by J. M. Snyder
“Proof?” Kellen echoed. “What kind of proof?”
“We’ll go down to the shore,” Derek told him, “and swim back to the pod. No sex on the beach, none of that shit. Hell, the place is probably crawling with surfers and sunbathers, on a day like today. You can’t just plop down in the tide and start screwing. They’ll call the cops.”
Confusion flickered across Kellen’s face. “Cops?”
Derek waved that question away. “You’ll take me to Tad. Don’t shake your head—listen. You show me he’s there in that soul cage or whatever contraption you’ve got him in, and I’ll do anything you want to get him back. We’ll find a secluded spot far away from him so he won’t see us and I’ll be all yours, I swear it. You’ll get your good time. Then you’ll let him go. How’s that?”
For a long moment Kellen sat, mulling over the offer. Derek held his breath, waiting. His mind could play out the scenario as far as the beach—how he’d manage to step into the waves and follow Kellen to find his lover, or what happened after that, he couldn’t foresee. Maybe the beach would be empty, despite the hour, and he could change his mind, convince Kellen to bring Tad to shore, if he really wanted that fuck on land. Then he’d overpower the other merrow somehow, take his lover back, and run away without having to do anything more than their brief tryst earlier. Maybe he could suggest that now, bringing Tad to shore. Maybe Kellen would fall for it …
“You want proof,” Kellen said. When Derek nodded, he laughed and his former smile flashed out. “What, you don’t believe me? Why would I lie to you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Derek countered.
Kellen nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you proof.”
A heavy weight seemed to lift from Derek’s shoulders, freeing him, and he almost smiled back at the merrow as he fought the urge to pump his fist in the air and cry out, Yes! He’d just bought himself a little more time.
Kellen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you find your talisman?”
There was a snide undercurrent to his remark Derek chose to ignore. After a slight hesitation, his hand strayed to his neck, where the twine was tied. “I’ve got it,” he said, defensive, his fingers toying with the collar of his shirt as if fiddling with the shell.
“Good,” Kellen purred. His smile widened, eyes growing cold. There was something wicked in his sure, unblinking gaze that made Derek wonder what the hell he thought he was doing here. Suddenly he was all too aware he held nothing in his hand but so much twine and empty air.
Chapter 7
Driving with Kellen beside him in the fading daylight of late afternoon was no less eerie than it had been the night before. Then the dark night and empty streets had helped buffer Derek’s emotions; in the glaring sunlight slanting through his windshield, he found his own convoluted thoughts and feelings so much harder to ignore. Every now and then he would glance over at his traveling companion, only to catch Kellen staring back with a cryptic grin on his face. There was something unsettling about him, about this whole situation. Derek wanted nothing more than to get it over with and get the merrow back out of his life for good, but he suspected doing so wouldn’t be quite that simple.
Derek rolled down his window all the way, hoping to air out the car’s fishy interior. Kellen wore the same clothes he had the night before, though his appearance was disheveled and negligent now—his cowboy hat was pushed back at a sharp angle, the brim no longer hiding his face, and his shirt was misbuttoned, the zipper on his jeans gaping open. At stop lights when Derek dared to look away from the road, he found Kellen’s fingers poking into that open zipper, fondling himself or just rearranging his genitals, one of the two. There were no underpants beneath the jeans, and when Kellen extracted his fingers from the hole in the denim, Derek could see dirty blond curls the color of wet sand puff up through the gap.
Their silence was broken by Kellen’s tuneless humming, an annoying, self-satisfied sound accompanied by one hand tapping Kellen’s knee. Once or twice he even let out a soft whistle, and the smirk on his face bothered Derek. When they turned onto the road that led to the Den of Thieves, Derek gunned the engine as if he could hope to outrun the sound. “Will you stop it?” he snapped.
That smile spread a bit farther—Kellen was enjoying his discomfort. “Stop what?”
Breathing, Derek wanted to reply, but he kept the thought to himself. Instead he concentrated on the road ahead and tried to tune Kellen out.
