by Judi Fennell
Which meant she and Rod had the room to themselves. Good thing one of them was unconscious.
Too bad it wasn’t her.
She let Livingston out, arranged her pillows à la Rob and Laura Petrie, and tried to make herself as small on the bed as possible.
Hopefully she’d get some sleep.
Drake floated alongside the pipe Humans had extended into the sea. Another way for them to spew their filth into his world. Gods, he was so sick of Humans. Of having to pretend he didn’t exist, of lurking around their beaches as if he were the intruder, when Mers had claimed those islands long before Humans had shown up. And now he was going to try to pass as one of them.
It would be laughable if it wasn’t necessary. Damn JR and his failed plan. Drake hadn’t stayed around to get the next report. Oh, he knew what that one would be—more of the same. As if JR were doing him some big flippin’ favor, when it was the other way around. JR owed him.
Especially now that Drake had to become physically involved. Since the bird hadn’t done the deed, he’d need to, and the only way to keep Rod on land permanently was to meet him there to ensure it. He couldn’t let Rod get to the sea.
Drake looked at the slate chip in his hand, reading it by the light of the moon.
He knew just where to find Rod.
Chapter 24
Charley folded his spectacles and rested them among the sea squirts occupying the ledge beneath the smallest and least inhabited island in the Azores. Where he was going, he wouldn’t need glasses.
Nodding at the red-crested oarfish guarding the entrance to the Travel Chamber, Charley took his time swimming into the vortex at the center. The speed with which it zipped him to the top of the extinct volcano always gave him a headache.
He emerged in the crystalline lake, as usual. Despite the brilliant sunshine, white fluffy clouds hung low in the verdant crater—also, as usual.
Zeus, on a raft, reading a book, however, was not usual.
Charley hadn’t expected Zeus. Usually Poseidon greeted him on the shore, more often than not with a piña colada in one hand and a nymph in the other. Charley didn’t know how Amphitrite put up with it, but he’d never been one to question the gods before—nor their wives. At least, not about their personal lives.
When it came to Rod’s and Valerie’s, on the other fin…
Charley cleared his throat to announce himself. He’d had very few personal conversations with the head god and was wondering if questioning Zeus was as good an idea now as it’d sounded in Fisher’s office after Angel’s comment had set him to thinking.
Zeus looked up from his book. “Ah, Archangel Chayyiel. So glad you could stop by.” Zeus dog-eared his page and tossed the book into the sky where it disappeared in a flash of miniature thunderbolts. He swung his legs over the side of the raft. “I understand you have questions for me.”
Too late to back out now. Besides, Olympian Advisors had the right to address the gods—even if they rarely went straight to the top as Charley had.
He swallowed. He didn’t like what this was doing to Fisher and Kai. He didn’t like the possibility of failure for Rod. And poor Valerie, trapped unknowingly in this mess… “Yes, Sir. It’s about what’s going on with Rod.”
“Oh?” Zeus arched an eyebrow.
Charley cleared his throat. “Yes. Um… JR is after him.”
“You’re right. He is.”
“You know?”
Zeus sat straighter on the raft and crossed his arms, one side of his mouth quirking upward. “I am the top god, Chayyiel.”
Right. Of course Zeus would know. “But I don’t understand.”
The grin spread to both sides of Zeus’ face. “I know that, too.”
This wasn’t getting Charley anywhere. He kicked his tail and swam closer. “I’m wondering why, Sir. We sent him on land to remove him from harm’s way, not put him in it.”
“Who said he’s in it?”
What? “But, Sir, the reports we’ve received—”
“Yes, the reports.” Zeus flicked his wrist, and the raft disappeared. When he stood atop the water, a long, flowing gold robe hung from his shoulders. “Those reports are what’s already happened. By the time you get them, they’re obsolete. Disregard them.”
Trying to make sense of a god’s proclamation was like trying to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg.
