The Price of Desire

by PE Kavanagh

  The bombing shook their home and sent the mermaids fleeing, hardly getting out in time. The sea creatures scrambled in a frenzy, trying to find safety from the deafening sound and their crumbling seafloor. The whales, the most sensitive, were driven mad by the vibrations, and sped toward the mainland shore.

  Lalune knew that the vibrations confused their sense of direction, and they would end up beaching themselves in the shallow water near shore. Panic filled her body, but her instincts led her to follow a pod of whales racing inland. Not knowing what else to do, she began to sing.

  She used all the power she could muster to reach them with her voice. Miraculously, they began to slow down, and then change direction. They were regaining their bearings, and swimming toward her. These enormous creatures, the most revered in her world, were drawn enough by her song to stop their fatal drive.

  They floated in the calmness of the sea, away from the explosions, and listened to her. As they began to move back into the belly of the ocean, they returned her calls. Lalune trusted that they would now be safe, and their calls would protect any of the others driven mad by the explosions.

  As her mighty friends swam away she realized that she had proven her voice could save lives, and could change the course of destruction. Maybe the whales would return and tell everyone her story, how she had saved them. Maybe the mermaids would forgive her her grave transgression. She could only hope.

  The swim, trying to keep up with the whales, nearly all the way to the shore of the land-walker’s island, left Lalune tired and disoriented. Her second realization came slowly as she recognized where she was - that magical place Avanora had taken her so long ago. Actually, even closer to the mainland but still dense with magic, and as close to the land-walker’s home as she had ever been. This was the perfect opportunity to attempt her final move.

  Lalune made the decision to complete the rest of the plan that night. She was ready to implement all her knowledge, and test the old mermaid’s spells. Perhaps all this chaos and commotion was a sign from the Great Mother that it was time. Either way, Lalune was going to surrender to the opportunity as it lay before her.

  The sun was low in the sky and the beach was nearly empty but Lalune had to wait until complete darkness to swim onto the shore and find a rock to block her from view. This was where she would spend her last night as a mermaid.

  Lalune began to recite the incantations she had memorized what felt like ages ago, then removed the stone from the scales near her fin and placed it in her mouth without swallowing. This stone had not left her side since Avanora had imbued it with the magic of communication. This was nearly the most important facet of her transformation.

  Lalune hoisted her body onto the sandy ledge of the enormous rock. Everything felt so dense and clumsy and it filled her with a flash of dread about her future. Would life lose its buoyancy? Did all land-walkers feel this heavy?

  The waiting was killing her. Too many thoughts, both positive and negative, consumed her. There was nothing she could do but trust that her decision was the right one.

  Lalune did not believe she would be able to sleep but the exhaustion from the day eventually overtook her.

  Her instincts opened her eyes as the sun came over the horizon. It was so spectacularly beautiful, she almost forgot what she was doing on shore. As her eyes adjusted to the warm air, and the bright light, she realized her body was now covered in a green silk dress, and where her tail had been was now a set of legs, beautiful legs.

  It did not feel any different than her tail from the inside, but stroking her hands down her new skin, free of scales, was a euphoric experience. A wiggle of her toes made her erupt in bubble-filled laughter, which nearly startled her off her precarious position on the rock.

  This was what it sounded like to be on land. It was enchanting, like music, all the time.

  She laughed even louder, and the buoyancy of her voice brought her to her feet. My goodness, the sand! What a feeling. Gritty and dry, almost dry, a little bit cold and a little bit warm. As if all of the universe was contained in those bits of sand.

  Standing up straight was a revelation. The feel of gravity pulling strongly down on her body was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Instead of gliding gracefully, she clunked along like a tentative toddler. I will not fall, she told herself, even though there was no one there to witness it or laugh at her. Just one step after another, she thought.

  It took four or five strolls along the shoreline, being careful to miss the water with her toes, until she felt more comfortable on the legs, her legs. Easier than I thought it would be, she thought. Maybe all those exercises the old mermaid taught me were worth it. She felt strong and tingled with excitement.

  Lalune heard the sound of voices, deep voices. There were land-walkers coming, more than one. What were they doing here so early? And then she remembered the ones who rode the waves. Yes, they would come out before all the others so that they would have the ocean to themselves. She feared them, as they passed above her family’s home on occasion and could have discovered her and her mermaid community. But now she was one of them, and had nothing to fear. What should she do? Was it odd that she was also there so early? Would they know that she was not like them?

  There was only one way to know and only one way to go toward her dream. She would smile and she would sing. Yes, that was it. She did not care if they noticed her or not, but it was time to let her song find ears to land on.

  She began very quietly, unsure of how to use her lungs to project sound after a lifetime of being used otherwise. The sound was sweet and soft and otherworldly. She had no words, only soft round vowels, imitating the beguiling sounds of her own language.

  The noise of the land-walker males grew closer and closer. They were laughing and speaking loudly. No matter, she could continue singing and wouldn't mind if they paid her any attention or not. But they stopped. Nearly all of them. Perhaps shocked by the appearance of a lone woman on the beach they called their own. The old mermaid had warned her that they would find her irresistible. Was it true? Never mind. It was no concern of hers.