They passed the bar, closed this time of the afternoon. The neon sign was dark, the windows unlit, the parking lot deserted. Derek turned down a side street that was more dirt than road and slowed the car when he felt the gritty crunch of sand beneath his tires. The road petered out as it ran to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the crashing surf below; then it looped away from the cliffs, around toward the far end of the peninsula, heading down to an old lighthouse and nature preserve before doubling back to the Den and, beyond that, the rest of San Diego. As Derek pulled off the road, he had a brief image of kicking Kellen out the passenger side door then speeding away, back to civilization, as his old friend tumbled down the side of the cliffs, cursing Derek’s name. He’d move past losing Tad all over again if he could just get rid of the damn merrow…
But who was he kidding? He couldn’t live knowing Tad was out there, somewhere, without him. Slowing to a stop, he parked the car in front of the metal guardrail that skirted the top of the cliff and turned off the engine. For a minute the two of them sat there, staring out over the sea. From this height, they couldn’t see individual waves or the shore below—the ocean was one unending plain, a deep, brooding color, fading as it stretched to meet the sky on the horizon. A sense of smallness filled Derek up inside, a feeling of being insignificant, of meaning nothing in the face of this wide, ancient god. Along with that came the familiar, overwhelming urge to leap from the cliff, just spread his arms and plunge into the water, let it claim him, take him back again.
In his veins, his blood seemed to surge with the tide’s ebb and flow, and he felt the first stirrings of an erection he often sported when he got too close to the sea. How many times had he and Tad come out here, to this spot, to make love in the back seat of this very car? Or down below, in the sand, with the sea lapping at their feet like an eager pup? He’d never noticed the Den of Thieves before, but when he came here with his lover, his thoughts had been focused on one thing, and one thing only. He had to find that focus again, center himself now—here he was, alone this time, but still with only one thing in mind.
Tad.
Somewhere below those churning waves, his lover hid from him. Was he asleep, unconscious, unaware of his surroundings or of what—or who—held him prisoner? Or did he know the passage of time, did he feel each day as the same exquisite pain Derek bore without Tad near?
Derek yanked the car keys from the ignition but didn’t open the door, didn’t move to exit the car. Instead, he asked, “Tell me more about this soul cage.”
His voice seemed to startle Kellen, cutting him off in mid-hum. “Is Tad awake down there?” Derek wanted to know. “Is he cognizant at all? How’s he breathe underwater?”
Kellen let out a hearty laugh that made Derek feel stupid for asking questions whose answers he should’ve already known. “I’m surprised, Dere. Of all merrows, you would be the one I’d expect to know most about soul cages, given their purpose. You always had a weak spot for humans.”
“I wanted to join them in their world,” Derek pointed out, “not trap them in mine.”
“Wouldn’t have done you any good anyway,” Kellen admitted with a shrug. He picked at the zipper on his jeans with an absent air, as if his thoughts were far away from the confines of this car, their conversation. “The cages are just big enough for one. Any human you keep in there would have to be brought out if you planned to mate with it, and how would he breathe underwater? You’d have to settle for jerking off while looking into the cage.” Turning toward Derek, he flashed an infuriating grin. “Like I do.”
Kellen laughed again, clapping one hand on Derek’s shoulder as if they were still friends. With a jerk, Derek shrugged it off. “Don’t worry,” Kellen told him. “Your human is blissfully unaware of me, or Merla, or anything else down below. The soul cage keeps him suspended in a state of ignorance. It’s like time’s stopped for him, forever, until he’s freed from the cage. The last thing he’ll remember is falling off the back of the boat, maybe hitting the water, maybe seeing me beneath the waves—his eyes went really big at that, I have to admit. You’d think he wouldn’t have been so surprised, seeing as how he fucks you.”
“He loves me,” Derek corrected.
Kellen’s disinterested shrug broadcasted his feelings about that. “Whatever. To answer your question, no, he’s not awake. He’s not aware. At best he’s alive, if you want to call it that. Merla sits by his cage as she brushes her hair and talks to him like he’s paying attention but he can’t hear her. She tells me she likes the peaceful expression on his face. She says she wants to lay beside it, wake to it every morning. We moved the cage closer to the bed so she could watch him as she falls asleep.”
