by Karen Monroe
“Lay back, Marissa. Just relax,” Tylan whispered.
She did as he asked, unwrapping her legs from his waist to lie against the bed.
“Now, close your eyes,” he continued.
She snuggled into the pillows, smiling.
Waiting.
“Now … go to sleep, sena.”
Huh? “WHAT?”
“Next time,” he stated, laughing and turning on his side. “I know you’ll think twice before deciding to leave the palace.”
“Th-this is my punishment? What kind of crap is that? I got needs here!” she cried, sitting up in the bed.
Tylan snorted, scooting away from her, actually separating their bodies.
Staring at his naked back, too astounded to speak. Marissa waited a few moments, sure he would give up on his little joke and get back to action.
Strangely, as the minutes ticked by and Tylan’s snoring became louder, she finally gave up waiting and punched her pillow, wishing it were his handsome face.
“Cad!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I can’t believe you’d do something like that,” Marissa yelled. “I was in serious emotional distress.”
“You mean sexual distress,” Tylan said, emerging from the bathroom.
The blood in her face heated from the sight of his naked, dripping body. Good Lord! She’d never tire of looking at him, and from what she’d seen of some of the older male Eritreans, she’d never have to worry about an inch of his muscular frame turning to fat. Even Viccan, who pushed close to a thousand years of age, remained in top physical form. And, if the three-thousand-year-old Baline were any indicator for the women, she wouldn’t have to worry about a May-December looking romance.
“Well, whatever. It was still a nasty thing to do,” she muttered, finally turning her head away from the delectable sight to stare at the wall straight ahead.
“Would you have preferred a spanking, sena?” he asked, chuckling, the low laughter sounding as though it rumbled from the depths of his massive, powerfully built chest.
Frowning at that image, she shook her head, hoping he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her naughty thoughts. A slow smile spread across his face, and he winked at her.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
She laughed. “Next time?”
“Believe me, Marissa. I’ll find something to punish you for.”
“You are incorrigible,” she retorted.
“But you love me this way. Why should I change?”
She did love him, every incorrigible, annoying inch of him. Shaking her head, she rose from the bed, and walked toward him.
“Maybe I’ll find something to punish you for,” she said, standing directly in front of him. “How would you like a spanking, lover?”
Tylan smiled back at her. “Only if you call me your majesty while you do it.”
“Enough,” she screamed, trying not to laugh. “Get out of the way so I can take a bath.”
“Had you deigned to share mine, sena…”
“No, don’t tell me, I know.”
“I was going to say…” Tylan started, and moved to stand in front of her when she tried to walk around him. “…if you had shared my bath, I might have some time to soothe your hurt feelings. As it is, I have a meeting with the senators in a few moments.”
“Then go. You made your bed. Literally. Now you can lie in it.”
Happy to give him a little dose of his own medicine, Marissa laughed at Tylan’s thunderstruck expression before strutting toward the bathroom.
Not having to worry about shedding any clothes, she mounted the steps leading to the Olympic size tub, wading in with a sigh. Ever since the Suzy nothing but ice-cold water appealed to her. Eight months ago she would have never thought of a frosty bath as soothing, but now her body took to it like a … a fish to the water.
Scowling at the errant, and too-true thought, Marissa leaned back against the plush, blue cushions lining the edges, sighing with contentment. She was glad this simple pleasure had not been lost amongst some of the odder customs of Eritrean society. She knew the more affluent members did have saltwater pools designed to allow them to privately shift into their alternate forms, but for the purposes of actual cleaning, purified or fresh water was used.
Marissa wasn’t sure what she would have done if saltwater baths were the norm. She still had no desire to change into the mernia form, the very idea causing a shaft of fear to crest down her spine. It wasn’t just the pain of the experience, though that in and of itself was enough to shy her away. Simply, she just couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea. She’d spent most of her life trying to be normal, and regardless of what Tylan, Baline, or anyone else thought, she didn’t find having a six-foot long fin normal at all.
Marissa knew she wouldn’t be able to put it off forever. But for now, she had too many other things on her plate to worry about trying to recreate her own version of The Little Mermaid.
Unerringly, her thoughts turned to her mother, both of them.
Sure, she’d pasted a smile on her face, thought happy things in her mind, but all of that was for Tylan’s benefit. Inside she felt like an utter mess of jumbled, mixed emotions.
Anger would course through her veins when she thought about Tao or Sarah. Yet, inevitably, a wave of sadness would come next, haunting her into pity. She replayed numerous scenarios in her mind, trying to come up with the answers to the questions looming, but she didn’t have a clue what drove either of the women, or the mixed up fates that brought them together.
At least now she had some kind of context for the dreams she’d had. Thankfully, since she came to Eritrea, her sleep remained peaceful. Well, discounting Tylan’s frequent demands, it was relatively peaceful. But, there weren't any golden doors or strange symbols. Nor, Marissa grimaced, was there any blood on her hands when she closed her eyes.
Sleep was sleep.
Still, she didn’t actually believe what Baline had said. Visions of Tao’s spirit had not come to haunt her subconscious, even though the woman of her dreams did bear striking, uncanny resemblance to the mural.