  They stared at her, and she tried not to stare back. Just took small steps on her brand new legs and sang her soft sweet song. It made her happy to hear it, regardless of who else was around.

  There were five of them, and they were putting on their black water suits and whispering. Perhaps about her. Yes, certainly about her. She smiled.

  One of them began to walk toward her, and another followed him.

  “Hey, wait for me! I saw her first!”

  She understood them, as expected. Now, would she speak and test out her new language? Was it not too soon?

  She was nervous. Very nervous. It was bad enough that her legs were a bit wobbly but now she may have to speak. What if the only thing that came out was Mermese? No time to wonder because the first one had reached her.

  "Hi," he said. “We heard you singing.”

  "It was so beautiful," the second one said.

  She liked their faces, especially the second one. He did not look at her directly, but hid his face slightly. Was this called embarrassment? The first one just stared, which was closer to what she was expecting.

  "We've never seen you here before," the first one said.

  "Your singing was so beautiful," repeated number two.

  "You already said that, genius," said number one, while his friend turned red.

  "Do you surf?” asked number two. What would she say? That she could ride the waves with more grace and strength than anything they could muster? That the ocean had been the only home she had known until this point?

  "No, I don't," she said. "I was just taking a... walk... on the beach." The words flowed so beautifully and perfectly. She was doing it!

  So excited, she let out a little giggle. Number one looked at her quizzically, but the second one, with the nice face that turned red, just smiled. So big that it took up his whole head. He finally held his head up long enough tha
t she could look at it.

  "My name is Peter," he said.

  "I'm Aaron,” said number one.

  "My name is Claire." She heard the words come out of her mouth, but did not understand why. She never used her given name. Why hadn’t she said Lalune?

  This was a whole new life and required a whole new name. Clair de la Lune was too much, she guessed, for these land-walkers, but maybe Claire would work.

  "That's a beautiful name," beamed number two, now known as Peter.

  "Is that all you can say?" asked number one. Although his name was Aaron, all she could think of was arrogant. She wanted him to get out of the way so she could keep looking at Peter.

  "We're going surfing now," Peter said. "I guess you don't want to join us."

  "No, I can't right now. Do you mind if I just watch?" She did not know where these words were coming from, but she was pleased with them nonetheless.

  "Wow, that would be great! Will you really wait here on the beach for us?"

  It would give her time to recall all that Avanora had instructed her, to create this new life. There was a lot to review and plan.

  "Yes. Yes, I will."

  It was a beautiful day for a song.

  <<<<>>>>

  Dearest Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Marco and Monique’s remarkable love story. If you'd like to share your thoughts about the book with others, you can leave a review wherever you bought your copy. Reviews support independent authors!

  For all the perks of being a cherished reader (which you are), and be the first to know about new releases, sign up to be part of the Smart & Sexy Reader Team. I regularly send out book bonuses, audio clips, playlists and other goodies to make the wild ride even more fun. Get on the list at www.pekavanagh.com/contact.

  If you can't wait to find out what happens next, I've included an excerpt to SEX, MONEY, AND THE PRICE OF TRUTH, Book Two.

  Thank you again, and I hope to see you soon between the pages of my steamy love stories.

  Gratitudes

  This book took a hold of me, like a highly skilled lover, and had its way. All my resistance to the process – so foreign for a spiritual essay writer – was no match for the intensity of desire and passion that filled me.

  Like any fine ravaging, it took many hands.

  Thank you Chela Davison for the vision that birthed the two primary characters and Graciela (Mamita) Masso for the cover inspiration. Profound appreciation and awe to the A-team (Bibi, Alex, Sarah, Kurt, Heather, Marianne, Renee, Lori, Allison, Carole, Cil), who read terrible drafts, over and over again. And still spoke to me in the morning.

  Deepest thanks to the lovers who demonstrated how healing great sex can be, (you know who you are), the Muse whose light spankings I rather enjoyed, and the magical Universe that keeps feeding me blessings, lessons and fairy tales… in flesh and blood.

  About the Author

  I believe that everything we experience exists as a story within us.

  My journey as a writer includes the award-winning poem I penned at the ripe old age of seven, decades of hiding and doubt, and then finally… finally!... realizing that art needs to be shared. Storytelling is part of my heritage, even though I denied it for so long. The stories I created - true and imaginary - have saved me numerous times.

  My characters come to me, like old friends excited to tell me what's new.

  They represent the world I see and the world I want to see.

  More than anything, I care about recovery from life’s setbacks… getting back on your feet after life has brought you to your knees… and my characters fight the hard fight for the lives they know are waiting for them.

  I’ve drawn my inspiration from the many flavors of my life experience. Once a sad, shy girl, I’ve also been an MIT-educated engineer, biotech executive, professional dancer, yoga teacher and business owner, school founder, spiritual counselor, entrepreneur, and author.

  And I own a magic wand that I’m certain will work one day.

