Chapter Twenty-Two
T he afternoon turned to evening with Owen and we didn’t spend nearly enough time researching. It seemed hopeless to me, but it was important to Owen for us to try; we needed to keep looking for a way out of this mess.
But instead, Owen had taken me back to bed, and made sure I was thoroughly, completely relaxed. My body had never felt so light or so… good. Even in the ocean, I didn’t remember intimacy ever making me feel so weightless. I didn’t remember it ever making me feel so good either.
Owen laid on his couch with a book, flipping through the pages. I had an audio book playing softly, trying to concentrate on the words, but it was difficult to stay focused. This all felt very pointless. I wouldn’t kill Owen, no matter what he said or what my tribe said–if there was no other way, then we would just need to survive until Lilia came of age and she lured someone else to the water. Sweet, innocent Lilia.
She’d never be able to do it, I thought with crushing clarity.
“Anything good?” he asked, cocking his head to study my face .
“No,” I said with a sigh. I liked breathing air; it felt different in my lungs as it filled me. The water would hug and bind, and that was a different kind of comfort. On land, the air made me feel larger than I was, and the ocean folded me to fit within the water. Sighing felt like a release of everything, all stemming from my human lungs. Breath never felt like this in the water, like it had more of a purpose than just to keep me alive.
“Hey, I might have found something?” he said, perking up and grabbing his phone. Owen tapped it quickly, copying something from the book. His eyes darted back and forth and he was suddenly up on his feet, coming over to me at the small kitchen table. We’d discovered that if we sat together, one of us would quickly lose focus and a hand or a foot or a mouth would try other types of research.
“What is it?”
“Are these gods real?” Owen handed me the book, while he continued playing with his phone.
I studied the pictures, but they didn’t look familiar. Not that I was on a first name basis with the gods of the seas, but I had never seen anything like them. I shook my head as he flipped through the pages. Books felt magical to me; this thin paper held so much magic and knowledge between them. Owen told me how he loved to read, imagining fictional worlds and beings, how it was a great way to pass the time.
There was so much to love about the landwalkers, I realized as he continued flipping pages. “What about this? The heart of the seas? What is that?” he asked.
Something danced at the edges of my memory. The heart of the seas. It sounded familiar, like a song or a story I’d heard, but not a common one. It was there, something was there, and I just couldn’t remember it.
The picture in the book was just a simple drawing of a mermaid. Owen could do better. Owen was better, and the drawing was pathetically completed. The mermaid there had fish like fins instead of the grand, fluttering tails that we actually had. She had hair that was cut short and odd little fins on her arms. She looked like someone knew neither what a mermaid nor a fish looked like, and I found it insulting.
“We do not look like that,” I said, glaring at the page.
“I know, but what do you think of this story?”
“Can you read it to me?” I asked, and his cheeks grew hot. He’d forgotten for a moment that I couldn’t read, and I felt ashamed of that fact. The magic that made me human changed only my appearance and little else. I knew so little about this world, and there was so little time for me to learn.
“Sorry,” he muttered, before he began, “The lore of the mermaid has been around for centuries, with most people dismissing them as myths or as other sea animals like, such as manatees–”
“Humans think we look like manatees?” I shot back and he laughed.
“People aren’t the smartest, but just keep listening. Okay here: They are linked to the lost continent of Atlantis, and the gods and goddesses that were said to have ruled there. The most famous of them was the goddess called the heart of the seas, who was said to sustain the magic the mermaids used in their deadly siren songs.”
“Who wrote this trash?” I said, pacing. The way that the humans described mermaids… we sounded like monsters. Or manatees–I wasn’t sure which was more of an insult.
“Merrow, humans don’t really believe in magic. But you’re missing the point, this heart of the seas goddess. Is she real? Could she help us?”
“I’ve never met a goddess. We pray, but it’s not like there is some grand mermaid swimming around answering prayers. We live just like you do.”
