He glanced over his shoulder at the mortal. Griffin was sweating slightly and flushed with color. Poseidon knew it was temporary, but it also made him think of what his mate must have looked like before his illness had drained him.
Imagine what he’ll look like as a god. In his mind’s eye Poseidon could see drawn flesh refilling, a healthy tan replacing the grayish pallor and muscles padding out the over-thin limbs, the whole wrapped in a blue chiton with a proper breastplate and trident. I wonder if he’ll keep the grey in his hair? It does give him a wonderful touch of gravitas.
The footing changed underneath, and he slowed. “Watch your step. There’s some sort of pool here,” he called.
“Oh?” Griffin joined him, studying the rough oval lagoon that lay at the center of the island. The water was clear, revealing the plant life that lined the bottom. A stand of loblollies flanked it about six feet back from the edge, providing a bit of shade. “I’ll be damned. Wonder how that formed?”
Hardworking daimons, Poseidon didn’t say. “I have no idea,” he said, toeing the damp foliage on the bank. “Storm-water that gathered in a depression?”
“Yeah, or it filters in through the sandbar. There might even be a channel out to the sea.” Griffin dropped into a cautious crouch next to the lagoon. “It’s definitely got fish. Looks a bit too clear for alligators, though.”
“I would certainly hope so,” Poseidon muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Never mind.” He hefted the backpack. “I’m getting a bit peckish. Are you hungry at all?”
Griffin made a noncommittal noise. “I could eat. I don’t suppose you have water in there.”
“Of course.” One of the nice things about being a god, Poseidon thought, was being able to pull any comestible you liked out of a bag. He eyed the shade under the loblollies. “Let’s sit down there.”
Five minutes later a waterproof tarp had been spread out in the shade of the pines and laid out with sandwiches, chips, fruit, and bottles of water. Not quite the feast Poseidon would have preferred to serve, but he had to keep up appearances. And if he was ruthlessly honest with himself he didn’t think Griffin was up to an elaborate meal.
The mortal munched slowly on a cheese and pickle sandwich, the soft smile on his face showing his pleasure. “Thanks,” he said suddenly.
Poseidon looked up from his own sandwich. “For what?”
“For this.” Griffin waved a hand at their surroundings. “And for helping me with the boat and generally being a good mate. You’re making this all a lot more pleasant for me.”
The sea god shrugged, ignoring the way his heart sped up at Griffin’s casual use of “mate”. “You’re welcome. This is pleasant for me, as well. I’d forgotten what it was like to just relax.”
Griffin shook his head. “Trust me, you need to take time out and relax. You always think you can do it later. And then you find out you don’t have nearly as much time as you thought you did.”
The regret in his voice was palpable. Poseidon had a glimpse of what it must be like to be a mortal, with such a short lifespan and so much of it dedicated to the mundane business of surviving. It depressed him. He fidgeted with his water bottle, wishing that he could reassure Griffin that he had matters in hand and it would all work out.
Assuming that I can get him into bed and give him enough strength to keep going until Chiron finds Zeus or Apollo. And assuming that my brother agrees to make him a god. If Zeus doesn’t… He upended the bottle and drained it, crushing the empty plastic in his fist.
“Sorry.”
He started. “What?”
Griffin nodded at his crumpled water bottle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“Ah.” He flushed, tucking the bottle back into his pack. “You didn’t.”
“Rubbish. I know it’s not easy being around me right now. It’s why I came here in the first place. I didn’t want to inflict my doom and gloom on anyone else.” Griffin finished his sandwich, licking crumbs and a smear of pickle off his fingers. “Although to be honest, I can’t really think of anyone who would’ve wanted to come with me.”
He said it dismissively, but Poseidon caught a thread of sadness underneath the words. “What about your family?”
“Only child. My mum and dad died a few years ago. Car accident.” Griffin shrugged. “At least they went together. I’ve got a handful of cousins, but I don’t really speak to any of them on a regular basis. No kids, two ex-wives who were more than happy to see the back of me, and I broke up with my last girlfriend about two months before I got the diagnosis. The sum total of my personal circle includes my colleagues at the Institute, my cleaning lady, and the barman down at my local.”