“You don’t honestly expect me to answer that one, do you?”
The top god could read minds, too.
Zeus started pacing. “Look, Chayyiel, I like you. You’ve been one of the most loyal subjects in the last fifty millennia or so, and you’ve done your job well. So I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
Charley crossed his arms and rested them on top of the water, his tail flukes fluttering intermittently, keeping him upright.
“Rod is doing exactly what we need him to do. And so is JR. And… well, so is the one who hired him. There’s a master plan—I have been at this for a few selinos, you know.” He stopped pacing. “Which is why I’m the top god and you’re an archangel.”
An archangel the gods themselves had charged to ensure Mer safety, happiness, and lives.
Charley squared his shoulders, wishing he hadn’t removed his glasses. He could swear his vision was getting a little blurry.
“I thought you hated wearing glasses.” Zeus’ robe fanned out over his arms when he slid his hands to his loincloth-clad hips.
“I do, but that’s not important. I wouldn’t presume to ask you to explain the plan to me—”
“Oh, come now, Chayyiel, we both know that’s not true.” Zeus tossed the gold fabric back over his shoulders. “You’re dying to know what it is, and you’d love for me to tell it to you.”
“Well, yes, Sir, that’s true—”
“You’re not ‘yes-ing’ me, are you, Chayyiel?” Zeus’ eyes narrowed.
The good ol’ Catch-22. Zeus was known for them. “No, Sir, I’m not.”
“Good. Because we’ve had too many ‘Yes-Mers’ over the past few reigns. It was getting boring. Hence, this journey of Rod’s and our change of venue.” Zeus swept his hands over the lake.
“Sir?” Charley agreed that the island of Corvo beat out the top of Mount Olympus fins-down because, even with the gods’ powers, the mountaintop had always been too cold. As to the “Yes-Mer” syndrome… he couldn’t blame the previous rulers—it was a tough call to challenge a god.
Zeus sighed then whipped up a director’s chair to sit in. The gold robe disappeared without any ceremony, to be replaced by a black T-shirt and cargo shorts. He sat in the chair, resting his Birkenstocks on the cross bar and his elbows on his knees. “Do you remember when we shifted the rule of the oceans from one hereditary line to another, generations ago? It didn’t end up like we’d hoped. Decisions made on the fin, sirens luring Humans to their deaths, sea monsters claiming territories as their own, Mers playing along the surf line—it was one long period of hedonism.”
“Yes.” Oh, Charley definitely remembered the era before the Tritones had been restored to power, when Pontus’s heirs had lived under the delusions of free love and flower power. Wine, women, and song. Togas and love beads had been all the rage, and the wine had flowed like lava down the side of a volcano—which had been a portent of things to come.
When the gods had finally put their collective foot down, those unlucky Humans near Vesuvius had felt the effects. And the Mers, the Mers had lost their autonomy.
Everything had become governed by decree. Laws set, statutes defined, protocol demanded. Thousands and thousands of slate tablets created, outlining the specifics of Mer life.
The Prophecy had come into being; The Council created, and governorship returned to Poseidon’s most direct descendents, the Tritones—along with the proviso that they follow every dictate the gods prescribed.
Charley said nothing.
“Look. We realize our actions haven’t served the Tritones as well as we’d hoped. Fisher’s lost confidence in his judgment, and Rod is so careful not to repeat his past mistake that he’s unwilling to take risks necessary for growth.”
Zeus sat back, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why we created The Prophecy, you know. Just in case it was needed.”
“Valerie? How does she fit into this?”
Zeus’ lips tightened. “No, not Valerie. She has nothing to do with The Prophecy. She’s not the ‘that which is lost’ as you all assumed, but it certainly was convenient.”
“I don’t understand, Sir.”
Zeus stood up, kicking the chair into non-existence, and pulled a thunderbolt out of thin air in one continuous movement. The thing crackled and zapped, singeing the air around them. “As well you shouldn’t. If you did—if they did—none of this would come to pass. They’d be stuck where they are as a civilization for the rest of their time on the planet. Which wouldn’t be long.”
