Chapter 4
He didn’t bite me just anywhere—he sank his teeth unerringly into the heart of the small silvery scar that he’d marked me with when he’d first bitten me. When he’d claimed me.
I’d claimed him right back with a bite of my own, but unlike Dave, I didn’t have fangs, and my human teeth hadn’t left any discernible mark on him.
Sealing his mouth to my neck, his arms tightened to the point that I could barely breathe, and he held me.
“Dave,” I whispered. “You absolute muppet.” He’d dragged me on top of him, which meant he’d dragged me on top of his open wounds.
Doing my best not to move about too much and make things worse, I brought my hands up and cupped his cheeks. I attempted to ease him back and unhook his fangs but he resisted. He shook his head. He didn’t stop biting.
“It’s okay.” I stroked him. If it was what he wanted, he could fang me the whole time we were waiting for Jerry. “We’re cool. Keep doing that if you must.”
My scar heated and began to buzz. He sucked on it lightly.
I couldn’t move off him without hurting him. I lay there and continued to stroke his face and hair, every now and then drifting down to his wide shoulders and back up.
From the corner of my eye I watched the waves creep closer and closer. As soon as the water reached us, Dave let out a gusty sigh of relief. He retracted his fangs but left his lips on my neck. His tongue dabbed at my skin. Then he kissed the sore spot and let me go.
Carefully, I eased my upper body back and stared down into his face. “Better now?”
He kicked his chin up and gave me a haughty look. The water hissed over the sand and curled lovingly around us. His hair lifted on it and the receding wave dragged it out to lie in a dark and tangled halo.
I tried to get off him. He still wasn’t having any of it. He looped his arms around my lower back and locked them there, tight, as the tide continued to rise.
All right.
“So,” I said. “Let’s catch up. How’ve you been? What’s new?”
He grunted and shuffled his shoulders against the sand, wincing.
“Oh no,” I said. “Your back!” Busy being horrified by the front of him, I hadn’t even thought about his back, even when I’d been wrestling him out of the waves.
Two of the larger slashing wounds wrapped around his waist. What if they were worse back there, where he was now being ground against the coarse sand? I tried to push up and off.
He growled, and I flinched with a startled gasp when a shower of cold seawater splashed me in the back of the head. We were completely surrounded by now. The water was only a couple of inches deep, but apparently it was enough for him to flick some at me with his fluke.
“Dave,” I complained.
He echoed my tone in a short whine of sound that I was fairly sure was supposed to be me.
I glared at him.
He smiled, eyes glinting.
“You’re an arsehole. I hope you know that.”
His short chuff was cut off when the next frisky wave rushed in and skimmed over his face, once again swirling his long hair about before receding.
The next wave was going to get me in the face as well.
Not that it mattered. I was already soaked to mid thigh.
My top half was lying on Dave, chest to chest. I’d parted my legs and was doing my best to straddle him, but he was huge and my flexibility wasn’t up to much even when I’d had the opportunity to warm up first. I must have looked like a jockey perched on top of a racehorse.
My knees weren’t even close to reaching the ground.
My phone was in my back pocket. Normally when Dave was near, I wouldn’t have given the damn thing a second thought.
Today, I was relying on Jerry to help us out of this mess, and I needed to be able to contact him if something else went wrong.
He might need to contact me if he had trouble getting the quad bike, or was delayed for any reason.
Another wave came in and lapped over Dave’s big chest, curling up to flirt with the tops of my thighs. I quickly threw a hand behind me and grabbed my phone out of my back pocket, holding it up in the air.
Dave watched me from under the water.
I waited for the wave to recede again, leaving Dave’s hair trimmed with lacy foam, then I waggled the phone at him meaningfully.
His brows drew together.
Mine lifted.
Dave sighed and looked away.
I didn’t fool myself that Dave understood what a phone actually was. Like all other human things apart from me and nets—he had strong opinions on nets—he simply wasn’t interested.
He had learned a couple of important things about phones, though.
The most important thing he’d learned about phones was that I got fussy if he dragged me into the water when I had one in my pocket. I’d ruined six different handsets over the years.
The second most important thing he’d learned was that stealing Jerry’s was always a big hit, guaranteed to have Jerry running after him, flapping his arms and yelling.
He still wouldn’t let me slide off him, and we were having a staredown about it as I held the phone clear of the water, when it rang.
