With Steps Like Knives

WITH STEPS LIKE KNIVES by MEGAN HART Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

With Steps Like Knives An Amber Quill Press Book This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Megan Hart ISBN 1-59279-257-X Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber Layout and Formatting Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com Published in the United States of America

Also by Megan Hart After Class All You Can Eat The Clear Cold Light Of Morning Convicted Dream Upon Waking Driven An Exaltation Of Larks Friendly Fire From Distant Shores Lonesome Bride Love Match Nothing In Common Opening The Door Passion Model Playing The Game Pot Of Gold Right To Remain Riverboat Bride Sand Castle A Siege Of Herons Trial By Fire

Dedication

To DPF who's always there And for anyone who loved the original version of The Little Mermaid

WITH STEPS LIKE KNIVES

Through the darkness, he rose. His body moved the way it was meant to, with sleek and powerful precision. With a final burst of exertion, he broke the water's surface. The...air? Is that what it's called? The air burned his lungs, but he braved the sting without a sound. He saw her. **** Helena loved the ocean at night. Every star seemed reflected in the black waters until both the sky and sea seemed to stretch on forever. The night breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders, and she shivered. Though the July days had been sweltering, the nights were downright cold. She'd thrown on a heavy sweatshirt, but her legs were still bare, and now, splattered with chilly seawater. She should head back. Helena glanced back up at the sky. No moon tonight. The ocean itself was peaceful, the tide low, the waves gentle on her toes as she walked. The hum and moan of the water was sweeter on her ears than anything else could be. It was better even than silence. She pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her fingers and hugged herself before reluctantly turning back the way she had come. The morning sun rose early, and though she had no real reason to get up with it, she knew from long experience she would. She didn't mind being alone during the day. In fact, she'd come to enjoy her solitude. At night, though, the double bed became a vast and lumpy wasteland in which she tossed and turned for hours without relief. She was lucky if she got three or four good hours of sleep at night. She might have stumbled with only the starlight to guide her, but she made her way back to her house without incident. There she turned and looked back toward the black water, sprinkled with the reflection of a million different worlds. "Good night!" she called, and laughed at her foolishness. There's nobody out there. **** "Where've you been?" Krall's hands moved in speech as he swam into the arched doorway to block Jeenai's passage. Jeenai patiently waited until his older brother moved aside, then swam through to the chamber beyond. "None of your business." "You've been to the surface again." Krall gestured triumphantly. He swam after Jeenai and caught him by the arm, a grasp Jeenai could have easily thrown off but suffered because his brother ranked higher than he did. "It's not your business, Krall." Krall dropped his hand. "What were you doing there? Watching for your split-tail again? When are you going to stop wasting your time?" Jeenai knew his fascination with the human's world was considered poor taste by many, and outright perversion by others. He did not lose his temper. Krall was obviously

itching for a fight Jeenai didn't want to give. "I'm not accountable to you," he replied evenly. He added the sweeping motion that indicated respect to placate his brother. "Now, I'm hungry and weary. I'm going to eat and refresh myself." Krall slid backward through the water with a push of his muscular tail. He fixed Jeenai with a fierce glare. "We're just concerned about you, that's all." Krall's normally boisterous gestures were smoother. "You don't join in the revels any longer. We never see you laugh. You don't even show an interest in the competitions any longer." Jeenai thought of the human woman. Krall was right. Jeenai didn't take part in the nightly revels or competitions any more. They held no appeal for him. Still, the concern in his brother's face made him pause. "All right," Jeenai said. "I'll go with you." Krall grinned and churned the water with his tail. "What are you waiting for? The fems await, oh, my brother!" Jeenai's stomach protested its emptiness again. "I need food first." "At the revel, you'll fill every appetite." Jeenai shook his head, but followed his brother back through the arched doorway and into a courtyard. The palace walls rose above them, almost higher than he could see. The shadow of a whale or some other large beast passed overhead, darkening the sand for a moment as the brothers swam toward the courtyard's other side. Already, Jeenai could sense the commotion and noise of the revel. They swam through another arched doorway into a larger room. The floor of this room was fine, soft sand. The walls, as with most of the rest of the city, had been carved from coral and stone. Along the far wall, a cage teemed with what the hunters had brought in that day, while a low bench held carved shell bowls of seaweed and other delicacies. Again, Jeenai's stomach grumbled and he headed for the feast. "Fill your belly later!" Krall said, but Jeenai ignored him. Jeenai saw a young fem wrap her arms around Krall's waist and distract him with her kisses. Shaking his head, Jeenai continued toward the food. Swimming to the surface and back had made him hungry. The fem hovering close to the goblets of fresh squid ink gave him a smile that clearly showed every one of her pointed teeth. She was a blue, and Jeenai admired the shimmering colors of her skin as he approached. Her sleek, triangular fin was nearly pure white at the tip, with bands of color growing progressively darker as they traveled toward her torso, until they reached a line of pure indigo at her waist. She had attractive markings, and she knew it.

Without speaking, she handed him one of the goblets, which Jeenai quaffed immediately. She scooped a handful of soft seaweed into her palm and offered that to him next. He reached for it, but she pulled it back coyly. She lifted the trailing vegetation toward her full breasts. Her nipples were tight and red with arousal. "Come closer," she said. Jeenai turned toward the table and chose another bowl from which to eat. "Find another lover. I'm hungry." The fem pouted and tossed down the seaweed, but she didn't give up. She swam up behind him and put her hands on his waist. Jeenai could feel the pebbly points of her nipples against his back. His cock rose despite himself and the fem slid her hand around to caress it. She grasped it firmly and stroked downward, all the way to the base of Jeenai's ventral slit, and then she slid her fingers inside to stroke the round stones of his testicles within. They pulsed in her hand, and Jeenai let the bowl drop. He twisted in the water and gathered her into his arms. The human woman's face filled his mind as he pushed the fem toward one of the private niches set into the walls. The human woman had firm, full breasts, too, just like these. Food forgotten in the lust of mating, Jeenai pulled one of the fem's nipples into his mouth and suckled. She thrashed beneath him, back arched upward to press herself harder against him. She was already fully aroused. Her slit opened to reveal the perfect opening and small, hooded pearl just above. She touched herself there and made her fingers dance on the pleasure spot. The water was already full of the odors of many fems and mals engaged in mating, but now Jeenai could smell this one. Her pheromones filled his nostrils and sent another bolt of pure lust through his body. Her body spasmed in its first climax as she pleasured herself. Her nipples released a succulent nectar with each twitch of her body. Jeenai drank it and felt his cock swell even harder from his body. She stroked him again then brought him to her slit. He slid inside her all the way. The blue put her arms around him and held him tight while his penis thrust in and out of her. Her mouth came down on his shoulder and left a perfect half-circle of marks from her teeth. Swept up in the frenzy of the fuck, Jeenai barely noticed. She shuddered again. Her conch clamped down around him and rippled along his cock. The pressure in his balls built, up and up, not allowing conscious thought, only action. Jeenai humped against the fem harder. They turned over and over in the water. He closed his eyes against the blur as they moved faster. She pumped him. Her inner muscles moved along his cock as firmly and easily as her fingers had, and he approached his own first climax in moments. It tore out of him. His

entire body suffused with pleasure. The fem loosened her grip a little before she bore down on him again. In another moment, he was on the edge of his second orgasm. Though smaller than the first, it was no less pleasurable. Their third climax came at the same time. The fem thrashed and jerked in Jeenai's embrace before quieting. Her gill slits fluttered from her exertion. She pulled away from him, her nipples already returning to their non-aroused color of dusky beige. She smiled. "You are accomplished in the fuck." "And you," Jeenai replied. She looked back at the table of food, now mostly empty after the revelers had feasted while Jeenai mated with the blue. "You'd better hurry before it's all gone." Then with a flip of her tail, she pushed off into the crowd. Jeenai stared after her. His cock shrank back into his body and the opening at the front of his tail closed to conceal it. He couldn't deny the pleasure he'd just taken with that fem--a stranger to him--but though his body had been satisfied, his mind had not. Something was missing from that joining, and it had nothing to do with sexual completion. He went to the cage and reached for one of the fish inside. It swam frantically away from him, but he caught it easily and tore into its flesh. The blood slid down his throat, assuaging his hunger. He spat the bones aside, where they'd be eaten or gathered up by the crabs and bottom-feeders. He took another, and another, before his stomach stopped its muttering. Then he drank another goblet of ink and turned to face the room again. The revel hadn't ended, and probably wouldn't until the next change of the tide. Those who tired of it would leave for rest and food, only to return for more sex play. Partners joined and shared their climaxes, then parted to experience the next with a different partner. The water became cloudy with churned up sand and air bubbles from the thrashing. All at once, the sight and smells made Jeenai's gorge rise. This was not what he wanted. He'd been tempted into it by his desire to placate his brother and the undeniable attraction of the blue, but now, even though his cock twitched and began to rise from his ventral slit again, Jeenai left the hall and sought the peace of the garden. There he floated on his back and stared up through the darkness, imagining the surface and the lights they called stars. **** "You're crazy, staying out here all by yourself." Francine poured herself another mug of bad coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. "Helena, this is nuts." Helena didn't take offense. "How can you say that? It's beautiful here." Francine cast a disapproving eye around the small but tidy kitchen, then rubbed her shoe on the floor. It gritted in the sand that, no matter how often Helena swept, still

managed to creep in. "Why not come home?" "To New York?" Helena shook her head. "No, thanks. I like it here. Sure, it's a bit ramshackle..." "That's an understatement." Francine snorted. "This place should be condemned. I can't believe you didn't just sell it." "I know I could get a lot of money for the land." Helena got up and went to the window, looked out to the dunes, then turned to her friend. "But I have enough money. I like it here. It's quiet." "Quiet? With that constant roaring and pounding? And wait until hurricane season, Helena. You'll be lucky if this shack doesn't just up and blow away. C'mon, the gulls shit on everything...." They did, but Helena held up her hand to silence her friend. "Francine, what's your real problem with this place? It can't be the house. I know it's no mansion, but it's not that bad. And know it can't be the location because this is ten times better than the Hamptons you adore so much. Tell me. What's your real issue?" Francine sighed and toyed with her mug. The look she gave her friend made Helena step back from the level of naked honesty in it. "You're running away." Helena couldn't reply at first. An image of Howard flashed into her mind. "Howard said the same thing." "I hate to agree with that bastard, but he's right." Helena crossed her arms over chest. "I'm not running away." Francine gave another snort. "Please. Nike should give you an endorsement contract for their sneakers, honey. You are running so fast your feet can't catch up." "That's an exaggeration." "It's not, and if you were honest with yourself, you'd know it." Helena sighed. "Fine. Have it your way." "I don't want it my way." Francine got up and dumped the coffee into the sink. "I just miss you, that's all. Hey, lots of people have bad breakups. They don't all move away because of them. New York's a big place, Helena. You don't have to leave it just because your fiancé turned out to be a philandering, lying son-of-a-bitch." Helena cut her gaze to the answering machine. The red display blinked "27." Twenty-seven messages, and she'd bet all of them were from Howard. "I'll admit, I came at first to get away, but now I'm staying because I like it here. Everything smells so fresh."

