Lovers in Deep: A Reverse Fairy Tale Merman Romance (The Sea Men Book 3)

by Dani Stowe

  Lovers In Deep

  The Sea Men, Book 3

  Dani Stowe

  The Sea Men, Spotify Playlist

  Edited by Kim Burger

  WARNING: This book contains material that may not be suitable for all readers due to its sexual content, graphic imagery, and some violence. It has been formatted to fit mature minds.

  All rights reserved © 2018 by Dani Stowe. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author. This e-book may also not be re-sold, transferred, or given to other people without written permission of the author.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Willis

  2. Athena

  3. Athena

  4. Athena

  5. Athena

  6. Athena

  7. Willis

  8. Athena

  9. Willis

  10. Athena

  11. Athena

  12. Willis

  13. Athena

  14. Willis

  15. Athena

  16. Willis

  17. Athena

  18. Willis

  19. Athena

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Athena

  Fifteen Years Old...

  “How are you today, Captain?” I push a long strand of my wavy brown hair behind my ear where the temple tips of my glasses rest and I peer into the calm, still water. “Nothing to say?” I ask, waiting for any sign of life.

  Nothing stirs.

  All I see is murky ocean blue with a hint of green under the bright midday sun.

  “Hmph.” He can hide all he wants to, but beneath the surface, I know he’s there.

  With one finger, I push up on the bridge of my glasses that have run down to the tip of my nose. “I guess I’ll do all the talking,” I smirk. “As usual.”

  As I maneuver to sit crisscross, the small boat with a small engine wobbles.

  “I’ve had a long year,” I say to the water as I grab a pencil and my sketchbook atop a thick book of fairytales.

  I sketch the eyes that have haunted my dreams since I was a small child, but not in a nightmarish kind of way. I draw them big and masculine, but soft, and shadow them a light gray.

  “A boy asked me to the senior prom this year,” I mention. “Can you believe it? A senior asked me, a freshman, to prom. He’s a bit of a nerd, but Mom was still really upset that I declined. Do you know what a nerd is?” I bite the end of the pencil to gnaw on the eraser and spit when I notice I’m about to swallow the rubber. I scratch my head. “Do you even know what prom is?”

  I lean to look over the boat.

  Nothing. But I do notice myself, my golden eyes looking back this time.

  “It’s a dance,” I explain to my reflection, “but you know I could not attend because... well... fish don’t dance. Which reminds me, I overheard Mom talking to Dad the other day. They are considering getting me some psychotherapy, but my grade point average is high, so my regular doctor has been trying to convince them that my imagination is just the result of high brain activity.” I laugh. “But you and I both know that you are not imaginary.”

  I go back to my drawing. The water is calm today. But then again, it’s always calm when I come to visit during the summers.

  “I made a friend,” I announce. “She’s an older lady. Cora Morae. I ran into her at the grocery in town while with my parents. She told them I had a particular aura about me—said it was ‘magical.’ She invited my parents and me to dine with her at her beach house. She mentioned having a niece, younger than me, who lives with her that she’d like for us to meet. Ms. Morae also wants to take us on a hike across one of her properties, which rests at the edge of a bay. She says the scenery is quite beautiful and at certain times of the year you can see...” My cheeks rise. “Meeeeermen,” I slur.

  The boat sways.

  Oh, my gosh! He’s finally stirring. I feel giddy.

  “Ms. Morae says she’s an expert on merfolk. Not only did she tell me how to summon a sea witch in our short meeting, but she even told me how to summon a mermaid, although she says there haven’t been one of those for centuries. You simply call to her by her divine name—whatever that means.”

  The boat sways again, turning. The front drifts to point towards the shore and I notice a small wave coming in from behind me.

  My giddiness is sinking!

  I drop my drawing pad and pencil to lean over the boat, pleading. “Please, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  A splash of cool water droplets fly across my shoulders and I turn to see the small wave has landed against the back end of my boat, thrusting. My hair flies out of my face as the wave pushes me, taking me back to shore. The ride is smooth and fun! I feel like I’m on a never-ending slide. Butterflies float in my belly as I glide across the sea’s surface, but sadness sweeps over me as land creeps closer.

  I’ve upset him. I mentioned mermen, which I often do, but this time I also mentioned mermaids and he’s not amused. Per my research, I suspect he has no access to the opposite gender of any kind and so perhaps I’ve insulted him since he’s taking me back to shore.

  Shortly, I find myself being splashed tremendously as the boat is nudged repeatedly. Short wave after short wave slams against the back, forcing the boat onto the beach and when I’m fairly stuck in the sand, just slightly past the shoreline, the waves retract.

