Captive of the Deep

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Next time I’ll be more specific when asking things of fate,” she mumbled.

  Not for the first time she imagined she was really dead and this was hell. Everyone and everything she loved was gone, presumably drowned beneath the waves. She was the only known survivor from her crew. Strangely, though, she was also beneath the waves. But, instead of a watery death, she suffered an eternal damnation. She’d been saved by a merman who suctioned his lips around hers and dragged her down into the midnight depths until all she could see was the glow illuminating from his eyes and all she could feel was the cold of the ocean and the tight press of his mouth as he breathed for her. Her limbs had been too numb to move and fight his hold, but her mind had been aware during each moment of the horrible trip. They emerged inside a cave filled with air. Only then did he release her. Tiny colorful lights had danced around her and with that first deep, gasping breath, she had passed out.

  For days after her rescue she had refused to talk, as if not saying anything would make the terrible delusion go away. And then, she didn’t talk because the pain of her loss was too much to bear. She had been rescued and brought into the deep abyss, to a secret land beneath the waves. Some might call Atlantes a magical place, one that by all modern logic couldn’t exist. Oh, but it did exist, and it was as real as the merman who’d saved her.

  Mermen. Mermaid. The lost city of Atlantis. The Greek god Poseidon. A curse. An eternity. Apparently all real, and all adding to her living hell.

  In truth, she had no idea how long she’d been trapped in Atlantes, or rather the palace in Atlas, capital city of the country of Ataran. It was all she managed to learn about her new home—not from lack of anyone trying to teach her.

  Days blended into what could have been weeks or months, or merely days. She really couldn’t remember. She was offered food. She was spoken to. She was led around the palace and shown things. Someone took her outside where there were trees and a dark blue watery sky pressed against a magical dome. She was introduced to people.

  None of it registered, not really. They were merely passing moments in a blur of half-reality. And then, her mind woke up.

  “We should go to the banquet hall tonight. The king has requested that we attend the celebration of a wedding.”

  It was the first sentence she’d really, fully heard. The low voice had been saying more, but she couldn’t recall what had been said before that sentence. Though the voice was familiar in tone, she finally looked directly at the man who spoke for the first time. He was the one who had saved her. Rigel the Hunter. That’s what the others called him. Rigel. She had heard that name a lot in her half-life fog.

  His hair was dark, but not black, and his eyes were grey. No, they were actually more of a metallic silver. His expression was stiff, but she seemed to recall there being moments of tenderness around his eyes. She also recalled having hit and kicked him on several occasions when he had tried to wake her from a nightmare. By the look of his strong body, her fighting hadn’t done much damage. Though he was dressed, she could still see most of his body from beneath the gracefully draping tunic. It only fell to his upper thigh. His legs, arms and one shoulder were bare. Her eyes focused briefly on his smooth, hairless chest, trying to remember what he felt like. Surely, she must have touched him, but yet her fingers couldn’t recall the texture of the tanned flesh. Blinking slowly, she let her gaze fall to the leather strap sandals on his feet.

  “We should go to the banquet hall tonight,” Rigel repeated. “The king has requested that—”

  Her eyes shot sharply to his face, cutting him off. He sighed heavily, as if torn between speaking and just turning and walking away from her. He had strong features to go with his chiseled body—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes that seemed to pierce into her. Slowly, she nodded in understanding. He appeared almost relieved, excited even, by the small gesture.

  “Here,” he said, turning to grab a folded stack of clothing. “The tailors brought these for you. They finished them this morning. Since you had nothing to say about what you would like to wear, I took the liberty of choosing a few styles. Perhaps you will find something you like. I will be happy to order more for you. You can’t be pleased with just the white gown Althea gave you to wear. Many women are particular about their clothing, at least here they are. I assume it is the same on the surface world. As I have said, I wish for you to be well cared for.”

