New Beginnings
Chapter Forty
SADIE
I’m sore.
So, so, so sore.
Kyros peppers kisses up my thighs, his lips lingering on every bruise. I instinctively spread my legs, ready for him to find his way between them. That’s usually how this starts. It’s been the routine for the past three days. He kisses me awake, then sinks his cock into me.
When he doesn’t, I crack open an eye.
Then two.
Then I sit up.
Kyros continues kissing my thighs, his hands now skimming up my hips. He’s gentle, his fingertips just barely touching me. I peer down at him, my eyes narrowed.
Something is different.
“Is it over?” I ask.
Kyros hums. “Have I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Do you promise?”
I sit up further, then gently knock him with my knee. “Yes, I promise.”
“Then I would like to pleasure you.” He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. “It is our way.”
His tongue is on me a second later, pressing through my folds and flicking against my clit. He strokes my thighs as he licks me, his touch gentle and soft. It’s a sharp contradiction to the roughness he’s shown these past few days.
I twitch against his mouth, rubbing against his tongue. I’m sore, but his tongue is so soft. It feels so good.
When I orgasm, it’s with a silent cry.
Kyros smiles as he pulls away, his eyes speaking a thousand words. “So,” he starts as he sits up, “that’s the red bloom.”
I raise a brow. “And you do this every year.”
“Yes.”
I fall back. “I look forward to it.”
Kyros exhales, like my promise is the only thing keeping him together. It’s obvious he’s anxious about my reaction—worried that I’ll hate him for his behavior.
I don’t.
For a while, neither of us moves.
The cave is quiet. No more frantic water or guttural sounds. Even the rock he shoved in front of the entrance seems less menacing.
I glance toward it.
Kyros notices, his jaw tightening. “I’ll move it.”
“You don’t have to do it right this second.”
“Yes,” he says, his voice rough, “I do.”
Before I can argue, he pushes away from me and swims toward the entrance. His movements are slower than usual, his body clearly aching. Good. At least I’m not the only one who feels like I was mauled by a sea god.
Kyros plants both hands against the massive stone and shoves. Sand bursts up from the cave floor as Kyros forces the rock aside, allowing the outside world to spill back in.
“I should not have sealed you in,” he admits, his back to me.
I lean back on my hands, smirking. “I don’t mind.” I glance down at myself. “But I’d appreciate a change of clothes before we go out there.”
Kyros turns and lets his gaze travel down my naked body, then vanishes. He returns twenty minutes later with clothes. Kind of. He has one of the bra-like shell tops the women wear and a pair of loose, brown pants.
“Please don’t tell me these belong to some drowned human.”
Kyros looks at the pants, then at me.
I sigh. “Please tell me you weren’t responsible for their death, at least.”
“I was not responsible for their death.”
He hands me the clothes, and he watches as I dress. Only once I’m situated does he reach for me. He moves slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. I don’t. I let him draw me against him, let his mouth brush my temple, my cheek, the corner of my lips.
“Come,” he murmurs. “Let me take you home.”
Home.
I glance once more around the cave—the torn kelp, the claw marks in the stone, the scattered remains of my clothes. This was fun.
Kyros leads me out of the cave and back into civilization. Tideborn feels different.
It still hums with movement and life, currents weaving through glowing roads while distant chirps echo between the spirals, but there’s less tension. Men and women are drifting through the city hand in hand, exchanging small, secret smiles.
The men who are alone look relieved that this is over.
Children are out and about, playing and screaming and having an overall grand time. They’re clearly none the wiser to the red bloom.
Kyros wraps an arm around my waist, holding me close. His crimson tail sways lazily through the current, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
A few women glance at me curiously as we pass, their nostrils flaring when I get too close. I must reek of Kyros.
An older woman smiles at me.
The men react even less. Most avoid looking directly at me altogether once they notice Kyros beside me. Others barely acknowledge my existence.
“It’s not uncommon for males to be extra territorial in the days immediately after the bloom,” Kyros explains. “Most men will be avoiding you.”
Warm currents brush against my skin as we move through the city. They’re beginning to feel familiar, but I imagine it will take a lot longer for them to feel natural. I have nothing but time, though.
Kyros and I are both unemployed.
How does that work here? God. Is Kyros broke? No. Surely not. He was Oshea. He must be loaded. Do they even have currency here? Will he have to find a job?
