Sins Against the Sea

by Nina Mason

  In some of the tales, it was the men who captured the mermaids by stealing their mirrors or combs. One story, The Mermaid Bride, sounded uncannily similar to one her father had told her shortly after her mother’s disappearance. Corey summoned the memory into her mind. It was only a few nights after her mom had allegedly drowned. After waking from the dream that still haunted her, she’d been stricken by a harrowing feeling of loss. Her father must have heard her crying, because he came in, sat down on the edge of her bed, and told her his own version of The Mermaid Bride. Little did she know then, the story was more than a folktale.

  Years ago, a man went to Orkney on business. One day, while working on some plans, he heard a lovely voice singing a haunting song. He was awestruck by the beauty of the sound, which seemed to be coming from the other side of a crag. When the man peered around it, he saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld sitting on a rock combing her auburn hair. A silvery skirt hung down from her waist to form a train that resembled the tail of a fish. He watched her, mesmerized, as she combed and sang her bewitching song, falling more in love with her with every passing moment.

  She sat with her back to the sea, and, desperate for contact, he got down and crept quietly among the boulders to get between her and the water. Every glance he cast her way made him want her all the more. Stealthily he crept up until he was within a few feet of her. Still she combed and sang. Then the man sprang forward, threw his arms around her, and kissed her. She leaped to her feet and gave him a slap that knocked him on his keister. Then, draping her train over her arm, she ran down to the sea.

  As he scrambled to his feet, ready to go after her, the man spied her golden comb on the sand. She was out in the water now, staring at him in outrage.

  The man held up the comb. “You forgot something.”

  “My comb,” she cried in alarm. “You must give it back…or I will be shamed before all my people. Oh, please…give me back my comb.”

  “If you want it, you’ll have to marry me,” said he.

  “Where do you live?”

  “In California, near the ocean.” He hoped the location would entice her to accept him.

  “I do not wish to leave the islands,” she replied after appearing to give the matter some thought. “Why don’t you move here and make your home among my people?”

  “I can’t move here,” he said. “How will I support you? In California, I have a good job and a stately house. You will be comfortable there and want for nothing.”

  “I already live in a crystal palace,” she said, unpersuaded. “Stay here with me and we will need no money.”

  There they stood for a considerable time, each attempting to persuade the other to make the move, and the longer they spent arguing, the more deeply the man fell in love. Finally, the lady swam out to sea, singing woefully about the loss of her comb.

  The man watched her go with a sore heart before returning to his lodgings, taking her treasured comb with him. That night, he told the story of their meeting to a colleague from the islands, who said, “The lady you met was a Finmaid…and that comb is her most precious possession. If you would have her, keep the comb and she will be unable to refuse you. But consider this strategy carefully, my friend. For you’d be loads better off casting that accursed comb into the sea and forgetting her.”

  “I can’t do that,” said the man, who loved the alleged Finmaid too much to give her up. Not that he believed for a moment she was one of the Finfolk—or any of the other mythological creatures he’d heard stories about while in Orkney.

  “In that case, best of luck to you,” said his friend. “But be prepared to lie in the bed you make. Because marriages between mortals and Finmaids rarely end well.”

  The man went to bed, thinking of the lady, and at daybreak awoke to find her sitting at the foot of his bed, looking even more ravishing than she had the day before.

  “I’ve come to collect my comb,” said she, “and to ask you again to come and live in my crystal palace.”

  When the man refused, citing the same reasons he’d given before, she said, “I will make you a fair offer then. I will be your wife and will live with you for seven years if you vow to return my comb at the end of that time.”

  Jumping out of bed, the man fell on his knees before her and swore to keep the bargain. So, he married her and returned to California, where she took daily swims in the ocean, rain or shine.

  She was a good and loving wife to the man, as well as a gifted storyteller who often spoke of a place called Finfolkaheem with longing in her eyes. Within a year, they had a child—a little girl he loved as much as her mother. When the time came to honor his promise, the man struck a bargain with his wife. He would give her the comb in exchange for their daughter. Aerwyna agreed, though with obvious grief, and swam away from her family, never to be seen again.

  A haunting song wafting through the wall drew Corey from the recollection of her father’s story.

  “There was no music in my harp,

  My fingers knew naught but pain,

  Then your kiss, that wondrous barb,

  Brought song to my life again.

  She was enthralled, mesmerized, bewitched. His voice, more hypnotically beautiful than anything she’d ever heard, touched her heart and called to her soul. The desire to go to him rose inside her like a mighty wave. Entranced by its powerful pull, she threw back the covers, climbed out of bed, and padded into the hall. Finding the door to his bedroom closed, she listened for a moment, spellbound.

  “Vair me oro van o

  Vair me oro van ee

  Vair me oru o ho

  Sad am I without thee.”

  Though she hated to interrupt something so captivating, she knocked softly. “Kew-in? It’s Corey. Can I come in?”

  She heard bedsprings, then soft footsteps. The door opened. He came into the doorway and stood there looking down at her with sad, liquid eyes. Several breathless moments passed before he said, “I’m so sorry, Cordelia. Had I known you were afeared of drowning, I never would have done what I did.”