A rush of hatred flooded Derek. He knew the look Kellen was referring to—how many nights had he laid beside Tad in bed and watched those fragile eyelids flicker in sleep? How often had he kissed Tad’s soft, slack cheek, or brushed his mouth across his lover’s pinked lips, or smoothed a stray strand of hair from his brow?
And how many long, lonely nights had he spent alone, his heart aching to see, feel, touch Tad again? He’d hurt her too, this Merla, gouge out her eyes if he could, rip out her hair, anything to keep her from looking at his man with something approaching lust in her thoughts.
Caught up in his emotions, he didn’t realize Kellen had leaned closer until he felt the merrow’s hand high on his thigh, angling for his crotch. Hot breath fanned his face; Derek turned and found Kellen right up on him, so near that when the merrow licked his lips, Derek thought he could taste the spittle covering them.
He pulled away from the sour breath seconds before the damp mouth pressed to his jaw. “Merla likes him,” Kellen whispered, his words curling beneath the collar of Derek’s denim jacket to burn his neck. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot for me to distract her enough for you to get him back. You’re going to have to make it worth my while…”
The hand closed over Derek’s crotch, giving his semi-hard cock a painful squeeze through his jeans. When he gasped, Kellen’s mouth covered his in a quick, rough kiss. Before Derek could get his arms between them to push Kellen away, the merrow was already gone, opening the car door and stepping out into the brisk sea air. Leaning down through the open door, Kellen grinned at the stunned expression on Derek’s face. His dick throbbed in his pants, his mouth tingled with Kellen’s kiss. “Well?” the merrow asked with a laugh. “We doing this, or what?”
As the door slammed shut, Derek had to resist the desire to start the car and gun the engine, knocking Kellen off the cliff and back to the sea. Only one thought calmed his rage enough that he could get out of the car without racing around it to beat the merrow senseless—the thought of holding Tad again, after all this time, of loving him.
Only that kept him sane.
* * * *
A steep, narrow staircase wound down the side of the cliff, steps cut into the very face of the rock itself and slick with sea spray. The thin metal railing that ran the length of the steps gave little comfort as Derek clung to it—the rickety railing shuddered when a hard wind blew in off the waves, and the cold metal chilled his bare hand. He watched his feet as they picked their way down the steps, his sneakers growing wet as he found his footing. Below them, harsh waves struck the rocky shore, then dragged back out to sea to throw themselves at the beach again. The air was heavy with salt water—it pressed like a damp cloth to Derek’s face, threatening to steal his breath away.
He slipped on a cracked step and his shoulder twisted painfully as he gripped the railing to keep from falling. This is crazy, he thought. Not so much the deed as the audacity he had in coming here with Kellen. With Tad it had been one thing—he’d had his talisman then, he’d worn it himself, and it kept the sea at bay. But here, without it, he felt like a drowning man scrambling for purchase, dying within sight of shore. Stepping into the ocean, swimming through the water, finding Tad…how would he ever manage to do that if he could barely breathe just standing near the incoming tide?
He stumbled again, and this time a strong hand caught his elbow. Kellen’s voice whipped around him, strung out by the wind. “Careful there. Don’t want to damage the goods.”
Derek pulled free from his grip. “Fuck you,” he muttered.
It earned him another slap of Kellen’s laughter, cackling into the stiff breeze.
The trip down the side of the cliff only took about five minutes or so but seemed to last a lifetime. Before they reached the final step, Derek had already scanned the beach and saw they were alone. Though the day had been nice when they left his apartment, this close to the sea, the air turned cold. The sun hovered low above the horizon, its rays stretched out across the ocean like fingers reaching for the beach. A sand-covered plastic bag sat forgotten near the steps, stuffed with a wet beach towel, and a pair of bright pink flip-flops stuck out from its opening. As Derek left the stairs, he kicked at a discarded bottle of sunscreen and watched it scuttle away from him over the sand like a crab.