"If by fresh you mean like dead fish, yeah, I guess you're right." Francine came over and took Helena's hand. "We're just worried about you, doll." "I'm fine." Helena squeezed Francine's fingers. "I have plenty of money. I like it here. I'm fine. Really." Francine gave a long-suffering sigh, but then smiled and shook her head. "I can't change your mind? Get you to come back with me? Leave this place to the gull shit and the wind?" "No. But thanks. For everything." Helena hugged her friend tightly. She was surprised to see tears glittering in Francine's dark brown eyes when she pulled away. "Frannie?" Francine swiped at her face with a chuckle. "I just worry about you, girl." "You don't need to. I'm fine. Really!" "Really, really?" Helena laughed. "Yes. I promise. Pinky-swear. Whatever you want to hear." Francine shrugged into her lightweight sweater and hung her bag over her shoulder. "Not all guys are assholes like Howard, Helena." "I know." I do know that, Helena thought as she watched Francine drive away. But knowing and feeling were sometimes two very different states of mind. Her relationship with Howard had ended badly when she discovered him on top of his secretary after another "late night" at the office had led Helena to check up on him. She'd suspected his infidelity, but that didn't make her feel any better about seeing the man who supposedly loved her enough to make her his wife crotch-deep in a bleached-blonde with fake tits and a genuine attitude. Helena had walked out of Howard's office and hadn't seen him since. She'd sub-let her apartment in the city and moved down here to Chincoteague to the run-down beach house her grandparents had left her several years before. She needed the time to be by herself, in the quiet. She had plenty of money left from her grandparents' inheritance, her free-lance consulting jobs provided for extras, and the rent she got from sub-letting was sufficient to take care of her debts. If she wasn't exactly happy here, it wasn't because of lack of funds. Helena closed the rickety screen door, then the solid door behind it. Night wouldn't fall for another few hours, but she was tired. Francine wasn't used to the quiet island life. She was more accustomed to late-night cappuccinos and caviar than warmed milk and a piece of toast. They'd stayed up late playing cards and reminiscing, which had been wonderful at the time but left Helena with a headache from too much wine and too little sleep. Napping was out of the question. She had enough trouble getting to sleep at night. She'd take a long, warm bath instead. Not even the summer heat could keep her from enjoying

that. She ran the water in the claw-foot tub and added bubbles. She lit a lavender-scented candle, shed her clothes and stepped into the water with a sigh. There was nothing like a long soak in a hot tub to put things to rights. For a little while, she just drifted, floated, let her mind follow one thought after another like a butterfly flitting through a field. The phone rang discordantly, and her eyes flew open, while her hands banged against the tub's metal sides. After two rings, the machine picked up and Helena lay back in the water. She'd check it later. It would probably be Howard, begging for another chance to prove to her how much he loved her. Helena made a face and resolved to put him from her mind. There was nothing he could do to prove anything to her other than what a complete and utter asshole he was. She slipped back into the water, eyes closed again, and sighed. If she'd been the one caught with her pantyhose around her ankles, she had no doubts about how quickly Howard would have forgiven her. She grimaced. How about never? However, no matter how tempted she might have been to take up the few offers she'd had, she'd remained faithful to her fiancé. She couldn't regret doing the right thing, but looking back and recalling the body and face of the man who'd asked her out to dinner after spending an hour on the subway with her, well.... She sighed again. Missed opportunity, that's all. She hadn't had any such luck since coming to Virginia. The local population consisted mostly of families on vacation and some long-term residents she knew on a nodding acquaintance from the summers she'd spent here as a kid with her grandparents. She hadn't met any eligible bachelors, but then, she had hardly "hit the town" either. Helena let her fingers drift along her belly, then down to her thighs. It had been a long time since she'd made love. She'd grown suspicious of Howard's fidelity when the marathon lovemaking sessions they used to have had dried up and become once-every-other-week, perfunctory, passionless fucking. By the end, they'd barely had sex at all, and when they did, he'd had zero interest in making sure he'd pleased her. She'd learned to take care of her own needs, but in the aftermath of the flight from New York, Helena hadn't done more than think about sex for months. Now, her nipples puckered in the hot water as she imagined a man's mouth on them. She touched them, rolled them gently between her fingertips. The soft buds of flesh stiffened under her touch. She tweaked them both again and felt her body's response between her thighs. The oiled water had made her skin supple and slick, but the moisture her questing fingers discovered between her legs had its own source. Helena slid a finger along her folds, then dipped inside. Heat covered her finger, and the pressure on her sensitive inner flesh made her bite her lip and roll her head on her shoulders. God, it felt good to be touched, even if it was her own fingers doing the touching. She circled her clit, already plump and straining with arousal, then slid back inside her heat. The heel of her palm pressed her button as she slowly moved first one finger, then another, in and out. Then up again to put the pressure on the spot where she craved it

most. Helena teased herself to the edge of orgasm in minutes, something no man had ever seemed able to do as well for her as she could do for herself. Her past lovers had varied in skill, desire and physical accomplishments, but they'd all had the same thing in common. They could make her come, sometimes even more than once, but not one of them had mastered the art of slow, torturous arousal that could turn a mildly pleasing orgasm into a climax so mind-blowing it nearly stopped her heart. She didn't let herself slide over the edge into oblivion--not yet. She had all afternoon and all night to please herself, if she wanted. The porcelain tub had a smoothly curving back that cradled her in perfect comfort. With an inflatable bath pillow beneath her neck, Helena could float here for hours. She intended to just that. Now she pinched her clit lightly between her thumb and middle finger and moved the small, hard button of flesh slowly. She concentrated on the feelings radiating through her body while her other hand caressed each of her nipples in time to the stroking of her clit. Her legs fell open and she arched her pelvis against her hand. The perfect man would know how to do this. The thought startled her enough to make her open her eyes and stop her fingers in their delicate circle. Where did that come from? Perfect man? There's no such thing. Helena wasn't foolish enough to think she'd never date again, but open up her heart? Not bloody likely. Her clit pulsed under her touch and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Perfect men simply didn't exist, and even if one did, she wouldn't want him. How hard would it be to live with someone who's perfect? The thought made her laugh, which came out more like a gasp. So the perfect man for her wouldn't have to actually be perfect. She let her hands start up their exploration again. He'd touch her like this, softly, then more fiercely as her arousal grew. He'd know how to do it without being told. Hell, without even being shown. He'd just know. What would he look like? The man from the subway flashed into her mind's eye again, but then faded. Dark hair. She'd always loved dark hair on a man. Dark eyes, too. Dark like night. A man who looked like he wasn't afraid to get dirty. Ahhh.... Her clit thrummed and she thrust upward in the water. She left her nipples to slide her fingers inside herself while the other hand kept up its circular motion on her clitoris. Tall, dark and handsome. Oh, and silent. Helena let out a low moan that echoed in the tiny bathroom. She didn't want a talker. Let him use his hands to tell her anything he needed her to know. "Yes." The word bubbled from her throat and past her lips in a pure burst of pleasure. She said it again and again while her clit turned to fire under her touch and her tunnel clamped down in fluttery ripples on her fingers. She lifted her hand from her clit but kept the other one locked deep inside. For another moment, she pumped her fingers in and out, slowly, just enough to keep her on the edge, but not enough to send herself over. The water washed over her bud and sent

shivers of ecstasy shuddering through her. My perfect man would use his tongue to do this, she thought, and her pussy contracted in a spasm of climax that made her cry out. She withdrew her hand and settled herself deeper into the water. This is how it would feel for my perfect man to go down on me. The thought was slightly incoherent, but what could she expect this close to the first orgasm she'd had in she couldn't remember how long? He'd bend his face between her legs, and he'd lick her, and lick her.... "Yes!" Helena rolled her hips to make the water slosh across her clit, which now felt the size of her thumb. The water rolled over her heated flesh, caressed her, teased her, and brought her even closer to climax. A fingertip touched to her button would have made her splinter, but oh, doing it this way was so...much...nicer.... She couldn't hold on any longer. The delicious pleasure-pain had built up in her center to the point she could no longer stop it. She was coming in a rush, a flood, a hurricane of ecstasy washing over her in waves so strong she felt as though she were going to lift right out of the tub and ride them to the stars. Her body convulsed, making the water push that much harder on her clit. She came again, hard on the heels of the first climax, which hadn't quite ended. Helena flew. She gasped. Her vagina and clit spasmed and rippled, and each contraction made another burst of sensation tear through her. Then, finally, her body's movements slowed and faded, gentled to nothing, and she lay back in the water, trying to catch her breath. If I could find a man who could do that, she thought, I'd follow him to the bottom of the sea, if I had to. **** He rose again through the water's blackness toward the blackness above. He burst from the surface, this time not fearing the air's sting. Maybe he was getting used to it. His gill slits fluttered, open and closed, but couldn't process the air the way they could filter it from the water. He opened his mouth to take in a gulp of the stuff, but it was flavorless as well as without color, and he felt only an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest when he did. She's singing again. He heard her voice even over the crashing of the waves against the shore. Her voice was lovelier than anything he'd ever heard, even if he understand only a little of what she was saying. Jeenai floated in the shallow water for a while, listening. She likes to walk along the beach at night. He liked to watch her move with the twin supports he knew were called legs moving with such swift efficiency over the sand. In the water, she would flounder where he is strong, but there on land, she had the advantage over him. His heart thudded in his chest at the sight of her pale hair, caught and tangled by the night breeze. A wave lifted and took him closer to her. Now he saw the flash of her bare skin as she waded in the froth of sea foam at the edge of the waves. She had breasts, like

a fem, but her center was exposed for the world to see instead of being tucked away inside her. The dark triangle between her legs advertised the pleasure to be had there. His cock thickened and grew longer in response. She is beautiful. He longed for her in a way he had never longed for anything else. The ache inside him was a hunger that could not be assuaged by food, or by sex play. Not even by battle. He'd tried all those things: stuffing himself to nausea, fucking his way through every revel two and three times over, heading out to fight the neighboring pod of Carrageenai. Nothing satisfied him like the sight of her. He'd seen her first by accident. A skirmish had left him wounded, far from home, and he'd floated to the surface, delirious with pain. He'd come out against the nighttime sky and heard the sound of her singing. Now, he swam the great distance back and forth from his territory to hers as often as he could. Seeing and hearing her was no longer enough. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to mate with her, stay with her, which was ludicrous and should make him feel ashamed for even desiring such perversion. Yet as he floated and heard her voice across the water, Jeenai didn't feel ludicrous or perverse. He only felt sorrow he couldn't reveal himself to her. He let the tide sweep him uncomfortably close to shore, just beyond the edge of breaking waves. Sand scraped at his tail, but he barely noticed the abrasion, so caught was he by the sound of her voice. And now, what is she doing? She was entering the water. He heard the splash of her inadequate fins --her legs--as she moved them in the sea. She stopped singing, and after a moment, Jeenai realized he could no longer hear her at all. She had gone beneath the water. **** The wine had made her warm and the water had looked so appealing, Helena had no compunctions about diving in. She hadn't counted on a riptide. The forceful water had grabbed her legs and pulled her under. She'd come up, spluttering and coughing, and when she put her feet down, she felt nothing but water beneath her. Stupid! she berated herself. Stupid for swimming alone, at night, without even a bathing suit. She'd seen the movie Jaws. Naked, drunk swimmers always got eaten at night. She kicked as powerfully as she could and tried to find the shore. There...a glint of light, left from a burning candle on her deck. She focused on it. How far out was she? The light seemed as far away as a star. The water closed over her head again and this time she didn't fight it. She drifted. She was drowning, but wasn't afraid. Funny. She'd always thought she'd fight death when it came. Something bumped against her trailing legs and Helena screamed. Thoughts of sharp teeth and giant dorsal fins filled her as the water rushed into her throat and lungs. She

was under the water! She pumped her feet, moved her hands, but which way was up? Drowning hadn't frightened her, but being chomped by a shark did. Hands. She felt hands on her waist. Arms curled around her and she was pressed against a bare, male chest. A face swam before her. A human face. Lips pressed to hers and gave her air to breathe. She didn't know how, but could only be grateful for the breath. They surged to the surface, where she gasped in a breath that burned like fire. She caught a glimpse of streaming dark hair, dark, fathomless eyes, and strong, broad shoulders. He pulled her toward the shore. In the back of her sea-soaked brain, Helena waited for him to carry her onto the sand like the hero from a romance novel. Kiss her back to life, then perhaps make passionate love to her on the sand without either one of them getting chafed. Instead, she felt his muscles bunch and roll as he lifted and tossed her as hard as he could. She didn't quite make it all the way to the land. Helena landed with a thud in the shallow waves. She sucked in air, not water, and she turned to look with bleary eyes for her savior. He wasn't there. **** "You stink of split-tail." Krall made a rude gesture to emphasize what he'd just said. Jeenai was too tired to care. He shoved past his brother and went to his chambers, where he curled on his bed of cultured seaweed and tried to rest. He had touched her. Her skin had been smooth, like a fem's, but suppler. More tender somehow. Her scent had been like nothing he'd ever smelled. "You've been to the surface." Krall had followed him. Jeenai made no reply. His brother swam closer and lay down next to him. "You're failing, oh, my brother." Jeenai rolled onto his back and unfurled the length of his tail. "Leave me alone." Krall made the hand signs for laughter. Jeenai looked up. His brother was no longer mocking him. "If your desires lay on the surface, oh, my brother, maybe that's where you should go." Jeenai lifted his upper body. "You can't be serious." Again, Krall made the laughing motion. "I'm serious. You're pale. You're getting thin. You take no joy in the hunt, in the feast. Not even in the fuck, oh, my brother." Jeenai nodded. All of that was true. "So what can I do about it? She's captured me as surely as a net or a hook." "Carageenai don't mate like the split-tails do." Krall made a grimace as he cast his gaze upwards. "You'd have to stay with her for the rest of your life...which, fortunately, wouldn't be very long." Jeenai thought back to the eight ten-seasons he'd already passed. "My life would drag