  Had he said that before now? She couldn’t recall. All her memories since coming to Atlantis were stuck in a mist, mere impressions that became fuzzier the closer she looked at them. He placed the clothing next to her on the couch and stepped back. She ran her hand over the deep blue of the gown, feeling it’s softness against her fingers. Her lips parted to say thank you, but she couldn’t form the words.

  * * * *

  Rigel sighed. For a moment, the thought his ward might actually speak, but Lyra stayed silent. Althea the Healer assured him that there wasn’t anything really wrong with her—at least not physically. So, it could only be assumed that she was choosing not to speak to anyone. He couldn’t be sure if that was a blessing or not. The few times she did speak it was to yell at him—hateful, hurtful things, things that made no sense. Sometimes, she didn’t even call him by the right name.

  It was his duty to help her adjust. She was his responsibility and he was failing. Normally mortals who came down experienced a time of euphoria, where they could be told of their fate and learn to accept it before reality sunk in. Not so with Lyra. She was unaffected by the euphoria. There was no calm acceptance in her, just a dull blankness tempered by moments of rage.

  It had been weeks since that a strange night when he brought her down. Strange because two scylla had been caught and three human women saved. The hunt was almost too successful. A blessing from the gods? Or too good a fortune to be trusted?

  The banquet they went to was to celebrate one of the women getting married to her rescuer. One saved human, Lady Bridget the Scientist, had chosen the hunter Caderyn as her husband. It has been a long time since they had a marriage to celebrate and the entire Merr population was bustling with the news. The other saved human, Lady Cassandra did not fare so well. She had been taken to the countryside to mend by her rescuer Iason, as the trip down had taken a hard toll on her body. Though, news did come that she was awake and doing better.

  Then there was Lady Lyra. His ward.

  Rigel felt his body tighten as he watched her hand stroke the blue material of his gift. Lyra allowed him to hold her a few times as she awoke from her dreams. The softness of her body pressed to his had been enough to drive him mad with desire. He held back, naturally, for when her mind cleared from sleep she often tried to punch him.

  “I should leave you to dress,” he said, hurrying towards the bathing room. His home was like many in the palace, a large square living area with low couches, an office, an adjoining room for sleep and a bathing room. Those in the palace took their meals together in the hall so there wasn’t a need for much else. Lyra had been sleeping in his bed, so he’d been forced to use the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements—not so much because of the cushions, but because having her so close only made his desires express themselves in vivid dreams.

  Rigel pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling and stepped onto the showering platform. Water rained from the ceiling, sprinkling him with the warm drops. The fresh water wouldn’t turn him like the sea.

  Quickly washing, he soon focused on his affliction. One hand fisted over his cock, gliding with the soap, as the other moved to cup his balls. After centuries beneath the waves without a lover to share his time with, he knew well the best way to please himself. Though, sometimes the act felt more functional than fun, he had discovered a renewed interest in such things recently.

  Rigel thought of long blonde hair and smooth feminine skin. He suppressed groan as he tightened his hand over his arousal. Within moment he spilled his seed onto the platform only to watch as it was washed away.
/>   * * * *

  Lyra heard a deep groan and turned in surprise to where Rigel disappeared. The blue Romanesque tunic he had left for her to wear pinned over the arms to create gaping sleeves. She smoothed down the skirt as she went to investigate the sound.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. The words were barely a whisper. She took a deep breath, clearing her throat. She became aware of her surroundings. The walls were flat, with an adobe texture. Beautiful designs were painted directly on them. There was a small circular table in the corner with a pottery vase. Tiny symbols were carved around the base. Light came from above, shining through holes carved into the ceiling. She saw the glint of metal and guessed the place was lit by reflected light.

  Another groan sounded, this one fainter than before. Lyra stiffened. There was something to the tone of Rigel’s voice, low and arousing. She inched toward the door, slower than before. The sound of running water penetrated her brain and she vaguely remembered being led to a shower. Had he watched her bathe? His eyes on her naked flesh? She couldn’t remember.