“Do you have money?” I ask suddenly.
Kyros tilts his head, looking mildly offended. He takes too long to answer.
“I possess valuable things,” he eventually says.
“Like what?” I ask.
Kyros thinks for a moment. Then another.
And another.
My eyes widen. “Oh, God. You’re broke.”
“I am not broke.” His frown deepens. “Daros owes me three fish.”
Mer and humans very clearly have two very different understandings of wealth. So much so that Kyros doesn’t seem to really understand what I’m asking. I suppose I don’t mind. I trust that Kyros and his three fish will take care of me.
I open my mouth, prepared to tease him, when we enter the lower reef and Kyros stiffens.
The easy warmth in his expression vanishes. There’s a crowd gathered near an outer current. The Mer cluster together, their voices low and tense. Several glance toward Kyros the moment we approach, their expressions tightening.
Then they part.
My stomach drops.
No.
Dad is floating within a woven burial net. They’ve wrapped him tightly, most of his face and body hidden from view, but I’d recognize the wavy mop of graying hair and faded boat shoes—well, shoe—anywhere.
Dad always wore those stupid shoes. He’d complain about them all season, then buy the exact same pair. Over and over again. I never understood why.
A broken sound escapes my throat before I can stop it.
Kyros swallows. “I’m sorry.”
He sounds sincere. It doesn’t really change anything.
I swim toward the burial net, my chest tightening so hard, it physically aches. Tears burn the back of my eyes.
“He hated ties,” I whisper. Kyros looks confused, and I gesture toward the knot securing the burial wrap around Dad’s chest. “He would’ve complained about it.”
I let out a watery laugh. It’s immediately followed by a sob. I was hoping they’d find him alive. I didn’t die, and a small part of me hoped that he hadn’t, either.
Kyros moves closer but doesn’t touch me. The crowd surrounding us remains respectfully silent, and out of the corner of my eye, I see several drift away, giving me privacy.
I spend a long time staring at Dad’s body.
Maybe too long. I don’t care. The burial net drifts gently in the current, which Dad would’ve also hated.
He hated sitting still. Even on calm days, he’d always find something to do.
Untangle a rope. Sharpen a knife. Rearrange equipment that didn’t need rearranging.
Anything but sit.
I reach toward the net before stopping myself. The last time I touched him, he was alive.
I don’t remember his last words.
A laugh escapes me. Then a sob. The hope I’d been carrying all this time finally breaks apart inside my chest.
My throat hurts when I finally look up. “Where’s Tipper?”
A man with a green tail answers. “We found blood near the western trench currents.”
They found blood. Not a body. Despite knowing better, hope spikes.
“Do you think he survived?” I can’t help but ask.
Kyros hesitates.
Another man answers. “He was human, and the trenches are unforgiving.”
“But there was no body,” I whisper.
Tipper has survived things that should’ve killed him before. The idiot once fought off a shark with a bait knife and a toolbox because he ‘didn’t feel like losing the bait crate.’ If anyone can survive something impossible, it’s him.
Kyros studies the emotions crossing my face.
“I saw his body, Sadie,” he admits. “He had already drowned by the time I pushed you overboard.”
I wince.
The rest of the Mer begin dispersing, the currents carrying them away. Only one person remains, a purple-tailed girl no older than thirteen. She lingers near my Dad’s body, her lips pursed.
“The Coveborn have heard rumors…” she finally says.
Kyros grows immediately stiff. “And how would you know that, Jannie?”
He sounds pissed.
Jannie shrugs.
“Have you been hanging around the hunting grounds again?”
Jannie shrugs again.
Kyros works his jaw from side to side. “What have you heard?”
“A Deepwater has captured a human.” Jannie’s eyes dart between Kyros and me. “She stole him from the depths and is hiding away with him. That’s all I’ve heard.”
I spin around, my heart pounding.
Kyros is staring at Dad’s body, his eyebrows furrowed. He’s deep in thought. Probably running through that night again, wondering if he missed a detail.
“Could it be him?” I ask.
Kyros takes a long minute to respond. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Deepwaters are notorious for stealing humans, but they’re…rough. They don’t think like Mer. Not anymore. They’ve lost their sentience.” Kyros grimaces. “Even if one did happen to find him…she’d have killed him by now.”
I simply refuse to believe it.