by Munt, S. K
But the necessity of the lie didn’t make what she’d done to Lincoln over the years right. If she’d never broken the rules to begin with and dated Lincoln behind her parents back, or if she’d been able to just choose a husband without bolting, or even if she’d taken the time to dye her hair and get some contacts before returning-none of it would have happened. It was all her fault, and her place to make things right.
Ivyanne weaved between two villas, more upset than she had been a week before. She couldn’t get Lincoln’s devastated expression out of her mind. It was like she had shoved a blade into his heart then twisted it. There was no way she could take the lie back and think of a better one-even she couldn’t Siren ten years of memories out of someone’s head-but she would try and think of a way to make things easier for him.
‘But how?’ she whispered, to herself.
She wouldn’t mind making things on herself easier either. The tears she’d shed had been for him, and his description of the way he loved her-not fictional tears for a dead sister who never existed. Lincoln still had a large part of her heart- prematurely aged and joyless as he was, he was still her Link, and he’d never forgotten about her.
Ivyanne came to a fork in the road and veered to the right. Her room was on the fence line between the resort and the national park beside it-and it was late at night so the entire row of units lay in darkness, except for the one she shared with Adele. Ivyanne didn’t recall leaving the porch light on and she frowned, hoping Adele wasn’t already back. What if she’d witnessed that scene? Ivyanne’s life wouldn’t be worth living.
The physical frustration thing was taking it’s toll on her as well. Half-stripping and sliding into the pool with Lincoln hadn’t been part of her plan at all-it had been her natural instincts taking over, instincts which had been reigned in for so long that she’d forgotten they were there. Being around Lincoln set her skin on fire and coaxed out her inner minx so intensely that it breeched her control. The base desires of a mermaid were to protect their environment, preserve their life, and breed-at any cost. Ivyanne had always wondered if the fact that they could bear and love children was the only thing separating them from behaving like predatory and territorial animals. They often mocked the humans for their ridiculous ways-but deep down, Ivyanne knew that empathy for other beings was the line between good and evil.
And boy, was Ivyanne suffering from a case of the ‘devil on her shoulder.’ She wanted to go back, hypnotize Lincoln, and then have her way with him to take the edge off her turmoil. She needed that hot, skin to skin contact, wanted to flex her power over him and be, for a few minutes, in control. It would sustain his pain and suffering, but part of Ivyanne didn’t care. She needed release. Even the way droplets of water had run down the slight grooves between Lincoln’s biceps had been enticing. She remembered one of their last nights’ together in the treehouse. It had been New Years, and he’d wanted to progress the relationship….and for the first time he’d touched her in ways he’d restrained himself from until then. Ivyanne’s shock and horror had dissolved almost instantly into toe curling need as he’d breached her boundaries and would have succeeded if she hadn’t refused to be his girlfriend afterward. His stipulation of that rule still confounded her.
Ivyanne’s footstep halted as the memory of Lincoln’s hands running up her thigh damn near knocked the wind over her. No man had touched her before or since. She paused and looked back the way she had come, breathing heavily, her mind clouding.
Could I? She thought, biting her lower lip and fiddling with her long damp hair. She could go back, he was probably still there. She could lure him into the darkness, offering sympathetic hugs, kissing his tears away...and tomorrow it could be that taboo thing they shouldn’t have down and would never have to speak of. It’s not the full moon yet, I should be safe...no one has to know….
Her good conscience beseeched her to run to the ocean before she ruined her life. She’d been saving herself for decades-to fall prey to a moment of weakness now would be stupid. Regardless of how alluring the idea was, of finishing what she’d started with Link twelve years before. She owed her people more than she owed him. And she always would.
‘Excuse me miss.’ A young mans’ voice called softly. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me where room forty six is?’
Ivyanne looked up, caught off guard. The voice, affected with a soft American accent, had come from a manly silhouette under her porch light. How had he ended up in the staff quarters?
