by Joss Ware
Quent’s head swiveled between her and Zoë, and Ana saw indecision in his face. “What do I have to do to activate it?” he asked, and Zoë leapt to her feet.
“Look, Quent, you don’t want to risk every damn person’s ass here—”
“I’m not quite that incompetent, luv,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I have to assess the risks, and—”
“What exactly do you have to fucking assess, genius? I can’t be out there saving your damn ass every fucking day again. And everyone else’s. I’ve got other—” Zoë snapped her teeth together audibly as her voice broke, and then silence reigned.
Except for the sounds of Zoë grinding her teeth together.
And the nonstop clicking of Sage’s fingers on the keyboard. Ana noticed that the redhead seemed oblivious to the war going on around her. Probably just as well; it was clear that Quent and Zoë had a volatile relationship, and Sage was probably used to their fiery arguments.
“You think about things, assess the risks,” Ana said as the couple glared at each other. “I’ll be back in a little while; I have some things I need to check on.”
“But—” Quent began.
“Don’t,” Zoë interrupted him. Now Ana recognized a glint of fear in the other woman’s eyes, buried deep beneath her bravado.
Fence had told her that Zoë was several months pregnant, and that almost everyone except Quent knew about it. “There’s gonna be some real fireworks when he finds out and tries to keep her sitting pretty at home like a good little woman,” he’d said with a little chuckle. “That’s gonna be some good shit.”
Ana had been looking at the slender woman, wondering how far along she was, trying to see a sign of it . . . but she couldn’t tell. Maybe beneath the loose cargo pants there was the beginning of a bump, but not a very big one. Ana had watched, in silent misery, all of the young women in Glenway through their various stages of pregnancy, and noticed how each one developed differently. Some women hardly showed at all for many months, or showed in different ways.
Gritting her teeth against the little nudge of grief, she decided to make her escape and leave Quent and Zoë to their own battle, and limped over to the staircase as quickly as she could.
After going back to the infirmary to check on her dad—who’d been moved from his hospital bed to a room similar to hers, unbeknownst to her, a room in close proximity to Flo’s residence—Ana took a deep breath and left the big building.
It was time.
As she walked down the stone and dirt paved path that led to the shoreside gate in the wall, she heard her name and turned to see Fence ambling toward her.
Even from a distance she could see the brilliant flash of his smile. He was wearing a tight white shirt that showed every single detail of his pectorals and ridged belly, along with blue jeans that had been hacked off above the knee. And no shoes.
Her breath caught for a moment, and then her cheeks warmed at the memory of exactly how that massive body had felt, sliding along hers, all hot and damp and strong. Whew. She had to concentrate to get her breathing under control.
“Don’t you have any clothes that fit you?” she asked as he approached.
“What?” he said, surprising her when he scooped her close with one big arm and planted a good, long, thorough kiss on her lips. “Now what shit were you saying about my clothes?” he asked, his eyes dark and smoky.
“Um . . .” She’d forgotten already. Her lips were throbbing and her lower belly was already tingling as she recalled just exactly what could happen with a guy like this after a kiss like that. Oh yeah. “Every shirt I’ve ever seen you in looks like it belongs on someone more my size than yours.”
His gazed dropped immediately to her breasts, then moved back up as his slow smile returned. “I don’t know, Ana-sweet,” he said. “I’m not sure this shirt could contain those lovely girls. But we could try and find out. Why don’t you take yours off right now?”
Ana laughed. “Nice try, Bruno.”
“Well, I already took my shirt off for you once, so fair’s fair.”
“Again . . . nice try.” She patted his arm.
He kept his arm around her waist, and as she turned to continue her walk to the ocean, he tightened it. “Where are you off to now?”
“To the sea. I want to do some swimming.” She smiled up at him, squinting a bit in the sunlight. “Wanna come with me?”
“Naw, that’s all right,” he said. “Don’t want to ruin my ’do.” His grin gleamed, but once again it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve got something else on my mind, anyway.”
Then he tugged her close, and holding her steady, turned her gently on her feet. The next thing she knew, she had the wall of a building scraping against her back and his mouth moving in on hers.
She lifted her face and met his full lips eagerly. Her hands landed on the tight cotton of his shirt, and the heat from his belly and torso bled into her skin through two layers of clothing.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” he said, shifting away slightly. His eyes found hers as he locked his arms around her waist. “Last night was mad amazing. You’re so beautiful, and you taste so sweet,” he added, sifting a bit of her hair through his thumb and forefinger. “And such a tease.”
She smiled back up at him. “Talk about teases . . . that poor mirror will never be the same again.”
“Well, she ain’t seen nothing yet. That was just foreplay.”
Ana couldn’t help the little relieved flutter inside her chest. So it wasn’t going to be just a one-night get-together.
She wasn’t stupid; she knew he was . . . What did they use to call them? A player. Fence was a player. She’d seen how he worked the room the first night they met. And his easy manner, his jokes and generous mood, attracted the attention of a variety of women of all ages. Even the jaundiced eye of the adorably miffed Tanya had softened in the face of his warmth and attention.
