The Seas Between Us

Chapter Twenty-Six

T he ocean was… darker than I remembered. My time on land with Owen made my idea about light change; here, there was darkness and chill, and land promised sunlight and warmth. It took me more time than I wanted to admit to adjust to the darkness. Owen’s trembling, terrified body made the water ripple around us. His fear was so strong, so intense that I could smell it on him. Even his fins were tucked away as if he was trying to hide in the vastness of the sea.

I held his hand to comfort us both.

When we finally saw the ship wreck, I let myself be hopeful. Anahita was here. I helped her with her trapped fins and injured tail. The boards she was caught on were still ajar from how I yanked on them. The gold of her fins seemed to have rubbed off on the boards; there were still reflective, shining bits in the broken wood.

Owen searched the area in wonder. He wanted to touch the ship, the broken and cracked wood, the ruined sails. All of it. Owen took in every detail, trying his best not to forget to breathe. His tail moved so awkwardly; he bent it in weird angles, and I wondered what I must have looked like when I took my first steps. Did I wobble and flail about like this? Newborn merlings were more graceful.

There was so much of our world that I wanted to show him, but it would have to wait. If we didn’t find anything else here, we would find my tribe. My mother might have some answers, maybe Breena, if she’d talk to me. I knew that Lilia and Caspian would be ready to help, even if just in secret. I wasn’t supposed to be here, and neither was Owen. Especially not Owen. Panic surged into me–what would the Pearls do if they found him? Would they smell him just as I could? Would they smell how things have shifted, how the tides have changed? Neptune bless us.

The ship was massive even in ruins. It seemed larger than I remembered, and I wondered if that was another side effect from being on land. Size was distorted. The ocean’s depth nearly overwhelmed me too. Instead of finding comfort, I felt so terribly alone.

“What are we looking for?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know, anything? Anything that seems out of place. I’ll try calling for her too,” I said, and my voice sounded so hollow. The echo only emphasized how little emotion there was in my words. I sent up another prayer that Owen couldn’t hear it in my voice.

Owen nodded once before he let go of my hand, braving the darkness. His eyes would adjust soon, just as mine would. Slowly, the darkness faded more and more while colors came into being. Maybe it would just take a little longer for the vibrancy of the ocean to come back. I prayed that it would look the same to me, that life on land hadn’t altered me forever. Already I missed the sun on my face, and the feel of the heat even if it was overbearing.

Owen touched the ship so tentatively, like he was worried the whole thing would come crashing down around him. This ship had been here for centuries, and would likely be here for a couple more. I doubted it would shift anymore after it rocked and cracked as I freed Anahita. The halves of the ship were wedged between the undersea mountains, cradled in their valleys. He swam through the openings in the hull until he was in the ship, looking around.

“This is incredible,” he said. His words came to me on the waves and it made me smile. I loved hearing how the water distorted his voice, making it softer and calmer as I listened.

“What did you find?” I asked, poking my head through the hole he went in.

“I’ve never seen the inside of a ship like this before. This must have been a dining room. Look how open it was. I don’t know what else it could have been.” He was getting better at treading water; Owen stayed in one place to examine something on the crumbling walls without flailing. He still moved like a newborn merling, but he tried so hard, and he was getting better. It was progress

“I didn’t come in last time I was here. It’s much larger than I thought it would be,” I said, trying to take in the scale of the ship. It was massive. The space we were in was large enough for a huge group of people to gather. I tried to picture what the ship looked like before it sank. The wood would have gleamed in the sunlight, and it would have been covered in sails big enough to shade most of the people on board. There were more chambers to explore, but I didn’t follow Owen as he drifted from place to place.

I saw nothing here that made me think of Anahita. I saw no evidence of her golden magic, save for the flecks on the boards she was trapped in. But why was she here?

“How did she get trapped?” Owen asked as if he had read my mind.

“She didn’t say,” I replied.

I searched through the wreckage, trying to remember if she had mentioned anything else about why she was there, but my memory came up blank. All I remembered was the beauty of her golden scales and magic, and how desperately I wanted to help her. Her skin was so warm–I remembered that too.

“Merrow, look at this,” Owen called, and I felt the pull of his words. It felt just like our siren magic. I held still, waiting to see if my body responded like it would to the pull of my mother calling for me. I waited for another breath, but the pull died out. The magic in his words faded as quickly as the gentle echo, but I still swam to him. Owen hovered near a small chest. It was part of a wall, or had been at least, as he dug it out, trying to pull it with all his might. His tail flicked more easily, like it was finally understanding how to move.

It wasn’t the chest itself that caught my attention, but the color of it.

