Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
From the moment Eric had spotted her red hair—striking even from the distance of the cliff—he'd known. That was the woman who had saved him. He hadn't dreamed it. She was real.
She emerged from the water like an ancient goddess, as if the sea itself had crafted her from foam and salt and offered her up to the sun. His breath had caught in his chest, but that was the only part of his body that had stalled.
He picked up his pace, boots slipping on the uneven path as he made his way down the rocky incline.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the crash of waves.
He meant to call out, to hail her, but then he saw the flicker of movement in the waves—a fin, a shimmer of scales—and the Sea Kingdom delegation not far off, sliding back beneath the surface.
She was hiding from them.
He ducked low, instinctively crouching behind the rocks, just in time to see her pull herself up onto a jagged outcrop, the water cascading off her tail in rivulets of silver and blue.
The sight of her mermaid form—real and not the fanciful sketches from old books—left his mouth dry, the humid sea air doing nothing to ease the sudden burn in his throat. Then her body began to change.
Eric stared, awestruck, helpless. Her transformation wasn’t graceful.
It was raw, powerful, almost painful to witness.
Her tail split, scaled limbs stretching into legs, knees drawing up to her chest as the magic reshaped her.
Skin replaced shimmer. A woman emerged from the sea’s embrace, trembling and magnificent.
And she was completely, utterly naked from the waist down.
Eric turned so fast he nearly stumbled. Heat rushed to his face. Mortification and desire clashed in his chest like dueling swords. It was the honorable thing to do to grant her privacy. But every instinct in him screamed to look back.
Not for lust. Not this time. He was afraid if he blinked, she’d vanish again.
He stole a glance over his shoulder. She stood unsteadily on the slick rocks. Her red hair was plastered to her spine. The sunlight gilded every curve of her body. Her arms were out for balance, her bare feet unsure on land.
She looked fragile. Vulnerable. Human.
But he knew the truth. This was her. Ariel. His intended bride.
Nothing about this moment felt arranged or dutiful. She wasn’t a stranger from the Sea Kingdom. She was the girl who had pulled him from death, who haunted his dreams and now stood before him in the flesh.
She was the dream. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And she was intended for him.
Prince Eric of the Coastlands forgot himself. Forgot his name, his rank, the fact that he was standing on the shore like a man caught between a dream and waking.
She looked up. Their eyes met. A flicker of startled recognition flashed across her face—then wariness.
She was running from her father. Did that mean she was running from Eric, too? But she'd saved him. He must mean something to her. She at least didn't want him dead.
It was a start. He just needed to charm her. But he'd never charmed a woman in his life. He'd been too busy with matters of state to focus on courtiers.
“It’s you. You’re Ariel.”
Stating the obvious seemed like a good start. It was, at the very least, safer than saying You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t feel my legs.
Her name tasted right in his mouth. She didn’t deny it. They had an agreed-upon foundation in this meeting.
“I’m Prince Eric of the Coastlands. Your father and mine arranged an alliance years ago. You and I are to be married.”
She quirked a brow at this. That brow quirk read You're stating the obvious. But at least she didn't run away from him like she had with her father or hide like she had with the sea delegation. Eric was counting it as a win.
He cleared his throat again, straightened his spine, and forced himself into the posture of a man negotiating borders instead of standing before a naked sea princess with legs that had only just learned how to walk.
“We don’t know each other. Obviously. But I thought—since you saved my life—that maybe we could… start there. As a foundation. A… negotiation.”
Her lips parted. She said nothing.
“You saved me. So I’m in your debt. If you’re running from your father, I can offer you sanctuary. A place to stay. No pressure.”
Ariel tilted her head, bemused. She didn’t look frightened. Or angry. Just amused. Her mouth twitched like she was suppressing a laugh.
“You’re not running from me,” he said softly. “That's good. Because I’d really like to keep you.”
Her sea-blue eyes flashed at him like a cat's. It was a reminder that he was in the presence of someone who was not quite human. She was a siren. She could bend him to her will with a note.
She said nothing. She was also wearing nothing except a bejeweled set of clamshells over her breasts and a sapphire resting on her chest.
Eric shrugged off his cloak then removed his shirt. The cotton fabric was still warm from his body as he pulled it over his head. His movements were quick, efficient—anything to keep from looking at her again. He stepped forward, holding it out.
“Take this.”
She didn’t move at first. Just watched him, her blue eyes unreadable, the morning sun turning them to liquid fire. Then, slowly, she reached out and took the shirt from his hands.
Her fingers brushed his. The contact sent a sharp jolt up his arm.
Eric swallowed hard, stepping back as she pulled the fabric over her shoulders.
It hung loosely on her frame, too large, the sleeves slipping past her wrists.
The sight of his clothing on her body made something tighten low in his stomach.
"We don't have to tell them you're here. That I found you. It can be our secret."
She studied him. Eric puffed up his chest, wanting to preen like a peacock for her. He raised his hands and began making the signs he'd learned that she communicated with.
Why did you run?
Once again, he'd caught her off guard. Her lips parted… instead of raising her hands to answer, words came out of her mouth. "You learned sign language?"
"Apparently unnecessarily."
She pursed her lips. He wanted to know why she chose not to speak. Was it another power play? Was it her idea or her father's?
"Were you running from your kingdom? Or mine?"
She pursed her lips again, but this time she was clearly studying him. She was going to answer him, but Eric wasn't done.
"Is it because you're unsure of me? If so, I understand. I was unsure of you. Until just a moment ago, when I realized you were the same woman who rescued me from the sea."
She clutched the collar of his shirt closer to her neck. Eric wanted to replace the fabric with his mouth.
"Talk to me. Tell me what you need."
Her eyes glazed over in a pleasure-filled way. She swayed a bit. Toward him. He had never felt more like a man than in that moment.
"Is that what you need? Do you need me to rescue you?"
Something flickered in her eyes at the word rescue—something that didn’t sit right.
Her lashes lowered, slowly and deliberately, a coy flutter that was clearly meant to charm.
Somehow, he knew that this wasn’t her. The look was too practiced, too demure.
False, somehow. Like a costume that didn’t quite fit.
Eric felt the instinct to step back. He had an uncomfortable sense that she’d put on a mask for him. And he didn’t want the mask. He wanted her.
"Yes, my prince. I need you to rescue me from my villainous father."
Eric ignored the prickle at the back of his neck. He offered Ariel his arm. This was what he was good at. He was good at taking charge, taking care of people. He would prove to his bride that he could protect her. But first, he needed to convince her that she needed to become his bride.