And although she wasn’t certain what if anything she wanted this to develop into, she knew she wanted more time to figure it out. To explore being with him.
She’d liked being in a relationship with Darian, liked having someone to talk to and be intimate with. And she’d certainly liked the possibility of having a family with someone she loved.
Although that was clearly rushing things, so she put the thought right out of her mind.
“Are you sure you want to run off?” he said now, still looking down at her.
“Run?” she joked. “Not me. I only limp. Unless I’m in the water,” she added. “Besides, I’m hoping to see my dolphin friends again today.”
His eyebrows rose. “You have dolphin friends?” He seemed interested in spite of himself. “That’s cool.”
“There’s a female named Jag—she’s got a hunk cut out of her dorsal fin, hence the name. And also Marco Polo, because I can tell he travels far but always comes back.”
“How can you tell how far he goes?”
“The stuff that clings to him when he comes back—sometimes there are little insects or critters stuck in the fold of his fins. He likes it when I scratch him there.”
“So they know you?” he asked. “They let you pet them?”
Ana nodded. “I’ve ridden on their backs before too. They swim all over the ocean, but they visit me regularly. Marco was here yesterday—he followed me from Glenway, I think, and I hope he’s back today.” She smiled. “They’d let you touch them if I were with you. I can call them closer—”
“Nah, that’s okay, I’m good,” Fence said, his expression settling a bit.
A sudden mischievous thought popped into her head. “You know,” she said coyly, smoothing her palm over that indentation along his breastbone, “I’ve got an idea.”
“What’s that?” he asked, his hands planted over her bottom, his fingers slipping their way down beneath the band of her jeans.
“Well, last night was the first time I’d ever been with a man in bed, and you introduced me to it. Why don’t
I introduce you to sex in the sea?”
His arms stiffened and the teasing disappeared from his face. “Nah, I don’t think so, Ana. Too much salt. Might get in my eyes—or elsewhere.” As if to punctuate that thought, he gave a little bump of his hips against her where they were pressed together and followed it with a strained chuckle.
“We don’t have to be under the water,” she said, remembering that she was certain he’d been breathing beneath the surface when she dragged him out yesterday. “We could just be—”
“No,” he said. “Swimming’s not my shit.”
Ana’s heart did a little thud. He’d never spoken to her—or to anyone in her hearing—in that tone of voice. Okay then.
She mustered up a smile. “Well, I’m going to walk down there and see if anything else washed up on shore. Want to come with me?”
He seemed to struggle, then gave her his own smile. And a weak one at that. “Sure.”
But now things weren’t quite as easy between them. It was the whole water thing, and she was completely confused by his reactions to it.
He had been breathing underwater, hadn’t he? She was sure of it. Although she was completely mystified as to how he’d done so.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it had just been a fluke.
But then she had an idea. A way to figure out how to get him in the water.
“What are you grinning about, sugar?”
“Nothing,” she said with a teasing glance. She drew in a long deep breath. “Mm. I love the smell of the sea. It’s so . . . fresh and clean and salty. It’s just beautiful.”
Fence didn’t respond, and by now they had walked through the gate and were making their way between the trees and bushes that grew on the expanse of land between the beach and the protective wall.
Ana’s pulse accelerated as it always did when she got near her beloved Sea. Her skin felt as if it were coming alive, and her nostrils dragged in the beauty of the scent around her. She’d learned long ago that many non-Atlanteans found the smell of fish and algae unpleasant, but to her it was home. And it was the only place she felt fully whole.
But even as she experienced the familiar tug into the rushing, rolling waves, she felt Fence’s demeanor change. He didn’t speak, his pace seemed to slow, almost becoming reluctant, and his movements stiffened.
She was going to fix that. She grinned to herself again, and slipped out of her shoes, holding onto Fence for support when she had to stand on her bad foot.
“Doesn’t look like anything washed up on shore overnight,” Fence said, scanning the beach. From end to end, it stretched about a mile.
Ana noted their privacy with satisfaction. She could see they were far enough away from the wall of Envy that no one would see any of the details about to occur. “That’s good,” she said, and shimmied out of her skirt.
He was looking at her with interest, despite the tight corner of his mouth. “C’mere, sugar. How about a roll in the sand?” He reached for her, but without the force and speed from this morning—which allowed her to easily evade him.
“How about a roll in the waves?” she asked, backing away from him and into the water.
A surge rushed around Ana’s ankles, and she smiled at the familiar, comforting feel of the Sea’s embrace. Fence was watching her with a startled expression.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He grinned, but the smile seemed forced.
“Come on, Fence,” she said, the water now up to her knees. She looked at him, caught his eye, and held his gaze with a smoky, hot one of her own.
Then she crossed her arms in front of her torso to grab the hem of her tank top, and brought it up and over, whipping the shirt free from her body. Spinning it around on her finger, she teased, “You wanted me to take off my shirt, didn’t you?”
“Ana,” he said. He’d moved toward her, but stopped at the point where the sand and dirt were darker from the reach of the oncoming waves. “Why don’t you come on back here and let me help you with that.” His heh-heh-heh sounded flat.