“So you think this is a dead end?” he asked, the hope in his eyes flickering out.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. Something was there, something just at the edge of my memory. I needed to go back to the ocean to find out–or back to the Saltwater Sisters. They have been human for a long, long time. Surely they knew something.
The sky was fully dark now, and Owen rubbed at his eyes. It must be late, and he finally closed the book. I had long since stopped listening to whatever book was playing for me and Owen’s body was nearly slumped. From exhaustion or disappointment, I couldn’t tell.
“Jeez, it’s already ten. Where did the night go?” he asked, stretching. He was used to waking early too, so this night must have felt especially long.
Should I leave? Everything in me didn’t want to; I wanted to stay in his arms, in his life for as long as I could. As long as I could breathe the air. While he stretched, I headed for the bedroom to retrieve my clothes to make the walk back to the cafe. I could talk to them, maybe find something out–
“You’re leaving?” he asked, and his voice was so small.
“I… I didn’t want to assume that you wanted me to stay.” Hugging the clothes against my chest gave me something to do with my hands so I wouldn’t force my way back to him. My lip already trembled, trying to hold back the tears from leaving. I blinked them away, and saw the shine in his eyes too.
“Stay. Please.” He moved across the room until we stood inches apart, like there was a current pulling us together, constantly tugging until one orbited the other. Our bodies fit in harmony with one another; I moved my hand to touch him and he did the same. Our fingers in this delicate, lingering dance. The sway of energy between us flickered and I felt it urging us toward the other. Now our hands and forearms were pressed skin to skin, as he nudged my nose with his nose. A sweet request for another kiss, another moment.
“I’ll stay,” I whispered back. This was a confession, a moment for us to keep connecting, and he merely nodded. No more words. No more chances for us to ruin these tender moments. “I’ll stay,” I murmured again .
Owen kissed my forehead and lifted me up, my legs going around his waist. And then he carried me to bed. We cuddled together, but a wave of inspiration hit him, and he pulled out the sketchbook by his bed. He had them everywhere. I loved seeing all of his work, all the pieces he pulled out of mind for the world to see.
Tonight he sketched shells and little gems together, and I watched him carefully. His eyes were unfocused as his hands sped up, working like he wasn’t in control of them. The shells looked so real, it was like I could have smelled the sea on them.
“Why shells?” I asked. His bed was so soft, and I enjoyed the feel of the sheets on my skin and his scent in my nose. The scent of our love-making still clung to the room, and it was a heady smell. My mind wandered back to just hours earlier as his voice startled me from my daydreams.
“I don’t know, I don’t draw them very often, but I love looking at them. And the gems just seem to pair well with them. I can’t let go of this heart of the sea thing, so my mind is creating a bunch of gems and stuff. It just made sense in my head,” he said.
“I like how your mind works.” I yanked on his sandy colored hair and he laughed.
“My mind has other ideas now, things that aren’t in this sketchbook,” he said, and his voice dropped deeper. It gave me chills and I looped my arms around his neck. Owen’s sketch was forgotten, as he went in for a kiss.
Placing a hand over his mouth, I stopped him. “Wait,” I said. He cocked his head and he looked so damn cute in that moment that I nearly forgot what I needed to say. “Tomorrow, we need to talk to my sisters. Maybe they can help us.”
“Okay, that’s a good idea. I’m sure they know more than we do.” I swept his hair back, getting a better look at the flushed skin of his face. He kissed my palm .
“You can continue kissing me now,” I said, and I felt the sly grin taking over. Owen rolled his teeth over his bottom lip and my heat flooded through me. He kissed me like I was the only thing that ever mattered in his life. Owen loved my scales, possibly even more than I did. He kissed and caressed each patch of them, spending more time on the ones that were on my belly and the inner parts of my legs.
I pulled the blankets up, bringing him even closer to me. Tomorrow. We’d look for answers tomorrow, but tonight he was mine, and I was going to savor every caress, every brush of his lips to my overheated skin.