Chapter 27
Gil
Angel’s never been good at keeping track of things or staying with a group, but she does have the talent for optimism—which I’m uncharacteristically low in now.
“Did you have to steal a boat and my girlfriend along with it?” I scold her, scanning the crowd for Marina’s familiar shade of pink hair. But it’s bustling, and unlike the mortal realm, neon-colored hair isn’t uncommon.
It’s not going to be easy to spot her.
“You talk about this girl all the time. Why shouldn’t I get to know her?” Angel asks, her confidence seeming to wane. “Besides, you and Finn were going to take forever, and we were holding hands. It’s just… you think she’s okay, right? The festival is pretty safe.”
It’s a good thing Angel isn’t leading this search party anymore. Shaking my head, I stalk onward, casting a look at every hint of bubblegum hair. “She could have been kidnapped or glamoured or—”
“—commandeered an instrument and playing a concert,” Angel fills in.
I nod my head in agreement. Marina could be anywhere! “Exactly. The thing you need to know is—wait, say that last part again?” I say, whirling in the direction of my sister.
Angel points toward a stage, and it’s not the flash of pink hair that catches my attention; it’s her voice.
There she is.
There’s my girl.
I blink a few times in disbelief. I suppose I didn’t warn her to keep a low profile. Still, I didn’t expect her to get so comfortable.
I’m glad she has. That stage? It’s exactly where she belongs.
I dive into the springs, inching toward the stage just like I had when she was humming to herself at the abandoned campground only a few days ago.
I make it up to where my family is watching the show. They sway in time with the music. It’s not a song they know, but I remember it from when we were children.
“Flowers of May, flowers in bloom, honey and violet; oh, I’ll see you soon. Dancing in rain, drip down you and I, sun showers but my darling so bright in the sky—”
Her mother’s song, perfect on her lips, echoes in a realm beyond where it’s known.
The melody sways in the reeds, sinking into the hearts of all listening.
Grampy swims up next to me, an eyebrow quirked.
I brace myself for whatever he’s planning to say.
He wasn’t exactly encouraging during our last chat.
“Didn’t realize you brought a siren home to meet the family,” Grampy says quietly. “She’s captivated everyone, by the looks of it.”
I raise my eyebrow, looking at the elders who’ve gathered on the outskirts of the crowd, staring at her with expressions that aren’t exactly disapproval; still, I can’t quite unmask them.
Marina being here means they won’t be able to convince me to settle down with their grandchildren, but that plan hadn’t been on the table regardless.
Still, when Auntie Cat’s whiskers twist into a smile at the last note of Marina’s song, I don’t think we have much to worry about.
Though, Walleye’s—Grampy’s oldest friend and enemy—arms are crossed tight in front of his chest, leading me to believe he’s less than impressed. I straighten. When our eyes meet, and I refuse to bend to the glare—it softens as Walleye blows out a sigh and shakes his head.
If I was a betting man, I’d put money on it being him who wants to close the portals to keep me away from Marina. I grin—it’s too late for that now.
“I didn’t expect it to be like this,” I admit to Grampy, making no attempts to hide my feelings. “But my heart’s been swept away with the tide. I love her Grampy. I love her, and I know it’s too soon.”
He gives me a firm pat on the back. “But knowing you, you blurted it out already.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a guilty laugh. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“She seems like a good one—pretty, too,” Grampy says with a shake of his head.
“Ain’t she?”
“I like her,” Goldie whispers, which is high praise considering Goldie doesn’t like much of anything besides the guppies—and we siblings most of the time.
The crowd begins to cheer, clapping wildly, and I watch Marina blink back to reality as if so lost in the song she forgot anyone was watching.
“Sing Water Lilies!”
“Yeah, Water Lilies!!”
“Water Lilies, Water Lilies, Water Lilies!” Folks cheer, and Marina sits as stiff as a board, offering her hands in surrender.
It’s a song anyone from these parts would know. Her face flushes, and suddenly, the confidence is gone. Before I can grab a hold of my senses, I’m swimming toward the edge of the stage in big strides.
Ignoring the walkway and staircase, I hoist myself up and move until I’m right behind her.
“Gil!” she shouts, as I slide in next to her on the piano bench. “I… um, well—”
“Can you read music?” I ask.
She shakes her head before clawing at the back of her neck for a brief moment.
“If I tell you the chords, will you play them?”
“Can’t you do it?” she says in a panicked whisper, her eyes on the crowd.
