Paradise of Shadows and Devotion

by Gaja J. Kos

  After all, a life can sometimes be easier to give—and lose—than the entirety of your heart.

  10

  After Santino whipped us up some breakfast—a delicious serving of honey-covered waffles with a steaming cup of black coffee on the side—he left the cabin to meet up with Caz. My cheek still burned where he had traced his fingers in a silent goodbye, and I spent the majority of the morning browsing through his selection of books to chase away the lingering sensation. The inexplicable longing it stirred.

  I stayed well away from anything even remotely smelling of romance—more of a challenge than I’d thought—and in the end curled up in an armchair with a historical novel from a Slovenian author that had supposedly become a classic after the morass had swallowed me up. The story was captivating, speaking of a family who had ended up split between two opposing sides during World War II, and the prose flowed like music. But despite my immense gratitude for being able to run my gaze across the black-on-cream paragraphs, it wasn’t the glimpses of the characters’ tragic lives that filled my mind.

  It was Santino.

  Again and again, he reemerged, the scent of pine ensnaring my senses until it felt as if he were right here in the cabin with me.

  Eventually, I realized that trying to force myself to concentrate on reading was a futile endeavor. I’d never had any difficulties immersing myself in fictional worlds, even with books that fell on the blander side of art. So it was safe to presume that no amount of effort on my part was going to make me forget about the reality that seemed more like a fairy tale than anything these volumes harbored between their covers. I slipped a piece of paper inside to note where I’d left off, then slid the leather-bound volume back on its place on the top shelf. I spared it one last apologetic look before I wandered outside, squinting at the sun blazing from above.

  I leaned my forearms against the wooden railing of the porch and focused on my breaths, on the nature around me. The lake beyond the cabin was utterly quiet. I had become so used to the endless sloshing of waves and humming of currents that I needed a few moments to grow accustomed to the serenity overflowing my senses now.

  It wasn’t wrong, this calmness. Just unusual.

  And more than anything, it was inviting.

  I bit my lip. Santino had said he wanted to offer me a place where I would be safe, and I couldn’t help the tears prickling at the back of my eyes at knowing he’d given me far more than mere safety.

  He’d given me back a piece of myself.

  It was a gift I didn’t want to waste.

  Quickly, I scanned the vivid brown-and-green expanse of the forest enveloping the lake from all directions, double-checking that I was, indeed, alone, with no prying eyes ogling me from the brush. Reassured, I kicked off my flip-flops, unzipped my floral-patterned skirt, and draped it carefully across the railing. The T-shirt came next, then my bra, and, finally, panties.

  A low, husky laugh escaped my lips as the warm wind touched my naked skin, and with each barefoot step I took along the pebbled path leading to the glassy surface, the sound only grew. Louder. Happier.

  The shackles cultivated by the morass released their hold, retreating into the background where they stayed. I could still feel their presence, but it held no more substance than an eerie, inky shadow.

  It couldn’t touch me now.

  I let out a liberating breath.

  Every instinct inside me urged to hurry and throw myself into the embrace of water, but I refused to rush something this monumental. So I walked alongside the shore first, soaking in the sun as I made my way to a small pier. The wooden boards were weathered, but secure, and I padded down the narrow strip all the way to the very edge, my smile growing.

  The water below was clear, but deep enough to darken, which also meant I was free to do what I’d craved for ever since the initial shock of the shift had subsided and I’d found myself trying to pull together a semblance of a life in Piran. I chewed on my lip, then planted my feet firmly on the edge of the board, knees slightly bent. Another smile bloomed on my face as I swung my arms. I brought them gracefully over my head, then kicked my feet, and, every muscle in my body taut and controlled, propelled myself into a forward dive.

  The instant my hands pierced the surface, the cool touch of stark, alpine water snaked up my arms, my head, my breasts, then followed the trail of my stomach all the way to my still-human legs. The warmth of magic swept through me with almost a kind of gratitude—or perhaps it was my own emotions, my own relief, transforming the change into a thing of utterly beautiful rapture.

  I glided through the water with ease as the ethereal energy fueled my skin, and once I started to aid the movement with my own body, it was the power of a tail, not the kicking of feet, pushing me forward and farther away from shore. Bubbles of laughter rose as I explored the lake, dipping all the way down to the slick pebbles lining the bottom before drifting higher to where the sun could lay its caresses on my exposed skin. Occasionally, I twirled around to glance at the shimmering spill of lilac and turquoise scales, wondering how it was possible that something of such extravagant beauty was an actual part of me—how a water nymph, stripped of the colors of life through misfortune and misguidance, had been granted this gift?

  Regardless of the Rusalkas’ hostility towards mermaids and its chilling manifestation, I couldn’t rid myself of the sentiment that what the shift in the fabric of reality had bestowed upon me was a blessing, not a curse. I might never be a part of the living world again, but drifting through the crystal bed of water, adorned with scales that glimmered like the most precious jewels, I had never felt more alive.