Gold.

Shining, brilliant gold magic. I trailed my fingers over it, and the gold transferred. It from her, it had to be!

“What is it?” I asked.

“I think it’s a lock box. Most old ships had them, like an in case of emergency type of thing. Most of them stored special maps or little treasures. I remember learning about it in high school, but that was a while ago, and I don’t really remember the details. I don’t even know where this ship came from. Any flag or writing has faded, from what I’ve seen.” Owen flipped the chest over and over in his hands, examining every nook. It had to appeal to his artist’s eyes–the delicate, twining markings around the edges, the gilded engravings. Gilded from Anahita, who also ran her fingers over the sides of this box, trying to figure it out.

“How do we open it?” I asked.

“It’s a puzzle box, there’s gonna be some trick to open it–”

I flipped backward, wound up as much strength in my tail as I could, and smacked it against the crumbling walls. The wall shattered and Owen went still as death. The ship groaned, but it didn’t shift. The mountains held it steady .

But the box? That fractured into a pile of rubble and splinters.

Owen and I swam to the other side of the dining room–I wanted to believe it was for dancing instead–where we sifted through the remnants of the puzzle box. That was one way to solve it at least. Owen picked up a small coin, and held it up.

I knew that design.

The waves with the stars hanging above, around a crescent moon. tail fins on the back of it. The coin was solid gold, shining with a light from within.

It was the crest of my tribe, the White Tides. But what was it doing here, in a human ship, in a human made box? I palmed the coin, feeling the familiar lines. We didn’t have much jewelry that was engraved, except for this insignia. The Pearls wore it. The elders wore it. We carved it into the shell and coral armor for the merman, and used the gentle, sloping lines of the waves for the design in everything.

“I’ve never seen a coin like that before,” Owen said. I handed him the coin to examine further as something else caught my attention. A little pouch that seemed to glow gold. Scooping it up as gently as I could, I pried open the strings that held it taunt.

There were scales inside. Golden scales.

“These have to be from Anahita,” I breathed, and Owen peeked into the bag.

“That’s great! But now what do we do?”

“We summon her,” I said, knowing somehow that was the right thing to do.

“That sounds ominous.” Owen handed me the coin back and it seemed to glow brighter when it was close to the scales.

“She has to be connected to my tribe. This is our insignia. It’s been in our tribe for generations. I don’t know where it even came from.”

“Have you ever summoned someone before? ”

“No, I barely have enough magic for my siren songs to work. We’re going to need help,” I said. It was time to find my tribe. Owen and I threaded our fingers together, and swam out of the sunken ship. My face turned up, trying to see the sky through all the darkness of the water. I felt the temperature change as we glided in the water and knew that it was fully dark on land now too.

Owen smiled at passing fish, trying to touch them and chase them, as I stilled to listen. If the evening had come, then there would be songs filling the seas soon. My mother, Pasha, sang a song of gratitude every evening. If I just listened, I’d hear her, and then we could go home.

A school of fish paused and stared at Owen. They swam circles around him and his laughter warmed me through. He held his hands out and the little gray fish swam to him, resting in his palm. The fish here did not fear the mermaids; none of the ocean dwellers did. We were a part of them just as they were a part of us. He zipped off, his tail getting stronger and more confident, and the fish zoomed after him. The school surrounded him, and his giggles were so pure, so genuine.

The tribe could wait a few minutes; I couldn’t deny him this joy.

I swam over and picked up speed. The fish knew this game–they raced and zoomed around me. We wove in and out, with Owen trying his best to catch up. He swam with me, his fins brushing against mine and I shivered. He did too. Even in the darkening water, I saw how his eyes blazed, the grin lazily spreading on his face.

I wanted to lick him, to taste the salt on his scales.

The fish didn’t notice how the energy shifted around us, but I did. I broke through the school and they scattered happily, reforming and zooming off again. Owen watched them leave, waving to them like they understood this human gesture. I flicked my fins a few times and the school halted to zigzag around each other, calling out a goodbye to me .

“That was amazing, I’ve never seen so many fish so close up. And it was like they really understood. They wanted to play with us,” he said.

“Of course they did, we are their friends,” I said, and he grinned. I circled him, flicking my fins harder than necessary to get the water to caress him. Owen spun with me, the water playing with us, as he tried to stay with me. We created our own small tunnel of water, the waves twirling my hair so it floated around us. Owen touched the loose strands, his fingers tangling through my tresses.

“I want to see everything ,” he said, and his voice was so full of want. I purposely brushed against him, letting my tail fins and hair slip over his skin, and he shuddered.