Poseidon lifted his eyebrows at that. “I suppose I would count as an acquaintance, yes?”
“Right now you’re probably my best friend.” Griffin grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “You poor bastard. And I’m sorry I’m putting on you like this.”
“You’re not. I’m honestly enjoying myself. I just wish the circumstances could have been better.”
“You and me both.” With a groan, the mortal stretched out on his back, tucking his hands behind his head as a pillow. “God, this would be a great place for an outdoor shag. I’m surprised the place isn’t littered with condoms.”
Poseidon’s mouth went dry at the words. The idea of slowly drawing off Griffin’s clothes under the dappled sunlight and learning every inch of his body was fiercely appealing. “I suppose the locals are good about bringing their trash with them,” he said with a cough.
His mortal grinned at him. “You sound like you don’t approve.”
“I always approve of people picking up after themselves.”
“No, I mean outdoor sex. Doesn’t seem like it’s up your alley, what with the tailored trousers and all.”
That was simply too much. “I also approve of outdoor sex,” Poseidon said with some asperity. “And I’ll put money on it I’ve had more of it than you have.”
Griffin hooted. “Yeah, right. When’s the last time you shagged outdoors?”
Poseidon thought. His brief interlude with Nerites courtesy of Gaia’s interference and Nick’s body counted, he decided. “About two weeks ago, I’ll have you know, on a cliff overlooking the Ae—the ocean.”
“Well, shit,” Griffin sighed. “Was she gorgeous?”
“Mm,” Poseidon said vaguely. “Amazing mouth, though.”
“You jammy git. I haven’t had a blowjob since before all this.” The mortal waved at his head. “Can’t share body fluids if you’re on cancer drugs.”
Poseidon decided on a rare and relished pun. “That sucks,” he said mildly.
Griffin burst into snorting laughter. “You bastard. So are you still seeing her?”
That was a shark’s maw if ever he’d seen one. “It was more of a spur of the moment thing,” Poseidon said. “I have to admit, I haven’t really been very active on the dating scene. I still have hopes about reconciling with my wife.”
“Oh. How’s that working out?”
“Not as well as I’d like.”
“Yeah, been there, done that. It’s how I wound up with two exes.” He clicked his tongue sadly. “You already know my sorry history. So what happened with you and your missus?”
There was something almost painfully ironic about Griffin asking that particular question. “It’s complicated,” Poseidon said slowly. “But the upshot of it is, I betrayed her trust, badly, and someone we both cared about died because of it. She’s never forgiven me for it.”
Griffin’s taken aback expression didn’t help. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he said compassionately. “I thought you were going to say something like you cheated on her, but … fuck me. That’s rough.”
“Yes, pretty much.”
The mortal settled back for a moment, staring up at the loblolly boughs overhead. “Okay, time to change the topic. So why don’t you have a website?”
Poseidon was m
ystified by the whiplash change of direction. “I beg your pardon?”
“I Googled you. Which is kind of creepy, I know, but I was interested in your remediation business. You don’t have any online presence whatsoever, and neither do your sons, and with names like theirs I would’ve expected to find something about Bythos and Aphros Seaton. The only thing I could find was a link to a page on Greek mythology and a pair of twin demigods with their names.”
The shark’s maw had become a jellyfish field. “We named them after those demigods,” Poseidon said, thinking fast. “As for my company’s lack of an online presence, it’s because most of our business is done by word of mouth, although Bythos has been pressing strongly for us to get a website. Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah. Damn.”
“What?”
The mortal grinned. “This is going to sound daft, but I was hoping you were a secret front for some superspy government agency or something. Kinda wanted one last adventure, you know?”
Oh, my beloved, you have no idea. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Poseidon said, his lips twitching,” but we’re not really associated with any government. If it helps, though, I could wear a tuxedo the next time we go sailing.”
With careful precision, Griffin flipped him the bird.