He hefted the bolt and pulled back his arm near his ear. “Do you know what happens to civilizations that stagnate? Ones that stifle creativity and independent thinking?”
Zeus threw the bolt toward the shore. It fell about ten feet short, hissing as it sank beneath the water.
He looked at Charley. “They die, Chayyiel. The entire population. Cro-Magnon, Neanderthal, Aztec, Mayan, Martian, Jamestown… Humans have already added Atlantis to that list. If Rod doesn’t take risks, doesn’t begin to think outside the box, listen to his gut, it will happen. There will be no more Atlantis. No more Council. No protection from Human discovery.”
Zeus whipped up another bolt and prepared for launch. “It’s all about Free Will, Chayyiel. A conscious decision on Rod’s part to act because it’s the best thing to do, not because circumstances—or you, or Fisher, or The Council, or the thousands of rules we’ve set down—dictate it.”
He let the bolt fly. It scorched a twenty-foot stripe on the shoreline, ending with the point embedded in the base of a palm. The tree burst into flame, then exploded in a burst of golden ash.
Zeus brushed his hands together and hunkered down in front of Charley. “If Rod fails, Chayyiel, not only won’t his tail return, but the Mer world, and all its inhabitants, will cease to exist. Humans will become the Chosen Race.”
Chapter 25
Rod was having the best dream. Warm, soft flesh pressed against him, pliant and feminine. He slid his hand up to find a full breast there for his touch. He fondled it, feeling a stirring in his gono. Gods, it’d been too long since he’d enjoyed a woman’s body.
He released her breast, brushing the stirring nipple as he spread his fingers along her rib cage, pressing her back against him. Rounded, firm buttocks filled his lap, cushioning his rising flesh.
She smelled like rainwater, soft wisps of hair caressing his lips and tantalizing the skin of his throat.
She murmured something sleepy and unintelligible, then leaned back into him, pushing against his erection. Rod slid his hand down her belly, over the jut of her hipbone, along the smooth, sleek skin of her thigh…
Skin… Thigh…
Rod’s eyes opened. This was no dream.
Darkness tinged with the faintest hint of dawn filtered in through the sand-colored window blinds, a scarred green door to the right admitting more gray light around its edges.
Valerie murmured again, flexing her legs, rubbing her heel against him, and Rod pulled her closer. He didn’t know where they were, but at least they were both safe.
Her leg slid back between his.
Actually, he couldn’t vouch for her safety at the moment.
His fingers trailed over her hip to the apex of her thighs. Soft curls invited him to slip lower. He did and her leg slid back farther.
She hummed, turning slightly in his arms, her curled arms trapping his other hand to her breasts.
A Mer could only take so much.
His fingers traveled lower, finding the swelling folds, the center of her that was reacting to his touch. He rubbed, almost groaning aloud when that sweet spot expanded for him.
He was at full mast himself and arched against her backside.
Valerie moaned and pressed back, the muscles there tightening against him. Her breasts swelled, and he moved his fingers slightly to find her nipples, caressing them. She moved against him again, this time opening her legs just enough for him to slip a finger inside.
But he resisted. He wanted her awake and welcoming him, not instinctively responding to stimuli.
“Valerie,” he whispered in her ear, taking the opportunity to tug that soft lobe between his lips, savoring the sweet scent of her as his tongue flicked over it.
“Mmmm.” She turned a little more, opening for him, and Rod groaned. A Mer could only take so much…
“Valerie, wake up.” He trailed kisses down the column of her throat, his fingers fluttering the tips of her breasts while his other hand continued to cup and stroke her.
“Hmmm,” she groaned, rolling in his arms until they were face to face. She slid her arms up his sides and over his chest, her fingernails scraping lightly over his nipples, her lips at the perfect angle for his kiss.
