9. 9
nine
Sarah
Two days ago, I was an average marine biologist, doing what I do best. Now, I’m a marine biologist who came across a magical phenomenon that gave me magical powers. I still can’t comprehend what is going on. Even in this moment while being yanked further into the ocean.
Only after reaching a point where my feet can’t reach the floor, and the city disappears slowly beneath the now heavy rainfall, does he let go of my arm.
Somewhere along the way, my flip-flops slip from my feet and vanish into the dark water.
I jerk away and kick backwards, putting distance between us.
“Now what, your majesty?” I hiss, my voice holding a hint of resentment. My mind tells me to turn and swim fast and far away from him, but my gut—or the humming right under my skin—screams he would be able to catch up . . . quickly.
When I was sixteen and at school, I was doing everything I could to become valedictorian for my class.
Unfortunately, I missed a few too many questions on my final exam, dropping my grade just below an A.
So the title “Valedictorian” was given to Courtney Prescott, Miss Popularity.
I’d say the anger lasted well beyond high school, but after graduation, Courtney fell in with the wrong crowd, dropped out of college, and now spends her days in an orange jumpsuit at the county jail.
The anger I previously felt for her is now being directed toward this asshole who just thinks he can force me to do whatever he wants me to.
I blink several times, noting that he hasn’t responded. Just hovering at the surface, legs moving steadily beneath, and staring at me, as if he is waiting for something to happen. “So what now? Are you planning to hold my head underwater until I magically learn to breathe?”
He swims toward me, just an arm’s length away, and hovers there with a sly grin as he replies, “What a great idea.”
With movement that is not of human origin, his reflexes are so agile that I barely notice what is happening until it is too late. The firmness of his palm presses against the top of my head, pushing me down. I don’t have time to think, only act.
I start struggling underwater, unsure what to do. Then, the same voice that has come to me in my dreams, whispers in my mind. Steady your breathing, it says, caressing my inner thoughts, trying to ease them into silence. It doesn’t work. My survival instincts take over.
I hold my breath for as long as I can manage, keeping my eyes closed, not being used to swimming underwater without my scuba gear to protect my eyes from any sea debris floating around.
I raise my arms to where his hand lies, his fingers tangled in my hair, gripping tightly.
I try to wiggle free from his grasp, noting his smooth skin, but there’s no mistaking the strength beneath it.
Realization hits, and I can feel the burn in my lungs from holding my breath too long.
I’m gonna die right here. Under the hands of a very handsome, yet extremely demanding, lunatic.
My body betrays me with a desperate gasp, dragging in not air, but a surge of cold, burning water.
I thrash wildly as saltwater rushes into my lungs.
I’m drowning from the inside out, each breath is another betrayal, each second heavier than the last. Water fills the hollows of my lungs, thick and invasive, pressing against every instinct to survive.
But then . . . something shifts. A slow warmth stirs beneath the panic, pulsing from somewhere deep inside me.
The burn fades. The pressure lifts. The water doesn’t choke.
It . . . changes. I don’t know how, but I can breathe.
Something ignites within me like a second heartbeat, reshaping my thoughts.
Maybe it’s gills. Maybe it’s something else entirely. All I know is, I’m not dying. I’m becoming. I manage to calm down and relax my body. He releases my hair from his fingers. Being able to breathe underwater seems like it should be impossible. Magic should be impossible. Yet here I am.
I blink against the sting of saltwater, my vision slowly adjusting. My eyes stop burning, finally, and of course, the first thing I see are his glistening abs that look personally offended by the idea of body fat. I roll my eyes, mostly to cover the heat rising in my face.
My eyes move downward, and I scream. His legs are gone.
Replaced by what resembles a massive, mythical serpent tail, covered in deep navy and black iridescent scales that shimmer with bioluminescent light.
After a beat of silence, fear takes over.
I turn away, swimming up towards the surface.
Before I can even move a few feet, he is there, in front of me.
His hands clasp around my upper arms, stopping me from going any further. “Sarah, I need you to listen to me.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
“No—get the hell away from me.” He releases me, and I swim backwards, slow and shaky, trying to think.
Always thinking. That’s all I’ve fucking done these past few days.
From touching the rift, to Leo showing me that damn camera feed, to this asshole showing up uninvited to my penthouse .
. . Then all this nonsense about magic—fucking magic. And now this.
He’s a monster.
“Enough!” The warning in his voice leaves no room argument, though his words barely register.
My vision tunnels. My chest tightens. I start to hyperventilate. I need to get away. I’m definitely dreaming. He has a fucking tail.
"Control yourself . . ."
He’s still talking, still trying to reason with me, but I can’t hear him over the screaming in my brain.
My gaze is locked . . . no, glued to his lower half.
It’s massive. Based on my marine experience, I’d say it’s at least twenty feet long.
Maybe more. I can’t even fathom what it’s like hauling that thing around everywhere.
Does it curl naturally behind him like that?
“How . . .” The words slip out before I can stop them. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m trying to ask. I just stare, mouth open, brain short-circuiting.
“That is none of your business. What is important is getting to my kingdom,” he declares.
I simply nod at him, not sure how else to respond, still too freaked out. He is speaking, but my mind is a tornado, swirling endlessly, destroying any cohesive thoughts.
He was telling the truth. This man, creature-thing enters my life, sounding completely ludicrous, and now it . . . Isn’t?
