Roen blew into his shell once again, and she forced herself to avert her gaze in order to keep her head clear—something impossible to do when she looked at that man. Built for sinful, hard, hot sex, and I want to suck and lick and—
“God.” She winced. “Stop it.”
Jason led her to the pack of women, who stared, drooled, and oh-ah’d in Roen’s direction. “Wait. Isn’t that Roen Doran?” one of the women murmured.
“Ohmygod. Yes. That’s him,” said another, squealing.
The women started buzzing excitedly. “I hope he claims me,” said another. And then they all jumped in. “No, me. I want him.” The voices turned into a flurry of lustful, X-rated commentary, and it took every ounce of willpower Liv possessed to fight the urge to tell them to keep their slutty eyes off her man.
“Liv.” Jason gave her arm a squeeze. “The other women have been warned already. You have not. You are not to leave this beach under any circumstances until this event is over. If you must go to the bathroom, there’s the spot.” He pointed to the closest pine tree. “And if you break this rule, you will be fed to the maids. Do you understand?”
Liv nodded; meanwhile the women continued their happy, bachelorette-party banter. Roen was the main attraction.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“It is the Sinningitainnartok,” Jason replied and yanked off the cloth around his waist.
Liv gasped and stepped back. “What the hell, Jason?” She tried not to look at his penis, but it was right there. Thick and long and pink and…well, dangling there between his muscled thighs, sprouting from a patch of coarse dark blond hair.
The women began screaming with delight. “Oh, yeah! Take it off, merman!”
Liv wanted to scream, too, but with frustration. This was a goddamned nightmare of one bizarre event after another, and these fifty women were so doped up on “merman” they seriously believed this was fun.
Jason flashed a dimpled smile and dipped his head. “Thank you, ladies. Thank you.”
Liv pushed his shoulder. “Jason, what the hell is this?” she demanded, and the women began booing her. Liv ignored them and instead stared angrily at Jason.
“It’s the Sinningitainnartok,” he said. “It’s a word meaning ‘awake all night.’ It’s also a formal ceremony where we—”
Roen’s deep, authoritative voice filled the air, cutting him off.
Everyone instantly silenced.
“I would like to thank our guests,” Roen said, looking down at the crowd of smiling, excited women from his spot high up on the waterfall’s ledge, “for joining us in this time-honored tradition. Tonight, the men will compete in a variety of challenges to determine who will participate in the Claiming Ceremony tomorrow evening. Per our ancient and sacred laws, only those who complete the challenges may claim a woman.”
The women applauded.
Did this mean if Shane didn’t qualify, she’d be off the hook?
Liv started clapping, too. Dear God, please don’t let him pass.
“Let the Sinningitainnartok begin.” Roen whipped off his suede and dove into the water head first with an elegant swan dive, eliciting a wave of groupie-like screams in praise for his penis from the ladies.
Liv snarled.
“That’s my cue,” said Jason and dove into the lagoon. That’s when Liv realized the rest of the men were already in the water, their heads popping up, taking deep breaths.
“Where’d they come from?” Liv asked, astonished.
A brunette with freckles on her nose and long bangs, standing to Liv’s side, said, “Oh, they were just warming up for the big breath-holding challenge.”
Treading water in the center of the lagoon, surrounded by his men, Roen called out, “The hour starts now.”
An hour? Holy Christ.
One of the women, a redhead with short hair, standing toward the front, held up a stopwatch and gave it a click. “Go!”
Nice. Crowd participation, Liv thought.
The men disappeared into the depths of the lagoon, and Liv couldn’t help but hold her breath, too.
The same woman to her side whispered, “I hear some of the men never come back up.”
“What do you mean?” Liv asked.
The woman shrugged. “They told us all sorts of stories on the ship and one of them said that there are tunnels and currents down there. Some of the men get sucked in and never make it out.”
“The island probably eats them,” Liv mumbled.