The sea god grinned. “I could bring a thermos of martinis,” he said, adopting his best Scottish accent. “Shaken, not stirred.”
“Smart arse,” Griffin muttered. “Go ahead, mock a sick man.”
Still amused, Poseidon fished another bottle of water from his backpack and settled back into the shade of the loblollies. The point of building this tiny refuge was to set the stage for a seduction, but he was having too much fun bantering with Griffin. It had been a very long time since he felt able to relax with someone else and simply talk.
And yet he couldn’t forget the very real necessity of having sex with Griffin as soon as possible. Perhaps I should have brought camping equipment and more food. Then I could have suggested that we stay overnight.
A breeze rattled through the limbs of the pines. The sea god glanced at the sky, noting the position of the sun, then reached out to the water. The tide was coming back in, enough to let the boat slide easily out of the inlet.
Finally, he looked at his agapetos. Griffin seemed more than a bit tired, cheekbones flushed under their coating of sunblock.
With regret, Poseidon let go of the lost opportunity. “It’s getting late,” he said, getting to his feet. “I suppose we’d better get back.”
“Yeah, not really up for roughing it overnight.” Groaning, Griffin got into a crouch, then stopped, wobbling slightly. “Bugger. Legs went to sleep. Give us a hand up?”
Poseidon took the outstretched hands and hauled the mortal to his feet. He expected the sudden barrage of memory now, but it still stunned him with its intensity. Lips and thighs and long hair that smelled like green growing things and huge brown eyes—
With a start, he realized his agapetos’s eyes were still the same. Lit with sunlight, they were the color of whiskey and just as intoxicating.
Need, rich and sweet, flowed through Poseidon like honey. He leaned forward, watching the irises widen and turn whiskey to a thin ring around the deepest black. One kiss. Please, my love, let me have just a kiss.
Unconsciously Griffin leaned towards him as well, firm lips parting just the slightest bit. Poseidon could feel the warmth of his breath, wanted to taste his mouth, claim it—
“Go.”
The sea god stopped. “What?”
“Go,” Griffin repeated, eyes still wide. “We have to go, remember?”
The spell was broken. Taking a shaky breath, Poseidon stepped back. “Yes, sorry. Let me get my knapsack.”
Gathering up the remainder of lunch, they made their way back to the inlet, Poseidon hanging back surreptitiously to make sure that his mortal didn’t stumble. As he suspected, the tide had already flowed up the sandy cut, widening it and floating the Seabird off the sandbar. Getting in, however, would now mean wading through the water and hoisting themselves over the side. That posed no difficulty for him, but Griffin’s aura was hazing with weariness.
The mortal grimaced at the boat. “Oh, well. No help for it, I suppose.”
Taking off their shoes, they slogged into water that quickly went up to mid-thigh. Griffin tossed his footwear over the side into the sailboat, then tried to boost himself over the side. His grip slipped from the gunwale and he fell back into the water. Grimacing, he shook out his hands.
“Wait.” Poseidon tossed his knapsack and his own shoes into the boat. If it was up to him, he’d simply lift Griffin into the boat, but he knew full well it would injure his agapetos’s pride. Instead, he made a cradle of his hands and braced it on his leg. “Here, I’ll give you a boost.”
“No, I can—”
“Let me help you.”
Griffin twitched, and Poseidon realized he’d let some of his power slip. “Let me help you,” he said, more gently this time.
“Uh, yeah. All right.” Awkwardly, Griffin lifted a bare foot and planted it in Poseidon’s hands. Trying to ignore the strong surge of need from the physical contact, Poseidon hoisted the man up, waiting until Griffin had swung his legs inside. Untying the mooring rope, the sea god clambered into the boat himself.
Griffin had sunk down onto one of the seats, quietly trying not to pant. He glanced up, embarrassment and anger pinching his expression. Poseidon wished he could offer some sort of reassurance, but felt helpless in the face of Griffin’s rage at his own vitality slipping away. The best comfort you can offer him is your seed. The sooner you get him into bed, the better.