Her eyes still closed, she pursed her lips, tilting her head back in invitation.
Rod cupped her backside, filling his hands with the sleek muscles there, kneading her cheeks, his fingers sliding the full length between them, spreading her legs to place one over his as he nipped at her lips.
“Valerie,” he said against them, more a litany than a request. He kissed her, savoring the sweet, sleep-plumpness of those lips, tracing their seam with his tongue. She’d better wake up soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this and still retain his honor.
Valerie exhaled, her lips parting, her tongue slipping along her bottom lip, and he captured it.
Softly, he encouraged it out, stroking the tip gently with his own, tasting the essence of her.
She wound her arms around his neck, sliding her breasts up, pressing them against his chest with her core just above the tip of his gono.
Cock, he reminded himself. Humans called it a cock.
He was about to make love with a Human.
The thought should strike the fear of the gods in him, enough to curb this fast-rising fire in his veins, but… no.
Valerie wasn’t just any Human. Hades, she wasn’t even all Human, and all he could think, feel, see was how she fit into his arms, smell the way she wanted him, taste the sweet possession of her kiss as she deepened it, her tongue sliding between his lips, filling his mouth, flooding his senses with the essence of her. Pure woman.
He stroked that sweet, moist flesh between her legs, the swelling letting him know every bit as much as her moans did how much she wanted him.
But did she want him? Or merely the man in her arms?
Rod pulled back from the kiss. “Valerie. Open your eyes.” He would not do this without her full awareness. He didn’t want her hating him when all was said and done, and, even more, using it as an excuse to leave.
Gods, if she left now…
No. He would not fail. Not in this. The Council was expecting her back, and he would bring her. One failure in his life was enough.
Which was reason enough to end this, but, gods, he didn’t want to.
He ran the backs of his fingertips over one smooth, sun-dotted cheek.
“Valerie.”
Rod’s voice sounded so close. So soft and deep and warm…
“Valerie, open your eyes.”
Something nudged her nose, and she exhaled before blinking into wispy gray dawn.
Yes, very c
lose. His eyes were right there, mossy green with the tiniest lines at the sides as they smiled at her. Hmmm, smiling eyes. So nice to wake up to.
“Rod? You’re okay?”
“Okay? That depends on what you mean by okay.” He slid his cheek against hers, and she shivered as his breath tickled the hollow beneath her ear. “How are you?”
“Hmmm?” Her eyes closed and she shifted in his arms, her fingertips feeling the smooth, hard warmth of his chest. “I’m…”
Wait a minute.
Her eyes flew open. “What—? Why are you—? What are we—?”
Oh, God, she was naked all over Rod.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod… What was wrong with her? Where was her self-respect? Her pride? Her sense of self-preservation?
Her pajamas?
She scrambled off his thigh (oh, man, she had literally been all over him), clambering to get off the bed and cover herself and preserve some semblance of dignity.
One scooch and she landed on her backside on the threadbare carpet, her legs still trapped on the edge of the bed.
So much for dignity.
“What did we do?” How utterly mortifying to have to ask that question. And why was she naked?
Slowly, the previous night came back to her. The accident, the “fun” of getting Rod into not one, but two beds… and her soaked duffel bag.
“Livingston!” She scrambled to get upright. Bad enough Rod was witness to her loss of self-control and nudity, but to have the bird…
“I don’t think he’s here.” Rod’s deep voice edged over the bed. “I don’t see him, so you can come up. No need to be embarrassed.”
Oh, right. Livingston had hopped out last night to check in with his spies or minions or whatever he called them. Gathering her legs under her, Val peeked over the top of the mattress.
Caressed by slivers of pale light, a gorgeous, sexy, naked man smiled at her. “Hi.”
There was a naked man in her bed. The surprising thing was… that wasn’t the surprising thing.
Now if only she could remember what she’d done with him and how she’d ended up naked…