Merlicious 2

by Diane Merlin, Alexis Ke, Cara North

  The family left the island the next day. Her love left with them. No one had returned to this spot. He never came back to see if she was there. She had saved his life, committed a crime among her people, and he didn't even care to see if she was real.

  When a mermaid touches a human for the first time, she is instantly bonded to him. He is to be her mate and then her first kill. Morgan was too young to mate, and one look at his sweet face told her she wasn't able to kill him.

  But as she grew older, she grew colder. Year after year, she had come to this place and reveled in the bittersweet spot.

  Every man who crossed her path felt the wrath of that lost love. This man would feel the same!

  She sat straight, combed her fingers through the long auburn hair and slowly sucked in the surrounding air.

  Oh, she could almost taste him. He was in the water now, floating on his back as though he had not a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the fact that today would be his last.

  A smile curled uncontrollably on her lips.

  Morgan began with a low hum. She lifted her eyes in expectation, but he still just floated along. Morgan sat up straighter, looked over her shoulder, narrowed her gaze and saw the boat change direction. They had heard the hum, and those men were many miles away. With a little more determination, she took a deep breath.

  She sang the Song of the Siren. Louder as the moments passed and he didn't respond. After a while he stood. Her heart beat faster, her lungs strained to contain another verse already aching to call to him.

  But her gaze turned confused when he simply stood and walked back toward the beach.

  Morgan loosened her shoulders and looked around.

  In the distance, there were now two boats heading her way, yet this man with the broad tan shoulders and muscular ass was walking away from her.

  New determination filled her.

  Morgan swam closer and perched in view of the man on the beach. But he didn't look at her. He picked up the towel, shook the sand off then loosely wrapped it around his hips and started walking back toward the house.

  She felt ready to combust with anger! This wicked man was toying with her. How he resisted her song she had no idea, but he would not resist the call to sea. It saved a mermaid a lot of trouble; one song and they dived in to their doom.

  Smoothing her hair, she gave him the full vocal call of the Siren. The two ships behind her steered toward direct impact, both trying to get to her. The man on the beach never looked back. Morgan sang until the ships collided at sea, feeling her wrath. The man on the beach finally stopped, but he just stood there, looking down.

  She stopped, hopeful. He squatted, stood and then carried on as though she didn't exist.

  Fury.

  There was no other word in her vocabulary that would describe what she felt at that time. Morgan knew her blue-green eyes practically flamed with anger.

  She left the men at sea, who no doubt were trying to figure out how they had steered into one another, to salvage themselves. Released from her spell, they were free to save each other. There was only one man she wanted to lure to his doom now, the one walking away from her on the beach.

  Morgan dived into the water and swam in haste to the beach. He would not get away from her. In thousands of years, no man had ever resisted the Siren's Song. This man would be no different.

  As she approached the beach, the water became transparent, and she had to transform. From below her navel to the tip of her fins, she was a fish. Only underneath that, she was a woman. Mermaids were but women that had been cursed and thrown to the sea for being lustful and pagan by Saint Patrick of Ireland, or so the story went. But Morgan knew her namesake came from none other than Morgan Le Fay. Though Saint Patrick cast them to the water, Morgan Le Fay gave them the power to walk out.

  Within the blink of an eye, legs and feet replaced scales and fins. Morgan had never used these legs before. Her great-great-grandmother was one of the women originally cursed to the water by St. Patrick. The sorceress Morgan granted them the ability to reproduce and indulge in the very carnal desires they had been cast out for, or so her grandmother's story went.

  And then there was the Song of the Siren; mermaids were given a voice that would compel any man within a hundred miles to do their bidding. Because men returned and told tales of the mermaid, it was too risky to love a man and set him free. Once mermaids became hunted, they used the song to lure men, sometimes for love, sometimes for revenge.

  And for thousands of years no mermaid had ever left the water to pursue a man. Until now.

  Morgan planted her feet in the sand and walked toward the beach. Feet, for crying out loud, she had feet! Her hair began to feel thick and heavy, weighted by the water. The more she emerged from her fluid home, the heavier her entire body became. Legs that seemed sturdy in the water threatened to collapse under the weight of her body. Hair that touched her knees clung to her naked form and pulled at her scalp.

  "Damn it!” Morgan cursed and wobbled out of the water onto the sand. The man still strolled along. From this distance, she could see him clearly. In full detail, as if she were standing right next to him. Then he grew fuzzy, and as she blinked, he looked farther away.

  "Great!” she yelled. “Now I have the sight of a human. I hate land dwellers!"

  In more of a staggering march than a walk, Morgan headed toward the man. As she cleared the distance, her legs began to burn from the inside out. Muscles that had never been used were screaming at her to take it easy. But she was going to get that man if it killed her.

  "Hey! Hey you!” she called, but he continued strolling along.

  "You there ... Man!” Morgan felt the strain on her newly used limbs and began to pray she wouldn't have to crawl on her belly to get back into the sea. “Male. Guy. Dude!"

  Nothing worked.