“There’s so much for me to show you,” I said, letting the words drip with a different kind of desire. Judging from the flare of his dorsal fin and the way his tail fins splayed out, he understood. Owen’s grin turned wild, the curve of his lips more delicious than I’d ever seen before. He examined his own body, so foreign to his human form, watching as his fins pulsed with the sway of the water. Time flowed away from us like the tide, but we could still make the most of it. We could still have these simple joys together.

“Show me,” he said, and the words made my scales twitch. Owen pressed a kiss to my forehead before he jetted off, willing me to follow. Wanting to play. His laugh danced in my ears as I chased him. He flipped his fins more naturally now, the muscles rippling across the planes of his stomach. I didn’t swim as fast as I could have, not wanting the game to end too soon. But even going slower, I caught him quickly. Owen was out of breath, panting and happy. If we were on land, his hair would have stuck to his face but in the water it floated like a cloud of sand. He was so beautiful.

We swirled together, just like with the fish, but slower. I circled him, letting him take in every inch of me, the real me. He thought that I was beautiful on land, but could he love me like this? With the tail and fins, how my skin looked in the water covered in scales? His gaze was hungry, and he ate me up, scanning every inch. His eyes strayed to my breasts, how they were covered in scales just up to my peaked nipples, and his tongue darted out for a second, brushing over his lips.

There was a beat thrumming between us, a building of heat and want. He felt it too; his hips danced with the rhythm of the waves as he circled me. I didn’t dare move, refusing to stop where the tides were taking us. Owen was so close to me, the bubbles from his breath caressed my lips.

And then he kissed me.

My mouth opened for him, letting him explore as I leaned into his touch. This was bliss–in my ocean, in my own skin, and Owen still wanted me. He cupped the back of my tail, bringing our bodies flush together. We sank in the water, but it didn’t matter. We could fall to the ocean floor as long as never let go of me.

Those nimble, artist’s hands explored the new shape of me; the small of my back where a fin bloomed from my skin, the pattern of my scales as they became smaller and finer. He searched my body, memorizing me in my true form with every lingering touch until he gently grazed the swell of my breasts, playfully tweaking my nipple. His mouth found my nipple, bringing it between his teeth, caressing me with his tongue. Our scales slid together and I tried very hard not to notice how well we fit together.

“You are more beautiful than I ever dreamed,” he said with our foreheads pressed together, our lips less than an inch apart.

“Not too weird?” I asked, and his husky laugh sent a ripple of desire through me. His dorsal fin along his back was erect, eager. I fingered the edges of it, dragging my nails over the sensitive flesh. He shivered, and I rewarded his need with a kiss to his neck.

“Not too weird.”

“The fins are very sensitive. Tender,” I whispered in his ear while touching the long, thin fins on his arms. Blue like night and fine as silk. The fin tickled in my grasp and Owen growled–he’d never done that on land, and I worried that meant I just hadn’t found the right sensitive spots on his human body. I’d remedy that tomorrow, making sure he felt as cherished as he was.

“That feels amazing,” he purred, igniting the familiar heat in my belly. A heat that only had ever come from him. I grazed my nails along the other fin on his arm, making him twitch. Owen nuzzled the side of my face with his nose, leaning into my touch.

“You feel amazing,” I crooned back, letting the words come out in a near song-like tone. Owen’s lips met mine again, and we kissed for what felt like hours. His lips desperate for mine with needy, longing kisses. My lips had to be swollen, but neither of us cared, neither of us stopped.

“How do we do this?” he asked. It was instinctual for me on land, but this world was so different from his. He didn’t know our customs or how our bodies worked. He struggled with swimming, really, even though he was getting better. I traced the pattern of his scales by his collarbones until he shivered.

“Come closer to me,” I said, even though we were already in each other’s arms, with not even a breath between us. Our noses brushed, nuzzling our cheeks. I guided his hands down his own body, lower and lower, until he felt where his length would have been. Coaxing him to relax and respond, letting me take the lead. Owen yielded to me completely, as I stroked and grazed until his body came alive.

His length on land was impressive, filling and electric, but in the ocean as his merman body pulsed with need, his desire hanging thick and heavy as it brushed against my scales?

Divine.

I positioned his shaft, where his lower belly was, so we were aligned. Everything about his merman body was longer, larger and I ached for my body to open for him, to receive him until there wasn’t even a breath left to separate us. His tail fin twitched, and I curled mine so they would be touching. His eyes were so heated, so molten, they threatened to boil the ocean. Our tail fins played together, the waves bringing them together as much as we did. I curled my fins so the delicate, sharper tips dragged ever so gently over his fins.