‘You need to head back to the pool, sir, then follow the path to the right,’ Ivyanne had to force the cheerful tone of voice, even though her voice still wobbled tellingly. ‘There are signs indicating which bungalows are down which path-’ Ivyanne’s voice died in her throat when she stepped under the light, and saw the face of the man who had addressed her.
‘Tristan?!’Her temper flared instantly as his perfectly sculpted face came into focus. Suddenly she was assailed by more memories, which were both vague and thrilling at the same time. Did he even remember?
No, she thought. Of course not. I was a child then! The memory blew out of her mind like a piece of paper in the wind and suddenly, all she could see was the typeset of his smug e-mails grandly offering to marry her for the good of the kingdom. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here?!’
Tristan grinned at her, his white teeth almost blindingly bright. ‘Taking a holiday.....’ he drawled, hitching his single bag onto his shoulder, looking like a casually posed model from a high-fashion campaign. ‘I came this way a few years ago-beautiful spot.’
Ivyanne put her hands on her hips. ‘You know that you’re not supposed to be here!’
Tristan nodded. ‘I know. But I’m spontaneous-if we’re going to be married, you should know that about me.’ He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Ivyanne couldn’t believe it-first Ardhi, now Tristan. Didn’t anybody respect her wishes at all? Couldn’t they see that they were driving her out of her mind? ‘We are not going to be married.’ She snapped, walking more purposefully towards the door, intending to breeze right by him.
Tristan pouted. ‘So you’ve made your decision already?’
That halted her tracks! ‘No! But-’ Her senses responded to his scent, a mix of tangy salt air and something else, something floral but masculine. The aroma filled her nose and chest, dizzying her. Oh wow. She thought, blinking. She didn’t spend much time with men. Neither her father or Ardhi wore cologne, and Lincoln had always been too young for such a thing. The sudden desire to inhale more deeply now, troubled her. And how could a grown man look so adorable when pouting like a child?
‘Well don’t say things you’re not certain of. Words can hurt, you know.’ His cocky slid back into place, a light dimple appearing in his cheek.
Ivyanne swallowed, scratching at her arm, where the chlorine had irritated her skin. Like all mers, hers was the kind of skin that could weather almost any element-sun, salt, cold and heat. But man-made chemicals reacted badly with a lot of them-chlorine being the worst offender.
But her agitation wasn’t just from the treated water-it was an accumulation of everything. Ivyanne was finding it difficult to even think straight. Especially with him smiling at her in that way, his eyes raking over her like she was a prized thoroughbred he might consider investing in. The same way she wanted to study him. She tried to breathe through her mouth as she was assessed by his light, golden brown eyes.
‘Whatever. Look I’m having a bad day and acting a little irrational, so if you leave now, I won’t make a scene.’
He smirked at her. ‘Sorry Ivyanne, but you can’t make me leave. I’m a paying customer, and you have to be nice to me,’ he stepped into her body, his toffee colored eyes dancing with glee. The closer he drew, the more apparent his beauty became. There wasn’t a visible pore on his golden skin, and the lines of his lips, masculine jaw and perfect nose were so flawless in their symmetry that he was more illustration than human to the eye. ‘And I know it
’s been a few years, but I must say...great job growing up, princess.’
Ivyanne’s lungs constricted somewhat. He was so close that his body heat was warming her skin. She ran her fingers through her wet hair in a nervous gesture. ‘Well you look exactly the same.’ She said quietly. ‘Like a snake in the grass.’
Tristan chuckled lightly. He reached up and coaxed her fingers out of her wet mane. His touch sent jolt through her own fingertips. ‘And you look like a snake charmer if I ever saw one. Breathtaking.’
Ivyanne flushed. She wasn’t used to such forward and flattering if not completely inappropriate comments from men. ‘There’s nothing charming about the mood I’m in right now.’ She said sassily. ‘You should go, or risk being kicked in the snake.’
‘Witty too huh? Triple threat.’ Tristan chuckled and pulled her hand down to her side, his fingertips still curled gently around hers-warm and soft. ‘Now look, I’ve travelled all this way because I wanted to see you,and curb your anxieties. If you’re having a bad day...maybe I can help?’