  With a burst of fury, she launched into a run. How the legs carried her she had no idea, but they burned, and they stung, and the sand was coarse and biting under her feet. The salty air sank into her lungs, and they stretched and heaved in an attempt to adjust.

  She was within arm's reach. Just one more step and she could touch him. One more inch and she could feel that sun-kissed skin. The flesh of a man.

  Chapter Two

  A conch shell was what stopped him. But it was the woman that toppled him over that demanded his attention.

  Justin fought to control the fear pounding in his heart. It was startling to have someone suddenly tumble over you. Especially since he was on a private island where he was the only inhabitant.

  She looked ... well, she looked amazing—and a mess, out of breath and somewhat angry.

  Of course she looked angry, he thought. She had probably been trying to get his attention, and he couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything. He swallowed the lump in his throat and prayed that she wasn't hurt too bad because there were no phones. No one had been to this place in years. Justin hadn't been to this island since he was a child. He was eleven then, small and scrawny, unable to help his uncle get the boat off the rock it had collided into. He didn't know what happened that day. But he knew he woke up on the beach, and his uncle was never found.

  "Are you okay?” he asked and hoped that the vibrations he felt in his throat still produced the voice he could no longer hear.

  "I have been trying to get your attention,” Morgan screamed.

  "I see. I ... well ... I...” Justin now realized that it wasn't a woman in a fuzzy bathing suit lying in the sand before him. It was a naked woman with the longest red hair he had ever seen. He looked her over and noticed her legs were trembling and her feet bleeding.

  Dear God, she must have fallen overboard and swum all the way. No wonder she looked ready to pass out.

  "Let me help you.” Justin reached for her but then pulled away as she scrambled to stand. Without her facing him, there was no way for him to know what she was saying, but it was a mouthful, he could tell. When she stood on her shaking legs, she fell into
him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He was conscious of her naked state but determined to be a gentleman and help her, despite the rising erection he could feel.

  "...and another thing, when I say something you respond to me.” Morgan drew her brows together and gave him an evil stare.

  Justin smiled. He couldn't help it. She was beautiful and full of fire. She had obviously been through a lot, but she was a survivor and determined to play by her own rules.

  Unfortunately, he had one rule of his own. “If you want me to respond to you, you have to look at me when you are talking."

  "What?” Morgan quirked a brow.

  "I can't hear you unless you are looking at me.” Justin watched her eyes. They seemed to be blue one minute and green the next. Not typical colors, no, true colors, solid and pure like the water.

  "Well hear this. You will obey me!” She said that loud and clear.

  Justin laughed. God, it felt good to laugh again. It was a terrible thing to do. The woman was obviously scared and making demands to protect herself from him, but he wasn't a threat. Of course, she didn't know that. That made him wonder how she ended up here. Had someone dumped her in the ocean?

  "What's your name? How did you get here?” Justin picked her up and started back toward the home his great-grandfather had built.

  "My name is Morgan. And I came from the sea."

  "Well, my name is Justin, and I came from Ohio.” He felt more relaxed about talking to her. She didn't seem to notice his voice was off. Of course, he couldn't tell. He just tried to speak as he had all his life. Only now, he was aware that he might talk too loud or too low. Morgan seemed to hear him just fine.

  "No one has been here in years. Why are you here?” she asked.

  "It's my grandmother's place. My grandfather—"

  "George?"

  "Yes. George Reed. How did you ... have you been staying here?” Justin continued to walk, but he felt her tense in his arms. How she knew who his grandfather was seemed a little off. Maybe she was squatting in the house. She was right. No one had been there in years. Every three months, a housekeeper boated out and checked on the place, but it would be easy for a woman to hide on the small island. Even in the house. Men stopped coming after two died. It was as if the little island were cursed.

  "I've lived here all my life.” With that, she dropped her head.

  Justin continued the walk and tried to sort out in his mind what, if anything, he was going to do with his new friend. If she was living in the house it would be difficult to open it up as rental property. Now that his grandmother had passed and left everything to him, he had to make decisions: decisions about the company; decisions about the property. Decisions about his life.

  Within the last two years, he had literally been destroyed and rebuilt. First, the car accident that left him in the hospital for months. A few scars along his cheek and broken limbs that healed were among the injuries. But he also lost his hearing, and the deafness remained. Then six months ago, his grandmother passed away. She left him the entire inheritance. Reed Custom Stationary had grown to a lucrative business. One he wasn't sure how to operate since he couldn't communicate the normal way anymore.

  At thirty-two, Justin was living a second chance for the second time. He was lucky to survive the boat crash at eleven; he was damn lucky he survived the car wreck at thirty. He wouldn't take anything for granted.

  Especially beautiful naked women who jump on him at the beach!

  Chapter Three

  Morgan hung her head and cried. Justin, her Justin, had returned, yet he acted as though he never knew her. Here he was carrying her to his home, just like in the fantasies she had as a teen and even occasionally as a young woman. He would invite her in. Make love to her. Give her part of his soul because he loved her.