  When I’m not typing furiously trying to capture the stories that pour from me, you can find me loving my people to excess, globe-trotting to the next great adventure, and sporting bright red lips as a tango diva. And of course on my digital homes: pekavanagh.com and boldsoulcoaching.com.

  Excerpt from SEX, MONEY, AND THE PRICE OF TRUTH

  Book Two of The Price Series

  The door to Galaxy Bar & Grill flung open and nearly smacked Aidan Connelly in the face. He stumbled back as a blur of honey hair rushed past him and continued down the sidewalk. The air around her shimmered as if she were on fire, magnified by a pace that screamed hot rage. He stared, transfixed, as a sea of blue suits parted to let her pass.

  Everything about her stood out, like an exotic bird among pigeons. He hadn’t seen her face but the view from the back - the flutter of a summer dress, sun-kissed skin, legs until tomorrow - left him gaping until she disappeared into the crowd. That was not the kind of woman he had ever expected to come out of that kind of place.

  He reached for the discolored door handle, pausing in case some other pissed-off patron decided to burst out. The smell hit him as soon as he stepped inside, like getting slapped with a beer-soaked towel. When the door slammed shut behind him, the bright light of the afternoon and the golden veneer of Wall Street gave way to the dark gloom of neglect.

  Galaxy wasn’t just a seedy bar, it was an alternate universe, home to a couple of day-drinkers and a grime-covered collection of fake planets and black-light posters. This time of day, the other bars in the neighborhood would be booming with bankers and tourists, while this place echoed with a dusty emptiness. Maybe Mack had chosen it for that very reason.

  Aidan could turn around and disappear into the bustling city streets, skipping the pointless conversation. Why had he come, anyway? He had no obligation to sit through another tirade about getting revenge on some woman. What a waste of time.

  Before his good sense pulled him back out the door, he caught sight of Mack’s blond hair, slicked back into an immovable mass that reminded him of the yellow ceramic bowls of his childhood. It wasn’t even 5pm on a Tuesday and Mack was already drunk, as evidenced by the jerk and sway of his head.

  Morbid curiosity overtook Aidan’s pervasive apathy and growing disgust, and he took a seat at the bar. Everything about this place - the filthy glasses, the cloying darkness, the man sitting next to him - added to the revulsion. He closed his eyes, longing to replace the sights and sounds around him with the image of honey and heat.

  Mack’s slurred, nearly incomprehensible rants began without greeting or introduction. “You gotta do this for me, man.”

  As expected, that idiot’s begging for help. “Listen, I know this woman messed with you. That’s women, you know? But you can’t get all twisted about it. Don’t let it make you crazy.”

  Mack tossed back a shot of tequila, leaving three empty glasses on the bar. “That’s not the point, man. She’s evil. Came all the way down here to tell me to fuck off. Like she’s so much better than me.”

  That must have been her.

  Aidan swallowed and turned to the drunk man in disbelief. Mack had seemed cool enough when they met at work a few weeks prior. Aidan’s bullshit bank, like so many others, had gotten caught with its pants down and Mack’s fancy law firm had come in to clean up the mess. The two men were in their early thirties, living large in New York City, indistinguishable from every other hotshot in the cesspool of the young and powerful. All part of the unholy bond of lawyers and bankers that kept the madness alive.

  “Either way, it’s best to move on. You’re young and rich in a city full of hot women. Just pick another one and get on with it. Why waste your time trying to get her back?” Besides, anyone who’d go out with that schmuck had to be either a saint or a lunatic, neither worth keeping around.

  Mack lifted his finger to catch the attention of the bartender before bringing his hand back down onto the grimy bar with a thud. “I’m not trying to get her back, Connel
ly. I’m trying to get back at her.”

  Aidan had realized that something wasn’t right with Mack within their first few encounters. It didn’t matter if he was insane or on drugs or if it was something else; he’d taken the lunacy to a whole new level. But in comparison, Aidan’s life didn’t look so bad. Maybe that’s why he stuck around.

  “I get it. But shit like that never ends up how you want it to.” Trust me, I know.

  Mack slid his lips apart in a move that might have been a smile on another face. “All I’m asking is that you mess with her. Should be easy for someone like you.”

  Aidan clenched his fist, wanting desperately to hurl it against Mack’s face. “You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t want to get involved.”

  Mack tilted forward, closing the space between them. Stale booze seeped through his pores. “I can pay you. You just left the bank, right? Maybe you could use a little cash.”

  Aidan’s stomach lurched. Right there was the problem. Everything had a price in this world he had helped to create. It was all about taking and owning, possessing and controlling. Nothing was out of reach. Not someone’s belongings, their time, their body, their soul. “I don’t need any cash, thanks.”

  “Come on, Connelly. It’s easy money.”

  All money was easy. Aidan could buy and sell that douche bag a few times over. “I don’t need your money. And I’m not interested in messing with some woman I don’t even know.”

  Mack lifted the newly arrived tequila shot to his lips, paused, then arced it into his mouth. He swallowed without a flinch, then slammed the glass on the bar loud enough to get the attention of two men across the room. “That bitch needs to learn a lesson. You wouldn’t believe the shit she’s pulling. Shoulda heard what she just said said to me.”