  I turn around to face the open ocean. It’s nearly flat again. Only the tiniest waves unfurl across the beach. Getting out of the boat, I pick up my notepad and pencil once more. Stomping through the sand until my toes hit the water, I kick at the sea, causing a spray but again...

  Nothing.

  Mermen, I think and hold up the notepad, fixing the sketch directly in front of my face.

  Looking into the eyes I’ve drawn, the eyes I suspect belong to a great sea captain transformed by magic, I tilt my head to look at the sea beyond.

  Cradling my sketchpad in my arms, I make a note: He’s real.

  1

  Willis

  Love.

  I’ve never known love. At least, not the kind my brothers have to come to know.

  It seems to be a lot of work this love. Look at all the trouble the lads have been forced to endure for the sake of such silliness, for the sake of...

  Women.

  I should say I like women and I do recall enjoying everything about them—the scent, the feel. I miss the tender stroke of soft hands upon my body, the gritty tendrils of long hair getting caught in my mouth, and the hot blow of steam that entered my body right before soft lips would press into my own.

  I miss being inside a woman. The feel of hips in my palms as I gripped her frail, warm body, especially while I took her from behind.

  I smile to myself. It's not really a smile. I have no mouth, but I can almost feel the corners of what I remember to be a mouth bend and my cupid bow spreading as the fleshy plump center of my bottom lip stretches while my facial cheeks rise and flush.

  Mmm, I miss smiling and I miss having the opportunity to make a pretty girl smile at me as well.

  Except this one—the librarian.

  Yes, I know all about her. How can I not? She’s obsessed with me. The woman won�
��t leave me alone.

  I saved her life once when she was child and one would think that after such a traumatic experience, the girl, now a woman, would either forget or never be inclined to dip so much as a toe back into the ocean.

  But not this one.

  Nooo.

  This one thinks she has some special connection to the sea. To me.

  I am reluctant to reminisce of our first encounter, but I remember her as a child twenty-seven years ago...

  Where are her parents? Damn them! I thought.

  The small child peeped over the edge of the boat and though my body no longer possessed a physical human state, with the exception of my eyes, I still felt an uneasy sensation.

  The little girl wrapped her tiny fingers around a post as her fat feet popped over the edge. She leaned her head through an opening under the railing. If I didn’t do something, she was going to fall in!

  I couldn’t rock the boat to get her parents’ attention or the child would’ve surely fallen, sunk, and drown. I swiftly made my way around the boat looking for any sign of the child’s parents so that perhaps I could get their attention with a splash, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  A soft thud shook the water, which ran through me followed by a second thud and a third. It was coming from the interior of the small vessel. Those parents had left their child unattended to get intimate!

  I went back to the child. She’s was hanging halfway over.

  “Fishy,” she called out, reaching towards the blue abyss that would swallow her whole if I didn’t do something.

  I thought, Perhaps if I scare her! Then she would not be so inclined to take the leap.

  I positioned myself directly beneath her so she could see my stormy gray eyes. They were the only pieces of my human body I’d been left with since being transformed by magic into nothing but a mass of seawater.

  The child was more than two-thirds of the way over the edge at that point. Her fine sun-kissed honey color tendrils of wavy shoulder-length hair were hanging over her face and the ends brushed across the surface of the water to tickle me with worry.

  I showed her meaner eyes, popping myself out as a glob of water, giving her a wicked glare—but the child smiled!

  Silly girl. Stop smiling! I wished her mother would show to spank her.

  She reached with her fingers to poke me in the eye. The sensation was so overwhelming, I was both shocked and stunned. I wanted to move but I couldn’t.

  I let the child’s tiny fingers poke me in the eye again. The scrape of her bitty nail dug into my orbs and it hurt but I didn’t back away. It was the first time in over two hundred years I’d had any genuine human contact, so I allowed myself to experience the slight scrape and sting of her tiny fingers. I had no idea I’d missed being touched, even if it was painful. It was the only place I could feel any type of pressing sensation.

  A small drop—no, it was a tear—flowed from my eye then spread across the surface of the water to become a grander ripple of waves that rocked the boat, and the child fell in!

  Down she went, plummeting straight into the depths of the sea. I looked about to see if her parents were even aware that their innocent little girl had slipped so easily away from them. She was far below the surface and if I’d had a heart, I admit it would have beat painfully for the little thing. She was so small and without any ability to swim.

  I sensed her motions. She was kicking profusely but making very little turbulence with her flailing little hands, arms, and chubby legs.

  Ducking down to her level in the deep blue, I swirled about her. Her panicking eyes followed my own eyes and she reached for me.

  Could she not see I had no arms, no legs, no body?

  Her eyes got big then. They were huge, glaring back at me. I felt a twist in my transparent gut once more.

  It was not like me to get involved in human matters. I warned myself against saving the child. After what had happened aboard the Annabelle, I swore I would never attempt another rescue. The failed attempt to save that witch was the reason I am in the form I am in now.