Raising the anchor, Poseidon positioned himself at the tiller. Water, rise to my call, heed me. There was a susurrating gurgle as seawater swirled around the sailboat, sending it gliding back down the inlet. He grabbed the boathook and used it to pole along the sandy bottom for appearances. The Seabird rocked gently as the now-normal tide took it.
And then the boat rocked again, much harder this time, as a greyish-green hand clawed over the gunwale.
****
Griffin grabbed for the gunwale as the boat rocked. He touched something cold and rubbery and jerked his hand back. Turning, he saw a nightmare grinning at him over the boat’s edge, shark teeth champing in an oversized jaw. It hissed something, all sibilant consonants and a venomous tone that raised goosebumps on his skin, then lunged forward.
Before he could move Dunn was there, driving the boathook into the thing’s open maw with an enraged shout. There was a wet crunch, and then the thing literally dissolved before his eyes, turning into foul-smelling black gunk that dropped back into the water.
The yell that had been locked in his throat erupted now. “What the fuck—”
His curse was cut off as Dunn bodily lifted him from his spot, dumping him on the sailboat’s center seat. “Stay there!” the man barked, hefting the boathook like a spear. Somehow he looked even larger than before, muscles bulging as he glared at the water around the boat. Griffin flashed on the image of Poseidon and his trident, ready to do battle.
A stiff breeze sprang up, ruffling his hair. Dunn tossed the boathook down and jumped for the sheets, unfurling the sails. The canvas snapped, filling with wind. The sailboat surged forward, clearing the inlet and speeding into open water.
The redheaded man stepped to the stern seat and thumped down, grabbing the tiller. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
It took Griffin a moment to find his voice. “Yeah. What was that?”
Dunn’s already grim expression turned darker. “I don’t know.”
Somehow, Griffin knew he was lying. “You killed it. Jesus, Dunn.”
Furious blue eyes lifted to him, but Dunn didn’t reply. Griffin gripped the seat, trying to will his heartbeat to slow down. The day had been strange enough, what with Dunn almost kissing him on the island.
And God, he’d wanted it, wanted to taste Dunn’s mouth on his, fe
el those large arms holding him. He knew he wasn’t gay, apart from that one drunken fumble in uni. But in that moment he’d needed Dunn to kiss him, needed it like he needed to breathe, and felt like a fool when he opened his mouth and that idiotic suggestion to leave tumbled out.
And then something that looked like a cross between a zombie and a shark had come out of the water after them. It had human hands. Even with the claws, I’d swear they were human.
And Dunn had killed it with a single strike.
Griffin shuddered, wondering if there were more of the things under the water right now pacing the boat. Christ, when I said I wanted one last adventure I didn’t mean with sea monsters.
Luckily the wind was with them all the way to Olympic Cove, shoving them through the entrance. Only then did he see Dunn relax, sweat slicking his skin.
“Can you take the tiller?” the big man asked.
Griffin changed position, waiting until Dunn had reefed the sail before firing up the outboard motor. “We need to tell someone about that thing,” he said. “The Coast Guard, the local police, someone.”
Dunn frowned, but nodded. “Ian is friends with the sheriff of Olympic Beach. I’ll contact him this afternoon.”
“Why not call the Coast Guard? I mean, this is more their line, isn’t it?”
“If Sheriff Connors recommends that I do so, I will,” Dunn said. “But he’s responsible for the well-being of a great number of tourists at the moment, many of whom will be out on the water.”
“Yeah, I suppose he doesn’t want to pull an Amity if he doesn’t have to,” Griffin said, easing back on the outboard throttle as the Seabird closed in on the dock.
Dunn gave him a distracted look. “Amity?”
“You know, Jaws? ‘We’re gonna need a bigger boat’?”
Dunn still looked mystified.
“Okay, that’s it,” Griffin said. “Tonight is definitely movie night.”
He knew it was a distraction technique. He didn’t care. Did he actually see human arms, human hands despite the claws? It sounded insane, but was there a chance it could have been an unfortunately deformed local, out for a swim?
Deep Water Page 9