just a fleeting glance, but damn. I mean, I’ve been attracted to humans in the past, but I’ve never been compelled to follow them around or well…save their lives – unlike some of my family members.
My brother Lotan came back to Lophelia with his human after being captured—idiot actually got caught in a net—not long ago, and now it’s all my parents, or anyone else for that matter, could talk about. I mean, having humans in Lophelia wasn’t unheard of, uncommon yes, but not shocking. After a few days of constant eye-rolling on my part, I left. Back to my island and away from the upheaval.
If Lotan wanted to spend the rest of his days plowing a human then that was up to him, it was not something I had ever considered. But now as I look down at this human, I’m wondering if this is how it started for him. Maybe we’re not so different.
Now that the gills on my neck have closed and my tail has dried out and left two limbs in its place, I stretch my legs out on the sand now. The webbing between my fingers has disappeared as I press my fingers to her neck yet again. I mean, I can see she’s breathing by the way her chest rises and falls. Her pulse is still strong. I hesitate to start speaking because I don’t want to awaken the lust in her. The Oceanid voice will lure a human straight to their death if they’re not careful, and mine is no exception, I’m sure, although if I’m going to be honest, I’ve never tried it.
Instead of speaking, I tap her shoulder. I feel stupid doing it but I want her to wake up. I don’t know what to do if she doesn’t. The only place I can think of taking her would be to Lophelia, but the underwater city is far away and I don’t have a respirator with me. Not to mention, I can’t imagine what she’d do if she regained consciousness while being pulled along under the water by an Oceanid. Seeing the half-fish half-human shape I have when submerged…nope, that wouldn’t go over well.
I clear my throat. It’s the only sound I’m willing to make where she can hear me, but there’s no response between that and my shoulder tapping. Standing up, I lift her body from the sand and carry her past the palm trees to the small shelter I built a few years ago. It’s not much, but it’s my little hideaway, and I like it.
The woven mat on the rough-hewn floor is where I usually sleep. I hesitate to put her down on it since the sundress she has on is still dripping wet and covered in sand. Awkwardly, I set her on the edge of the mat and strip her. I leave her undergarments in place because well, I’m no pervert and there’s no reason to take them off. Sure, they’re wet but not so much that they’ll chill her or soak the mat.
I brush what sand I can from her skin before arranging her into what should be a more comfortable position and tossing a sheet over her. Having my dick out and waving around when she wakes up probably isn’t a good idea either, so I snag a pair of swim trunks and pull them on. I light a fire in the pit that sits in the middle of the small room, and wait.
I’m eating a mango with my back against the wall when I surreptitiously glance at her. I’m greeted by wide, bright green eyes. Her chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. I set the fruit down and climb to my knees, crawling a bit closer to her as she clutches the sheet to her chest and moves further away from me.
Do you know how hard it is to calm someone when you can’t speak to them? Freakin’ impossible is what I’m discovering.
I hold my hands out in the air, using the universal sign language for easy there when she sucks in a harsh breath and lets out a blood-curdling scream.
“Shit!” I say before I can stop myself, my hands covering my ears to protect my eardrums from her shrill sound.
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, the scream dies in her throat. Her pupils dilate and her gaze fixes on me, all fear gone.
Ah, crap.
3
Mia
I know I’m not dead. Definitely not dead, although I don’t know how I managed to escape that. But what I don’t know is how I got in this dilapidated grass hut with a guy hot enough to…to…oh my god, he’s gorgeous. Not in the magazine cover way but in the dark, brooding, dangerous way that makes my stomach clench and my mind fill with all sorts of dirty thoughts.
Damp, uncombed brown hair is tucked behind his ears. Dark eyes stare straight ahead at the small flames of the fire. Perfectly straight white teeth bite into the flesh of a piece of fruit. The clear juice runs down his chin and he wipes it off with the back of a thickly muscled forearm.
How in the hell did I get here? Where is here, anyway? The last thing I remember is drowning.
My head is throbbing and to be quite honest, I’m freaking out. Just like in the water, I can’t catch my breath. Forming a coherent sentence is out of the question. How did I not die? Who is this guy? And again, where am I?