“Darlin’.” I stretch my hands out wide, showcasing the webbing. “Piano ain’t exactly my strong suit.”
Her gaze jerks at the sound of more chanting, and I place my hand on her knee.
“Worse case they boo us off the stage, right?” I ask with an easy shrug.
“At least we’ll be together.” She places her hand over mine and gives it a squeeze.
Then, she lays her hands to the keys, and with each shift, I whisper the next series of notes and hum the melody as best I can.
Seamlessly, she connects the pieces like a puzzle.
I sing the words just a hair early under my breath, so she can copy the repetitive lyrics.
By the second verse, she’s grinning at me—and I’m grinning right back.
Her version of the song is an honest-to-goodness original, sung in a way that only she could. When she finishes, she gets a cacophony of applause and cheers.
“Too bad they don’t have a theremin anywhere,” she whispers, leaning close. “Next time?”
I grin.
Next time.
After we take our bows, the late performer arrives. We gracefully exit the stage as the music changes from heartfelt melodies to children’s hits. We dance up on the lily pads with some of the guppies to the peppy songs as they pepper Marina and I with questions.
Where did you meet?
What’s her favorite color?
And because Grampy is as much of a pest as the lot of them:
When’s the weddin’?
“Will you be back next year?” one of my nephews asks, and Marina gives me a curious look.
“I hope so,” she says.
By the time we’ve caught up with family, more introductions have been made by both me and Mama when it’s a face I don’t recognize.
Soon, everyone’s gotten a third plate of food.
The flowers set out around the festival have all but wilted.
The line for a blessing has stretched far past the concession stands.
“I know it’s important, but…” Marina says, suppressing a yawn and rocking on her heels.
“We can skip it, darlin’,” I assure her, intending on giving her a piggyback ride on the way home.
The grounds for the festival are large, and it sounds like she walked them end-to-end when she was lost. When it comes to things like blessings and wishes, there’s one thing I’ve asked for every single year, and she’s right in front of me.
“We can come back next year, right?” she asks, those green eyes wide and searching.
“And every year after, so long as you want to.” I pull her in close, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
As we make the rounds to say goodbye, mama gives me an approving nod as she wraps Marina in a hug.
I still can’t pretend to know all the details about her family back home, but I know now for sure: Marina has family here.
“Can you be hungover from fun?” Marina asks, flopping on the couch the instant we return home.
This is bliss.
Exhausted, melting, cozy bliss.
“You don’t really have to go back tomorrow, do you?” I ask as she snuggles against my chest. Her eyelashes tickle my scales, causing a tight pull to my gut.
“Are you looking for an excuse not to have to get pulled into a world of spreadsheets again?” she asks. “Because I’m happy to distract you, but I should leave by the evening. I can’t reschedule the audition, and after today, I really think I can do this.”
“Of course you can.”
The way she’s practically fallen into my lap causes something to stir, building pressure until heat rises to my face. With every little shift of her chest and… by the Goddesses, she feels good.
“I was supposed to be off tomorrow actually. It’s the last day of my leave, and there’s a party I thought I’d go to, but now…”
Now, I’d rather stay like this for as long as possible.
“Another music festival?” Marina asks with eyes half-lidded. “I’ll go, but you’re going to have to give me another piggyback ride.”
“Tempting me with a good time?” I ask. The memory of her clinging to my back as I guided us through the crowd makes my breath catch.
“Always,” she replies, and our eyes linger on each other for just a moment. I imagine how good it would feel if her hand moved just a few inches…
“So, what is it then?” she asks, seeming completely unaware of how her positioning is affecting me. When she shifts, strands of pink hair tickle my scales.
“You know, your plans?”
Right. I cough. We’re having a conversation, a conversation I could focus on if her fingers weren’t absentmindedly drifting.
“A party, something a few friends are throwing,” I manage to grit out. “I could send my regrets, and the two of us could lounge around here—I’ll practice my cooking, then we could take a swim. Or we could go together.”
“Is it not something you’d bring a plus one to? If you RSVP’d to a wedding, I don’t want to mess up their head count.”
She sits up, stretching her arms over her head. She pets Clawrece under her chin before the gator clambers out the side door. There’s a splash off the dock, and I suppose she’s hunting for an evening snack.
“I can head back earlier so you can go. It might save me from the earful my aunt has for me after not working this weekend,” she says.