  But instead, he was carrying her, ignoring her tears and, by some unknown power, resisting her voice. He laughed when she told him he would obey her. Laughed right to her face! She wanted to set him on fire with her mind. But it was she who had burst into flames.

  The moment his arms moved around her, she felt warm. He was so much bigger than she ever thought he could be. He towered over her. If she stood back to back against him, her head would stop at his shoulders. And what broad lean shoulders they were.

  Morgan fought the urge to lay her head against him. She felt incredibly tired and dehydrated. She needed water.

  The short hike to the house seemed to go on forever. It was the silence that made it unbearable. She tried to speak a few words once she had her tears under control, but he ignored her.

  Once inside the house, it seemed larger than she imagined it. Built into the hillside, it was hidden and secure through hurricane season. She had lured and questioned a worker many years ago. Since then, no workers would come to the water, and they approached on the opposite side of the island.

  As if she didn't know they were there.

  Justin stepped into a small room and sat her on a cold porcelain seat. She wanted to jump up at the feel of it, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

  "Stay here,” he said. “I'll be right back to clean and bandage those feet."

  Morgan attempted to say something, thought better of it and crossed her arms defiantly instead. That earned her a smile. A high wattage smile that made her guts twist and her stomach warm.

  Justin left the room and returned with a plastic box. He still wore only the towel, and it had loosened up. If the knot gave just a little more, he would be as naked as she was. He knelt before her and cleaned off her bleeding feet.

  "Oh look, it's just a small cut on these two toes here.” Justin placed something that stung over the wound then a bandage. “And only a little one on the heel here.” He treated that foot to the same care. “That's a lot of bleeding for two little cuts."

  When he looked at her, she noticed the scars next to his left eye and along his cheek. Faded thin scars that made him look older, rugged, as though he had really been through something in his life.

  "How did this happen?” Morgan reached out and traced the longest scar. It didn't detract from his looks one bit. He was still handsome. If anything, it made his innocent face look more grown up.

  "I was in a car accident.” Justin tried to lean back out of reach, and that was all the strain the towel needed to come loose and fall around him.

  Morgan watched as he shifted his attention to the towel. His face heated, and a warm pink flush crept across his chest and neck before fully flushing his cheeks. This was her chance, and she was damn well going to take it.

  "Justin,” she said as she pushed her hands behind his head and pulled him to her lips.

  He was startled, she could tell, his arms spinning in a full circle before coming around her. Once they were kissing, he submitted easily. His lips opened, and his tongue dipped into her mouth. It was strange and erotic. Morgan had been presented with more than her share of opportunities over the years to experience a kiss with a man. But she couldn't. Once her lips touched theirs, they all turned into Justin, and they all met their doom for it.

  But this was Justin. And he was amazing. He gently explored her mouth as though he needed the kiss just as badly as her. He teased her tongue, sucked it into his mouth and caressed it with his own in a manner that made her want to feel that tongue on every inch of her body.

  The ache to surrender to him was new. In the ocean, the need to pull a man into the water was a live thing. To control him, to have him submit. Yet, here in this cold little room on this hard little seat, it was all she could do to keep control.

  Chapter Four

  Justin wasn't about to deny her. The moment his lips locked with Morgan's, he was home. There was no other way to describe the sensation. He had made love to many women in his day, but never did a kiss rock his world to the very core.

  Wanting, no, having to have more of her, he slid his arms around her and pulled her up into a standing position. His cock nestled against her
abdomen and twitched against her warm skin. The bathroom was no place to do what he needed to do to her.

  With all the energy he could muster, he pulled out of the kiss.

  "Come with me,” he pleaded and gathered her in his arms.

  With just a short walk down the hall, he was in the master bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed and arranged himself beside her. He watched her eyes for any sign of doubt, but he could only see lust. The same power driving him was reflected in her expression.

  "Justin, make love to me,” Morgan rasped.

  God, how he wished he could hear her voice. Hear his name on her lips. It had to be the worst kind of torture not to hear this woman say his name.

  "Yes,” he replied and hoped the word actually made it out.

  Justin tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and focused his attention there for a moment. His fingertips caressed the shell of her ear, and his lips followed. He wanted to taste her, every single inch of her body. Claim her in every way known to man. He had never felt so strongly about anything in his life. The need to be inside her bit hard at him.

  Determined to take his time and make it worth something for the lady, Justin eased his way down her neck, spreading kisses along her collarbone.

  "You taste so good. So sweet ... like you didn't just walk out of the ocean.” Justin looked at her face for a reaction, but her eyes were closed, and her head pressed back into the pillow. Her lips moved, but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

  Her hands slid over his arms, and as her fingers touched his shoulder, he decided he knew exactly what she was asking for.

  Justin placed a trail of well marked kisses down her breastbone. He stroked one erect nipple with his tongue and pulled the mate with his fingers. It was as if he had awakened her with the touch. Her body moved against him. Her hips lifted, stroking one very wet pussy along his thigh. She kept talking, but with her chin raised, he still couldn't read her lips and make out the words.