  She watched his mouth as he spoke, longing to kiss him. God, he was beautiful with his long black hair, powerful shoulders, full lips, and sea-colored eyes. Did she maybe find him so attractive because they were both children of the ocean?

  “Tell me again that you love me.”

  “I love you, Cordelia.”

  “Then make love to me, Kew-in.”

  “Gladly,” he said. “But can we do it in the bathtub?”

  The request struck her as odd for a moment until she remembered what he was.

  “Sure…” She hesitated. “Unless, of course, you’re planning to drown me again.”

  “You are the daughter of a Finmaid, Cordelia,” he said, straight-faced. “You need not fear drowning ever again.”

  Taking her by the arm, he pulled her into the bathroom and turned on the taps. As the tub filled, he came to her, took her face between his hands, and lifted her gaze to his. I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Neither have I.” It was the truth. Even with Jared she didn’t feel as deeply connected she did with Kew-in, who felt like the missing half of her soul.

  He moved his mouth toward hers—that wide, full-lipped mouth of his she wanted to kiss so badly she was trembling all over. He licked those beguiling lips before touching them to hers. She opened to him like an oyster, inviting him to come inside. Desire shivered through her as his tongue engaged hers in a slow, sensual dance.

  She moved her hands to his hair, entangling her fingers in his ornamented locks. The strands felt soft and silky, but also heavy.

  How do you like it?

  She heard the question inside her head. How cool that they could talk while kissing. Assuming he meant what they were doing, she replied, I like it a lot.

  I meant spawning.

  Oh! Well…I guess I like it the usual way.

  Do you like it standing up or lying down?

  Both, I guess. Which way do you pref
er?

  I like it both ways, too. I also like it in the water. One day, I would like to mate with you in the ocean. Would you like that, too?

  She smiled against his mouth, imagining they were in a deserted lagoon, making love in the wet sand as the lapping waves spilled over their enjoined bodies.

  I believe I would enjoy saltwater sex.

  He pulled away to check the water level in the tub, which was plenty full—and plenty hot, too, judging by the steam rising off the water. The bathroom was thick with it, lending the cold white room a misty ambience that was at once mysterious and romantic. After shutting off the faucets, he picked up the jar of bath salts and poured some in before bending to swish the water with his hand. She moved behind him and ran her hands over the globes of his buttocks, which were wonderfully firm and smooth.

  You have a lovely ass for a merman.

  He laughed—a beautiful sound rivaled only by his singing voice. I like your body, too.

  At that, he rose to his full height and turned around. He was naked, but she still wore her bedtime T-shirt. Her gaze dropped to his erection, which stood proudly between them.

  Desire mixed with scientific curiosity made her eager to explore. Leaning in, she kissed his mouth as she ran her fingertips along his shaft. Holy shit. His mating apparatus might look like a human man’s, but it did not feel like one. It was harder and more solid, like there was a bone inside the flesh—which there probably was. Or cartilage, at the very least.

  Is your dick always hard, Kew-in?

  My dick?

  Your penis.

  Aye, Cordelia.

  Hydrodynamically speaking, a retractable penis only made sense. A sheathable sex organ also was protected from injury and always ready when needed.

  She ran her tongue back and forth across his bottom lip as she took his measure. When she swiped her thumb across the tip, his breath caught and his eyelids fluttered.

  “Do you like what I’m doing?”

  “Yes.” His voice was as soft as the hiss of the ocean.

  He flexed his hips, pushing deeper into her hand, and she reflexively tightened her grip. A low sound of intense pleasure rose from deep in his throat.

  Use your mouth, Cordelia.

  She smiled at the unspoken request, pleased he had no trouble communicating his sexual needs.

  Without letting go, she used her foot to move the bathmat between them. Then, she got down on her knees and flicked her tongue against the crown of his cock. Kew-in gasped and looked down, locking his gaze on what she was doing. Closing her lips around the head, she repeated the action, adding gentle suction.

  He trembled and took hold of her head. “Oh, aye, Cordelia. That feels very nice.”

  Pleased he was enjoying her efforts, she took him deeper and twirled her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Returning to the head, she bored the tip of her tongue into the spout. He groaned and thrust his hips, driving more of his length into her mouth.

  She twirled her tongue up and down his shaft before gently pressing her teeth into his flesh. Then, she moved gradually upward, scraping very softly along his flesh.

  Hissing with pleasure, he entwined his fingers in her hair. Holding her head steady, he thrust, driving his dome into her tonsils. She sucked harder and sank her teeth a little deeper while twirling her tongue up, down, and around.

  His jaw clenched and his eyes smoldered with pleasure. Tightening his grip on her scalp, he abruptly withdrew from her mouth. “I’m going to spill myself if you continue…and I still want to spawn with you.”

  Helping her to her feet, he slid his hands down her body and took hold of the hem of her nightshirt. Assuming he meant to undress her, she raised her arms in the air. The T-shirt came off over her head and was cast aside.

  He explored her body with his webbed fingers. Breasts, nipples, belly, sex. His touch was gentle, sensual, and stimulating. Desire escalated to arousal as he skillfully teased her clitoris.

  You are so beautiful, Cordelia.

