Tridia (The Poseidia Series Book 3) Page 10
“Where did you get dead bodies?”
“That’s top-secret information.” He held his hand out for my bags, his face unreadable.
I handed them over, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you kidding?”
He smiled. “I have my way of doing things and I prefer, for my own safety, if no one knows certain details.” He dropped my bags next to his and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“What about Queen Atlas? She can’t become governor.”
He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed the wrinkly cloth over his bag. Still appearing human, his tanned, hairless chest, with perfectly toned abs, made my mouth water.
“We have no choice but to abandon the mission. If you get within sight of her, she’ll have you arrested, and for good cause.” He bent over and slipped his shoes off, tossing them to the growing pile at bed’s foot. Having shed enough clothes to be comfortable, he flopped down on the mattress. The rusty springs complained with a loud squeak.
“Maybe.” I looked around the room. “Where are we?” I asked, walking to the barred window in the yellow wall’s center. Chilly ceramic tiles covered the floors.
“A fun town—a slight detour on our way home.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m never serious. Serious is boring. We are going to have fun. Lots and lots of fun.” Eric rose and kneeled on the bed, unzipping his pants. “Come here.” He held out his hand for me.
Smiling despite the dire circumstances, I placed my hand in his and allowed him to drag me close. He cradled my head, sensuously dragging his fingertips along the contours of my face, slowly down my neck and onto my chest, before lightly brushing his hands over my shoulders, and around my back to draw me in. He grazed his lips over mine, whispering, “Time to be free.”
Before I could protest, he pushed my dress off my shoulders, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall to the floor. Fading sunlight filtered into the room through thin, moth-eaten curtains. Leaving the bed, he stood next to me, and dropped his pants. Confidently, he lifted me with a hand in each of my armpits. Out of pure reflex, I squeezed my legs around his pelvis while he backed me up against the stucco. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him deeply.
Levering away, so that his hips held me firmly suspended against the wall, he ran his hands up and down my bare chest. “I told you… I would corrupt you.”
I groaned.
Strong, as though I weighed nothing, we made love, the gentle scratch of peeling paint on my back and ass adding to the sensational bliss. Again on the bed, and the third time I held onto the metal bars for support as he stroked me deeply from behind, his hands on my hips.
After a good hour, he pulled on his clothes. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”
“Out where? You still haven’t told me where we are.”
He twisted the bracelet he wore. Not realizing how accustomed I’d become to its presence, I looked at my own. We were breaking Mer rules, big time.
Fun.
I had forgotten what fun was.
“Meet you downstairs,” he said, abruptly exiting the room.
After he left, I walked to the window, trying to discern our location. Nighttime had fallen not long ago. Car exhaust assaulted my sensitive Mer nose. Some dirty city.
I showered quickly, remembering the uncomfortable water’s burn when I’d been at Clara’s. This water felt soft, much different. I had to work to get all the soap residue off my body.
I didn’t bring much other than Poseidian dresses. However, I had a short, black skirt, a bright red silk tank top, and black strappy heels. In the rush to leave, I hadn’t packed any undergarments or makeup—I didn’t think I’d need them in Atlia.
Butterflies fluttered in my belly, excited for the chance to mingle amongst humans.
How often does Eric do this?
Did Roman?
Chapter 23
In the foyer, Eric patiently waited at a round wooden table.
“Where are we going?” I asked, gesturing with my hands, seeking his opinion on my outfit.
He nodded in approval. “Out to have some fun.”
Our first stop—a smoky dance club. Eric cut to the line’s front, and we were escorted to the VIP section. Spanish music and mainly Latino people in colorful, if scanty, attire.
South America?
Mexico?
Settling on a purple velvet couch, Eric dragged me onto his lap. Loads of cash from his pockets bought rounds of drinks for the whole place, repeatedly. Women swarmed to his side, oblivious to me. Men in black suits hovered, watching his every move.
As the night wore on, I drank so many dirty martinis, I actually buzzed from human alcohol. I laughed. We danced. Fast. Slow. Other women danced with him, when I gave my feet a rest, and he generously showered affection on them. Eric remained Eric.
We wandered to the second floor, where we had a view of the dancing below. Hundreds of humans swayed, intoxicated on drugs, liquor, love, or all of the above.
Up here, behind small tables littered with empty glasses, sofas sat in darkened corners. People smoked and made out, often more than two on a couch.
I gripped the metal railings, watching the humans below. Eric stayed by my side, kissing the back of my neck. Leaning into his embrace, I tucked my back against him.
As I stood hypnotized by movement below, an energy seemed to rise from their bodies.
Eric pressed his erection against me. “Watch carefully.”
“It’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” he whispered into my ear, grinding his length against my butt. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin. Hiking my already short skirt higher, I pressed his hand against my inner thigh.
“The colors,” I answered, moving with him. “The humans are smoking colors.”
He laughed. “They’re not smoking. That’s their energy.”
“Some of it’s dark and muddy. Others are clearer, more colorful. It moves.”