  Without stopping to consider what she was doing, she touched the door and pushed gently. It opened by small degrees, just enough for her to peek inside. Water and light added texture to Rigel’s naked body as he stood, head tossed back, hands wrapped around his cock. It was like a scene from a movie and she blinked several times as if the camera angle would change and she’d see something else. Instead, he stiffened, gasping as he came. A visible shiver worked over his body. Lyra took a hasty step back, hurrying to sit on the couch before he caught her watching him.

  A knot formed in her stomach and she couldn’t get the image of him out of her head. She’d been living around him for the last… however long it was? How could she not have noticed? He had the body of a Greek god and the manparts of a very human male. The realization that he was built like a human man aroused even as it frightened. If he was built like… And he could masturbate like… And he looked like… And she was…

  “Fucking shit,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, sounding stunned. “Did you speak?”

  Lyra stood and blurted, “I didn’t hear you in the shower.”

  He glanced behind him. A linen cloth wrapped his waist, but droplets of water clung to his flesh. She took a step forward before catching herself. Time felt like it slowed into a series of small moments. A drop fell from his elbow onto the ground with a little splash. He blinked, his eyes lowering to the floor before lifting up to look at her through his lashes. Water slid down the side of his nose, curving onto his lips, only to travel across the seam. Her hand lifted. Her foot moved. She walked towards him. Mesmerized, she reached for his lips, following the moisture with the tip of her finger. He didn’t move, barely breathed. His lips parted and her finger slid between them. When he didn’t kiss the tip, she pulled her hand away.

  What was she doing? Lyra balled her hand into a tight fist, forcing herself to remember the ocean. It wasn’t hard. This man had been there with his friends. For all she knew, they wrecked the ship so they could kidnap humans, or drown them for sport, or to steal whatever was on board like underwater pirates. The thoughts successfully pushed her desire to a more manageable level. To Rigel, she stated, “I am ready for the banquet.”

  “The others will be pleased you are speaking,” he said, hurrying past her to his room. She watched the door close before taking a long, deep breath. What had she been thinking? Had he responded at all to her, she might have let him kiss her, possible more. Ok, definitely more. Tingling erupted over her flesh, as if her body came to life for the first time in years. She wanted to kiss someone. She wanted to hit someone. Anger and passion overwhelmed her for a brief moment and she couldn’t see straight.

  Closing her eyes, she slowly managed to get herself under control. A low simmer of anger and grief remained, but it was easiest to feel and understand. She didn’t hear Rigel until he was standing next to her.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Lyra walked out of his home without answering.

  “I see you’re not talking again,” he said under his breath. She paused, looking down the hall. Including the door she had walked out of the options were two other doors or an adjoining hallway. Assuming her direction more than knowing it, she walked to the hall and turned.

  * * * * *

  “This way,” Rigel said, grabbing her elbow and directing her in the right direction. She jerked at his touch and he let go. He didn’t try to guess at her moods for they made little sense to him.

  Rigel’s home was in the warriors’ section of the palace. There were only a dozen homes total, split up into four halls for each team. Every hall had three rooms, so that each man lived next to his team members in separate apartments. They all owned a home in the countryside as well, for when they wished to get away from the city. Turning, he led Lyra away from the living quarters. They walked toward the banquet hall in silence.

  The palace halls were clean and uncluttered. Large arches passed overhead as they walked out of the cave room and into the main palace hall. The city architects had glazed the palace bricks of the walls with a mixture made from the gemstones, which gave them a glowing blue cast. Light reflected from outside during the day, but in the evening torches were lit through the halls to give them a soft orange glow. The blue stone was accented with decorative yellow and white tiles to form beautiful, intricate patterns.

  They came to a tall arched entryway. The banquet had already started and the palace’s main hall was filled with people. Many of them were male and dressed like Rigel, though a few of the wives were in attendance as well, dressed in their best clothes—long Romanesque gowns and golden coils about their heads.

  Lyra stopped walking, looking around the hall.