“Why don’t you come on out here and help me?” With a sharp movement, she flung her tank top toward the shore. It landed on an in-bound wave, tumbling onto the sand near his feet.
She was past her waist and getting deeper, allowing the energy of the water to seep into her being through the crystals.
“Ana, what are you doing?”
“This,” she announced, unfastening her bra. She slipped out of it quickly, her breasts bouncing free just on top of the waves. “Come on out here and give me a hand, why don’t you?”
“Come on back here, Ana. Someone’s going to see you,” he said, taking one step toward the water and going no farther.
By now she was floating, treading water, and moving as easily as he did on land. “I know someone’s going to see me. You are,” she replied. “It’s not that deep . . . and it’ll be fun. Come on, Fence. We can do a little slip-sliding around . . .”
She came back a little closer to the shore so she could stand once again. Her breasts were just out of the water, and she began to move enticingly, dancing in a way she couldn’t on land, since the ocean held her upright.
She lifted her arms above her head, hands and fingers twining together, then grapevined down and over her torso like she’d seen exotic dancers do in DVDs. He watched avidly as she cupped her breasts, then slid her hands down below the water along the curve of her undulating hips.
“Come on into the water, Fence, darling,” she coaxed. “Just think of what we can do—”
“I’m not coming in the water,” he snapped suddenly. His face had become a hard, cold mask. “I’m not fucking coming into the goddamn water.”
Ana stopped, paralyzed in breast-deep waves. “Why? I’ve seen you in the water. What is the—”
“I told you,” he said harshly, “I don’t like to swim. Now stop fucking playing games, Ana, and come out of the damn ocean.”
She felt as if a massive, icy wave had crashed over her on a hot sunny day. “Fence—”
“Come out of the motherfucking ocean.”
Hot tears stung her eyes, but Ana couldn’t make herself move.
Before she could speak, he turned abruptly and stalked away.
Chapter 14
Fence’s hands were shaking. His insides were a fucked-up mess. He swallowed hard to keep from puking his guts right there on the damned beach.
He stalked away as quickly as he could without running, furious with himself, furious with her, furious with the motherfucking ocean for fucking existing.
Of all the women he had to fall in love with, why in the hell did it have to be a freaking mermaid who loved the ocean?
Hold up there, brother.
Fall in love with?
Uh . . . no. That was a bit of a stretch.
He’d only just met her a few weeks ago.
Fence paused, a surge of nausea getting the best of him, and gripped a sapling oak. Curling his other fingers tightly into a fist and concentrating, he managed to keep from vomiting his pussy-assed weakness all over the place. Jesus.
He was going to have to just stay the hell away from her now. He’d shown his ass, as his father would have said, and not in a good way. And it was just as well if he didn’t have to be around such sweet temptation. Because this was never, ever going to happen. Even if he wanted it to.
But he didn’t want it to. Not anymore.
This shit was too damn much work.
Ana’s tears mingled with the saltwater so that she couldn’t tell what was ocean and what was shock and anger.
I guess that was that.
She streaked through the sea as fast as she could. Trying to outrun her emotions. Trying to exhaust herself. Trying to understand what had happened to turn Fence into . . . someone so not him.
It was as if he were two different people: one on land, one by the water.
Just like I am.
That thought came out of nowhere, and Ana stopped as if she’d slammed into a wall.
But at least I’m not a complete whacko bitch in one of my personalities.
Except when you’re jumping all over him about the way he treats your handicap.
She frowned and took off like a shot again, skimming through the water. Well, those weren’t very palatable thoughts. She wanted to have a good mad-on at him, and her conscience was being too reasonable.
She’d swim it off.
And she was delighted, no, comforted, when the long slide of an elliptical shadow cruised above her. And then a second one followed, sleek and silent in the dark water.
Smiling, Ana shot up toward the surface where Jag and Marco were ducking around, slip-sliding against each other.
Jag, the shyer of the two, looked at her coyly when she swam up between them, and then rolled away in the water, showing her smooth white belly. Ana patted her as she followed, until an insistent butting against her back indicated that Marco was waiting for his attention.
Ana played with them for a while, examining their smooth skin to make certain neither had any new injuries—a common occurrence when they swam through all of the man-made remains. She followed them as they chased after a school of herring for their dinner, playing hide and seek around a jumble of old cars.
She spent more time with them than she should have . . . but of course the reason for that was also her procrastination about checking the mailbox where she’d left the message for Darian.
But at last she couldn’t put it off any longer, and watched her companions swim off.
Then, taking a circuitous route, she made her way back to where she’d seen Darian’s sign. In preparation for this eventuality, even though she’d delayed it as long as she could, Ana had already retrieved her tank top from where it was caught at the delicate edge of waves onshore. Her bra was long gone, and that was a loss she felt deeply, for pretty blue ones were hard to come by.
She wasn’t even at the mailbox yet but could tell he’d been there. Her insides flipped like a dolphin and she paused, peering around some massive metal object as if waiting to see what would pop out. Of course, nothing did—but it was the glow from inside the mailbox that told her he’d responded to her message.