Now what?
Wrapping his arms around his chest to ward off the chill, he turned to crane his neck up at the top of the cliffs—he could just see the grille of his car, a solitary sentinel. He and Kellen were quite alone, forgotten by the rest of the world, cast on this lonely stretch of sand like so much driftwood or debris. Here the argument he’d presented back at the apartment seemed silly—there was no one to see them, no one to care if they fornicated in the tide. He thought again of trying to convince Kellen of bringing Tad here, to him, but knew the merrow would never fall for it.
As if thinking of the merrow had attracted him, Kellen stepped up behind him and pressed his body against Derek’s. His hands rose to knead Derek’s tense shoulders, then rubbed over his crossed arms to hug Derek back to him. Warm lips kissed Derek’s ear. Kellen’s sigh filled his world, replacing the sough of the surf and the whistling wind. “Relax,” he purred. Derek fought the urge to shudder at the sound of his voice. “Part of our bargain was that you were going to enjoy this.”
Derek stepped out of Kellen’s embrace, away from the merrow. “I told you, I need proof.” His heart started to race, a rapid stutter in his chest, and he whirled to face his former friend. “I don’t trust you, Kellen. I never have. You want to have sex here? Fine. But you have to go bring me Tad. Then I’ll know he’s alive and, like I said, I’ll do whatever you want to get him back.”
“Proof,” Kellen spat. His smile seemed to freeze, his eyes harden. “You just want me to bring him here so you can renege on my offer. No. I’m too close to getting what I want from you, Dere. No way am I going to jeopardize that.”
“I wouldn’t,” Derek tried.
But he’d always been a horrible liar and Kellen’s laugh tore his objections away. That sound, so mocking, so self-assured, so damn annoying, it snapped something in Derek and he flung himself at the merrow, fists flailing, hitting Kellen’s shoulders and chest and face, anything he could connect with, anything he could hurt. He felt skin give way beneath his bludgeoning, felt hard bone bruise under his hands. Somehow he knocked Kellen’s cowboy hat away; the wind carried it a few yards before it was caught by an outcropping of rock. The feather in its brim fluttered, winking at Derek, taunting him.
Surprised, Kellen fell back a step before he managed to catch Derek’s wrists in his hands. Hi
s eyes were wild, his mouth a dark red gash in his face—even his pale cheeks were flushed with color, and a deep welt on his forehead promised to bruise. “You want proof?” Kellen spat; this time bright blood struck the sand at their feet. With a shove, he pushed Derek away, releasing him. “I’ll give you proof.”
He dug into the front pocket of his jeans and extracted a familiar black cord. Derek’s heart stopped in his chest when he saw it—he staggered back, tripped over the empty bottle of sunscreen, and fell to sprawl in the sand, his gaze never leaving Kellen’s hand or the cord that dangled from it. “No,” he whispered, one hand flying to his throat to clutch at the twine he’d tied there in a stupid ruse. “You never said—”
“Here’s your proof.” Kellen opened his hand and Derek saw his talisman, the red shell he’d last seen around Tad’s neck before the water claimed him.
Chapter 8
Kellen grinned down at Derek in vicious triumph. “I see that look in your eye,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve got news for you, Dere. You gave this away so now it’s no longer yours—it won’t work for you any more than the feather in my cap would.”
Derek couldn’t take his gaze off the talisman, nestled in Kellen’s hand. His entire body wanted to lunge for it, take it back, break the fingers holding it prisoner if he could and claim it once again as his own. His. Giving it to Tad had been an unselfish act of love; seeing it in Kellen’s grip now, imagining the intimate way Kellen had touched his lover to get the necklace off, made Derek seethe with rage. In short, clipped tones, he growled, “Give it back.”
“It’s useless to you now,” Kellen laughed. “You’ve become more human than I thought if you’re naive enough to believe the sea would take you back after you threw away your talisman. After you gave it away.”