Marissa rationalized that all of the disturbing images inevitably led to her falling in the tank, the ultimate discovery she was not human.
She wished she had paid more attention to the psychology lessons she’d had in college, they might have helped in deciphering the intricate nuances of the visions she’d had, but she always hated the intangible nature of the classes, preferring instead the concrete details of science.
Splashing two handfuls of cold water on her face, she figured it didn’t really matter anymore. Whatever the dreams had meant, they didn’t equate any longer. She had problems of today. She couldn’t worry about the subconscious musings of the past.
In the cold light of the synthetic Eritrean morning, she’d begun to feel doubts about the request she’d made of Tylan. Perhaps it would be best to leave Zaron alone with his grief. Even if her suspicions were true, there really was no purpose served by letting him know his sister was a murderer, or that she was his niece.
Overall, the knowledge didn’t change the facts.
Exhaling noisily, Marissa drifted further out into the water. She’d already been inside the bath for twenty minutes, and as much as she was enjoying the serenity, she couldn’t spend all day here.
She made her way toward the opposite edge of the pool, stopping in front of a small golden tray laden with crystal vials of soap. Taking a few moments to lather her entire body, she dunked beneath the water to rinse. Emerging, she was startled by a strangely dressed Tylan.
“Why are you wearing jeans?”
“I’m wearing them because we’ll be traveling to the surface today,” Tylan stated, walking forward to sit on large cushioned bench next to the bath.
“W-we are?”
He frowned. “Yes, we are. The Committee has elected to meet sooner rather than later.”
“I thought you had a meeting with the senate?” she a
sked, her brows rising in confusion.
“I did, but there’s been a development on the surface. Another delaphin has been captured,” Tylan gritted.
Fear burgeoned behind her breasts. Terror worked its way into her soul.
“It isn’t Nyla, is it?”
“No,” Tylan answered succinctly, and Marissa could feel the strong waves of anger emanating from him.
“Hurry and dress, leethil. I’m having Meija bring clothes for you as we speak. We’ll be leaving within the hour.”
* * * *
“How did you know it was going to be here?”
“I knew.”
“Yeah, but how did you really know?”
“Mr. Litchfield, are we going to spend the day wasting time on useless questions?”
“No-no,” Brain stammered, hoping the fear he felt didn’t resonate in his voice.
God. He should have never agreed to this. The darkly clad man standing before him was dangerous. Being a good judge of character, owing to the deficiencies within his own, he could sense the tightly leashed vibrations of violence clinging to the tall, elusive stranger.
Self-preservation moved to the forefront of his mind. “What’s our plan next,” he asked, deliberately stressing the words.
“We don’t have a plan, Mr. Litchfield. I’m going to kill the delaphin, and you’ll be the pawn.”
“But-but I thought we were going to take the creature to the institute. That’s w-what you’d said we would do!”
A cold laugh sounded. “I lied. You humans are so stupid. To think, I thought I needed you.”
Brian felt the blood drain from his face. Early on, he had begun to suspect that there was something different about the man, something not human.
“B-but, I can help. I can help you!” he screamed, feeling the cold chords of death wrap around him.
“Your use was marginal at best.”
“So, why me? Why did you contact me?!”
Piercing eyes connected with his. “Because you were only one who could help me draw them out, draw them all together.”
Brian gurgled as a large hand grasped his throat. “Dr-draw who out? Who are-are you talking about?”
“Never you mind, Mr. Litchfield,” the haunting voice continued. “You know. I had thought to make your death painless, but now that I look at you, I think I want to make you suffer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marissa hadn’t known what to expect when they started their long journey to the surface. Actually, she hadn’t had time to expect anything.
No sooner had she exited her bath than Mejia came through the arched doorway carrying a pair of form-fitting black jeans, a tight nylon black shirt, and a long, expensive black leather jacket. She immediately wanted to ask about the clandestine looking clothes, but judged from the look on Tylan’s face that now definitely wasn’t the time for a question and answer session.
As she quickly dressed, she kept sliding her eyes toward Tylan, taking in his tense posture. She’d never seen him look so mad, so dangerous. His jaw flexed tight as his silver-blue gaze narrowed on her thoughtfully.
It took her another moment to don the tie-up combat boots Meija had also provided, completing the outfit. But as soon as she finished, Tylan immediately grabbed hold of her arm, leading her from their chambers.
Outside, Keanan, Cowan, and a tall, light-skinned black woman were waiting. Marissa blinked at the woman once, before shifting her gaze toward Cowan. It was obvious they were related, and she briefly wondered if this was sister she’d heard had been missing.
“The transport is ready, my Lord,” Cowan’s dulcet tones intruded into her thoughts. “All the preparations have been seen to.”
“Very well,” Tylan responded perfunctorily, his voice commanding, hard and cold.
Marissa had to walk in double-time to keep up with the long strides of the group. All of them were dressed similarly in attire, their booted feet clicking harshly against the glossy stone floor as they passed through the corridors. At first she’d thought they were on their way to the throne room, but they made a quick right before the entrance, into a dead end.