I tense, thinking of how distant Marina looked when the two of them were on the phone. I wish there was some way I could protect her from all that. “I don’t want you going anywhere,” I say, voice lower than intended, and her eyes flare in response.
Maybe it’s Finn’s words of warning when it comes to long distance, or the fact that things feel so much better now that we’re next to each other. There’s so much to experience, to talk about, to make up for all the time we’ve been apart, but mostly, I want this.
“Hey, I’ve been wondering something,” Marina says, her thumb grazing down my stomach like she’s strumming a guitar. A jolt pulses through me as her fingers go lower and lower and—
“Yes?” I ask, voice hoarse.
“Do you—I mean, how?” She gulps, her hands drift toward my pelvis, and I draw in a sharp breath, realizing what she’s asking.
“Do you want me to show you?” I ask, my mouth suddenly dry, as my hands stretch across her shoulders.
“Yes.”
And that answer alone makes me damn near light-headed as I guide her hand between my legs.
“Right here,” I instruct, running her fingers down the tight slit at my groin, clenching my jaw at how soft her touch is. “If you sort of move this skin to the side…”
Her smooth fingers trail along the hardened scales, and she tilts her head with interest.
“Show me,” Marina says, and it feels like an order I’ve been waiting to comply with all night. I retrieve my hardened cock as easily as if it were concealed by fabric.
“It’s…” she gasps.
I cringe, awaiting her reply.
Green?
Ridged with scales?
Already hard as a damn rock—ready and waiting for this moment.
“Big.” Her green eyes widen. At an agonizingly slow pace, her fingers trail the length. By the Goddesses, if I had made a wish at the statues tonight, it might have been for this.
Her curiosity comes in the form of featherlight touches dancing across my scales. Her fingertips trace the grooves of each row of scales. It’s dizzying. My head falls back as I let out a moan, tensing when her lips take over.
“Darlin’…” I moan, leaning back onto the couch, sucking in a deep breath as she licks each ridge. Her eyelids flutter closed as she swirls her tongue, clamping her mouth around my trembling body.
“I love…” she whispers.
“I love…” she says again, and by the Goddesses, I’m so close.
Her mouth encompasses me, and all thoughts leave me, replaced with the warm pleasure of her tongue sliding up and down, taking me so deep and—
By the Goddesses.
I am both tense and melting—a light-headed contradiction. She bobs and licks, pulling me deeper into bliss.
The feeling builds and builds, but selfishly, I hold on, digging my claws into the side of the couch. Not yet.
Not yet.
I savor each and every moment of her, of this, of us. She gasps for breath, before going back in, deeper this time—and fuck.
I’m undone. With a moan, my claws comb through her hair. I let go as Marina drinks me in. Our breath is heavy and rhythmic, like a song. She slides back up beside me, and I pull her body close to my chest. I’m about to tell her how good that was, how good she was, when she inhales.
“I love this.” Her words land soft as her body melts into mine.
This.
You.
I sigh, holding her close, knowing exactly what I mean when I repeat the words. “I love this too.”
The house is filled with the sound of our breathing for a while, the quiet lap of water from out the windows joining in duet.
“You were—I mean—that was—wow.” I try to speak and prove just how much she’s turned me into a puddle.
“You’re pretty ‘wow’ yourself,” she says with a cat’s grin. “Bed?”
“Bed,” I reply, fully intent on carrying her, but she jumps up, running along before I can manage it.
The blinking light of her cellphone, which had been tossed in the corner, catches my attention. There are three missed calls; I bet they’re from her aunt.
Her creased brow comes to mind, along with the condescending tone I overheard through the speaker of her cellphone.
I tell myself it’s curiosity when I pick it up.
I’ve held Magnus’s phone before and have never been able to understand how so much stress and trepidation can be packed inside such a tiny thing.
“Gil, are you coming?” Marina asks.
A pit forms at the base of my stomach, as I drop the device back into the chair. “Darlin’, your phone,” I begin.
“Leave it,” she calls with a sigh that makes me hesitate to say anything else. “I have other things on my mind tonight.”
My lips quirk into a grin; if that’s the kind of night she wants, I’m happy to oblige. Still, I stare down at the screen.
Three missed calls.
Three interrupted moments.
Three times Marina could have been pulled away or upset.
Wishing I could swipe away her worries the way Magnus does with dates, the pad of my thumb slips across the screen, and suddenly, the missed calls have disappeared.
We’ll have enough time for distractions tomorrow with the party and what-not. Tonight, as requested, will be just for us.