“Watch them,” he encouraged. “Clear the dark and muddy energy out.”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
Too intoxicated to do anything other than follow his instructions, I focused on their energy. As I did, the colors rose to me, stroking my senses. I struggled to sort the dark, muddy colors out, imagining a filter. Colorful, clear energy entered my mouth and I gasped in surprise. The resulting buzz and euphoria made the Connective seem like child’s play.
“Oh my god,” I cried. “Oh my god.”
“I told you,” he whispered, “I would corrupt you.”
Chapter 24
I awoke the next morning on the rundown villa’s saggy mattress. Alone. A single pink rose lay on the pillow next to me. When I turned my head, vertigo assaulted my senses.
Worst hangover ever.
Sitting up, I discovered I was completely naked. I had no memory of returning here last night. In fact, I didn’t remember anything after the weird human energy suction.
A basket of fruit and bread waited on the dresser, directly across from the bed. The needling reminder of dehydration set in, and I desperately wanted to be back in Atlia. Dizziness forced me to sit back down when I tried to stand.
Tucking the sheet around me, I gradually gained the strength to stand and made my way over to the basket. Poseidian fruit—thank god. A pitcher of water stood behind the basket and, ignoring the glass, I drank greedily. Refreshed and sturdier, I detached a handful of grapes and plopped them, two at a time, into my dry mouth.
Eric’s bag was still on the floor, where he’d tossed it last night—he’d be back. The incessant honking of horns brought me to the window. I peeked out. Busy cars buzzed by, the sun at high noon, or shortly after. My sensitive eyes screamed from the blazing sun. I quickly shut the curtains and closed my eyes.
Crap.
What have I done?
What a mess I’ve made.
I should go home. Speak with Atlas, and take care of Laith.
Find out if Allison survived the change.
With my portal key on my ear, I grabbed my two bags and set the coordinates for Atlia. Eric will know where to find me.
Back in Atlia, I went straight to the nursery, where I found Lily feeding Laith.
“Lily, I’m so glad you’re here. How is Allison?” Desperation and guilt edged into my voice. If she’d died, her fate—passing away with no family, and in an unfamiliar environment—would be my fault.
Lily placed her finger to her lips and set Laith in his play area. Taking my hand, she led me out of earshot.
A safe distance from any community members, Lily finally spoke, “Allison lives.”
My heart soared. She made it!
“Can… can I go see her? I have so many questions.”
Lily shook her head. “Not now. She is in a healing tank, and will likely remain there for several weeks, if not longer. Her lungs were severely damaged. We are hopeful our technology will help them heal.”
“You’re not sure she will… survive?”
“Not 100 percent. Her gills work fine. However, if her human lungs don’t heal, she will not be able to breathe outside of the ocean. Allison would have to remain in Mer form for her lifespan.”
“Oh.”
“The infusion worked. Her success, so closely following yours and Laith’s, gives our communities hope that more humans will now survive the change. The data we obtained from your successful modification is what saved her life. You should be happy.”
“I am happy,” I told myself as much as Lily. “I guess I had hoped she could return to her parents, surprise them with her recovery.” Stupid, silly girl. You couldn’t return to land fulltime, neither will she.
Guilty, I remembered Mark, and how much he wanted to be the one to save her. Now he will never have the chance to say goodbye to his baby girl. Her mother must be absolutely distraught.
But she’ll live.
Maybe not a perfect human life, but Allison will live. The opportunity to learn, to love, to maybe have children of her own.
True, I hadn’t thought through every tiny detail, but I didn’t have time. The decision to bring her here had been an impulsive choice between the surety of death, and the chance for life. I had to trust everything would somehow work out for the best.
“She can never return to her former human life.” A rare scolding tone laced Lily’s admonition.
“I… know, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t intend for anyone to get hurt. My only goal was to save her life.”
Lily nodded, communicating she understood without further explanation. “What’s done is done. Now we move forward. Lucas would like to see you.”
“Oh no. Now what?”
“A simple checkup for his report to the High Council. We do want to keep them content and away, correct?” She whispered the last sentence, scanning the room, as if they might jump out and arrest her.
“Yeah. We do. Definitely. I’ll go through the motions for Allison. Don’t want the High Council sniffing around. Better they stay far, far away.” And out of my business. Permanently.
Begrudgingly, I met with Lucas, allowing him to do a full workup without complaint, which included more injections. It’d be no picnic to have more hormones raging through my already sensitized body, but I bit my tongue to keep Allison safe from the High Council’s prying minds.
Speaking of which, I remained amazed at how well Lucas and Lily kept the whole situation from the front of their minds. Not even a glimpse of Allison escaped. Skill. I’m impressed.
Chapter 25
Days flew by, and turned into weeks. I complied with every request from Lucas. Lily informed me Allison, while on the mend, healed slowly. I remained forbidden to see her because Lily feared my change of routine would alert the High Council of the child’s presence. Keeping busy, I split my time between Laith and missions, which meant Eric.