out infinitely longer feeling the way I do." Krall let a stream of silver bubbles filter out from his nose and mouth. It was a gesture of commiseration, and one Jeenai would not have guessed his brother capable of. Krall reached out a hand and grabbed Jeenai's. "Oh, my brother, I did not tell you of the time I spent during my youthquest." Krall shrugged. "When I was gone, I did more than hunt and fight and sow my seed in other territories. I also went to the surface." Jeenai had never heard this story. "My brother?" Krall's gaze had gone far away. "I met a split-tail. A handsome split-tail. One of their mals. I came across him in a lagoon. He was swimming. I was so taken by the way his...what are they called?" "Legs." "His legs churned the water with twice as many movements as a tail does, yet he could move only half as fast. I caught him with no effort. I held him in my arms. He seemed so much smaller than I, though his sex equipment was the same." Jeenai laughed. "You didn't, oh, my brother." Krall's grin emphasized his sharp teeth. "I did. Why not? The mating wasn't like anything I'd ever done before, I can tell you that." "He didn't fight you?" "Oh, no. He embraced me. He put his mouth on mine, which was odd, as we were both above the surface, and I had no need to give him the lifekiss." "That's how split-tails show affection. Passion." Jeenai thought for a moment. "She would have drowned tonight, if I had not been there. If I had not put my mouth to hers." "Careless split-tails." This time, Krall's hands fluttered in laughter that echoed the noise issuing from his throat. "Don't they know any better?" "Why tell me your tale now, oh, my brother?" Jeenai pulled his tail up so he could grip it with both hands and lean against the wall. "Because you are my favorite of all my brothers, Jeenai. And I hate to see you wasting away for something that could be yours." Jeenai watched his older brother stretched out lazily on his back. "You're talking about the sea hag." Krall rolled his eyes toward Jeenai. "Who other? She can give you what you want, oh, my brother. Legs instead of a tail. The ability to breathe air, not water. She can make you into a split-tail. But at what price, oh, my brother? That's what I ask you." Jeenai thought of the human woman. She'd felt right in his arms. His heart and his penis

leapt at the thought of her in his arms again. "I will pay the price, Krall." **** "I know it sounds crazy, Frannie, but it happened." Helena turned off the burner when the kettle began to whistle, then fixed herself a mug of Earl Grey. Extra sugar. Cream. Her eyes and nose still burned today from the saltwater, but she felt curiously energized, otherwise. "You almost drowned last night and you make it sound like something out a fairy tale." Francine's voice was disapproving even through the long-distance connection. "This is reality, Helena. You could've died last night, if what you're telling me is true and not some dream." Helena blew on the tea. "It wasn't a dream." "You really want me to believe some gorgeous lifeguard pulled you out of the water." "Threw me out." "Threw you out of the water, then just disappeared?" Helena sipped the hot drink and sighed with pleasure at the taste of real cream. "That's what happened." Silence. Francine sighed. "Are you really all right?" "I'm really all right!" Helena turned and looked out the kitchen window to the glimpse of beach beyond. "Fran, it was really amazing. He was amazing." "A guy who can breathe underwater and is strong enough to throw you to shore would count as amazing." "When you put it that way," Helena said, "it does sound nuts. I know." "Maybe you had an out-of-body experience." "I don't think so." Helena's nipples peaked beneath the cotton T-shirt she wore. The memory of her mystery man's lips caressing hers had just shot a bolt of pure desire straight through her. "I was definitely in my body." "Don't go swimming at night by yourself any more! Promise? Not even if it is to meet hunky men. Okay?" "Okay. Yes. I promise." Helena laughed. "I'm sorry I worried you." Francine snorted, and Helena could imagine her friend rolling her eyes. "I'm still worried." "Don't be. I'm fine," Helena said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I have to go." They wished each other good-bye. "I'll call you in a couple days," Francine said. Helena didn't have the heart to tell her friend not to call so often. "Okay. Talk to you

then." Helena looked out to the beach again. The pale blue glimmer of sky she'd seen earlier had gone a dark and foreboding gray. It looked like it was going to storm. Even as she watched, a fork of lightning split the gray. A moment later, the sound of thunder came to her ears. Helena left her tea on the counter and pushed through the screen door to stand on the porch. She shaded her eyes to stare out at the roiling ocean. The beach, which earlier had boasted several umbrellas and a few families, was now deserted. Even the sand looked gray beneath the storm clouds. She could see something moving on the surface further out. What is it? A tornado on the water? Her feet moved of their own will. She left the kitchen and went to the beach to see what was dancing on the water. She'd heard of water funnels, but had never seen one before. The swirling silver tunnel danced on top of the water, bending and dipping like an old-fashioned lady in a ball dress bowing to her partner. Helena's nipples tingled again at the sight. Her pulse beat rapidly in her clit. She shook her head. What on earth was happening to her? Waves crashed and pounded the sand. The funnel grew closer. It looked to Helena like the neck of some ancient beast, some sort of dinosaur. A sea monster. **** The hag lived deep. Jeenai swam to the outskirts of her territory and paused. The sand here shifted subtly from brown to gray and then to black. The vegetation hung limp and pallid, with twisted branches and sagging, ugly flowers. She'd built a wall of bones--animal, human, even some of the Carrageenai. A fish hung, flopping, from the ribcage of a split-tail sailor who wore a garland of phosphorescent moss around its neck. The water was colder here and Jeenai shivered. The Carrageenai could adjust their body temperatures rapidly to accommodate the changes in the sea depths, but he wasn't a fish. The cold water still affected him and made him slow. Her guards seized him before he'd made it halfway to her door. Jeenai didn't fight them, since his reactions were not at their usual speed and because it would be considered an affront to the hag if he killed her guards before asking her to grant him a favor. Instead, he hung in the tentacles of her trained squid and tried to ignore the clacking of their sharp beaks in his face as they threatened him. "Put him down." She gestured and gave a low, trilling noise from deep in her throat. The squid released Jeenai and retreated. He rubbed his arms where their suckers had abraded his skin. "My pets have left their kisses on you, I see." She gestured for him to swim closer. "You want something from me." She added a leer and a tail flip that changed the subtext of the phrase to something sexual.

"I want to become a--" He almost said split-tail. "Human." The hag lifted her chin and pondered him. "You can't be human. You want to walk on land and breathe air. You want to have sexplay with a human woman. But you can't ever be human, yourself." "If I have all those things, if I can do those things, that will be enough." "Will it?" The hag laughed. Her hands made fluttering shadows on the wall. "I'm not so sure, mal." Anger rose in his chest. "It's not for you to decide." Again, she laughed and tossed her hair. Her skin was smooth and unlined and her breasts high with puckered nipples. Her gaze bore into his as she fingered the reddening circles. He caught the scent of her arousal. "If that's what you want, then you shall have it." The hag smiled. "But nothing I grant comes for free." "I know that." "And even if I could give this to you without charge, I can't change the truth of what's going to happen." The hag swam closer to him and entwined herself around him. Her tail stroked his as her hands found his belly and stroked upward. "I can take away your tail and give you legs. But I can't give you what you want from her, which is that human emotion they call...love. I can't make her love you." He stayed upright beneath her wandering hands. His penis slid from its slit, though he felt little desire to engage in sexplay with the hag. She reached for it, clasped it, then squeezed. "Do you want to know my price, mal?" "Of course I do." The hag laughed until her hair swirled around her body. "I think you can guess." Her red nipples told him that answer. "You want the fuck from me?" She looked around. "From who else? You're the only mal here." Jeenai looked at her smooth skin, the tale as black as ink next to her pale upper torso. Her hair, too, was white streaked with black. She had very unusual coloring, and she would have been immensely appealing to him...before he'd lost his heart to the human woman. "If all you require is the fuck, I will pay that price, madame." The hag narrowed her eyes at him. "Not only the fuck, my fine mal. I also desire a child of you. I want your seed." This was a more complicated issue. "Then I would have responsibility to you and to the

child." "You'll be living above the surface." The hag's hands pointed upward then made the sign for split-tail. "I will raise our child here. Do you think I'm incapable of doing it alone? I live my life alone, mal, shunned by polite society for the skills all wish to use, but none wish to acknowledge. I would have a child to keep me company. Perhaps I, too, seek love." It seemed a small price to pay for so great a reward. "All right." "One other thing." The hag moved closer until her eyes bore into his. "I would have some of your blood." "For what?" "For my work. You are different from the others, mal. I would have some of that essence." Again, he nodded his assent. "You may take some, if you wish." The hag grinned. "Let's get started." He'd never finished the fuck so swiftly or with so little finesse. The hag seemed unconcerned about her own pleasure or his. He gave her his seed, and she closed herself afterward with a satisfied smile. Then she motioned for him to join her in another room. He followed her toward a bowl of carved shell. She held his arm over the bowl and sliced it deeply until the blood flowed, thick like sludge, into the container. Not one drop of it was lost to the water, and Jeenai shook his head in wonder at her power. She ran her finger along the wound, and it closed up. She gestured for him to wait while she uncapped many bottles and dispensed many vile substances into the bowl. She mixed it with a sharpened bone, then offered it to him. He took it, but didn't drink. "You understand you won't be able to talk to her. Our bodies aren't made for their sort of communication, and she won't understand our language." "I'll make her understand." The shell bowl had grown warm in his hands. The hag rolled her eyes. "Your gill slits will close. You'll have to breathe air, the way they do, through your nose or your mouth. Fresh water will do you no harm, but enter the sea, or let even a drop of the sea water touch you, and you'll turn back into what you were when you came into this place. Do you understand?" He lifted his hands from his waist to his chest. It was hard to speak with the bowl in his grip, but she understood his answer. "Yes." "You'll have legs." She spat toward the sand floor. "Nasty, ugly things. You'll have them, and they'll work, but every step will be as though you walked on knives. Do you understand that, mal?"

"I do." "You are willing to live in near-constant agony for this split-tail?" "I am." He shifted the bowl. "Because you...love her?" The hag sounded curious, as though she could not understand such a thing. Jeenai didn't understand it himself. "From what I know of love, yes. I want to be with her. To touch her. To hear her speak my name." "She won't do that, you fool." The hag gestured at the bowl. "Just remember, you'll look human, and you can learn to act human, but human you will never be! Her mouth can't form your name any more than you'll be able to speak hers aloud. You can have the fuck with her, I've no doubt, for your cock will remain unchanged, just no longer protected as it is for us. "One more thing, foolish mal. If you decide you do not love her after all, all you need do is return to the sea. But if she does not love you as you do her, if she chooses another over you, all of this will vanish. You will become nothing more than foam on the waves. You won't even be able to live out the rest of your natural life here below. You will die." He nodded. "I understand." The hag released him. "Go on. Drink your brew. And one more thing, stupid mal." "Yes?" She gave him a leer so wicked it made his eyes burn. "Don't forget to take a deep breath. You're going to need it." The brew burned his gut as it went down. Agony doubled him over. His tail thrashed, sending him upward, and he gulped the breath the hag told him to take. In moments, another searing pain ripped through him, this time centered in his tail. He pushed with it, trying to reach the surface before he changed completely. He didn't make it. His lungs were bursting, but his gill slits were no longer working. His legs pushed with little effect against the water. He looked down into the depths, but his eyes no longer could see in the dark. They burned and stung. The hag swam up below him. She gestured and twirled. The water swirled around her hands then rose up toward him. It captured him, cradled him, and lifted him upward in its spout until it pushed him above the surface. He still couldn't breathe. He could barely move. He was caught in the maelstrom that rode the waves toward the shore. Pain engulfed him. He couldn't think. Then, just when he thought even turning to foam would be better than the agony tearing him apart, he saw her. The woman he had fallen in love with. She reached for him, her face a mask of wonder and terror, and somewhere inside himself, Jeenai found the strength to reach back.

**** There was a dark speck inside the silver. Something with arms and legs, moving, and horror filled her as Helena realized what it was. A man. The wind whipped her hair against her cheeks as she ran toward the water. Helena gaped at the silver funnel, now so close she could see the naked form inside. It was a man. A naked man, trapped inside the water. Surely he had to be dead. Didn't he? Helena shielded her eyes, trying to see if there was any form of life inside the churning tunnel of water. The man's body moved limply. His head hung down, hiding his face. Helena looked for help, but the beach was still deserted. Everyone else had been smart and headed home before this storm broke. Another flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by the crack of thunder, made her jump. Now the rain came. It slashed at her face and arms. It tasted of salt and made her cough. Incredibly, the funnel was continuing closer to the shore. Helena waded out to where the water hit her thigh-high, but then she stopped, remembering her near-drowning the night before. She was afraid to enter the wildly whipping waters, but she couldn't just leave the man there to drown. The funnel came just to the edge of where the waves were breaking. It swirled and tossed the man inside as though to break him. It was so close to her Helena thought she might just be able to reach out and touch it. Touch him. And then, he opened his eyes and reached for her. The funnel spat the man out like a baby rejecting its first taste of solid food. His hand caught hers as he flew over her head. Their fingers entwined, and her arm was nearly ripped from its socket as the force of his flight pulled Helena backward. They hit the sand at close to the same time, and the waves covered them before retreating. Helena came up spluttering and splashing, her hair hanging in her face and her skin rubbed raw from the salt and sand. She staggered to her feet, went down again to her knees, then forced herself upright again. In the back of her mind she noted the funnel had disappeared, though the storm still raged. She cried out at the sight of the man in the surf in front of her. He lay face down, up to his ears in swirling water. Helena turned him over then dragged him up onto the sand as far as she could. His skin was cold, his lips blue. His eyes had closed. He didn't seem to be breathing. She pulled him higher, out of the reach of the waves. Seaweed had tangled in his shoulder-length dark hair. She put her hands to his chest, but felt no rise and fall. He really wasn't breathing. Helena had never given mouth-to-mouth before, or CPR, but she bent over the man anyway. His lips were cold on hers as she pressed down. She blew into them, uncertain