“Ha!” The woman laughed. “Well, she’ll have to get in line. Because we came a long way for a nibble of delicious merman.”
Liv grimaced. “Yeah.” She tried not to think about the sad, horrific truth of the situation or the fact she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Of course, these women knew full well what was coming, and they couldn’t be happier. It would take a miracle to stop this thing.
She then thought about Roen down there in the water. For some reason, she didn’t feel worried—That man is a survivor.
As for Shane, she prayed she’d never see his face again.
After forty-five minutes, the first head surfaced and the man emerged from the water. His facial expression—shame—contrasted sharply with his rude exterior—long black hair in a braid down his back, a black beard, shimmering green eyes, and a tattoo of two crossing tridents over his chest.
The women applauded loudly, saying words of encouragement. “Awww, Zale, that’s okay. We still love you.”
The women sighed at his impressive manhood and then turned their attention toward his round solid ass as he disappeared into the forest.
“Well, ladies, most are still in the running,” said Stopwatch Redhead.
Liv began nibbling her index finger. Please no Shane. Please no Shane.
A few more minutes passed and several more men surfaced—a blond guy with a fanged serpent tattoo that wrapped around his leg and lower abdomen, and another man with cropped brown hair who had biceps the size of cement bags. Each “loser” made the walk of shame out of the water while the women savored the opportunity to ogle every inch and make catcalls.
Finally, the hour was up. However, the men didn’t resurface like she expected. “They don’t have watches,” she realized, meaning they’d stay down in the dark water for as long as they could and hope it was long enough.
Another half hour ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and Liv found herself standing ankle deep in the water. Almost all of the men had come up for air—one hundred and eighty-nine, to be exact.
Still no Roen and no Shane.
Okay. Don’t worry. I’m sure everything’s fine, she told herself.
Another man appeared—Asian with a dreaded mohawk, scale tattoos on one arm, and Japanese symbols on the other—who looked like the world’s tallest Samurai. Not Roen.
The beach, now crowded with a horde of wet naked men and flirty horny women, had turned into a little party. Someone had even broken out the champagne. From where? Who the hell knew?
“Shouldn’t somebody go down there and get them?” And by “them,” Liv meant Roen.
No one paid her any attention. The men were far too busy enjoying their fans’ attention.
This is ridiculous. I’m going in. Liv waded deeper, readying to dive in, only to be pulled back.
“Uh-uh-uuuh,” Jason warned. “No leaving the beach, Liv. Not until it’s over—and even then, you’re not to go off. There are more events.”
“He could be stuck down there.”
“Shane is our best swimmer. He’ll be fine.”
“Shane? Who the hell cares about…” Her voice faded. She needed to be pretending to want Shane, not Roen. “Oh, sorry. I thought you said Roen. And who the hell cares about that dirty bastard, right?”
Jason shrugged his golden brows. No, she wasn’t sure what he’d meant by it, although her best guess landed on him thinking she might be full of shit.
Liv turned her attention back toward the surface of the water, nibbl
ing away on her stump of a fingernail again.
Ten or so more heads came up—she’d lost count at this point.
Then a head of thick black hair floated up. Shane. Fucking Shane.
Triumphantly, he lifted his head from the water and howled. “Woo. Yay!” He swam toward Liv and then stood from the water, flashing a cocky grin. “Miss me, babe?”
She pasted on a disgusted smile—the best she could do at the moment. “Yeah. Congratulations.” Her eyes went back to the middle of the lagoon.
Shane laughed sadistically. “Don’t hold your breath, Liv. He’s our worst swimmer. Could drown in a damned bathtub.”
Liv’s veins filled with hard, cold angst. She didn’t know Roen was a bad swimmer.
“Come on.” Shane grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.
She snapped it away. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled.
“Remember our deal, Liv,” he whispered, narrowing his wicked green eyes at her. “Remember who you really want.”