Owen jolted like I’d touched a raw nerve, crying out at the contact but quickly pressing his fins back to mine, laying them flat together, the feeling similar to pressing palms together.

“Come closer to me,” I breathed against the shell of his ear, trying to curl my tail around him until he pressed inside of me. Owen stroked his own length in his hand as he lined up to my center, until I practically begged us to join.

“How do I–”

“Like this,” I said, my hands covering the one wrapped around his erection, tugging him to find my opening. He groaned through gritted teeth, so I kissed him, bringing his focus wholly back to me.

When Owen pushed inside of me, I saw stars. My body lit up from the top of my head to the tips of my fins. His pleasure-filled cry echoed through the waves with the contact, and I hoped the ocean held that sound forever. I hoped I never forgot the sound of his passion, the sounds of his love.

Flipping my tail to get us to move, we swam together in unison, still joined, the rocking of our hips and tails bringing us closer to oblivion.

Fins curling and uncurling, coiling and unfolding until every drop of blood within us ignited. Owen rolled in the water, holding me close so I was laying on top of him. He threaded his hand in my hair, the other gripping my tail tight to keep us entwined.

Our bodies gave way, and his merman body responded, as he pushed into me. With our bellies touching and our fins arching together, I was already riding a trail of bliss. When his body twitched and his tail fin bowed, I grabbed the base of it as he raised it up, gliding my hands up and down, up and down, every fin along his back and arms splayed wide for me to see. The midnight blue was mixed with flecks of silver, like fallen starlight, and he was truly the most beautiful male I’d ever seen. Sandy hair fell in his face, curling around his ears, while his tongue licked his bottom lip.

He flicked his tail, making me grip it tighter, and his eyes turned wicked as I sucked in another breath. I returned the wickedness, letting my smile split my face, and I slowly–agonizingly–repositioned us until his tail fins were by my mouth. One of the many joys of being merfolk was how flexible our bodies were, and how easily I could push myself away just enough to rotate so my face neared his fins, and his face near mine, never breaking contact. Owen’s strangled cry was muffled when I ran my tongue and teeth over his fins, as he bucked his tail, driving into me.

“What–”

I licked his tail fin again, sucking the ridged edge into my mouth and a shiver laced through his body until he was panting. He flicked his fins, pressing into me so deep I cried his name. This was all the encouragement he needed to keep going.

“Remember those moves when you’re swimming,” I said, pressing my tongue against the planes of his fins. The current moved so I drew his fins back to my mouth, peppering them with adoring, loving kisses. I wanted Owen to feel every ounce of love in my heart, wanted him to see how I’d spent my life worshiping him just as much as he did me.

“Let me kiss you,” he said, and moved us fluidly, never breaking our union as I spun, purposefully grinding down so he would feel blissed-out and radiant. He crashed his mouth to mine, kissing and kissing like it was his sole lifeline.

Owen laughed against the shell of my ear, rolling the lobe between his teeth, licking at the small fin at the top of my ear. “You’ll have to remind me how to breathe after this,” he said .

I nipped at his ears in return, then his lips, anything to get him to make those little moans that resonated in the water. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you forget.”

His climax came quickly when I angled my tail so he drove in deeper, dorsal fin rigid and tail twitching. I curled both of my tail fins up, letting the sharper tips rake across the planes of his tail, eliciting one more final moan, sending me over the edge with him. He twitched again, body spasming with satisfaction, his fingers digging into me, sending me to my own well of pleasure.

Lazily, slowly, we drifted in the water. I didn’t know where we were now, but I didn’t care. The night was still young, and we had the rest of it and all of tomorrow to set things right. For now, we had the moment.

“Merrow,” he breathed, his body flushed even in the cooling evening water.

“Owen,” I said, feeling the smile on both of our faces. He nestled against me, holding my face in his hands. I rubbed my cheek against his scaled palm, reveling in the comfort of him.

“I love you,” he whispered, eyes closed. “I know this wasn’t how you planned it, or maybe not even what you wanted, but I love you. I think I’ve loved you my whole life and just didn’t know it.”

“I–”

“You don’t have to say it back, I know you said it the other night but it’s not the magic either, it’s just you. You’re my every dream come true.”

I kissed him again, hoping he could feel how deep the love ran in me, hoping I could convey with my body the words I couldn’t seem to get out. His words replayed in my mind and I wanted to savor them, I wanted to hear them again and again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you .

It’s not the magic, it’s just you.

I was more determined than ever to save him. I had to. I’d give everything to make sure he lived a full life, painting and creating, until he grew too old to hold a paintbrush.