of how hard to blow and afraid of hurting him. Was it possible to blow up another person's lungs? She blew again. The air hissed out of his nose, along with a dribble of water. She tried again. Her hand lay flat on his bare chest, and she felt no beating heart beneath her fingers. Was he...dead? His mouth parted beneath hers. His hand came up to clasp the back of her head. She breathed out, and he breathed in. In the next moment, his tongue met hers. He was kissing her. She backed off so quickly she fell back into the sand. "You're not dead!" He sat up. His now-open eyes were dark. Fully dark, with hints of blue and green and purple and even red in the depths. Helena blinked...sure she must be imagining things. She looked again. Yes, there was a hint of white around his irises, something to prove him human, anyway, but the color was still the oddest she'd ever seen. She got to her feet. "That was some trick." He tilted his head and only stared at her. She waved her hands. "Pretending to be dead so I had to give you mouth to mouth. Nice one, Romeo. But next time--" She glanced down at his nude body. "--keep your bathing suit on." She turned to go and his hand caught at the hem of her pants. "Hey! Let go!" He sat up, then stood unsteadily. She caught him before he could fall. His face had now paled remarkably beneath its bluish cast. His full lips thinned and he gasped, as though in pain. His fingers bit into her shoulders and his weight nearly took her down again. Helena straightened her back and somehow kept them both upright. "Where are you hurt?" He didn't answer her. He gave a low, tortured groan as his feet moved. He went to his knees. "Hey," Helena said, more gently this time. "You'll be all right. Let me get you inside, and I'll call a doctor." Somehow she made it with him to the living room of her ramshackle house. She sat him on the threadbare couch, wrapped him in an afghan her grandmother had crocheted, and went to the kitchen to make some hot tea. Grateful for the gas stove that worked even during a power outage, Helena lifted the phone from its receiver without much hope. The wind still blew hard enough to shake the windows and the rain still slashed the earth to mud. The phone was out, as she'd expected. She dunked two tea bags into two oversize mugs, then added liberal amounts of cream and sugar, added a few cookies from a tin and put it all on a tray. Cookies could fix a lot of problems, her grandmother had been fond of saying, and even if they couldn't heal a man who'd nearly drowned, they'd sure make him feel better. She added a flashlight and returned to the living room.

She paused after setting down the tray. The man from the sea had fallen asleep. His head lolled back, mouth slightly parted, eyelashes casting shadows on his pale, still bluish cheeks. His chest peeked through the holes in the afghan, and she could see he was still breathing, at least. An inclination she couldn't understand made Helena reach out and smooth his drying hair away from his forehead, then let her fingers trail down his cheek. She withdrew before he could wake. Then she tucked the blanket more firmly around him, pushed his head softly onto a pillow and sat down with her tea in the overstuffed chair across from him. There was something definitely odd about him, and more than the way he'd entered her life. He looked...exotic. Foreign. Had he fallen off a cruise ship? Was he a merchant sailor from some far off land? Her tea spilled onto her lap before she realized she was also falling asleep. Helena winced at the stickiness left behind by the salt water. A shower, then bed, if her mystery guest hadn't woken by then. She checked him again, but his breathing was smooth, his pulse seemed normal enough, and his color was good. She checked the phone again, but it was still out, and likely would be until morning. After a rinse in the cold shower, her body didn't seem so interested in sleep any longer. She checked on her visitor, but he still slept. Helena wondered if she ought to wake him up...weren't people with head injuries not supposed to sleep? Uneasiness sent a chill down her spine. What if he dies in the night? She put another couple of blankets over him, fully aware he was still completely nude under them. In the flashlight's dim light, his face looked impossibly serene. She bent low over him, uncertain why, and brushed her lips along his forehead. Then she stepped back, stunned by her own actions. She fled to the safety of her bedroom and the covers under which she could hide from the night and the storm outside. **** What is this darkness to which I have succumbed? Beneath the waves, the Carrageenai took rest, but were never overcome by this darkness filled with thoughts and visions he knew were not real, but seemed so vivid he thought he could reach out and touch them. One of the visions was of the woman bending to press her mouth to his skin. A kiss. She kissed him, and as Jeenai heard the soft pad of her feet as she left him, his eyes opened to more darkness. This time, to the darkness of the night, and not of dreams. **** Strong hands caressed her and she writhed wantonly beneath them. It had been so long since a man had touched her that way. Helena let her legs fall open to his urging. His fingers traced tickling patterns on her belly, over the springy curls, down to her thighs. She sighed and lifted her hips to the touch. It felt so good. This was the best sort of dream. She gave herself up to it. The hands of her dream lover caressed her thighs, then drifted upward to tangle briefly in her curls again before slipping a finger delicately

along her slick folds. She sighed and parted her legs. The finger stroked her, dipped inside, then slid upward to press gently on her clitoris. Her body jerked at the sudden, delightful pressure. She heard herself moan. Was that out loud? Helena discovered she didn't really care. She slid her palms over her erect nipples and tweaked them in time to the gentle press and release from below. Ah, she was going to come. The entire focus of her body became centered between her legs. Her breathing quickened. Slickness coated her thighs as she shifted them to urge her dream lover to give her more of what she craved. He did. Another low cry burst from her throat when his tongue swiped along her flesh. His finger slipped deep inside her now, fucking her in rhythm to the stroking of his tongue on her clit. Helena lifted her hips. This was perfect. A lover who knew exactly how to touch her, where to touch her. A faceless, silent lover who pleasured her without demanding anything in return. As though from a far off place, she thought she heard the crashing of the ocean. Her body responded. Cresting and falling like waves on the sea, her climax built. It centered between her legs, on her clit and inside her vagina, but the pleasure radiated throughout her entire body. Her nipples tingled. The first shudders of orgasm swept over her, and she felt her flesh begin to pound and spasm. She came hard, then rose and came again. The second climax was milder, but lasted longer. For what felt like an hour she surfed the contractions rippling through her. She caught the scent of the ocean now, not just the sound. Salt and water, the tang of seaweed, a hint of fish that might have been unpleasant if it did not so totally blend with the other scents. The smell was familiar. More than just a beach smell. Still coasting on the aftermath of her orgasm, Helena let herself sink lower into her soft bed. The dream was fading. Her dream lover... Her eyes opened, startled, and she sat up in bed with a scream that shook the room. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man she'd rescued last night knelt between her legs. The daylight streaming through the window highlighted hints of blue and green in his black hair. His eyes met hers without blinking, and she saw the same colors echoed there. Helena pulled her oversized T-shirt down over her thighs and sat up against the headboard. "What..." She couldn't find any more words for a moment. With her body still languorous and sated from its recent climax, she was having a bit of trouble focusing. She bit on her tongue, hard, then shouted, "Get out of here!" He cocked his head and studied her. Then he lifted his hands and made a fluttering motion with the fingers, moved one hand in a semicircle that ended with the palm facing up and made a low squeak in his throat. Fear stabbed her. "You freak! Get out!"

He looked alarmed and shook his head. Then he reached for her. Instinct took over, and Helena pistoned her foot out. It caught him directly in the chest and flung him back and off the bed. He hit the wood floor with a thump that shook the room. Helena leaped to her feet and put up her hands, ready to defend herself if she needed to. She waited for her attacker to stand up, but her resolve faltered when he did. His eyes were bright with longing, and they somehow pierced her to the soul. He stood, his mouth thinned into a grim line, as though he were in terrible pain. No wonder, she thought. I just kicked him in the chest. He put a hand to his heart then moved it outward, palm up, and curled the fingers closed. He made a gesture as though tossing the invisible something in his hand toward her, then put both hands, fingertips together, to his lips. He repeated it twice. Sign language. "Are you deaf?" He shook his head and cupped one hand around his ear. "You can hear, but you can't talk?" Again, a headshake. Helena realized suddenly the man was still naked. His body was pale and finely formed, with sleek lines and defined but not overlarge muscles. His skin still had a faint bluish cast. His penis curled between muscular thighs, but no hair surrounded it. Helena pulled her embarrassed gaze away from his crotch. No hair on his chest, either, or under his arms. No hair anywhere that she could see, but for the thick dark layers on his head. He repeated his earlier gesture two more times, his gaze sincere. He wisely kept his distance. "You're sorry?" She didn't know how she knew that's what he meant, but her guess had been correct. Relief curved his lips into a smile. He nodded. He looked pointedly at the bed, then down to his penis, which twitched and made as though to rise. He pointed to her and passed his hands flat down in front of him as though he were stroking her from throat to hips. Her nipples poked at the front of the soft T-shirt when he did that, and Helena crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know where you come from, buddy, but you just don't crawl into a woman's bed and..." And what? Lick her to one of the best orgasms she'd ever had? "Well, you just can't do that. Not without my permission! That's rape!" The problem was, now that the initial surprise had faded, she didn't feel raped. She didn't feel violated. Quite the opposite, Helena mused, as the man's cock thickened a bit more in front of her fascinated gaze. She felt quite horny. "You just can't do it," she finished lamely. "I don't know who you are, or where you

came from, or anything about you!" He pointed out the window, where a glimpse of now blue ocean peeked in at them. He put one finger in the air and mimicked the water funnel's motion, then threw out both his hands toward her. "Yes, I know you came from that freaky funnel thing. But how did you get there? Who are you?" It seemed he couldn't reply. He put a hand to his throat and shook his head sadly. Then he shrugged. For a long moment, they stared at each other from across the room. Finally, Helena sighed. "Are you hungry? C'mon. I'll make us something to eat. Then we can figure out what to do with you." **** She provided him with an article of clothing he recognized but had to struggle to get into. The two tubes of material were meant to cover his new legs. Jeenai had no trouble seeing that. But how did these split-tails...humans, he reminded himself. How do they manage to get them on? He lifted one foot, which made the other scream in agony at the extra pressure. He was able to stick his leg down in and repeat the process, then pull the stretchy circular opening up to his hips. The fit wasn't perfect. A good two hand's-breadth of ankle stuck out below the bottom edge. He was covered, though, which Jeenai knew to be important to the humans, and he felt better with his equipment tucked away beneath something protective. He might get used to feet and legs, but he'd never get used to having his penis and testicles exposed for all the world to see. "They look good on you," the woman told him when he entered the room where she was fixing the food. "Sit down. I'm making eggs." Jeenai had seen many humans using what they called beach chairs, but though this looked similar, the back was higher and the legs longer. He sat gingerly, unused to bending his body in such a fashion. He was surprised to feel how comfortable it was to rest his weight entirely on his posterior, especially since it meant the pressure released a bit on his feet. The woman put a platter of what looked like sponges in front of him. The Carrageenai did not eat sea sponges, but he lifted some on his fingers and tasted it warily. Not sponges at all! Something better, something delicious. His stomach rumbled and came awake. He was fiercely hungry. Jeenai gobbled the rest of the platter as the woman watched. He looked up to see her expression--one he recognized. She was bemused. "You were hungry." He nodded, familiar with her terminology. He patted his stomach, then gestured a thank you. "You're welcome."

She understood him. The sea hag had been wrong. He could not speak as the humans did, that was true enough. But he could communicate. She was not eating. She sipped from a cup of some brown liquid. He asked her if she was not also hungry. She furrowed her brow at him. He tried again with the crude gestures used to communicate with Carrageenai infants. Her face lit with understanding. "No, I don't want any, thanks. Coffee is enough for me." She showed him the cup. "Want some?" He had never consumed a liquid as part of nourishment before. The seawater he regularly took into his mouth, nose and gill slits never reached his stomach. He accepted the cup she handed him, sniffed the dark liquid, then touched his tongue to it. It was as hot as a thermal spring, and he gave it back to her with a shake of his head. "No?" She laughed. "It's a bad habit of mine. I'm a monster without my coffee in the morning." He didn't understand what she meant, exactly, but her laughter prompted his own. His mouth stretched into a grin, and he saw her face go from amused to shocked. "Your teeth!" She set down her cup so hard her coffee spilled. "They're so sharp!" He clamped his lips closed. He had forgotten for a moment that human mouths were filled with dull, useless teeth. That was why they needed to use tools to cut their food for them. Apparently, though, the sight of his teeth had startled her. Worse, disgusted her. Jeenai looked at the woman for whom he'd risked so much. If she could not love him, he would turn into sea foam. He would cease to exist. He told her he was sorry, which she recognized. She stared at his hands as he spoke, and he realized she was looking at the soft, flexible webbing between his fingers. The woman's face was solemn. "You're not human, are you?" He shook his head. "You came from the sea." Recognition made her gasp. "It was you the other night! You saved me when I went under!" He nodded. The woman sat back in her chair. She covered her eyes briefly with her hands, then peeked at him through her fingers. "What are you?" "Carrageenai," he said, but the sound came out mangled and indecipherable. She shook her head. "I don't understand." He stood and put his hands on his thighs. "These are not my legs. I usually have a tail."