  Briefly, I resurfaced, drinking in this new perspective on the pocket of nature Santino had brought me to. Puffy white clouds floated on the backdrop of the brilliant blue sky that reached all the way to the striking greens of pine needles and wide-spread leaves. The entire world seemed like an intimate dance of light and darkness, the melodic chirping of birds only accentuating the harmony of the breathtaking sight. I leaned back on the water, letting the currents play with my hair and trace a gentle line of kisses down my back while the nurturing rays of late-morning sun warmed my breasts and stomach.

  I didn’t know when I started to cry, but the whispers of water spoke of the tears that had joined its depths, becoming one.

  Delicate currents snaked around me like phantom arms, nestling me in their soothing embrace and promising me that this beauty was one I would never lose. That while the world could be barren and hostile, it didn’t have to be such for me.

  I stilled.

  For a long, long moment, all I did was draw deep, steadying breaths. I didn’t dare look away from the never-ending blue of the sky.

  Afraid of what I would see. Of what I would find.

  But the caresses didn’t stop falling upon my skin. They only intensified.

  The realization that I wasn’t dreaming up their almost sentient attempt at comfort ripped my gaze from the sky. I looked down the length of my body, a gasp escaping my lips as it became clear, without a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn’t my imagination making more out of nature than it was.

  It was my mind, willing the nature to cradle me.

  Somewhat ungracefully, I dunked my tail beneath the surface and scanned the lake.

  Alone. I was still alone.

  And yet there truly was a sentience hovering around me. A quiet, gentle presence that imbued every atom of water—waiting for me to speak with it again.

  By the gods…

  It wasn’t jealousy that drove Rusalkas to hunt mermaids. It wasn’t the life or the liberties we possessed.

  No, what planted the seed of hatred was our ability to bend nature to our will.

  11

  Tremors vibrated through my body as a narrow, tubular jet of water created a perfect arch across the glassy surface. I sucked in a breath, then willed the liquid to flatten, changing its shape until it resembled a dainty bridge.

  Impossible.

 
It was impossible, and yet every thing I thought of took form before my eyes.

  Tentatively, I extended my hand towards the translucent construction. My fingers dipped through it with minimal resistance, but the structure still held. Almost as if I were immaterial, nothing more than a ghost passing through solid walls.

  I furrowed my brow and directed the stream to coil around my wrist like a spiral bracelet. For a second, the water wavered, then a cool sensation lay upon my sun-warmed skin, the liquid reshaping itself into an elegant decoration that spanned from wrist to elbow. With a new flutter of my magic pulsing from my core, I morphed it into a lacy glove, then slowly let it slip down, allowing it to join with the main body of water once more.

  When the trickle died down to mere isolated droplets, I focused on a single bead. I captured its tear-shaped form in my mind, tugged on the lively, ethereal connection I shared with it until I could feel its very resonance coursing through my veins. The droplet didn’t even stir as I held it in place, suspended between the tip of my finger and the glimmering surface of the lake.

  A laugh bubbled from my lips. There were no words in this world to do justice to what I was feeling, to describe how the intimate bond, flowing between me and the atoms fulfilled me as they responded to my every wish.

  I wasn’t some higher force, imposing my will on nature like I had initially believed. It was more as if the surrounding water was a part of me as much as I was a part of it. Symbiosis. Harmony. I didn’t know how to name this unusual state, yet I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this affinity was something sacred. A joining of two halves that belonged together… And had been separated for long enough already.

  I understood now that the call of the sea I’d felt day after day as I wandered around Piran hadn’t been one-sided.

  Those waves had bore more than mere whispers of a natural habitat, calling to the mermaid within. No, it wasn’t only my own needs and desires that had clawed at my insides until I thought I would crumble from the pain. The water, the tide—it longed for my presence, too.

  As I let the droplet fall, I focused my thoughts, as well as my senses, on the spreading ripples. Gradually, I entwined more of my magic with the waves, lifting them higher and transforming them into shapely slabs that reminded me of the stripped bones of half-constructed buildings. Foundations of something that had yet to grow.

  More and more water flowed into the walls from below, pushing them closer to the vivid blue of the sky, until I could hardly discern where one ended and the other began. Then, slowly and with tightly controlled thoughts, I shaped my magic into an artist’s brush, painting what I wished to see.

  Elegant columns lined the edges and broke the flat surface of the walls, windows with billowing curtains nestled in the empty spaces. They were framed with shimmering flowers that snaked along the intricate vines, a few of them even coiling across the windowsills, all of it creating a sight straight out of a fairy tale.

  The roofs manifested next. Elegant and sharp, the varied angles reminded me of the house my grandfather had built in his desire to recreate some of the quickly disappearing old world appeal within the heart of an ever growing, ever evolving city. He had succeeded.

  And so did I.

  I drifted a little farther away, water sloshing at the small of my back and licking at my navel as I searched for that perfect spot to admire the crystalline palace now standing proudly before me. Fragmented swashes of blue, brown, and green shone through its translucent form, almost as if the forest itself were embedded in the watery walls, liquid and solid matter merged into one.

  With a laugh, I sent a ripple up one of the columns, scattering the colors and watching them flicker like embers before settling down once more.

  Only it wasn’t the subsiding swirl of greens that made my breath catch in my throat. It was the single slash of silver, breaking up the harmonious, earthly tones.