Liv closed her eyes and got a hold of herself. Shane’s point was well taken, and frankly, her actions weren’t serving anyone.
Liv slowly sloshed her way from the water and headed toward the far end of the crowded beach, where she nonchalantly kept an eye on the surface. Another ten minutes ticked by, and Liv couldn’t hold back the tears. Roen wasn’t coming up. Why? He was their worst swimmer. He should’ve been up by now.
As calmly as possible, Liv walked over to Stopwatch Redhead, who stood talking to one of the tattooless “winners,” an eight-foot-tall African American merman, with clear green eyes, a shaved head, and twelve-pack.
“Um, excuse me,” Liv said politely, “how long has it been now?”
The woman held out the watch, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the perfect manly specimen before her.
Crap. One hour fifty minutes? Merman or not, Roen had been under the water for an impossible amount of time.
“Anyone know the record?” Liv called out.
“Hour and forty,” one of the men replied.
I can’t take this. Her fear for Roen wasn’t something she could control. She loved him. So much it made her entire body ache and weep when she thought of anything happening to him.
She began to run for the water right when Roen’s head abruptly emerged with a loud grunt-slash-gasp. Liv let out a sob of relief and then turned away to hide her face. She didn’t want Roen to see what a wreck she was.
The crowd cheered for Roen having set a new record of sorts; meanwhile Liv’s angry fists begged to be unleashed on Roen’s face. Damned sonofabitch is setting records while I’m falling apart thinking he’s dead? I’ll kill him!
Liv took a moment to calm herself. She then wiped the tears from her eyes, glued a plastic-as-hell smile on her face, and turned toward the crowd, pretending to listen to some silly conversation about fishing barehanded. Through the many faces of insanely tall men towering over the adoring flock of five-foot-something females, those hypnotic green and hazel eyes caught her attention. Liv’s smile melted away while his angry gaze burned right through her. It lasted only a moment, but Liv instantly knew that his little “record breaking” display had been a punishment meant for her. He’d wanted to cause her a little worry.
Or maybe it was a test, Liv. She put back her smile and turned it toward Shane.
~ ~ ~
The rest of the night, the men participated in one challenge after another—pushing down large pine trees, cracking boulders with one fist, harpooning fish from shore—each event was a display of skill and strength that Liv suspected was as much for the women’s enjoyment as it was for narrowing down the pack of male participants in the Claiming Ceremony to come.
By the time the sun came up and the sky burst with electric blues, the Sinning-whatever-whatever-they-called-it finally came to a ceremonious close on the beach with seventy-five men left. Sadly, Shane was one of them, as was Roen. Liv tried not to think about what would happen next.
Would Roen choose a woman, too? She knew the island had demanded he have children when he’d negotiated for her freedom. I hope to God I don’t have to watch him fight for another woman. It would break her damned heart. Add to that, she wasn’t exactly free, now was she? It felt like an extra-special slap in the face.
Jason, who’d been eliminated toward the end, walked Liv back to her cottage. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said.
Liv felt too tired to talk. Keeping her eyes off of Roen the entire night had taken everything out of her. Anything she had left over went to not vomiting every time Shane touched her.
“Well,” Jason said, “I always enjoy the Sinningitainnartok. Even if I already have a mate.”
Liv slogged behind Jason up the dirt path leading past a large cluster of beautifully kept brown cottages next to hers. “If you’ve already found a mate, then why do you have to participate at all?”
“That’s the difference between us and humans. Our heart and soul might belong to one woman, but everyone has to do their part when it comes to reproduction.”
Liv already knew that their mates ended up monsters, so she guessed the lack of monogamy made sense from a species-survival aspect.
“Yep, gotta spread the love,” he added and then gave his groin a little rub.
“Classy, Jason.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is, not that we expect you landlovers to understand. We just expect you to play ball. Or with our balls.”
Har, har, she thought, but didn’t respond.
