by Starla Night
Her head broke the surface.
She spluttered.
The monster hauled her onto the raft.
Tears burned her eyes. Coughs burned her throat. She collapsed on the raft floor.
He hovered over her. A malevolent shadow.
“Do not swim away from this raft,” he ordered, his voice soft, despite his obvious anger, and authoritative. “You cannot survive.”
He hunted her so easily.
There was no escape.
She curled into a protective ball. Tears flowed. The end was now. She’d tried to escape this fate. Her life. Her child. Her soul. But she’d never had any choice. Just like every other fate forced on her.
The Customs and Immigration office. Lifet’s slum. Her great-grandmother’s prophecy.
She had no choice. No choice but to endure. Endure and survive.
She sobbed.
“Do not cry,” the monster said, destroying all her fantasies that he was good and trustworthy and would move the world to protect her. “I will guard you.”
She cried harder.
He sat on his haunches. “You do not want my guard.”
“Please,” she choked between wrenching sobs. “Leave me. Please.”
He straightened. “Leave?”
“I don’t want to be your wife.”
“Wife?” He dropped silent. Anger and bitterness darkened his aura.
Of course, the monster had an aura. Harmony had always been able to see through lies and sense true emotions. The emotions appeared as a glowing light around people’s bodies. She’d honed her ability to perfection in the Haitian slums filled with dangerous people she couldn’t understand.
She’d kind of assumed everyone could see these auras and never talked about them. She’d stopped talking about them after her third grade recess teacher had given her a funny look and threatened to report her to the school counselor.
The monster’s voice broke. “You are the one who claimed me.”
“Please. Please.”
He forced her gaze to his. His dark irises drew her in. Dark brown threaded with deeper mauve. The same color as his iridescent tattoos. Compelling.
Monstrous.
Awareness throbbed between her legs. Hunger slicked her feminine vee. He was an addiction, a drug combating her numbness, making her feel every instant of his male attention—and crave more.
This must be how he’d steal her soul.
She buried her face in her hands, breaking the connection to his mesmerizing eyes.
“You are the one who claimed me for your husband,” he repeated.
She rocked her head.
“You kissed me.”
“Never.”
He swooped. “Yes—”
“No!” She scrabbled back, hands up in defense, and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Desperation made her shriek. “You horrify me. Get out of my sight!”
Silence.
His heat-filled aura receded.
The raft bobbed with tension.
Her heart thudded.
Splish.
His aura faded.
She opened her eyes.
He no longer hovered over her.
She rose onto her knees.
The raft was empty.
Empty?
…No. It was a trap. A trick.
…
Wasn’t it?
…
She had fended him off?
No. She had done nothing. The monster had given her a reprieve. But he would be back.
She moved to the exact center of the raft and hugged her knees again, rocking and sobbing.
He would be back. He’d dragged her away. Stuck her on a raft in the middle of the ocean. She wasn’t going anywhere. He had all the time in the world to woo her. Break her. Seduce her. Make her beg.
And when she least expected it, when she trusted him—out of hunger or desperation—he would strike.
Chapter Four
You horrify me.
He horrified his bride. Faier horrified her.
Pain sliced deep in his scarred chest.
He rubbed the half-destroyed tattoo star above his aching heart and kicked under the raft. His fins unfurled. The entire ocean opened around him as his body completed his shift into mer.
Silver fish swirled below. A wily marlin picked at the school’s edges. Its long, sharp beak slashed unwary fish.
Faier rubbed his barren biceps.
Humans were uncomfortable with a warrior’s knives and trident. The Coast Guard had vowed to keep him safe from any danger that might require such weapons.
His disobedience had forced them to break their vow.
A warrior without weapons had no more chance of surviving in the open ocean, alone, than a human had of breathing water.
He kept the raft in his sight overhead. Surface currents changed unexpectedly, and he could not let it get too far away or else—
Get away from me.
—he might lose it in the vast ocean. Lose her.
His bride—no, she was not his bride—the human female was weak and frightened. Would she see the fish he had cleaned and pulled into bite-sized pieces? Would she know it was for her?
He must provide.
Faier descended into the school.
The marlin darted close.
He should steal its spear for a weapon.
The marlin swam below him.
He twisted. Kicked.
His tendons clenched. Pain stabbed his right calf. Overexertion of the scarred tissue from protecting his bri—the human female—on the raft.
His fingers brushed the marlin’s hard, sharp spear. It cut his rough fingertips as the marlin swerved away.
His blood salted the water.
Curse it.
A younger, healthier warrior would have succeeded.
The leg cramped.
He hunched over his agonizing cramps and stuck his cut finger in his mouth. His blood tasted metallic. The silver fish swirled away. They knew his scent. He was a predator.
And now he’d advertised his presence to other predators roaming the surface.
Injured. With no weapons. Far from allies or friends.
Surface predators were the most deadly.
Faier worked his fingers into the knotted muscles.