With their progress blocked, Tylan reached forward, touching his hand against an indentation in the wall. Suddenly, a path opened before them, two pieces of thick metal slid seamlessly outward. Marissa blinked several times, astounded. She gaped at Tylan, but quickly shut her mouth when she noticed no else looked astonished.
The pathway shut behind them as soon as they entered. Marissa spared a glance over her shoulder to see it actually was some kind of door. Though from the other side it looked just like a regular wall.
“Jeeze. What in the world is going on here?” she mumbled the question, but no one answered.
They were probably taking their cues from Tylan, who remained stoic and silent.
Marissa shook her head, looking around. She’d gathered they were in some sort of secret passageway. Unlike the rest of the palace there weren’t any vibrant murals or paintings gracing the walls. The thick looking gray metal was barren of any type of accoutrements. It really resembled the long corridor death row inmates took, the one that led them to the electric chair.
Frowning at the morbid thought, Marissa attempted to ward off the chills shivering through her by crossing her arms over her chest.
It felt like they’d been walking for hours, but she knew it had only been a few minutes. She’d figured the time started to move slowly because of the ominous opening she could see looming closer and closer. Breathing deeply, she gathered the shredded remnants of her courage, before stepping through.
“My word,” she muttered, her gaze roaming.
She’d been spelunking before, but this grandiose setting far surpassed any cave she’d ever explored. The rough-hewn rocks were cut and styled with the same harmonious design she had recognized throughout the city. A long stone ledge surrounded what had to be a two-mile shoreline, complete with sand and gentle waves. The depths of the water had to be vast because three very long, very powerful looking vessels floated on the surface.
Though, Marissa amended in her mind, vessel didn’t seem the right word. UFO seemed a lot more appropriate—Underwater Flying Object.
The gray metallic ships were sleek and aesthetic in design. They looked powerful enough to zip through ocean, air or space. A green crest was emblazoned on stern of the one nearest them, and she immediately recognized the emblem as the royal insignia.
“Are we going in one of those?” she asked. Though as the question slipped from her lips, Marissa realized how stupid she sounded.
“Yes,” Tylan answered without preamble, leading her along the ledge toward the UFO.
“It’s called a transport, sena. Don’t be afraid.”
“I-I’m not afraid,” she shot back, trying not to stumble her words.
Yet, she was afraid, and she stayed that way during the three-hour journey through the sea. Conversely, the ride wasn’t bumpy. She barely felt anything, not even a rough wave. As she sat alone in her chair, an exact replica of the one inside the throne room, she nervously twiddled her fingers, trying not to look around.
“Forgive me, your Majesty. I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. My name is Omea Matan”
Startled, Marissa turned her head to greet the tall black woman. She had to look up a long way to nod at her friendly expression.
Up close, she could see more facial similarities between her and Tylan’s chief advisor.
“That’s okay. Things started off really hectic this morning. You’re Cowan’s sister, right?”
Omea snorted. “Yes, but don’t say that too loudly, my Lady. I think he’s trying to cut off any known association.”
Marissa smiled, sensing a little sibling rivalry. “I don’t think so. The few times I’ve heard him speak of you he always sounded very proud.”
Omea blinked at her before smiling broadly. “Do you mind if I sit, your Majesty?”
“Sure. Sure, sit down. I could use
a little company. No one else seems to want to talk to me.”
Omea’s eyes drifted over the few warriors present as she took her seat. “That’s because they’re afraid of you, my Lady.”
Marissa laughed. “Afraid of me? They’re all about a foot taller. I think you mean they’re afraid of Tylan.”
“Well, there is that, my Lady. The King is not one to trifle with. I once saw him kill a man for … well, never mind that. Seriously though, they’re terrified of offending you.”
“Yeah, I already figured that out.”
“You’ll get used to it, my Lady.”
She didn’t think so. She hated the feeling that everyone walked around her like they were on pins and needles, especially when she knew most didn’t trust her at all.
Glancing at Omea, she was glad that the woman didn’t treat her like a piece of fragile glass. The only other person she’d met thus far who treated her this way was Baline. Shaking her head, Marissa pushed the thoughts from her mind.
The Healer was the last person she wanted to think about.
“So, do you know anything about what’s going on? I tried to ask Tylan before he left,” Marissa waved a hand to the door behind her, “but he did this grunting thing.”
“We’re on our way to meet with the Committee of Syrus. It’s hoped they will have some information on the capture of the delaphin.”
“What’s the Committee of Syrus?”
Omea scowled. “It’s a body comprised of Vampires, Lycans and humans. They’re supposed to help keep peace on Earth, but if you ask me, I think they’ve been slacking on the job.”
Marissa’s jaw dropped. “Vampires?”
“Forgive me, my Lady. I forget your knowledge of these things is limited. The Committee was composed thousand of years ago…”
“Wait a minute,” Marissa interrupted. “Are you telling me vampires really exist?”
“Yes, my Lady. They’ve existed for thousands of years.”
“And, I take it, a Lycan is some sort of-of werewolf?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Marissa felt the blood drain from her face. Werewolves. Vampires. Good Lord! What’s next?
“And, we’re on our way too meet with them? On our way, right now?”