I glanced at the screen. “It’s Jerry,” I said to Dave, and answered “Jerry. Did you get the quad bike?”
“Yep. I’m on my way back from the harbour. Calling to let you know I’ve got to swing by the petrol station first and fuel up. How are you doing down there? Tide’s coming in.”
“I noticed.” Water hissed past me and swirled around my waist. I gritted my teeth. Shit, that was cold. Dave shifted his grip to hold my hips, keeping me steady.
“Should be with you in about forty minutes,” Jerry said, and hung up.
In forty minutes, my phone would definitely be underwater, along with the rest of me.
The next wave rolled in. Dave gazed up at me through the water. He wasn’t smiling any more. His face was tight with pain.
“I know,” I said nonsensically, and reached down to cup his cheek. “We’ll get you home and comfy soon. Just hold on.”
He vibrated quietly back at me.
The wave receded and I took the opportunity to have another good look at the wounds on his torso. My god. I swallowed hard. “What the hell did this to you?”
It was a rhetorical question. It was clear that whatever had done it was something enormous, something with sharp bits and sucky bits, all of which added up to my own personal nightmare: giant squid.
Without quite making contact, I traced the deeply bruised flesh at his waist and where it arced up across his obliques. Huge, round, sucker bruises. I spread my fingers wide and hovered my hand above the most distinct mark. It looked like a tattoo.
Did…?
Did squid or octopuses with suckers that big even exist?
…was it a kraken? No. No, kraken weren’t real, they—
I met Dave’s dark eyes, fixed on mine.
Right. My life partner was a merman.
Yes, kraken probably existed.
Horrifying though all the bruises were, especially the ones with the deep punctures around the circumference, as if he’d been repeatedly shot with a nail gun, it was the brutal gashes that made me panic.
“Dave,” I said in desperation.
I was going to have nightmares. I mean, I was sure that Dave was going to have nightmares, I didn’t want to make this all about me, but…
Holy shit.
Dave sang a soft little note at me and stroked my back.
The waves kept rolling in. Once he was submerged even when the tide drew out, and the water had crept up to the middle of my chest, I decided that it was time to get him further up the beach.
Also, my arm was getting tired from holding my phone clear.
I did my best to slide off him without jostling him too much. I did not succeed. He let out a pained billow of bubbles, along with a sharp pulse of sound that I felt in the water around me.
Leaning to the side had obviously pulled at his wounds. I decided to lean forwards, dunk myself completely, and let the next big incoming wave wash me off him.
Great.
Getting drenched while fully clothed was never going to be my favourite thing. Even though I should be used to it by now.
Keeping an eye on his face and watching for discomfort, I twisted at the waist and threw my phone up the beach behind me, lobbing it as far as I could. I took a deep breath and lay gingerly down on top of Dave, ducking under the water.
His face brightened and he tilted his chin to kiss me.
I shook my head even as I let the water lift me up and off his body.
He immediately hauled me back flat.
I shook my head again and hitched a thumb behind me at the surface. The tide dragged out, water bubbling and pulling over me. I struggled to get my head above the waves and he rolled his eyes but relaxed his grip.
I spluttered and coughed and sucked in a quick breath just in time.
The next wave crashed right over me. My legs lifted and floated straight behind me.
I pushed against Dave’s shoulders, managing to slither off him and to the side without—I hoped—snagging his wounds.
Once I was clear, I thrashed up to standing.
Dave’s hand immediately locked around my ankle.
I bent down and tried to take his hand. He resisted, thinking that I was trying to detach him. I grabbed his free hand instead. Taking hold of his thick wrist, I gave a gentle tug.
He didn’t move. Not even an inch.
“Come on, Dave,” I said. “Help me out here.” Using two hands, I gave a firmer, businesslike tug and stepped backward.
He frowned at me. Understanding crossed his face when I tipped my chin over my shoulder, gesturing behind me. He let go of my ankle and in one long, powerful undulation, he beached himself.
“I was going to pull you!” I yelled. “Dave. Stop it!”
He writhed himself another few feet up the beach, managing somehow to make it look like an erotic choice rather than a flopping fish—neck arched, wet tendrils of hair wreathing around his shoulders and trailing down his flexing back, muscled shoulders rolling—and when he was clear of the water, he held still, breathing heavily.
I crouched beside him, patting his arms uselessly. He was sitting on his arse, upper body propped up on his elbows, panting at the sky.