He'd used the formal gesture for tail, but switched to infant-hands again for her benefit. "A long tail. But I'm not a fish. We're mammals, like those you call porpoises and whales." He'd made the symbol for whale by imitating with his hands a whale breaching, but she clearly didn't understand. He tried the one for porpoise, the creature his people called closemates because of their ancestral relationship to the Carrageenai. That she seemed to understand. "You're a mermaid? A merman, I mean?" The woman took a gulp from her cup. She stared at his legs. "You must be joking. This is still a dream, right? I'm dreaming. Or I'm crazy." He wondered why she thought she was not experiencing this reality appropriately. There were Carrageenai who, on occasion, lost touch with the real world around them and slipped into their own minds. They were considered mad. His woman, his mate, did not seem mad. She laughed, though the noise didn't sound quite as joyous this time. "I must be dreaming." He shook his head. "You are not mad. This is real. I am real. We are real, here, together." She rubbed at her eyes again. "What happened to your tail?" He began to explain and saw her eyes follow his gestures without understanding. She bit at her lip. Jeenai stopped trying to explain. "I came from the water to be with you," was what he finally managed to say with infant-hands. "Why? Why be with me?" "Because I love you." She gasped. She had understood. Instead of smiling, though, she got to her feet and began to pace in front of him. Jeenai lurched upright, but his feet sent bolts of pain through his entire legs, and he sat again. "That's insane," she muttered, her face turned from him. She wasn't speaking to him, yet he was able to understand her. With the Carrageenai, both parties needed to face each other to speak. If one could not see the myriad of gestures and expressions of the other, the language was lost. "You came out of the sea to be with me because you love me." She let out another harsh burst of laughter. She faced him. "How do you even know me?" "You walk along the beach at night. I heard you singing. I've been watching you a long time." He could see she didn't understand everything he'd said.

"You've been watching me? From the ocean?" He nodded. "Your song called me." "I don't understand." He made another set of gestures, but she still shook her head. Jeenai sighed, frustrated. "I came to be with you. To bring pleasure to you. To share the fuck." That she seemed to have no trouble understanding. Her eyes widened and her gaze fell to his now-covered crotch. She backed against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh. My. God." He recognized the tone, if not the words. She was shocked. But the way her nipples hardened beneath the front of her garment and the high color that rose in her cheeks told him she was not displeased. Jeenai stood and ignored the pain that shot through his feet. He stepped toward her. She made a low noise. Fear? He stopped and considered her. Carrageenai fems could be hostile if approached when they did not desire sexplay. Yet this woman's nipples had grown hard. Her legs had parted slightly beneath the edge of her garment. He could not smell as well as he could at home, but he caught the spicy aroma of her arousal. Human fems are different, he reminded himself as he took another hesitant step closer to her. They did not have sharp teeth to bite or powerful tails to slam. He thought of the blow she'd given him earlier. They are not without their own defenses, however. And while it might be easy to read a fem's desire in her body's response, perhaps human indicators of arousal were as different as their defenses. Jeenai took another step. Now she could strike him if she so chose. The woman didn't move. Her breath caught in her throat. This close he could almost hear the thump of her heart. Below the sea, now was the time he would take her in his arms and thrust his erect cock inside her. Here, above the water, Jeenai was not so certain of what step to take next. He stared into her eyes, which were the color of the sea. Blue, surrounded by white, with only a small dark circle in the center. Her lips had parted. She didn't shy away when he reached for her shoulders. A kiss. That was what humans did. They pressed their mouths together. He would kiss her. It felt awkward at first, this pressure of mouth upon mouth. She sighed and trembled when he gave the kiss, and Jeenai pulled away, suddenly fearful she was going to strike at him again. Her eyes had closed. She didn't move. He bent to kiss her again. Her lips parted. Her tongue probed lightly at his mouth and he followed her lead. Their tongues stroked one another. The sensation made his penis surge to life inside the garment she'd given him. He pulled her closer to him. Her

breasts crushed against his bare chest. He could feel the sharp points of her nipples through her garment. The feeling excited him. He pressed his penis against the softness of her belly, then nudged a bit lower to the juncture of her legs. That was where her fem parts were, the slick, heated folds and shining pearl he'd explored earlier. Jeenai wanted to lose himself inside her body and seek the release he'd given her before. He restrained himself. He was no longer below the sea. He was above and things were different here. The scent of her desire grew stronger as they continued to kiss. The touch of her tongue against his was incredibly erotic. He had not imagined this action called kissing could be so pleasurable. Blood surged into his cock, stiffening and lengthening it. The garment created a new sort of friction. He moved his hips against her and she responded with a moan. She parted her legs farther. She took Jeenai's hands from her shoulders and moved them to her waist. With gentle pressure, she urged him to lift the garment up past her hips. She was no longer bare beneath it. A tiny scrap of cloth covered her pelvis. It was smoother than the garment she wore on the top. His fingers slid along it. She shuddered against him when he found the swollen bump of her pearl and rubbed it. Jeenai found he could lift her by putting one hand beneath her rear end while he continued to stimulate her with the other. He pushed her up to sit on the counter behind her back. Now it became difficult to kiss, and he left her mouth with a sigh of disappointment. Her eyelids had half-closed. Her mouth looked swollen. As he watched, her gaze began to sharpen, to focus. Fearful he was going to lose the erotic daze she had allowed herself to enter, Jeenai bent and put his face between her parted legs. His lips found the center of her arousal, but the barrier of her garment frustrated him. He pulled at it, and she lifted her hips to allow him to remove it completely. She was open to him, and he buried his face in the scent and feel of her. Her soft flesh was warm. He lapped at her bud and was rewarded by her shudder and moan. The sound of her pleasure made his penis throb. He wanted to fill her, but first he wanted to fulfill her. He worked the small button with his lips and tongue until her conch swelled and trembled. Her passage convulsed under his kisses. Her hands clutched at his hair. She pulled him upward, toward her mouth, and captured his in a burning kiss. Her center was hot and wet and still slightly pulsing against his belly. She pushed at the garment at his waist, and Jeenai took the hint. She wanted him as bare as she was. She lifted her garment over her head as he slipped out of his. It came off easier than it had gone on. She slid forward, off the counter, turned her body and bent over the table so her back faced him.

Jeenai stopped, confused. A fem who turned her back on a mal was rejecting him. His hands trembled from the force of his desire, but he did not take her. The woman looked over her shoulder at him. "What's wrong?" He could think of no way to tell her his reason, and now it didn't matter. She wanted the fuck with him as much as he wanted it with her. He could hold back no longer. Jeenai pushed his penis inside her slick channel. Her walls clenched around him. She tossed her head. Her hands gripped the table. She lifted her rear in the air to push herself harder against him. He thrust once, twice, and her body again convulsed around his cock. She arched her back and cried out, over and over while she climaxed. Jeenai thrust again. His first orgasm tightened his balls, then ripped through him. His cock spasmed inside her, and he could no longer tell the difference between the ripples of her inner muscles and his own contractions. His second climax burst out of him, but still he withheld his seed. She might not want a child of him, and he was uncertain about human fertility. A third, smaller climax made him tighten and relax as he gave a final thrust that had her writhing in her own last orgasm. The sound of their breathing was very loud in the quiet room. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders, leaving the back of her neck exposed. He traced his finger from the soft skin there, along the length of her spine, down to the twin dimples on either side just above her buttocks. The woman raised herself on her hands. Jeenai pulled out slowly, reluctant to leave her warmth. She turned to face him. Her cheeks had flushed pink. "I can't believe I just did that." She put her hand between her legs and pulled the fingers away with a look of surprise. "You didn't come?" She must have recognized the look of confusion on his face, because she clarified. "You didn't have an orgasm?" He smiled and held up three fingers. "Three? You had three?" She seemed stunned. He raised his eyebrows. "Don't human mals have multiple climaxes?" Now it was her turn to look confused. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're saying." She looked at her hand again. "You...there's nothing...." Had she wanted a child after all? Jeenai knew it would take a lot of time to learn the human ways more thoroughly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know if you wanted an infant." She recognized the motion he used to symbolize a baby. "No, I don't want a baby right now. You mean you can control that?"

"Yes." She looked down at her body, her cheeks still pink. "I can't believe I just fucked like a mad thing on my kitchen table with a man I just met. Excuse me. A merman I just met. You must think I am some kind of slut." He didn't understand the last word she said, but he did understand the expression on her face. She felt as though she had done something wrong. "You regret having the fuck with me." She only stared at him, wide-eyed. "If I did not please you enough, I will try harder next time." She did not understand, and he couldn't make himself any clearer. Instead, Jeenai did the only thing he could think of. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. Her mouth was sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted. He could kiss her forever. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to feel the same way. She pushed him gently away from her and busied herself with putting on her clothes. She handed him the garments he'd worn before, and he managed to dress himself with little effort. "I don't even know your name. What do you call yourself?" He gave the sign for his name, then the sound. She imitated the noise, but it came out sounding wrong. He said it again, and it sounded wrong even in his voice. "Jeannie?" She shook her head. "That's not right. Johnny?" He nodded and took her hands. He made his name in infant-hands for her. She repeated the motions he made and said his name again. "Johnny." It was close enough. "And you?" "My name is Helena." He did little better with her name than she had with his, but the sound of it made his heart leap. They were talking. He could say her name. She could call him by his. "This is just so crazy," Helena said. "Are you what you say you are? How can you be?" He had no answer for her that she could understand. Silence stretched between them. He wanted to kiss her again, but refrained. She looked as though she might bolt if he moved to embrace her. Instead, he pointed to the table, on which she'd placed many items he did not know the names of. With infant-hands, he asked her to tell him what these things were. After a moment, she did. She lifted a clear vial. "This is a glass. Um...a drinking glass. That one is a coffee mug.

Here's a plate. Fork. Spoon. Knife." He knew the last one, for it was the only tool the Carrageenai shared with humans. The irony of that fact was not lost on him when he moved, for every step he took still felt as though he were being sliced to bits. "And this?" "Table. Chair. Dishcloth." She followed him around the room, which she told him was called a kitchen, and gave him the names of many strange and wonderful things. "That's a microwave," she said when he pointed to a black rectangle. "Watch what it does." She took a mug and put some water into it from the bottle she pulled from a larger box. Then she put the mug inside the microwave, pressed the front of it with her finger, and closed the door. In a moment, the box chimed, and she withdrew the mug. "Careful," she warned. "It's hot." It was hot. He put it down carefully. "Amazing." She laughed, but seemed a bit self-conscious doing so. "No microwaves under the ocean? What do you eat down there anyway?" "Fish. Vegetation. There is not so much wonderful variety as you have above land." "You eat fish? But aren't you part fish?" He curled his lip at the insult, but quickly realized she hadn't meant it to be such. Humans knew nothing about the Carrageenai. Helena couldn't know that to call him part fish was as offensive as if he'd called her a split-tail! "Carrageenai are mammals. Like you. Like our closemates, porpoises and whales. We are not fish." "Not fish. I get it." She paused. "Carry-genie? That's what you call yourselves?" "Carrageenai." Helena crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter. "What does that mean?" "It means...." Jeenai could not explain. "Never mind." Helena's hands moved and danced, though she wasn't speaking his language, only betraying her nervousness. "So... You came up out of the ocean and grew legs." "I didn't grow them. The sea hag gave them to me."

Helena bit at her lip. "Johnny, this is all very strange." He looked around the kitchen. "Yes. It is." He did not want to frighten her, so he led her into the next room and began to play the "what's this?" game again. Answering his questions seemed to calm her, put her at ease. Perhaps it was easier to accept him if she could feel she was somehow helping him. For whatever reason, it made him happy to watch her face as she explained her home to him. "You're not listening to me," she said after a few minutes. She put her hands on her hips. "Johnny! You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" He had to admit she spoke the truth. He'd been so lost in contemplating her lithe form, her lush curves, and the way her mouth shaped the words he could not speak, that he'd completely been ignoring the words she actually said. "I'm sorry." She huffed, but didn't look entirely angry. "You really are a man." It pleased him to have her accept him as such. "And you are my woman." She let him pull her into his arms with little protest. "I could swear you just called me your woman." "I did." "I'm not anybody's woman." She peered up at him as he snugged her closer. His hands caressed her plump rear portion. "Just so you know." "I thought humans mated one to one?" He had to let go of her curves to speak, but even that could not distract him from how luscious she felt against him. "One man to one woman? So you would be my woman...no?" Her eyes had gone a little dazed as his hands caressed her body during his speech. "I have no idea what you're saying, but damn, it feels good." That invitation was enough for him. He kissed her, then lifted her off her feet and carried her to the low bench she'd told him was called a couch. He settled her there amongst the soft cushions, parted her thighs, and bent to lick the tender flesh there. She gasped, but did not stop him. "Again...oh, my God...." Human mals must have very inadequate equipment, Jeenai thought, if his advances surprised her. During a revel, fems and mals could mate and climax hundreds of times if they did not share seed. So far, though he'd not kept careful count, he and Helena had made love far fewer times than a hundred. He slipped off the garment she wore around her hips and held them up. "They're called panties."