  So are you, Kew-in.

  Returning his hands to her face, he pulled her mouth against hers. Shall we get into the tub now?

  Yes. Though she wasn’t quite sure what he had in mind, she was more than willing to find out.

  They stepped into the tub at the same time. The water felt hot, but good. The steam had warmed the room, but not enough to be comfortable. He picked up the hand-held showerhead and turned the water on low. Then, he sat and invited her to join him. When she nestled between his long legs, as before, he pressed the bubbling showerhead between hers. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable. Like underwater oral sex, only better. Why had she never thought to do this herself? As her arousal built, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his shoulder.

  Kew-in moved the spout to her breasts. As the warm water teased her nipples to attention, longing pooled hot and thick in her lower abdomen. His erection was pressed against the small of her back—a total turn-on when combined with the showerhead’s stimulating massage.

  “I love the female anemone,” he said, returning the jets to her sex.

  She smiled abstractedly at his interesting choice of words. “I’ll bet all storm kelpies say that.”

  “You would lose that wager,” he whispered near her ear. “For I am not like my fellows.”

  The bait was too tempting. Despite the sublime sensations coursing through her, she had to bite the hook. “How are you different?”

  “I prefer women.”

  She swallowed hard as surprise pulsed through her. “I don’t understand.”

  “In my culture, we hold male beauty and love in higher esteem.” His breath caressed her ear, heightening the deliciousness of what the bubbling water was doing down below. “Do you know the story of Zeus and Ganymede?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, storm kelpies are like that.”

  His confession jolted her. “You’re…homosexual?”

  “Not me, though I pretend to be to avoid being ostracized.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d just said—not that her brain was capable of processing much at the moment. The showerhead was rapidly pushing her toward climax, so concentrating was a bit of a challenge. What she understood was that he was straight, while his clansmen were gay, and that he pretended to be like them, which couldn’t be easy for him.

  “Then don’t go back. Stay on dry land…with me.”

  The words were out before she knew what she was saying. She opened her mouth, ready to take them back, but he spoke before she could formulate her reaction.

  “I will if I can,” he said, “but first, I must get my hands on the magic herb that will give me legs year-round…and to do that, I will need to find a spae-woman somewhere close enough to walk to.”

  “What’s a spae-woman?”

  “A witch, more or less, with ancient wisdom about the magical properties of plants.”

  Her thoughts went instantly to Mrs. MacLeod. “The owner of this cottage might be able to help. She comes around every couple of days, so I can ask the next time she drops by.”

  He grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “I’d be grateful if you would.”

  As much as she wanted to help him get the herb, she wanted to finish what they’d started even more at this moment. “Can we talk about this later? Right now, I want you inside me.”

  “I want that, too.” He pressed his erection into the small of her back, reinforcing his statement.

  She tried to imagine how they would do it in the tub. None of the standard positions seemed feasible, except maybe doggy-style, which, though possible, would be hard on her knees.

  He withdrew the showerhead and returned it to its holder before setting his hands on her shoulders. “Stand up, Cordelia.”

  Assuming he wanted to do it upright, she gripped the edges of the tub and hoisted herself to her feet. Goosebumps erupted everywhere as cool air chilled her wet skin.

  The water sloshed as Kew-in gained his f
eet after her. For a breathless moment, he stood before her, all dripping wet virile mermanliness. The next moment, her back was against the cold, hard tiles of the wall beside the tub. He’d pinned her there with his body. Her legs went weak as his mouth found hers. She parted her lips to admit his tongue. His hand came up between her legs to caress her folds. She quivered as desire engulfed her pelvis.

  She reached down and took hold of his erection, guiding him toward her entrance. His sex pulsed in her hand and, weak with need, she pointed it toward her own. He entered her with an ardent thrust that knocked her head against the wall. She didn’t care. She wanted this, wanted him. Every glorious aquatic inch of him.

  With his help and a little hop, she wrapped her legs around his hips. Welcoming the force of his brutal thrusts, she arched her pelvis higher and higher until she shattered around him. As her body convulsed in ecstasy, he pulled out of her and spilled himself on her stomach.

  When the thrilling tremors had passed, she looked into his eyes, which shimmered with tenderness. “Won’t you miss the sea if you stay with me on land?”

  She had to ask the question, much as she’d rather not. Her mother had left her behind to return to the sea, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Kew-in the same way.

  “I would miss you more if I returned,” he said, his eyes glittering like sea glass in the sun. “We can get a cottage like this one. Somewhere remote and near the water. We can take walks on the beach, make love in the surf, and go swimming whenever we want.”

  “I’d like that.” Heart spilling over, she smiled up at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

  After he washed his emissions off her with the hand-held showerhead, they got out of the tub, grabbed two towels, and started drying off. Her thoughts returned to MacInnes’ news with a pang. Should she tell Kew-in about the captain of Ketos? She wanted to, but was torn. Though withholding what she knew from him seemed dishonest, it seemed the lesser of evils compared to providing information that could lead to the captain’s death. Besides, if she told him, he’d feel duty-bound to warn his clan, requiring him to go back to his underwater world. If they wouldn’t let him return for some reason, she might lose him forever.