‘Yeah right, like you’re good for anything.....’ Ivyanne cut herself off. Tristan was a cocky, manipulative pain in the ass who had a history of using girls for his own pleasure. As a husband, those qualities were somewhere between ‘Wife beater’ and ‘Chronic gambler.’
But as a form of tension release....Ivyanne eyed him, pulse accelerating. In his tight-fitting brown shirt and white slacks, he looked even more handsome than the last time their paths had crossed, and she knew, by reputation, that he might be able to give her a taste of what she needed-without agonizing over what it all meant. She smiled as the devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear for the tenth time in an hour.....but this time, it won.
‘Maybe you can,’ she said, arching her eyebrow before yanking him up against her.
8.
Tristan had never imagined being with Ivyanne until Nigara’s death. All he’d wanted to do was mourn, but his parents had recognised the opportunity through their grief, and had wasted no time deciding that there was a chance their family could be happy and prosper without the beloved eldest son. His mother and father loved Ivyanne-who didn’t? She was the angelic princess, as well as the poster child for self-restraint and sacrifice.
Of course they had been the exact reasons why the prospect of marrying her had been a turn-off for him. Tristan had passed his times with the wildest of girls...those without morals or inhibitions. It had been fun, of course, but the main reason why he was drawn to them was because it made him feel better about himself. No strings or remorse....it suited his lifestyle perfectly.
So the notion of hooking up with Ivyanne had been an unappealing one. He imagined their first experience together to be all gentle and slow and candlelit.....boring but possibly touching. He’d be the expert lover, guiding the reserved princess into the act of release....
So when she’d yanked on his hand and flung her other arm around his neck, forcefully pulling his lips up against hers, damn near sending them both into the bushes, he’d been too shocked to do the right thing. His body had responded the way any man’s would when the spectacular looking, perfectly built and innocent virgin turned into an aggressive, hot explosion of sexual energy-he’d surrendered without protest. Everything about her-taste, scent, need...drove him instantly out of his mind.
Intuition told him that her rough and unexpected kisses were a result of the withdrawals messing with her hormones, but he was happy to be her punching bag all the same. Inexperienced or not, the girl could kiss, and her curves made her the ideal playmate. His hands skirted down the sides of her ample breasts, free falling until they landed on her sensuously curved hips. He moaned in enamored approval, sliding his hands around her firm, pert backside before bending his fingers to claws and raking up the length of her impossibly narrow and tight waist, hiking up her damp singlet and sliding under the clasp of her bra, where her skin was wet, and hot.
Ivyanne whimpered responsively, making him wonder if this was as intimately as she’d ever been touched. Grinning in sweet anticipation, he raked his fingers back down her spine then cupped the underside of both of her buttocks with one hand and yanked her up against the front of his body, making her feel how hard she had made him. Ivyanne’s knees gave slightly as an excited cry confirmed that he’d hit the right spot-but he couldn’t help but whisper:
‘Is that your problem, princess?’ He breathed into her ear. ‘Because I can definitely help with that.’
Ivyanne pulled away. Her eyes were wild. ‘Come!’ She whispered, tugging on his hand. He allowed himself to be towed like the eager subject he was, marveling at her backside from his vantage point.
Before he knew it, she’d led him down the grassy slope to a children’s park and shoved him onto a slide before climbing on top of him and slanting her mouth against his. The dampness seeping through to his clothes went from cool to warm in a matter of minutes as a result of the friction between their bodies.
Tristan wasn’t aware of much after that. He went into auto-pilot, savoring every moment that she gasped in his mouth and ground herself against him, their hands tearing at one another’s bodies. At one point Ivyanne reeled back, heavy-lidded and sensually tousled and moaned: ‘How can anyone smell and taste this good?!’
He was surprised by the way his heart skittered at that comment. He yanked her back up against him and lightly sank his teeth into her shoulder, near the hollow of her collarbone and muttered: ‘Back at you princess. I could eat you alive right now.’