Away from Eric, I vowed to behave, and never sleep with him again. However, as soon as we had a minute alone, my clothes fell off and we made feverish love. My resolve weakened with each mind-melting climax.
I’d learned many of Eric’s so-called missions weren’t true risks. He made drama up to enable him to remain mostly on land. Favorited by the High Council, they never questioned his requests. Which is why he had been so furious with me—my rebelliousness might have ruined the good scheme he had going.
Much to my chagrin, Lucas reported every coupling to them. He sold our frequent romps as if I eagerly wanted to please them by becoming pregnant. I despised the violation of my privacy, but reminded myself I complied for Allison’s sake. I had gotten her into this, I couldn’t risk her life. If the High Council ever found out, I sensed they would dispose of her to teach me a lesson.
Under the guise of missions, Eric and I traveled the world. Sometimes we worked, but mostly we played. On his arm, I got to see Paris, Russia, China, South America, Mexico, and Alaska, to name a few beautiful locations. Begrudgingly, I’ll admit, I’d never been so happy.
We kept close watch on Queen Atlas’s—er Nancy Trident’s—rise to power. Hers remained on the list of missions we’d return to. However, we were ordered to stay away for at least six months. When the time came, Eric and I would have to change our appearance to re-infiltrate her political friends. With plenty of time to work out the details, we took lots of overnight trips to Mer houses.
Though I had promised myself I wouldn’t, I fell madly in love. As our trust with each other grew, Eric taught me more Mer secrets. Their technology, abilities, weaknesses.
Concurrently, Eric’s interest in human women diminished. I hadn’t noticed him hitting on a woman in weeks. I never asked him about the change. I didn’t want to point the behavior out if he wasn’t aware.
Not a conversation I’m ready to have. Not even with myself.
Exceptionally tired, almost flu-like, I asked Eric to meet me in the dining hall for dinner, instead of some remote location in the world. My body craved delicious food from where I now considered home.
Blissfully, I sat on his lap, and allowed him to cuddle me while feeding me fruit. “You should go see Lucas.”
“No, I’ve seen too much of Lucas lately, and he’s seen way too much of me. It’s only a cold. Not a big deal.”
“Mers don’t get colds. You should see Lucas; he’ll fix you up. Then we can get the hell out of this place and…” Eric nuzzled my ear, whispering naughty details of what he intended to do to me once out of Atlia.
“As irresistible as your proposition is, this is only a one night break. I’ll go to bed early, and get completely rested up. Tomorrow, we can pick up where we left off.”
“One night only. Then you’re mine. I have a surprise for you—something I want to show you.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
“Of course.”
A terrifying silence settled over the Social Center. Not the usual silence of Mers remaining mute, but a silencing of their minds. A complete stillness of the white noise buzz I had gotten used to over the last year. Flashes of images fluttered across my mind’s eye.
Roman.
Awake.
Fear.
Anger.
Eric and I looked at each other. Over the irrational fear rippling through the crowd, I told myself I had nothing to be concerned about. Roman had released me, encouraged me to live, and to love.
Eric gently kissed my forehead and slid me off his lap. Time slowed. Every movement and sound amplified. Our limbs mired in invisible mud. My mind, on some level, understood these events didn’t really happen in slow motion.
Roman stood at the Social Center’s opposite end, sword drawn. The black blade of his most prized weapon, perfectly balanced over the crown of his head. His face distorted and red, dripped with sweat. His waist-length hair clumped together, matted and wet. What was once scruffy stubble now touched his chest in a full beard. While his demeanor was unusually fierce, Roman appeared twenty years yo
unger.
Instinct scratched at the edge of my brain, screaming at me to run.
This—this Roman—was completely wrong. Was there a threat to Atlia? Were we under attack?
The timing?
My slow brain processed the Connective’s frazzled buzz.
Last night, I had visited Roman while he slept in his hibernation chamber. He shouldn’t be awake and moving around this quickly. He should… he should… what couldn’t my brain process?
Roman’s breath came in hard, short pants. A visible mist exited his mouth as he huffed. He lowered his sword out in front of him, pointing the tip directly at Eric and me. With both hands, he tightened his grip, his knuckles turning a pinkish shade of white.
Anger oozed from him. The toxicity of his powerful emotion kept my mind from understanding. Stifling us with hate, I could barely breathe, let alone think.
What’s wrong with him?
Slowly, his every move etched with caution, Eric stood. In a protective gesture, Eric pushed me behind him, completely hiding me from Roman’s view.
What?
Why?
At Eric’s touch, joy and love filled my heart.
Terrified, I raised up on my tiptoes, balancing against Eric’s shoulders, trying to see Roman. I imagined calling out something along the lines of, Hey what the hell is your problem? It’s me, Roman, you big silly goose. What are you doing? And please lower your sword, ‘cause you’re scaring me.
But what I saw in Roman’s crazed eyes shattered my soul.
Hatred. A murderous hatred no words would penetrate.
An ear-splitting bellow erupted from Roman’s throat.
My whole body shook in response.
Paralyzed in fear, I couldn’t move.
Why is he so angry?