Bride of the Sea: A Little Mermaid Retelling (Otherworld Book 3) Page 4

  For her.

  Though her tail trembled, she pulled him through the waters. She desperately wished they could travel underneath the water. Waves splashed in her face, confusing the gills on the side of her neck as they tried to suck in air while her lungs breathed.

  Soon, she was coughing as well. How did humans do this? The air was confusing. There were too many things she could inhale. The water was easy, she breathed through her gills and it filtered out anything she didn’t need. Human lungs were useless.

  Every gurgle from the depths sent adrenaline spiking through her veins. No one could know what she had done. Especially not the sharks, notorious gossips who had never liked her very much anyway.

  Just as her tail shook in exhaustion, she felt sand brush the tips of her fin. It was enough. She relaxed and released her hold on the man in her arms.

  As much as she wanted to rest, the hard part was ahead of her. He couldn’t stay in the ocean.

  She caught her breath for a few moments and then pushed. He would have to survive the dunks under the water as she rolled him onto the sand. Up and up he went until his torso was firmly on land.

  “Just a bit more,” she grunted.

  Dragging herself herself onto land was far different than hauling him. Merrows were naturally graceful creatures, and far more acclimated to land than selkies. But it wasn’t easy.

  She coiled her tail and launched herself onto the soft white sand next to him. Saltwater slid from her scales. They softened and slid away from her pale skin. Her legs felt different above the surface with the sun stroking her limbs.

  Thoughts danced through her mind, all the possibilities of the paths her life could now take. What if a ship came to find him? What if she could flee her father, her brother, all the merrow men who wanted to grasp at her flesh until it turned black and blue?

  She looked at the sailor in a new light. He could be her salvation.

  The remaining mucus of her tail slid off her legs as she leaned over to peer down into his face. He was still breathing. The broad expanse of his chest lifted and fell in a hypnotic rhythm.

  Gently, she touched a single finger to the intriguing muscles of his chest. A necklace hung in the valley of his chest, accentuating the broad musculature. Light from the pink sunrise reflected off the round single pearl at the end of the chain.

  “Who are you?” she murmured. “How did you end up in faerie waters? Didn’t you know it was dangerous?”

  He couldn’t answer her questions, but it made her feel better to ask them. A second finger joined the first, walking up his sternum to touch the long column of his suntanned throat.

  The muscles worked beneath her touch, shocking her. He was so similar to her, and yet so different. The pale skin of her hand fairly glowed against the darkness of his.

  Trailing up his neck, she touched the bristly hairs that made up his coarse beard. It was softer than she expected although still strange. The merrows who had gone to land said humans brushed their hair. Did he brush this as well?

  Her fingers caught on a golden bead tangled in the long strands. Decorations? Adornments? Did it mean he was important?

  “Are you a prince?” she asked.

  He groaned low in his throat.

  Saoirse flinched back, drawing her hand away from the beard which parted to reveal rows of blinding white teeth.

  “Water,” he rasped. “Water.”

  She didn’t have water he could drink. Saoirse knew humans didn’t drink saltwater. Their bodies couldn’t filter it the way merrows could, which was why so many sailors died at sea when the winds fled and the ocean called for their souls.

  Instead, she curled herself around him and brushed her fingers through the long, tangled snarls of his hair.

  “Shh,” she murmured. “Rest easy, my prince. Go to sleep and all shall be well.”

  He didn’t seem to believe her. Delirious and blinking, he stared directly into her eyes.

  Dark eyes, like hers. But the more she looked at them, the more she realized there were colors of the ocean in his eyes. They appeared brown at first, like the dirt they dug up for her tree. But flecks of yellow, green, blue, every color she had ever seen, all existed within his gaze.

  Lust speared through her chest and stole her breath. He was so handsome that she couldn’t even think.

  “Who are you?” His voice warbled with strain. “How did you find me?”

  “You should be resting.”

  “I have no wish to rest. I was drowning.”

  She hesitated, licking her lips at the harsh tones in his voice. He was frightening while awake and she much preferred him asleep. “The ocean is a cruel mistress; she wanted your soul for her own.”

  “Why didn’t she get it?”

  The question in his eyes was one she couldn’t answer. Saoirse knew the sea wanted him. It wanted to drag him down into the depths so that his sailor body would feed her children and his spirit would wander the currents for all eternity.

  Her expression softened, and she tentatively brushed her finger over the frown lines on his forehead.

  “I did not want her to take you.” She shouldn’t say it, but she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out the admission.

  His brow wrinkled. “Why?”

  “I wanted to meet you first.”

  His brow furrowed even more, flexing behind her fingers.

  Saoirse smiled and bit her lip. “I have ever been a selfish thing. I desire that which I cannot have.”

  “You can have me anytime you want, beautiful.” His voice shivered across her skin, deep and sensual.

  Her cheeks burned red. Was she ill? She reached up and touched the pads of her fingers to the heat, realizing quickly that it was a reaction to his words. Was she embarrassed? Was this how human bodies reacted?

  “I should go,” she quickly replied. “Stay well, prince.”

  “Go?” He moved to sit up. “Where are we?”