Ivyanne groaned and steered his mouth back to hers, her mouth becoming more demanding. She rocked her hips against his harder, panting into his mouth until she suddenly arched her back and cried out in exultation.
Tristan was rocked by a wave of dizziness as she softly cried out to the stars above, knowing that he had to move quickly, before she unmanned him. Vana would be peeved if she found out how quickly he was able to take advantage of her daughter-but coming here had been the queen’s idea, so he wasn’t going to start worrying about the fall-out of making love to Ivyanne-especially when the hot and heavy petting was Ivyanne’s doing, not his.
But Tristan had clearly allowed himself to get too excited, too quickly. Because when he reached his hand up Ivyanne’s skirt, tugging at the waistband of her underwear-her wrist clamped down on his like a vice.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ she said promptly, soberly, bending his arm painfully behind his back and rolling off him just as he’d been about to swing her under his body.
‘Yow!’ he yelped, the pain coursing through his shoulder. ‘Easy up girl!’
She released his arm. ‘Sorry, I thought you were tougher than that.’
Tristan sat up, hugging his throbbing arm and scowling at her as he struggled to steady his labored breathing. Ivyanne was fixing her clothes and smiling at him. Her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, her face flushed. His groin was aching now that she’d stopped pressing against him-he knew it would take hours for that ache to go away.
‘So that’s it?’ he demanded unhappily. ‘Get off then get off?’
‘Pretty much,’ Ivyanne giggled, no hint of shame in her voice. ‘Now what did you think? That I’d just let you knock me up and be done with it? Decide my entire future in a moment of hormonal frenzy?’
‘It sure seemed that way.....’ he grumbled.
‘Well I’m sorry,’ Ivyanne shrugged. ‘But come on. I didn’t save my virginity for twenty eight years by accident, you know. I may be indecisive-but restraint, I have.’
Tristan groaned, utterly devastated that she had planned on teasing him all along. But this wasn’t some human girl he could lash out at (not that he’d ever had to before) but his future queen. ‘Okay virginity is important to you-I get it and I’m sorry I let you give me the wrong idea,’ he offered her an inclusive smile. ‘However..there are other ways you can help me out, you know. Bring a bit of balance into the scenario so I can sleep tonight too.…?’ he let the hint dangle in the air as his gaze went
to her sculpted, full lips.
But Ivyanne snorted. ‘You bust into what’s supposed to be my down time, all swagger and threats to get me fired if I don’t play along..... and now you’re expecting me to do you a favor?’ Ivyanne crossed her arms and glowered at him. ‘Potential husband or not, you are still one of my subjects Tristan, and I expect a bit more respect. I needed help, and you assisted me. I am grateful for that-but don’t push your luck.’ She winked at him. ‘I didn’t do anything to you that you haven’t been doing to girls for over twenty years, and you know it.’
‘Not true,’ he shot back. ‘I always put out.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Excuse me if I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.’
Tristan sighed. So far, this trip was not going as planned. One hour alone with her out from under her parents’ watchful gaze and he was already suffering from blue balls. What would a week do to him? He vowed to himself not to let her get the upper hand on him again. This time, he’d been caught off-guard. Next time, she’d be the one begging to take it to the next level and he wouldn’t give in until they were on the same damn level. ‘Fine,’ he mumbled.
Ivyanne fluffed her hair, looking more collected than she had in some time. ‘I’ll try not to let that happen again. I’m sorry if you’re in pain, really. I pretty much feel like the crumbiest person in the world right now, on many levels,’ she sighed and leaned back against a palm tree, letting her eyes flutter shot. ‘But god I needed that. If only this calm could last…’
Tristan didn’t know what she was talking about, but assumed it was husband-related troubles. His gaze wandered down to her long legs and bare feet and he wet his lips. He really couldn’t reconcile the hauntingly beautiful thirteen year old nymph he’d once met with the sultry, scantily clad goddess before him. If he’d known she was this much of a knock-out, he would have been on her doorstep months ago. ‘Honey if you’ve got an itch to scratch, believe me when I say I’m the man for the job.’