You horrify me.
He was supposed to be in New York now.
Faier swallowed the hard hurt. His soul throbbed with pain.
King Kadir had found his Queen Elyssa mere hours after surfacing. First Lieutenant Soren had set eyes on his Queen Aya even sooner.
Now Faier’s bri—human female who had kissed him—rejected his scarred body with horror.
Mermen only desired their brides. So why did Faier react to this female with hunger? Want? Need to wrap this human female in his arms and lance her wet softness with his powerful cock?
His soul reached out to her.
But she did not reach back.
And that was devastating.
It meant he was mistaken. Had a mer ever made this mistake? Warriors had fought over brides in the past. In some stories, brides had synced souls with both males. But never had a warrior desired a bride who did not also desire him.
He craved her bright soul.
Her fear repelled him with black ice.
Yet he still craved her. Even floating in ice, he craved her.
He craved a female who did not crave him?
Faier must be the most tragic warrior in mer history.
And his deepest fears had come true.
He had no bride.
A lump formed in his throat.
He allowed it to exist, just another pain, while the gills in his lower back flushed water through his lungs.
You horrify me.
The pain receded, leaving him with a metallic tang on his tongue and a useless ache in his twisted leg.
He kicked into the shadow of the raft.
On his own, he would leave the surface, descend to coral fields.
Reforge his blades. Prepare for the brutal dangers of crossing the ocean alone.
But he would never abandon his…the human female.
Despite the pain shredding his heart and crushing his soul, he would never shirk his duty. He had sworn to protect her. Not only on the ocean. For always.
He would do so from the shadows.
Get away from me.
He would obey. She wished to never see him? He would hide from her sight.
She must find happiness.
He wanted her soul to light up. Fear to leave her limbs. Warmth to fill her gray-green eyes.
She must be safe. Secure. Well-fed. Happy.
He hunted a slender mackerel and pounced, breaking it before it could thrash away. The forearm-thick fish would feed her. He cradled it to his scarred ribs.
Humans could not see in the dark. He would rise before the moon and slip it over the side before she realized he was present.
Maybe she would never look at him without disgust. With enough caring, perhaps, she would someday fear him less.
That was his wish.
Then, maybe, she could glow with the soft tenderness of her first kiss.
His heart cramped.
He rubbed his scarred chest.
Maybe—
No. His feelings were wrong. Her soul did not sync with his. She did not crave him. She was not his bride.
All that mattered was the human female. Her safety. Her wellness.
Hiding his horrifying form deep beneath would make her happy.
Chapter Five
Harmony was very unhappy.
The sun fried her and the dead fish on the other side of the open, shelterless, dry raft.
You kissed me.
Impossible. Lies.
The monster had kissed her while she was unconscious. Now he tried to turn her inside out, manipulate her, make her doubt herself.
Just like the Customs and Immigration officers who’d insisted she must remember the first hours of her life and should have been able to identify her birthplace from memory. Or like Lifet, who’d always insisted his anger was her fault. Or her great-grandmother, who’d demanded her sacrifice.
Harmony rose and stretched.
Her bruised forehead ached. Her exposed cuts stung.
She rotated her yellowed wrists.
How long would the monster leave her to stew?
Spray pools dried out, leaving a white crust of salt on the barren wood.
Her head hurt. Her throat was parched. Her stomach growled.
The life raft was supposed to be stocked with gallons of fresh water, a crate of emergency food, flares, a first aid kit, fish hooks and line, and supplies for surviving at sea. But all she found of the supplies were snapped cables and frayed ropes.
The dead fish shimmered in the heat.
Did she dare…?
Harmony hugged her knees.
No. She didn’t dare.
The monster was waiting for her to make a mistake. Eat his food. Believe in his lies.
You kissed me.
Something stirred deep within her. A wish. Hunger. Calling her over the side, into the deep blue.
You saw the light at the bottom of the ocean. It’s cool and safe there. You’ll never be thirsty again.
Just fall in and let yourself drown…
Harmony tightened her hug.
She would not be confused. She would not be tricked. She had reached her end, but she would not give in.
So…she needed food. To keep up her strength. And defy the Sea Lord.
Right.
Harmony released her knees and leaned forward.
The raw fish beckoned.
Fishy fishy fishy fishy fishy.
Was this a test? If she took a mouthful, would the monster erupt from the ocean and drag her into the sea?
Or was it his lunch? Would he be mad she ate it?
The empty ocean reflected harsh sun on her darkening skin.
In Haiti, they had called her white. Lots of Haitians were midnight black, and her skin was Indian brown with cool beige undertones. It was funny because, in Omaha, they had called her the N-word. She’d known her mom’s accent wasn’t African—that she was from somewhere in the Caribbean—but she’d never asked which island they came from. It hadn’t been important.
Ha.
Her stomach growled.
She crept across the raft.