I want it to be. I should be moving. Trying to escape. That’s what any normal person would do, right? In any situation where a human feels threatened, we have a fight or flight mode, but I appear to be doing nothing . . . absolutely nothing. Frozen in place as the impossible swims in front of me.
His words cut through my spiraling, snapping me back to my present situation.
“There is only one thing I want to explain at this moment because it involves me touching you,” he admits slowly, like he is also unsure of this next step.
“Traveling to my kingdom at your speed could take us roughly two months. We do not have that kind of time. Learning to breathe underwater has put the ever-rising force of the magic within you to rest for now, but it could rise again as soon as another sea day. To prevent that, I need you to allow me to hold you in my arms, and I will swim us both there in no time. We could be there before the end of the sea day, allowing us both a chance to rest for the night. And I would appreciate being able to do all of this without a fight.”
As I continue to float in place, legs kicking just enough to stay up, my eyes glide to his face. Noticing my glance was still glued to his tail. “You just tried drowning me all of but two minutes ago and now you’re telling me you want to hold me in your arms?” I bark.
I can see it now, holding onto him tightly, my hands wrapped around his neck. My face nuzzled into his chest as he takes us to his kingdom.
Ugh, what is wrong with me?
“You mistake necessity for desire. Holding you is the last thing I wish to do.”
“Fine, but don’t expect me to like it.”
“Of course not.” He says flatly.. “One final thing, my tail grants me the ability to propel through the water gracefully at considerable speed. I have never attempted it while carrying another, so what you experience is of little concern to me. We will arrive regardless.”
He glides closer to me, placing his hands carefully behind my back and under my knees.
Get out while you can, Sarah . . . What are you doing?
“Understood. Let’s just get this over with.”
The water around us flows so naturally as we descend to the ocean floor, that I barely notice we’re moving. It would almost feel like a slow, ordinary swim—if not for the speed at which the plant life blurs past us, vanishing before I can even register what it was.
Instead, I focus on what I can see—him. His broad shoulders, his chiseled features, and the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest, which I lightly rest against. Faint, glowing runes trace down his left arm and curl across his chest where my cheek now lies, their lines delicate but pulsing with power.
And just as I imagined, once in his arms, I wrapped both hands around his neck, fingers interlocked for a stronger hold, realizing how close I truly was to him.
Close enough to feel the pulse in rhythm with the pattern etched into his skin.
Close enough that my heart starts racing.
It hasn’t slowed since his fingers grazed the back of my knees.
With my cheek near his smooth skin, I catch a scent that clings to him even here.
It’s subtle, but it wraps around me—salt and driftwood—impossible to ignore.
Unmistakably his, a scent that comes from the sea.
I’ve never smelled anything like it before. Wait—smell? I can smell underwater . . .
Time passes and we haven’t spoken a word to each other. The awkwardness becomes agglutinant, adhering to me like a residue you can’t scrape off your skin.
I break the silence first, deciding this is my chance to get some answers.
“How did you enter my home?” My voice is low, barely above a whisper, possibly too quiet with the roar of the ocean soaring past us.
His head slowly lowers as he falters ever so slightly. “I hold powers. Same as yours. Trained, of course, but all the same. It took some convincing after not being surrounded by the sea herself, but it conceded and brought me straight to you.”
“And your tail? Is it mood based, like a cat?” I joke, hoping he knows I’m just trying to fill the awkward silence. “Or does it just curl around you naturally like that?”
“What is a cat?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Cats are pets. A lot of people have them for companionship.”
“Interesting. Do they protect you? Guard you?”
“Well, no. They just lie around most of the time. I don’t have one, though. I’m never home enough to be able to take care of one properly.”
I lift my head from his chest to get a better look at his face.
His eyes are glowing a bright teal in contrast to the color they were when we first met, but they’re not just teal.
There’s a shimmer behind the color, something almost electric, almost alive.
And then it clicks. It’s the same glow I see in the runes that trace across his chest and down his arm.
They’re the same exact hue, somehow connected.
With this realization, I conclude it must be his power.
“I could tell. Your chambers appeared barren,” he quips, as if he’s known me longer than only two days.
Suddenly uncomfortable with this conversation, I force a laugh, hoping it hides the truth. “You don’t understand. I am dedicated to my occupation.”
“I might not understand, but the ocean does,” he adds, trailing his eyes back up to our unidentified path, as if he can see our destination from here.
What does he mean, the ocean does? Is that some kind of cryptic answer to hide his truth? My confusion with all of this is becoming more conflicting.
I start to get concerned that he can see through my facade, so instead I lay my head against his chest and rest my eyes, ending the conversation.
I honestly do not expect to fall asleep, but the rhythmic glide through the water lulls me into sleep without realizing it. And for some unknown reason, no dreams came. No peculiar voices. Just quiet, blissful sleep.
Unsure how much time has passed, a change in motion releases me from my soundless sleep, paired with his low voice brushing the shell of my ear.
“Hey, Snapdragon, we’re here.”
I blink hard, disoriented by the scene set before me. For a moment, I forget where I am or who said my name. Then his face comes into focus, too close, too real.
“You fell asleep,” he adds, quieter this time. “Did not mean to startle you.”
My head is spinning. Trying to make sure what I’m seeing isn’t a dream.
In the distance, bathed in a soft, haunting glow, the kingdom’s palace emerges, its towering structure carved from stone and coral.
It stands tall with its own reclusive pride, untouched by time, half-shrouded in the deep’s shadow but impossibly commanding.
“Welcome to Virellan, Sarah.”