He tossed them aside. "Panties are an unnecessary garment, Helena." Hearing him say her name seemed to please her, because she lifted her hips at the sound. He bent to her fragrant center and parted her soft folds, then dove to find her already gleaming pearl. So much like a fem, yet different. So easy to access, so delightful to kiss her here as well. He licked her and enjoyed the way she writhed. Her hand came down to caress his head. He was pleasing her. That thought made his penis surge to life more than anything else. He was pleasing his Helena. He could feel her soft flesh swell with her arousal, and adjusted his movements to accommodate her needs. In moments, she was gasping his name. Her pearl vibrated beneath his lips as her first climax overtook her. He sat back on his heels to allow her some time to relax after her orgasm. Helena sat up and looked down at him. "You're incredible." "Has no mal ever done such for you before?" "Not like that." "You have been with the wrong mals." "If you're telling me I've met the wrong men, you're absolutely right." She reached out as though to caress his hair, but pulled back as though she'd thought better of it. Then she bit her lip, firmed her expression, and did run her fingers through his hair. He caught her hand and held it against his cheek. They sat that way for a few moments. He could see she was struggling with something and reminded himself she had not known him as long as he'd known her. She had not loved him for as long. If he had to be patient with her, he would, so long as it meant she would love him in the end. All at once a look of determination crossed her features. "Sit up here." "On the bench? The couch?" "Up here on the couch." She tugged his hand until he obeyed. She turned and knelt between his legs, a look of mischief on her face. "Turn about's fair play, Johnny." She gripped the sides of his garment and tugged them down over his hips. His erection, which had been resting half-turgid the entire time, now sprang to full life. She grasped it gently, then stroked it. His breath hissed from his lips. When she bent her head and took him into her mouth, he groaned. Pleasure overtook him as her lips slid along his penis and paid special attention to the round head. She sucked him harder and took him deep into her throat. "You are accomplished in the fuck." She glanced up at his waving hands and laughed. The vibration sent a thrill of pleasure coursing through him. She slid from his cock to reply. "No talking. Just sit back and enjoy this."

He used his hands to caress her hair instead. The silky lengths entwined around his fingers as she moved her head up and down on his shaft. His first orgasm beckoned and his buttocks tensed. She put her hands beneath them to pull him deeper into her, and Jeenai gave himself up to her with another groan. His body shook, then calmed. "Helena." She gently took herself away from his cock and moved up his body to find his mouth. "I just can't get over how you can come without...coming." She didn't seem to expect a reply, so Jeenai just allowed himself to enjoy the way her mouth traveled all over his face before making its way back to his lips. Helena sat on his lap and took his face between her hands. She held him still while she stared into his eyes. "You're still ready to go, aren't you?" He nodded. She shifted against his erection. "Amazing." He cupped her buttocks and nestled her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, her mouth next to his ear. Her whisper tickled. "Would you mind if we took a break? I have to confess, I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night, and honestly, I'm not used to so much activity." She did not want to continue the fuck? She was sated after only one climax? Jeenai knew many fems who would bite a mal who left them without providing further stimulus. Still, if that was what Helena wanted, that was what he'd give her. He nodded. She snuggled closer to him, opened her mouth wide and took in a deep, long breath. "I could really just go to sleep right now." In his realm, the passing of time was measured by the tide, the current, the hungers of the body. He rested when he was tired and woke when he no longer needed rest. "If you need to rest, then you must do such." She nodded, but made no move to rise. Jeenai scooped her into his arms and stood, knees stiff to combat the pain slicing through his feet. Helena clung to him for a moment and made a noise of surprise, then relaxed. Jeenai took her to the place she rested... The bedroom, he reminded himself. He laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers around her. Then he kissed her on the forehead. She gazed up at him. "You're unreal." "I'm real, Helena." She wiggled against her pillow, her eyes already closing. "Too perfect," she mumbled. In the next moment, she slept. Jeenai watched her for a while, soothed by the steady rhythm of her breathing. It

reminded him of the constant noise of the ocean. He bent to kiss her forehead again, then left her to her rest. His body hungered for sustenance, and he pulled a loaf of bread from a drawer, some cheese from the... What was it again? The fridge. He made what Helena had called a sandwich, and consumed it heartily. Remembering how she had placed the soiled plate in the washer of dishes machine, he did, then wiped down the table with a damp cloth. Jeenai looked around, satisfied he had left the kitchen the way he'd found it. Living above was more work than in his realm, where the sea took care of messes such as those. Stomach full, he wandered out to the deck that surrounded the house. Night had fallen at last, and the dark sky sparkled with the stars he'd so often admired. He lifted his nose to the air and took in a breath of salt-scented air. Beyond the sand, the water glistened and beckoned in the moonlight. The low roar of the waves called to him, but Jeenai knew better than to try and walk along the sand. Every step would be torment, and he couldn't risk getting close to the water. Something splashed close to shore and caught his attention. He looked more closely. It could have been a pod of his closemates. Porpoises often liked to leap and play so close to the beach. He looked again, and recognized the figures in the water. Krall. Persis. Gile. Moral. Tyde. Offren. All his brothers...come to visit him? They jumped from the water with powerful sprays, their bodies twisting in the air before they reentered the ocean. Did they know he was standing there? Just beyond Helena's house, a battered wooden dock stretched part way out over the water. Tucked into a small cove made by the island's ragged edge, the dock had been built over calmer water, but it was still the ocean. One drop of salt water would turn him back into what he had been when he visited the sea hag. The sudden, irrational longing to see his brothers made Jeenai jump from the deck onto the sandy gravel and head for the dock. He leaped from the sand onto the splintered boards and kept to the center of the dock. The water was calm now, without any high waves to splash him, but he knew all too well what a fickle mistress the sea could be. He reached the end of the dock and found his brothers, the six of them, bobbing in the water with identical grins on their faces. "Greetings, oh, my brothers," Jeenai said. "Look at the split-tail with our brother's eyes!" said Persis, his oldest brother. He splashed and Jeenai jumped away. "Stop that!" "Is he afraid of the water now, poor, little split-tail?" This came from Offren, his cruelest brother. Jeenai stood tall, not ashamed of the change in his form. "What do you want, oh, my

brothers? If only to mock me, I'll take my leave." "We didn't come to mock, oh, my brother." Krall made a menacing gesture toward Offren and Persis, who subsided with snide grins. "We come to see your success." "Or failure," put in Tyde. "Have you had the fuck with your split-tail fem yet?" "Her name is Helena," Jeenai told them. They looked at each other, surprised by the voice issuing from his throat. Gile and Moral, who had shared the same womb, spoke together. "When will you return to the sea, Jeenai? We miss your presence at the revels and in the hunt." Jeenai shook his head. "I don't plan to return, oh, my brothers." He looked over his shoulder, back to the house where a single light burned in the window for him. "I love this fem. I want to stay with her, if she'll have me." "And if she doesn't, you'll turn to foam and die!" Offren gestured angrily. "You'll give your life for a human emotion? You are a fool, oh, my brother!" "You can believe such, if you want." Jeenai had no desire to fight with his brother, or even to defend himself. "I have made my choice. It is what I want." "Then go," said Krall, the only of his brothers who seemed to understand Jeenai's desire. "Leave us, oh, my brother, before these others drag you back into the ocean for spite." They would do it, too, and he saw it in their eyes. Persis, who prided himself on being one of the best warriors of the Carrageenai. Tyde, who followed Persis in all he did. Offren, who bore a scar from an encounter with a human boat, and hated all split-tails because of it. Finally, Gile and Moral, who thought and acted as one. Jeenai could fight them all, but that meant he'd lose his legs. He'd lose Helena. Instead, he turned and did what he had never before done in his life when faced with a conflict. He ran. **** For the first time since discovering her fiancé's true nature, Helena had slept the entire night through with only pleasant dreams. She woke rested in an empty bed, with sunlight shining golden through her window and a pleasant ache over every single inch of her body. She rolled over and hugged her pillow, which smelled of him. At some time during the night, her dream man must have shared the bed with her, though now he was gone. A wave of warmth swept over her at the memories of what they had shared. Had it only been two days ago that she'd found him? Two days of bliss. Two days of the most incredible sex with the most perfect man. She sniffed the pillow again to convince herself this wasn't all just part of her dream. If this wasn't a dream, that meant one of two things. This was real, or she was crazy. "I don't feel crazy," Helena said aloud. She felt incredibly satisfied. She'd never had sex

like that, not even with herself. She'd come so many times she'd lost count. And multiple orgasms for him? If she'd understood his sign language, that meant he'd come nearly as many times as she had. Without ejaculating, too. Pregnancy wasn't a concern for her anyway, she was on the pill, but she ought to have insisted he wear a condom. Then again, she thought with a grin she couldn't seem to get rid of, how likely was it that a merman would have STDs? Her smile faded. Unless she really was crazy, and he was some lunatic she'd found on the beach and brought home to fuck indiscriminately. She thought of the way he communicated with his hands, his webbed fingers, the color of his skin and the black depths of his eyes. If he wasn't a merman, what was he? Helena had too much instinct for self-preservation not to chide herself. She'd been irresponsible to bring him here in the first place. He needed medical help, but a hospital would quickly figure out he wasn't human. What would they do to him there? Fill him with needles, run tests? Maybe even keep him prisoner while they tried to figure out what, exactly, he was? She shook her head. If it was crazy to believe the man sitting in her living room was a merman, then she was crazy. Something in her gut told her he'd told her the truth. His elegant gestures had painted a picture in the air for her. She didn't understand everything he tried to say, just as he didn't get all of her words either. So where did that leave her? She had a man in her house. She didn't know his full name. She didn't understand how he'd come to her. Yet just the thought of him made her clit and nipples tingle with renewed desire. After a quick shower, she found him sitting on the couch, watching television with the sound off. Maybe with his skill for sign language he could understand it better that way. "We need to talk." He turned his head toward her, then pushed the remote control to turn off the set. He learns fast. He got up from the couch and came toward her. Helena backed away, just a step, but he took the hint and stopped. "I need to figure out where you came from." He pointed out the window again. "I know from the ocean." She sighed. "I think I need a bit more proof." He looked puzzled for a minute, then made a rapid series of motions with his hands and added a low, almost barking noise. She held up her hands. "Stop. Just...listen, can you write?"

His brow furrowed. She went to the kitchen junk drawer and handed him a pen and a notepad. "Draw? Write?" It was hopeless to assume he would be able to write when he couldn't speak. He took the pen from her and held it up in front of his eyes. Then he looked at the pad. He shrugged. "You don't know what a pen is, do you? Or a notepad?" He shook his head and looked troubled. More hand motions, a few she recognized from him doing them before. Helena sighed again. If she was frustrated, she could only imagine how annoyed he must be. She made a scribbling motion with her hand. He copied it, and made a sound of amazement at the line of ink that appeared on the paper. His face lit up. He did it again. "Can you draw a picture of what you looked like before?" He moved the pen on the paper some more, but only scribbles appeared. He bit his lip in concentration, but couldn't seem to master the art. Helena put her hand on his to stop him. "It's okay. I can't draw either." He looked down at her hand on his, then twisted his palm to link fingers with her. The webbing was softer than she'd expected. In another moment, he had pulled her into his arms. His body was warm and firm. She settled against him like they were two puzzle pieces. She tilted her head to look up at him. "Johnny, you'll have to forgive me if all of this is a little difficult to fathom." He made that gesture she thought meant love again. Seeing it made her heart pitter patter, and she scolded herself for being foolish. She had no idea if that's what he meant, and even if it was, it was ridiculous to think he could actually love her. They'd just met! "What am I going to do with you?" she asked aloud, though the question was meant for herself. He got a glint in his eye she couldn't mistake. The front of his borrowed pants expanded. Helena backed away, heart pounding. "No!" Johnny paused, again looking puzzled. He reached for her hands. She didn't pull away. She couldn't. She should. She just couldn't. "I just showered," she whispered as he bent his head to capture her lips. He laughed against her mouth and reached up to stroke her wet hair. His grip settled on her shoulders momentarily before sweeping down over her back and settling on her butt. He pulled her closer to him. His erection rose against her belly and Helena had no problem imagining it inside her.