  I promised myself that I would never get involved with humans, except of course when Poseidon, himself, demands it because I have no choice. The powers with which I’ve been bestowed are beyond destructive—they are evil. The immense strength and mass I possess has the potential to destroy whole cities and villages. With a simple stir, I can force the ocean to swallow an entire island whole, along with all its inhabitants.

  I sensed the child swallow. It was a big gulp and she began sinking more quickly, so it was only a matter of time. I’d observed drownings thousands of times. The child’s pulse was racing. I could feel the chambers of her heart slamming against the interior walls of the blood pumping organ creating its own tiny ripple of small waves to vibrate through me.

  I looked up once more towards the boat above. The child’s parents were still unaware that she was missing and I felt the child’s heart begin to slow.

  I looked back to her, expecting to see a face filled with dread, looking pitiful, and desperate for saving, but the child’s eyes were filled with contempt.

  She was angry with me. She was on the brink of death, and she was angry!

  I’d seen that anger, that conviction many times in the eyes of my sea mates, my brothers, and it pulled at my heartstrings. I almost felt as though I had a heart again.

  With my powers, I forced a wave to swirl beneath her, circling and circling, until she was spinning and choking. I kept her on the very brink of death because I wanted her to learn a very valuable lesson. I didn’t ever want her to go overboard again. I wanted her to know the consequences of what it meant to fall into the deep. And when I sensed her heart could no longer keep up with her angry mind, I pushed her upward to the sky.

  Bursting into the air, the child went atop a shooting fountain where she gagged and coughed then cleared her throat until she was rolling in what appeared to be delight.

  Ugh. That child! She was laughing, despite the near-death experience.

  With a constant stream of spouting water, I floated the child back onto the boat.

  My aim was not perfect and she landed face first where she grumbled but came to standing as I retracted my reach.

  “Athena!” shouted a woman, her mother.

  Finally!

  “Oh, my dear,” her mother cried. “What happened to you? You’re all wet!”

  A rumble echoed through me as the boat ignited, spinning the propeller at the rear.

  As the boat took off, I saw lightning in the distance. My brother, Henry, must’ve been at work.

  I should not have saved the child. I was not a witch or a fortune teller, but it was obvious this girl seemed doomed. But since I’d already made a rescue, I decided I’d better stay with her for a bit longer to ensure smooth sailing considering the storm ahead. Of course, I didn’t need to, but I figured I should at least accompany her until she made it back to shore since I had already wasted so much energy.

  After that day, I prayed to the gods that child would forever be in fear of the sea. I hoped she would never again attempt another dive in or another drowning...

  But look at Athena now. She is behaving as she always has—trying to get me to reveal myself. Day after day she comes to visit me.

  I’d love to tell her she’s not my type. Her nose is too pointy and her legs are too thin. I despise thin legs. They have no place at sea, so no place among seamen.

  And those spectacles? The ones she must constantly adjust to stay up her nose. Those things are bigger than her tiny pair of breasts. I like big breasts. Bosoms that hang out the sides of my palms.

  If I could laugh at her I would. Just look at her. Running to me out of that flimsy blue hut the rest of the seamen have shacked up in. It would take but a small splash for me to knock that thing over.

  “Willis!” Athena calls.

  Athena. She doesn’t deserve a name like that, the divine name of a most magnificent goddess, though Athena’s persis
tence does deserve at minimum some retrospect.

  Athena has been chasing me for a long time. She brings her contraptions and her books. Sometimes she will row her boat to greet me, often too far from the shore for my liking.

  Other times, she simply sits on the beach and reads to me—the legends and folklore that have convinced her of my existence. It makes me feel sorry for her, really.

  The girl has been so preoccupied with me and the other seamen throughout the whole of her existence that I’ve yet to see her in the company of the opposite gender. I wonder if she’s yet to have ever found herself in the arms of a lover.

  It saddens me—though only slightly—to think I am the cause of Athena’s loneliness. And I wonder, does she not know she is lonely?

  Though I’m hardly attracted to her, I suppose if I had legs and arms I might indulge her. If I were the man, the Captain, that I was, I would most certainly give her a taste of all that she has given up for the sake of her scholarly quests.

  “Willis!” she shouts to me again from the beach.

  It makes no sense to hide from Athena now. She’s already entangled herself in the business of magic and the other seamen. She knows all about us and our past. I shall admit, she is a clever creature.

  “Willis!” she stomps her foot in the sand.

  I’m surprised at the tiny thing—calling to me so demandingly. Is she not afraid of the wall—the tidal wave—that I am in front of her? I could easily crush her, kill her instantly! Or, sweep about her skinny legs and drown her with a slow death.