  The palace collapsed, soaking my nearly dry hair and weighing down the lilac strands. Instinctively, I batted my wet eyelashes to blink past the water even when my mermaid biology made sure such occurrences could never hinder my sight.

  But I did it again. And again. Perhaps in some futile hope that the man standing on the shore would prove to be no more than an apparition if I simply kept blinking for long enough.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Santino said, still perfectly immobile, as if he were afraid of scaring me away.

  Not that I could blame him. I hadn’t as much as breathed since I realized it truly was him, watching me with those silver-blue eyes. Only my tail moved, keeping me above the surface from the waist up.

  Oh…

  Heat flooded my cheeks when the implications of that last thought sank in.

  Quickly, I lowered myself deeper into the lake’s embrace, willing the currents to guide my drenched hair so that the lilac strands were now draped over my exposed breasts, covering the tight nipples.

  Santino didn’t comment on my sudden dip—or the blush he undoubtedly saw blooming on my face. He simply tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head in a single, smooth move. He let it fall to the ground with a carelessness that left my lips dry, then guided his hand down to the button on his slacks.

  I sucked in a breath, unable to avert my gaze from the tantalizing dance of his long, elegant fingers as they slid free the button before pulling down on the zipper and revealing the thick curl of silver hair crowning his growing erection.

  My cheeks burned, but I still couldn’t stop my blatant staring. Santino paid me no heed as he kicked off his loafers and hooked his fingers behind the waist of his pants. Then, slowly, tauntingly, peeled them off to expose his chiseled, beautifully sun-kissed skin. With no boxers in sight, there was nothing to impede my view of his hard, thick masculinity.

  And the knowing, satisfied smile he gave me when I finally lifted my gaze—the smile that reached all the way to his eyes—was the most inviting thing I’d ever seen, leaving me speechless and aching.

  Everything—everything he would do to me was etched in that liquid silver that bled into the striking pale blue. Every kiss. Every long, slow flick of his tongue. Every moan he would coax out of my depths as he delved into my core.

  If only I said yes.

  My lips were parched, my voice gone someplace I had no hope of retrieving it from, and the little ripples of water brushing against my breasts suddenly seemed like a living extension of Santino’s erotic aura.

  I didn’t know whether to rush towards him or flee to the depths of the lake. So I did neither.

  I only watched the flex of his muscles as he waded into the water, feeling his presence, his hunger through every current snaking my way. It wrapped around me, keeping me immobile, waiting—perhaps even wishing that he would make good on the silent, heated promise.

  He swam towards me with the kind of grace that spoke of just how utterly in control he was of his body, the movement elegant, masculine in a way I’d never thought such a simple task could be. And yet as I observed him, as my own desire spread through my flesh, enflaming every nerve, every cell, every thought, I remembered—

  In the embrace of water, I was a predator. And he was my prey.

  The truth slammed into me with such force that by the time Santino reached me, hovering within reach but not touching, my fear for him rivaled the carnal longing rushing through my veins. I focused on keeping my magic from permeating my voice, reeling it inside until the lake around me stilled, no longer bound to me, but a separate entity in which I reigned.

  Santino noticed the change. His gaze swept across the reflective surface, then fell back on me, warm and unafraid.

  “You don’t have to do that, piccola,” he whispered, swimming closer despite my silent protest. “You wouldn’t hurt me. So don’t hide who you are. Please.”

  I shook my head, biting my lip when the heat rolling off his body brushed against mine. The droplets that made their way languidly down the line of his neck glistened in invitation and, more than anythi
ng, I wanted to press my lips to his pulse. To trace the alluring curve leading to his shoulder and caress the sun-kissed skin as he wrapped me in his arms—

  “Did you know?” I asked instead.

  A smile touched his lips. Light. Loving. “No, I did not.”

  “Then how can you be so certain I’ll be able to control this power?” My voice threatened to break, from the changes I was still only starting to uncover. From my desire for him—so misguided and inappropriate, yet real. Stronger than anything I’d ever felt. Even the pull of the water.

  But even if I somehow managed to forget about the differences between us, even if I succeeded in pushing beyond the knowledge that I was a hunter, I couldn’t change the fact that in my very nature, I was still designed to seduce—and ultimately kill. As a mermaid, my voice might not be lethal unless I wished it, but I didn’t know about the rest of it…

  Santino’s knuckles brushed against my cheek. “I saw you, Liana. What you did… It wasn’t malevolence, but a thing of beauty.”

  His other hand snaked around my back, drawing me to him. I looked up into those silver-blue eyes, slowly taking his weight to keep us afloat, then ran my fingers down his honed chest.

  Keeping us apart. Keeping us together.

  Gods, I wished he was right. That there was more to my existence than the velvet call of death.

  My kiss hadn’t harmed him before—perhaps…perhaps fate would be kind. Just this once.

  “The Rusalkas taught you to hunt,” he breathed onto my lips. “They taught you to kill. But patterns can be broken, cara. It is only you who has the power to decide who you want to be. A killer”—his lips touched the corners of mine—“or a lover.”