A lover who couldn't talk. One who could come multiple times. One who seemed to care solely for her pleasure. How many women would have begged to be where she was? Helena's head swirled from the sensual onslaught of Johnny's kisses. She really ought to push him away. To stop this. But it felt so good, so irresistible. Maybe just one more time... Johnny lifted her as though she weighed no more than a feather. For a moment, though, his face tightened in concentration like he was in pain, and Helena felt self-conscious. After that, he started kissing her again and she forgot to worry if she'd overindulged in too many desserts. He found her bedroom and kicked the door open. He put her down on the bed as smoothly as though they were flying. He covered her, but didn't overwhelm her. He was a big man, and strong, but not intimidating. He settled between her legs and began to rock gently against her. The towel she'd been wearing had disappeared somewhere along the way, and she was naked beneath him. His mouth left hers and traced a trail of liquid fire along her jaw, her throat, the curve of her shoulder and the peak of her nipple. He suckled there for a few moments, until she began to wriggle under him. He flicked his tongue once more on the taut bud then drifted lower. Could she possibly come again after being satisfied so many times already? Helena had no idea if her body was capable of such rejuvenation, but she was happy to try and find out. Her pussy tingled as Johnny lapped at it. He suckled her swollen clit with the same finesse and consideration he'd shown her nipple. His finger slipped inside her, and Helena lifted her hips to meet his thrust. The next instant, he moved up her body and smoothly sheathed his cock deep inside her. He rested there for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers and his chest hot on her breasts. Then he began to move. Earlier in the kitchen, she'd been overcome with desire. Their coupling had been frenzied. Now, Johnny moved as slowly as though they floated in water. Gentle and rocking. Every thrust pressed his pelvis against her clit while his penis filled her. Her first orgasm rippled slowly through her, while the second built almost immediately after. She tilted her pelvis upward and used her heels to urge him to thrust into her harder. When he did, she came a third time from the force of his thrusts alone. A man who could have multiple orgasms might concentrate so much on his own climaxes he wouldn't notice his partner's, but Johnny wasn't like that. As her final climax faded, his body shuddered with his own. He kissed her breathless, then laid softly down on her until his body stopped twitching. He didn't wait for her to ask before he rolled off and curled his arms around her. Helena barely had time to ponder at his consideration because her eyes closed and she slept. ****

"I can't believe I just scrogged you like a monkey for the sixth time in twenty-four hours." Helena murmured the words, uncertain until she heard her voice that she'd spoken aloud. Johnny merely sighed and pulled her closer. His hand stroked her hair from the crown down to her shoulders, then back again. The gesture felt somehow way more intimate than having her thighs clamped around his ears had. Helena sat up, suddenly uncomfortable. "I wanted a man who couldn't talk," she told him. He looked at her with his head tilted. She touched the hands that had played her like an orchestra. With his fingers pressed together, she couldn't even see the webbing. She didn't want to think about that right now. She got out of bed and motioned to him. "I think we need to get out of here for a while." He swung his legs over the side of the bed without hesitation, though she noticed his face tightened when he put his feet on the floor. Naked, he stood, and she almost lost her resolve. He was magnificent. Tall, lean, with a cock that wouldn't quit and even now, despite the hours of lovemaking they'd already shared, twitched and began to rise. "Hold on, stud-muffin." Helena held up her hand and laughed. "This cowgirl needs a break from riding. I'm going to be too sore to stand if we keep up this pace." She didn't really hope he understood her, but he smiled and gave her a leer she could easily recognize. He said something with his talented hands then repeated the motions slowly, and in a simpler manner. "Why do I get the idea you're talking down to me?" She watched him make the motions again. "You want to know if I would like to walk somewhere." He nodded then pointed out the window that overlooked the driveway. "Not the beach?" His eyes looked shadowed for a moment. Then he shook his head. He pointed again to the sandy path that wound from her house toward the narrow lane that wound through the houses on this part of the island. "You want to walk there?" He nodded again and gave her a grin she absolutely couldn't resist. "Okay." He headed for the door and she put out a hand to stop him. "Wait a minute. You can't go like that." He looked down at his naked skin. His hands asked, "Don't you like me this way?" She did like him that way. Too much. "I don't think my neighbors would appreciate it." He made a fluttering motion with his hands and a short, low sound in his throat. He was laughing. The sound made her giggle, too. Something about being with him made her

feel like laughing a lot. She pulled a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt from her drawer and tossed them at him. She'd have to take him to the store soon. She was running out of things that fit him. The thought sobered her. Was she actually thinking this could last more than a few days? How long did he plan on staying? What if...what if he couldn't go back? "Johnny, do you want to go back where you came from?" There. She'd said it out loud. Johnny furrowed his brow then slowly shook his head. His hands moved, so elegant, so fluid. Like he painted pictures in the air. If only I was better at figuring them out, Helena thought in frustration. "Never mind. Let's just walk." They explored her little piece of Chincoteague, which wasn't much. Her house was in a part of the island rarely bothered by the tourists who overran the place every year in search of sun, surf and the famous wild ponies. She'd have to take Johnny to see them...Helena stopped herself. How on earth would she take him anywhere, looking the way he did? He'd reached down to link his fingers through hers while they walked. Every once in a while, he'd point to a bird, or a plant, and she'd tell him what it was called. They waved to her few neighbors, who, if they found him at all unusual, didn't comment. By the time they got back to her house, sweat had broken out on his brow, and his fingers had begun to clench down on hers hard enough to hurt. "Johnny, are you okay?" He nodded then sat on the edge of her deck. He bent and rubbed at his feet and legs. Helena could see nothing wrong with them, but his lips skinned back from his teeth in a grimace of torment when she touched his feet. "What's wrong?" He wiped at his face. She could tell the difference now between his usual mode of talking and the simpler, cruder gestures he used when he couldn't get her to understand. "My feet cause me pain." "Why? What's wrong with them?" He smiled sadly, but seemed unable to answer. Helena sat next to him and took his hand. They sat like that, in silence, until he leaned in to kiss her. "I'm sorry you hurt," she told him, and meant it. "Let me take you inside and we'll go to bed." **** A horrible, jangling sound ripped through the room. Jeenai bolted upright, confused. His arms flailed. Where am I ?

The sound came again. Helena mumbled from beside him and rolled over to face the small table next to the soft place she called a bed. She lifted the shiny black object from its place there and the noise stopped. "Hello?" She scrubbed at her face. Her voice changed instantly. It became harsh, like sand in a wound. "Don't call here any more, Howard." Howard? That sounded like a human name. Jeenai listened closely. "No, I haven't listened to my machine because I don't give a flying fuck what you want to say to me any more. Don't call here again!" Helena scooted up against the headboard. Her naked breasts were temptingly close to his mouth, so Jeenai took one pink nipple between his lips. She gasped. Her hand flew to his head, but she didn't push him away. "Of course I'm alone," she said into the black object in her hand. "Don't be more of an ass than you already are." Jeenai slid lower on her body to press his nose into the sweet fragrance of her center. Her thighs parted as his tongue stabbed toward her pearl. She wiggled. "I'm only go to say this--" She gasped again as he managed to slip a finger inside her slick passage. "One more time! Don't call me again!" She slammed the object down and pushed at Jeenai's shoulder until he sat up. "That wasn't very nice." He lifted a brow at her, then, looked to her nipples, taut and darkening with arousal. Helena put her hands across them. He touched her gently between her legs and she clamped her thighs shut. "You shouldn't do that when I'm on the phone." 'On the phone' must mean speaking into that black box. The Carrageenai could send messages great distances under water by using carefully coded sounds their aquatic relatives had taught them. This phone must be a similar device, set up to communicate through the air. "Who were you talking to?" Helena looked over at the phone. "Not that you know what I'm talking about, but that was Howard. My ex-fiancé. The bastard." He gave the most common infant-hands symbol to indicate a question. Young Carrageenai spent most of their time asking "what," "how," and "why." Helena seemed to understand what he meant right away, either because of the gesture's obvious simplicity or because she was growing to understand him more easily. "You want to know what a fiancé is?" "Yes, Helena." The name burbled from his lips. It didn't sound much like how she pronounced it, but he was pleased to see her smile.

"Do your people marry? Um...mate?" "Yes, we mate. But not like humans do. We do not form pairs. Our family units are matriarchal. Children are raised by their mothers. Fems choose with whom they wish to create children." Helena's eyes had followed the simple movements of his hands. "You don't marry?" "No." "I was going marry Howard. We had made plans to spend the rest of our lives together. Bonded. One to one. That's what marriage means. What it's supposed to mean, anyway. I found out he was unfaithful to me." He questioned the meaning of the word. "When two people agree to marry, generally it's determined they'll only make love with each other. It's called being faithful. I found out Howard was fucking his secretary and probably ten other women besides. I walked away and haven't looked back." "I understand. Carrageenai don't bond one to one, but I understand about faithlessness. We do have honor and loyalty to one another. To the fems who bear our children, we have responsibility." He wasn't sure he'd managed to get his meaning across, but Helena nodded anyway. She gazed at him thoughtfully. "Do you love?" He reached to stroke her cheek, then the fall of her hair. "I am not like most of my people. Yes, Helena. I can love." She closed her eyes and allowed him to continue the caress for a moment. "I have no idea about most of what you're saying. To tell you the truth, I don't want to believe what I think you're saying. It's too fantastic. You don't even know me, Johnny." Her eyes opened and her gaze pierced him. "Am I so broken and needy that I'm creating an illusion with you? Am I so desperate to be loved I'm willing to convince myself you're telling me you love me?" "No, Helena." "Can you even understand me?" she mused aloud. "You can't speak, but you can hear. Do you know my words? Or are you guessing just as much as I am?" **** Jeenai thought he understood more of her language than she could of his, but there was a universal language they both spoke and understood. Their minds might balk at complete comprehension, but their bodies had no problem communicating. He leaned in to kiss her. "I came from the sea to be with you. It's not in the nature of my people to mate for life, but since the first time I saw you, I was unable to stop wanting you. What is this feeling? Is it love? I don't know, Helena. I only know I was unhappy being away from you, and I am joyous when I'm by your side. It must be love."

She responded to the whisper of her name, even if she didn't notice the elaborate gestures of his hands. "Johnny, this is like something out of a dream." "I never dreamed until I came above the surface," he told her. Her eyes glimmered when she pulled back to look at him. "This shouldn't feel right, but it does." He pulled her until she slid down onto the bed. He covered her with his body, careful to keep his weight from her with his arms. This was something else new to him. Weight. She pushed him until he rolled onto his back and she followed with her body until she straddled him. Her breasts brushed his chest as she leaned over to kiss him, and when she straightened up, he reached for the soft globes. She sighed at his touch. "Truly, legs allow for many interesting positions for the fuck." She laughed as his speaking hands tickled her belly and sides. She ran her hands down her thighs, then across his stomach. She traced the slight bumps of his hips, then clasped his erection, nestled between her thighs. He leaned up and kissed her again. Her mouth opened and her tongue stroked his. She lifted herself to slide onto his cock. Her conch embraced and enfolded him. She threw back her head as she rode him. Jeenai thrust beneath her. He used his thumb to press against her pearl. Helena shuddered on top of him. Her nipples grew dusky and tight, and he reached for them to pluck and caress them with one hand while he continued to circle her clit with the fingers of the other. Her tunnel clenched down on him. His climax burst from him, and hers followed the moment after. Her cries mingled with his, but he sensed she still crested. Again, her body shuddered and this time, he followed. His balls tightened with pleasure and he followed. She looked down at him, her eyes bright with desire. Her skin had flushed a darker pink on her chest and throat. She bit her lip. Her body convulsed again, less dramatically this time. She sighed loudly and rocked against him one last time. Her inner muscles bore down on him, and his cock spasmed for the final time. Helena sank down against him. Their breathing mingled, as did the beating of their hearts. Jeenai put his arms around her. She rolled to the side as his penis softened inside her and she lay with her head next to his. "How do you know just what to do?" she asked. "You've turned me into a greedy sex maniac. I'll never be satisfied with a regular man again." Jeenai didn't know what a maniac was, but he was happy to learn he had so pleased her. "If I have my way, you'll never have to go to another man again." She reached for his hand as he brought it down in the end of his sentence. She caressed

the soft, pliant webs between his fingers, one by one. "I'm amazed at how much you communicate without saying a word. I guess it would be difficult to talk underwater." She rolled over and peered deeply into his eyes. "You can see in the dark, can't you? You'd have to, all the way at the bottom of the ocean." She touched his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. "You look so much like a man, but you're not. The color of your skin, your eyes, your fingers. You look like a man, but you're not." He slid his hand back between her thighs and stroked her. She sighed and bit her lip, then put her hand down to stop him. "You can't possibly be ready to go again." She looked down at his stiffening penis. "Oh, my God, you are. At least let me take a shower first. I'm sticky. And you could use one, too, to be honest." She wrinkled her nose. "We're both rather fragrant." To him, she smelled like pure desire. "I love your scent." Helena laughed. "You probably don't know what a shower is, do you?" She took his hand and pulled him from the bed. "C'mon, Johnny. Let me show you." He managed not to hiss when he got to his feet. Every breath burned in his chest, but he'd gotten used to that. The agony in his feet with every step, however, seemed to grow worse with every step. He expected to see a trail of blood behind him when he walked. Helena took him into a small, bright room. "This is the bathroom. There is the tub. Here is the shower. I think you already know about the toilet." She twisted a knob on the smaller basin. Water gushed forth from the silver spout. Jeenai reached for it, then pulled back. What had the hag said? Fresh water will do you no harm, but enter the sea, or let even a drop of the sea water touch you, and you'll turn back into what you were when you came into this place. How was he to know if this water was fresh or salt? He bent low to it and sniffed. Fresh. He put his hands beneath the silver stream and laughed aloud in delight at the familiar sensation. He splashed his face and chest. "You like that?" Helena turned off the knob. The water stopped flowing. "You'll love the tub." She twisted a similar knob on the side of the big basin. Water gushed into that. She fit a small plug into a hole in the basin's bottom and the water began to fill the basin. "You go ahead and get in. I'm going to put a pan of muffins in the oven first. Go on. Make sure to turn the water off when it gets to the top of the tub, or else it will overflow." She left him with a flutter of her hands toward the tub. She wanted him to immerse himself? Jeenai did so, and gladly.