They arrived at her cottage, and Liv caught a glimpse of Jason’s tired face when she walked past him. There was a coldness in those bright green eyes she hadn’t really noticed before.
She stopped and tilted her head, trying to figure him out.
“What?” he said defensively.
He’s lying. Men didn’t walk around with that sort of pain when they were “okay” with things.
“What would you give to get her back?”
Jason’s snide little smile flattened into a straight line. “What do you mean?”
“Your mate. What would you give to get her back?” she asked, wanting to know if her suspicion was correct—he didn’t really want to be doing these claimings.
“Everything. Which doesn’t really matter, because she’s not coming back.”
“Roen might change things,” she said.
Jason looked down at his bare feet. “Not likely. And if he did, she’s gone. Her soul has left her body. The only way I’ll ever see her again is in the afterlife.”
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“I feel it in my heart.”
Liv bobbed her head, trying to fully understand his words. It didn’t make sense that he still felt so connected to his mate if she had no soul, did it?
Jason turned away. “That’s enough chat for today. Get some rest, landlover. I’ll be back for you at sunset.”
“Can’t wait.” She entered the cabin and closed the door, wondering if she might be able to sneak off and find Dana. It sounded like Jason was going to get some sleep.
Liv peeked out the curtains of the small living room and there was Jason standing right in front of the window, with his big arms crossed over his chest, frowning. “Get some sleep, landlover,” he ordered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Dammit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later in the evening, after a long day of pacing and nerves and trying to get a little sleep, Jason came to collect Liv and take her to the great hall, where the festivities were already underway.
Why in the world do they call this “great”? Liv thought the moment they entered the jagged stone entrance. The only thing great about it was—okay, nothing was great about it. It was a big, dark, damp cavern with a high ceiling and a dismal fireplace that did absolutely nothing to fight the frigid temperature. The walls, all solid rock, dripped with that strange “sacred water,” which flowed into little channels along the edges of the floor toward an eerily glowing g
reen pool in the back furthest from the entrance.
Jason pulled Liv through the dense crowd of nearly naked men, who stood to the edges of the room, facing Roen’s throne—a wooden chair with a sea serpent carved into the high back. The women stood behind him in a long line, each “guest” wearing the same style white outfit like before.
Liv tugged at the top of her dress and tried her best to ignore the tightening in her chest. She felt Roen’s gaze from across the room. She wanted to run to him and warn him what was coming, but she’d already gone over this twenty times in her head today. She had to stick to the plan.
Liv’s eyes went to work searching for Dana. Thankfully, she wasn’t among any of the women. So where the hell was she?
Liv turned to Jason. “Where’s my sister?” she whispered.
“Shhh… It’s about to start,” said a man to her other side.
Her eyes traveled up, up, up the wall of muscles and scarred skin to find Lyle looking down at her. A shiver rippled through her nervous system. Lyle’s face looked very similar to Roen’s—chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips—only he wore a full beard and had dark long hair. He also had a few inches on his brother in every direction.
Liv stared up at the seven-foot man, masking her fear. Everything about him said “Danger. If you see this man, run the other way.”
“Hello, Lyle. Nice to see you again,” she said.
“Only my family calls me Lyle. You may refer to me as L’isle, my traditional merman name.” He pulled his stern gaze away and directed it toward a woman—a thin blonde who couldn’t be older than twenty—who’d stepped forward and now stood beside Roen’s throne. Two men moved from the crowd to the center of the room, where they removed the cloths around their waists.
Liv’s stomach tightened into a sick ball. Oh shit. No. She didn’t want to watch this. Liv turned away.
“Liv, they’re only penises,” Jason whispered in her ear. “And it’s disrespectful not to watch.”
Liv had seen so many large merman penises last night that when she’d grabbed a few hours of sleep in the morning, she dreamed they’d formed their own country and started demanding rights. It was pretty weird. “I don’t give a crap about the nudity. I’m not watching two men kill each other.”
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