  She couldn’t afford for him to sit up. He would know she was a merrow and then all her plans would be ruined. Humans didn’t know what to do with faeries, let alone those that came out of the sea.

  Launching herself at his chest, she pushed him back into the sand.

  A warm hand pressed against her spine, holding her close to the heat that billowed from his skin in waves.

  She stared down into his strange eyes and swallowed. “You almost died.”

  And she couldn’t bear the thought of it. The lament of death was a song she knew well. It was a song she did not want to sing for him.

  “I feel much better now.”

  “I can see that.”

  His fingers shifted over the bumps of her back. “I hadn’t noticed you weren’t wearing much.”

  “Much?” She wasn’t wearing anything. Merrows didn’t, it wasn’t in their nature. Bodies were bodies, and they weren’t embarrassed by them.

  “It was your hair,” he murmured. “I must not be as awake as I thought. Your hair was covering you and I thought it was some kind of headdress.”

  “I said, you should rest.”

  “Am I dreaming?” He leaned back slightly, lifting a strand of her wet hair to the light. “I’ve never seen hair such as this.”

  “Never?” She shook her head, dislodging his warm hand and the confusing feelings it evoked. “I should go.”

  Saoirse fought her way out of his arms. Her legs didn’t want to listen to her orders, not surprising considering she still hadn’t gotten used to the strange limbs, but they were even more unruly around him. Knees shaking, she whimpered as she stood.

  Embarrassing. This entire situation had been embarrassing. He must think her a weak little thing, incapable of even standing on her own.

  “Wait.”

  His words made her freeze just at the edge of the water. Trembling, she tucked her hands close to her heart and stared out to sea. “Yes?”

  “Will you come back?”

  “I want to.” More than anything else in the world. Her so
ul already ached at the mere thought of his loss although she didn’t understand why. No man had ever wiggled underneath her skin. Not like this.

  “That isn’t a yes,” he said. Amusement warmed his voice to sweet wine.

  “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

  “Do you always do what you’re told?”

  The tone of his voice made her turn, curious what this strange human could be suggesting.

  He laid out on the sand, his head on his hand and his legs crossed at his ankles. The shark-like grin on his face made her shiver.

  “Well?” he asked. “Do you always follow the rules, my strange female friend?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Show me.”

  She stooped down, grasped the rock hidden beneath the water, and tossed it as hard as she could. It struck his head with a solid thump and knocked him flat on his back. Tiny puffs of sand burst into the air.

  “Oh,” she muttered. “That might have been too hard.”

  Breath brushed her hand when she leaned down and pressed it against his mouth. He was alive, and she was still the foolish one.

  Saoirse pressed her fingers firmly against his lips. “You can’t know I’m a faerie. You can’t know anything about who I am, or you won’t take me with you when you leave.”

  Humans knew merrow men were dangerous to deal with. Stealing a merrow from them was as good as signing a death warrant. And though she felt guilty tricking him into stealing her away, she didn’t think he would mind much.

  Casting one last glance at the intriguing human, she slid beneath the waves and deep into the heart of the sea.

  Eilean An Fhaerie

  Manus thrashed through the underbrush, cursing the leaves that stood in his way. What were these strange growths? He’d never seen a plant in the middle of the ocean grow so tall, so wide, nor so large.

  But they did here.

  Leaves as large as his head reached towards the sky and slammed down on him every time he tried to walk around them. It made for slow progress, and all he wanted to do was explore a little.

  The isle did not want to relinquish its secrets. He had looped around it multiple times in the days since he had awoken. It took exactly half a day to come back to the same place where he’d first opened his eyes.

  He knew, because he left a line of rocks from the edge of the jungle all the way to the water lapping at the pristine, white sand.

  And what a lot of good it had done. All he knew was that it took half a day to round the entire isle.

  Every time he tried to go into the interior, the vegetation stopped him. From the giant leaves, to the strange flowers, and spine-chilling growls, everything seemed to work against him.

  He fought with plants until the sun dipped below the horizon, and only then did he go back to his line of rocks. A small bit of food awaited him every night, along with a pitcher of fresh water.

  Huffing out a frustrated breath, he turned around and stared at the waves. Nothing yet, but the sun was close to skimming the western horizon. Whoever brought him the food would reveal themselves soon, or he wouldn’t eat.

  Somehow, he didn’t think they would let him go hungry. They had gone through a lot of trouble to keep him alive.

  Then there was the mysterious woman he remembered. Her eyes haunted his dreams. Big and black like the deepest point of the ocean, but so kind it made his chest burn.

  He’d never seen a woman who looked like that before. He’d never seen a woman who made him feel like this before.

  Manus assumed she lived on the isle and spent many of his first days looking for her. It didn’t take long before he realized she wasn’t anywhere near him, no one living was, and that she must have come from another isle nearby.

  The problem was that he didn’t think there was another nearby isle. He’d scaled a palm tree and stared out at the horizon for hours. There was no land nearby, nothing but water and waves.

  He glanced over his shoulder again.

  No food, no water, no small platter made of gilded metal that was far too fine for the likes of him. This place was strange and his mysterious benefactor even more so.

  “Let’s see who you really are,” he muttered.