He’d torn the fish to pieces. Its open mouth and round eyes looked shocked. Entrails dripped in black strings from glistening white ribs.
Yum?
She picked up a chunk of white flesh. Pink tinged the dangling scales.
Empty ocean…
She put it in her mouth.
Dried, desiccated flesh tasted like salt. She chewed. Her salivary glands tingled. She swallowed dry, choked, and forced it down.
Her throat hurt. But her stomach perked up.
Food. More. HUNGRY.
The ocean was calm. If the monster watched, he waited until she finished her meal to strike.
She gobbled the rest, picked around the bones, chewed.
Her stomach protested. She had eaten nothing since jungle tribe mystery stew that had given her stomach cramps and dysentery.
More.
Harmony scraped the fish-scented wood for any little flakes. The bones were poky and hurt her mouth. She sucked on the sharp fins. In another few hours, she’d eat them anyway.
The ocean was still empty.
In another few hours, thirst would break her. Not hunger.
How long could she go without water?
Harmony resettled herself in the crook of the raft where she felt safest.
If the Sea Lord rose out of the ocean and promised to save Evens, then she’d sacrifice herself to him immediately.
She’d sacrifice herself in a hot minute.
Evens’s mom, Fabiola—Fab, as she’d introduced herself to Harmony outside the Haitian church resettlement office with nothing to her name but infant Evens and a giggle—must be crazy with worry.
Over the past decade, she’d sheltered Harmony, shared her meager food and irrepressible smiles, and taught her how to survive. In exchange, Harmony had improved Fab’s English enough to gain a foreign job. She’d sent money home and saved for Evens’s future.
After the kidnapping, Fab probably left her nice job in the Dominican Republic. She would be begging, borrowing, or rallying to get her son returned.
If only Harmony could have spoken with the Coast Guard. Why hadn’t she placated Lifet a little longer? The Coast Guard would have rescued Evens. Instead, he was still in danger and she was stuck in the ocean wasting valuable time with nothing but her thoughts and fears for company.
Hours passed.
Her throat dried out.
Her headache worsened.
She mustn’t drink seawater. The salt would only make her gag and dehydrate.
Harmony hugged her scabbed knees.
The sun went down. The night grew cold. She hugged herself and shivered.
Despite this, she fell asleep and awoke the next day in the hot sun. The ocean steamed. The horizon melted sea into sky. The sun glared overhead.
She was still alone.
He would break her. Make her regret her selfish demand.
The sun rose higher.
Her tongue rasped like sandpaper.
Her head ached…
What if this wasn’t a punishment?
No, it must be.
Except…gods didn’t sulk. They took.
What if the Sea Lord wasn’t a god? What if her words had hurt him? What if he’d swum away and left her?
What if he wasn’t coming back?
Panic chased agony as her thoughts overlapped each other and fought.
She would die like the fish, baked by the relentless sun.
And what about Evens?
Harmony hunched in a ball and closed her eyes.
Splish.
She opened her eyes.
&
nbsp; The sun was in a different position. She must have slept again. Huh.
Another fish baked on the raft’s plank. Wet. Fresh.
The monster was still here!
She scrambled over and pounced on the dead fish, tearing into it with ragged fingers and teeth. Her aches receded with the delicious influx of tasty meat. She licked her fingers.
Of course she was still hungry.
She crawled to that side of the raft and searched the ocean.
Waves. Large, empty waves.
Then, where…?
Oh. Of course.
She gripped the splintered wood, sucked in a deep breath, and plunged her head into the water.
Relief flowed over her. Finally. The ocean cooled her as if she’d stuck her head in a soothing bucket. Her headache eased.
Slide in. The water’s fine. Stay forever.
Don’t worry how it feels to drown…
She shuddered.
Something was wrong with her. Her very un-Harmony-like desire for the Sea Lord infected her thoughts. Normalized crazy. Enticed her to want more.
She had to resist.
Harmony forced her eyes open.
The salty water blurred her vision. She blinked.
Small fish hovered in the shade beneath the raft.
A larger fish evaded her focus.
She squinted.
Angry eyes. Dangerous purple-gray tattoos.
Electricity jolted her veins.
The monster!
She gasped.
Water clogged her throat.
She pulled herself back and slammed into the floor of the raft, coughing.
He did not follow her.
She refused to die as a dried-out, salty husk. Harmony crawled to the edge and took a deep breath. She had to be calm. Controlled. Subservient.
For Evens.
She held her breath and started to lean over to plunge in again. But before she could do so, something caught her eye.
A few feet away, the monster’s forehead popped above the surface. He hovered mid-waves like a submerged crocodile. Only his eyes lifted above the waves. His nose remained beneath the water.
He studied her.
She let out her breath in a shaky rush. Her heart quickened.
This was it. He’d won. She didn’t have the will to resist. Her headache hurt so badly.
He’d been destined to defeat her.
“W-well, what do I have to do?” she demanded.