  “They come for the banquet,” he said, thinking she paused at the great number of people. He refused to tell her that many of the single men came to look at her in hopes that they would catch her eye. She was unmarried after all and that made her a high commodity to the general unmarried population. The fact that she was beautiful only fueled the general feeling of hope.

  Lyra didn’t make a move to enter.

  He motioned to a long table set up at the front of the hall. “King Lucius wishes to greet you.”

  “Who?”

  “King Lucius,” he repeated, motioning to the king. She had met him on several occasions, but looked as if she did not recognize the name. “It is custom to greet the king upon entering the hall when you are new to the palace.”

  Caderyn began to approach with his rescued Lady Bridget the Scientist. Rigel smiled. Perhaps the other human would be able to talk to Lyra and put her at ease. He nodded gratefully at the other hunter’s attention. Lyra glanced briefly at Bridget before staring down at the floor.

  “Rigel,” Caderyn said to acknowledge as they approached. “May I introduce my...” Caderyn glanced at Bridget, “Lady Bridget.”

  Rigel arched a brow at that. His Lady Bridget? Then, bowing politely, he said to Bridget, “My lady, welcome to Ataran. I was hoping to meet you. I would’ve come sooner but my team went back out to track.”

  Lyra snorted in disgust. Rigel glanced back at her. She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Anything?” Caderyn asked.

  “No, false alarm,” Rigel answered. They had thought another scylla roamed near the top of the dome, but it had been a lost squid. Turning to Lyra, he hoped to draw her into the conversation. “This is Lady Lyra of the Explorer.”

  “The Explorer?” Bridget asked, studying Lyra. “Is that a ship?”

  Lyra glanced up, but didn’t answer.

  “She’s not talking at the moment,” Rigel said to explain the awkward pause. He gave Lyra a hopeful look, one she didn’t appear to see. “Lyra, Lady Bridget was also on the water that night with you, but on a different boat.”

  “Ah,” Lyra said, her jaw hard. Her deep voice sounded bitter, as she said, “Then your people killed her family as well.”

  Ri
gel felt as if she had slapped him. Her voice dripped with disdain. Mortification mixed with surprise and anger. How dare she accuse him of such a thing? And in front of others? The full blow to his reputation would surely sink in later, once the shock passed. He felt others looking at them, their eyes narrowed, and he imagined the murmuring of voices spread her words throughout the hall.

  “I came and now I’m going,” Lyra said, quickly turning to leave the way they had come.

  Rigel sighed, not knowing what to say. He lifted his hand to the king, in an apologetic gesture. The king nodded from across the hall. To Caderyn, he said, “Excuse me. I should go with her.”

  Caderyn nodded in understanding and Rigel hurried away from the banquet.

  Chapter Three

  Lyra didn’t know where she was going, or why she had said the things she had. She had no proof of their motives, only her suspicions. It was too big of a coincidence that the merpeople were under her boat at the same time it sunk beneath the waves. But, she hadn’t meant to say the words, they just came out, much like the rage she was feeling now. Tears burned her eyes and she wanted to yell, or hit something, or dent in the wall with her foot—something, anything, just to end the ache. She thought to hear footsteps behind her, but she didn’t see anyone when she glanced over her shoulder. It didn’t matter. She ran faster, trying to escape the confines of the palace. One of the halls had to lead outside the palace.

  Seeing a bright light, she moved toward it, knowing it had to be an escape. Soon she found herself outside. No one stopped her as she moved toward a long wall. It stretched around the side of the palace. Bright yellow lines ran along the glowing blue stones. Images of sea creatures were depicted along the walls, rising off the flat surface. Finding a narrow gate, she jiggled it until it opened and slipped beyond the palace wall.

  The sky was dark blue, too dark for the daytime, yet it was light out. She vaguely remembered being told that the city beyond the palace was called Atlas and was considered sacred. From her place, she didn’t see a city, but she heard the faint sounds of one. Inching toward the noise for a better view, she discovered the town nestled in a valley beyond the main palace gate.