  If he had to resort to trickery, then he would. Manus punched a leaf so hard it flew up into the air. Using the opportunity, he ducked beneath the small space revealed for a split second before the it snapped back down.

  The dim light made it difficult to see what might be around him. He could smell the earthy loam, the decaying plants, and the faintly sweet scent of flowers. His bare feet sunk into the wet soil where he curled his toes.

  If he had to wait all night, he would. Whoever was providing food and water would arrive. He was certain of it.

  Manus waited for what felt like hours. The sun froze, the waves slowed, everything hesitated with bated breath. Would the mysterious person arrive? Would it be the woman with dark eyes and hair so black it shone green like whale oil on water?

  No one arrived. Darkness fell over the isle, and the moon showed its silver face.

  Manus frowned. He hadn’t expected them not to arrive. Why wouldn’t they show up? It had been five nights, and every night someone had left food and water for him.

  Strange.

  His knees creaked as he stood. He’d bed down in the sand again tonight. The sun’s heat didn’t leave it until late into the night, and the air was strangely warm here.

  Slumping to the ground, he wrapped his arms around his knees and stared at the waves lapping at the shore. Just when he thought he had it figured out, his strange circumstances changed.

  Where was he?

  A soft sound danced down his spine. Not the quiet sound of someone hidden moving. A whine, like that of a wounded animal.

  The last thing he needed was to discover he wasn’t alone here. If there were beasts that hunted, then he had little to protect himself with.

  He curled his hands into fists and glanced down the shore. A white form slumped half in the ocean and half out of it.

  “What?” he muttered.

  It looked like a dog or some semblance of one at least. The long muzzle was familiar. He’d seen wolfhounds as a boy, used to play with them outside the butcher’s who had used them as guard dogs. They were fiercely loyal and dangerous, but kind to those who treated them with respect.

  Slowly standing, he approached the animal as quietly as he could.

  “Easy boy.” Manus poured honey into his voice, calming and peaceful. “Did you wash up on shore as well?”

  The mutt whined again. It only had enough energy to turn its head towards him, then let its jaw rest against the sand.

  “Let me guess. A strange woman brought you here? Hair the color of oil on water?”

  An ear pricked forward.

  “You’re a good wee beastie, aren’t you? You won’t bite me.”

  He stepped too close, and the dog curled a lip. Manus carefully watched the dog, unsurprised that it would feel threatened.

  The closer he got, the more he realized this was no normal dog. Its fur had a slightly green tint to it although he thought it might be a trick of the moonlight, and it was far too large. Almost as big as a half-grown cow, it would fit just underneath his arm if it stood up.

  “Cù sìth?” Manus exclaimed.

  The dogs were said to be a legend. They were faerie born, the faithful companions of only a few Fae who proved themselves worthy.

  For humans, they were the harbingers of death. They walked at the sides of bean sídhes, waiting for the moment when their faerie would cry out at the taste of carrion in the air. The dogs were rumored to then steal human souls.

  He shivered but shook his head. “You aren’t here to kill me, are you boy? You’re just as unlucky as I.”

  Stooping just out of the dog’s reach, he hunkered down and cocked his head to the side.

  It was an intelligent enough creature to know it was being watched. Manus guessed the cù sìth was male. It wa
s larger than the legends claimed, and the growl in its throat was deep.

  “Easy there, friend. What shall I call you?”

  The beast snorted.

  “When I was a boy, I used to be obsessed with Manannán mac Lir, god of the sea, and king of the ocean I love. I shall call you Mac Lir in honor of the Tuatha dé Danann who gave you to me.”

  He heard a tiny sound behind him. Something another might have missed, but Manus was a very perceptive man. He listened for the slightest of sounds which may be important—like the slight clink of a plate hitting gilded edges.

  It took everything he had not to whip around. The person who had taken care of him was there, close enough he might be able to run and catch them.

  Was it the woman? Did she row a boat all the way out here just to feed him? Was she hiding from someone?

  His mind drifted towards the possibility of a husband causing her to run away into the ocean. There must be a mainland somewhere.

  He lifted his voice but spoke to the cù sìth. “Do you know the story of mac Lir?”

  The faerie dog twitched its ear, one forward and one back. Its eyes were not focused on him, but on something behind him.

  “He was a great and powerful Tuatha dé Danann. Half druid, half Fae. Some say he was more powerful than Nuada himself. Now, that is not an observation I might make, but he is an incredible figure in our mythology.

  “You see, mac Lir had the ability to call upon the mists. He would wrap them around himself and his armies until no one could see them. I’ve seen such magic out in the middle of the ocean. One moment you can see, and the next? The mist is so dense you can’t even see your own hands.

  “He would wrap these mists around him like a great shroud.” Manus lifted his hands, gesturing as if he wrapped a cloak over his shoulders. “Once, invaders almost saw the isle—perhaps similar to this one—that he lived on. Mac Lir called upon the mists and the isle disappeared.”

  The dog gave him a disbelieving look.

  “I’m just telling you about your namesake, boy. At least enjoy the story, would you?”

  If anything, the cù sìth enjoyed it less. The Fae beast turned its head away from him and heaved a great sigh.