The water felt different on his skin. He felt less buoyant. He settled onto the bottom of the tub and felt cold metal against his spine. The water itself was warm like the temperate seas farther to the south. He stared up through the water to the white ceiling. He could hear little but the sound of his own heart beating and the rush of water flowing into the big basin. The tub, she'd called it. This water was different from the ocean, and even different than the river he'd once explored during his youthquest. He'd followed that ribbon of water all the way to an inland lake, where he'd challenged the mals and shared the fuck with the fems who lived there. They did not call themselves Carrageenai, and they did not share genetic ancestry with the ocean mammals as his own people did. Those folk were related more closely to the eels that populated the brackish water of the region. Still, he'd had a good time there and made many friends. His penis rose at the memory of the revels he'd shared there. The water rose over his belly and chest, then up his throat and cheeks. It covered his lips, and the hollow places of his eyes. Then it covered his nose. The weight of it soothed him. He took a deep breath, wanting to smell and taste the water. Instant agony assaulted him. He could not breathe. He had forgotten his gill slits did not work. He opened his mouth to gasp and choke, and more water flooded into his throat and chest. He flailed, his hands banging on the tub's hard side. He struggled to sit, but his body wracked with coughing and choking he couldn't control. Helena's face, twisted with terror, appeared above him. She reached for his shoulders and grabbed him up out of the water. "...doing?" she cried. Jeenai coughed and coughed some more until at last, air filled his body instead of water. Tears stung his eyes from the pain and effort. He tried to explain he'd been resting as she'd expected, but her grip prevented him from speaking with his hands. "I thought you were drowning!" She laughed without humor. "But, of course, you can't drown, can you? You're a fish, right?" Jeenai coughed to clear his throat again, then tried to gather her into his arms and comfort her, but Helena pushed him away. She backed away from the tub and crossed her arms in front of herself. Her tears had turned her lovely blue eyes red. "I thought you'd be able to breathe water," she said. "I do, yes. Such is the way of my people." He paused, his throat and chest still raw with coughing. "But not here." She watched him, silent, then reached to brush away some hair that had fallen over his forehead. "I wish I knew for sure what you're saying. I wish I could tell for certain who...what...you are."

"I'm a man," Jeenai told her as simply as he could. "And I love you." She shook her head, watching the slow, simple pattern of his hands. She reached out and touched his cheek, let her finger trail across his lips, down his chin, his throat, to his chest. She pulled her hand back quickly, as though his damp, cool skin had somehow hurt her. "I think I need to be alone for a little while to think," she told him. Her lovely voice had gone coarse. "I don't understand." He used infant-hands, and her eyes followed the slower gestures more readily, but she still didn't seem to grasp his meaning. "Helena, I came a long way to be with you. I want to be with you--" "Just stop!" she cried and clapped her hands over her eyes. "I need some time to think, Johnny. This is freaking me out. I'm sorry. But...this is all too strange." She looked at him through the crack in her fingers. "I need you to go away for a while." He stood in the water at her words, every one of which he understood completely. A pain split his heart and he put a hand there to quell it. She could not love him. "The sex has been fantastic," Helena was saying, "but the rest of it... Johnny, this isn't going to work." He got out of the tub and stood, dripping, on her tile floor. He noted with pride the way her eyes swept over his naked body and her nipples tightened. He was pleasing to her, and she couldn't deny it. Yet he had learned that for humans, merely being pleasing to the eye was not enough. It didn't mean love. If she didn't love him, he would die. "I will go, if you want me to leave." His hands moved slowly with grief. He shivered, suddenly chilled though the room was warm. She grabbed up a towel and wrapped herself in one. Hiding herself from his gaze. Now Jeenai felt horribly exposed in front of her and he grabbed a towel for himself. "I think that would be best." She looked toward the window and the glimpse of ocean outside. She blinked and more silver jewels slipped from her eyes to paint glistening trials in her cheeks. "Yes, I think...just go. Please." He pushed past her and into the room to which she had first brought him. Where would he go? Back to the sea? He had no other choice. He had no need of a towel there, but kept it tucked around his hips. It was something that made him human, this wearing of clothes, and all at once Jeenai discovered he wanted to remain human as long as he could. He heard a muffled noise behind him and knew she was expressing her grief. She sent him away, though it sorrowed her to do it? He shook his head. He would never understand humans. He took another step. Pain sliced his legs and made him stumble. He caught himself

against the back of a chair. His heart pounded and swelled with an equal pain. His hands shook. He moved toward the door and each step took an effort he wasn't sure he could repeat until he managed it. Would it hurt to become sea foam? No more than this agony in his heart, his lungs, his legs. It might be better than this, Jeenai thought, his hand on the doorknob. It might be a relief to die. **** Helena slipped a sleeveless sundress over her head and hung the towel up. She heard Johnny moving around in the living room. She waited for the sound of the door closing that meant he'd gone. A sob escaped her, though she tried to bite it back. He couldn't really love her. Love was a pretty word to describe an emotion Helena wasn't really certain could truly exist. Damn it, she wanted it to exist. She didn't want to let what had happened with Howard color the rest of her life. She didn't want him to have ruined her that way. He wasn't worth it. But could she believe Johnny loved her? He wasn't even human! The sight of him, eyes closed, bubbles gently escaping from what were unmistakably gills on the sides of his throat... Gills! She choked at the thought. He had blue skin, he had webs between his fingers, and he had a shark's sharp teeth. He'd had a tail, if what he told her was true! He wasn't a man...he was an animal! Yet even as she slapped a comb through her tangled hair and twisted it on top of her head, Helena could not convince herself that Johnny was a beast. He expressed himself with elegant, fluid grace through the movements of his hands. He looked at her with an intelligence she'd never seen in Howard. And he made love to her like he'd been born for the sole purpose of bringing her pleasure. She heard the sound of the front door opening and she whirled to go after him. She stopped herself in the doorway. He came from the sea. Could there really be a life for him above the water? Maybe she would wake up and find this all really had been just a strange and wonderful dream. Another sob ripped from her throat at the thought. She didn't want it to be a dream. "Johnny!" Helena ran to the living room, but what she saw there stopped her cold. Two men stood in the doorway. She put her hand to her mouth to hold back her exclamation of surprise. "Hello, Helena." Howard looked over at Johnny, who still wore only a towel. "If I'd known you had company, I wouldn't have bothered to come all the way down here." "There's nothing stopping you from turning around and leaving." The words sounded cruel, even to her, but Helena made no effort to soften them. Howard looked resigned. "I've left a hundred messages for you, Helena. You never answered them. When I called, you hung up on me. I decided I'd drive down and see

you in person." "It's only been sixty-eight messages," Helena said. "And I told you this morning not to call here again. Didn't you assume that would mean I didn't want you to show up either?" Johnny looked back and forth from her to Howard. His long, dark hair had dried in waves around his shoulders. His bare chest gleamed with the odd, almost pearlescent blue color. Johnny's hands spoke, and surprisingly, she understood. "This is Howard, the one I told you about," she answered. "This is the man who hurt you?" He spoke with the lowering of his brows, the baring of his teeth, the clenching of his fists. Howard grimaced. "What the hell is this, Helena? Who is this clown?" Helena went to Johnny and looped her arm through his. With his warmth beside her, she suddenly felt strong. "This is Johnny. He's my--" She balked at the word boyfriend or lover. "Friend." Howard was almost as good as Johnny at expressing himself with a look. Now he shook his head and gave a derogatory laugh. "I can see that. What's the matter with him? What's with the body glitter?" "He doesn't talk. He's got a medical condition." The explanation tripped from her tongue without effort. Howard gave another nasty laugh and reached for her arm. "C'mon, Helena. Get rid of this joker and talk to me." She felt Johnny tense beside her. He moved between her and Howard. She couldn't see all his gestures, but they must have come across to Howard as threatening because her ex-fiancé raised his fists. "Don't threaten me, buddy," he warned. "I can kick your ass from here to next week." He could do it, too. Howard had always prided himself on being physically fit. Now he gave a grin that could only be called taunting. "Stop it, both of you." Helena pushed from behind Johnny. "Howard, just go, okay?" He put on the pouty face she had always hated. "C'mon, Helena. I drove for-frigging-ever to get here. I understand if you don't want to see me, but can't you at least give me something to drink? Let me use the bathroom?" More than anything, she wanted to say no. Howard sighed, and for the first time, sounded sincere enough for her to soften toward him slightly. "Please, Helena. I know I screwed up. And if I could take it all back, I would. But I can't,

and if you're determined not to have me in your life anymore, then I'll let you go. I just wanted to see you for myself, even if it was for only one last time." Her resolve broke. She sighed. "Fine. You can use the bathroom and have something to drink. But it's not going to change anything." He nodded, his gaze focused on her and ignoring everything else. "I know." She pointed. "It's through there." "Thanks." He apparently couldn't resist shooting a triumphant grin at Johnny as he passed, but that was a man for you. Up to his balls in testosterone when he felt his territory being threatened. When Howard left the room, Johnny turned to Helena. "I will go now, as you wished." She watched him get all the way to the door before she called after him. "Johnny, wait!" He stopped, his hand on the knob. His head turned. She watched the curve of his ear, the sleek line of his jaw, the smoothness of his cheek and lips. She didn't want him to go, but she couldn't beg him to stay. He faced her in the only way he could speak to her. His hands and fingers painted a perfect picture, one she could easily understand this time. "You don't have to leave," she said in response. "Johnny, I don't know what is going to happen. But I don't want you to go." He touched the sides of his throat, which now appeared no different than any human man's. He moved his fingers over his body, tapped his thighs, then stared at her with a question burning in his dark eyes. He wanted to know if his differences still upset her. Helena tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. She heard Howard clear his throat from behind her and gave Johnny a shrug. "I don't know, Johnny." For one awful instant, she thought Johnny would simply turn and walk out the door anyway. His eyes flickered from her to Howard and back again. Then he lifted his hands. "Don't leave on my account." Helena looked at Howard. "He's not." Howard lifted an eyebrow. "Don't get testy, Helena. It's fine with me if he stays. Really." She could have argued further, but refrained. This was all too stressful as it was. She looked at Johnny, who stared back, silent. Finally, he nodded and brushed past her and into the bedroom. Helena gestured to Howard. "Let me get you something to drink. I have bottled water." Howard followed her into the kitchen. "I'm guessing it's too much to expect Perrier?"

She almost shot back a nasty reply before his grin told her he'd been teasing. "Nope. Sorry. Local store brand." He shrugged. "That's fine." She busied herself with the bottled water, ice and glasses and gestured toward the battered kitchen table. "Have a seat." "Thanks." He drank then set the glass down on one of the many rings already stained into the wooden table. "I appreciate it." Awkward silence fell between them, and Helena found herself thinking no matter how much difficulty they'd had communicating, silence between her and Johnny had never been awkward. Nothing had been awkward between them until she'd freaked out. She poured herself some more water and looked out the window over the sink. It looked like another storm was brewing. The sky had grown dark, and the air had a faint electrical tingle about it. "Are you really happy here?" Surprised, Helena looked over at Howard. His question sounded sincere. Her answer surprised her even more. "Happier than I've ever been." "Because of him?" She couldn't mistake the jealousy in Howard's voice. Helena glanced toward the kitchen door and surprised herself again. "Yes." Howard's mouth thinned and he rattled the water glass hard enough to clink the ice cubes together. "I don't get it, Helena. I can understand you being pissed about me and Ginger--" "Was that her name?" For some reason, that little piece of trivia made Helena want to laugh. So she did. Howard frowned. "I can understand why you were mad about that," he continued. "I know I messed up." "Yes, you did." "But holy shit, that guy? You're picking that guy over me?" "His name is Johnny," she replied calmly. The boom of far-off thunder rattled the windows. "What the hell kind of name is Johnny for a grown man?" Howard mouthed the name like it tasted bad. "And what's up with him not talking? Is he retarded?" She regarded him coldly. "My, aren't we politically correct?" Howard slammed back the last of his water and glared at her. "How'd you meet this guy anyway? How long have you been fucking him?" "Who says I have!" she cried, but her cheeks instantly painted themselves with heat to

give her away. "It's all over the both of you. I can smell it on you, for God's sake!" They both heard the sound of Johnny's soft cough at the same time. Helena turned to the doorway. He'd changed into a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt--the only clothes she'd had in her drawer to fit him. He'd combed his hair, and now it fell back from his forehead down to his shoulders in thick, perfect waves a man like Howard would have to spend thousands of dollars to manage. Johnny crossed to the sink and ran some water into a glass he pulled from the cupboard. He didn't look at Howard, but he gave Helena a sideways glance as he brushed past her. At the casual touch of his elbow against her belly, her entire body jolted. At the same time, a crack of lightning flickered in the window, followed by another thump of thunder. The storm was getting closer. Helena waited until Johnny moved away from the sink before she closed the window. "How cute." Howard's voice dripped with sarcasm. "He's even wearing your clothes." She saw Johnny's back stiffen as he drank, then carefully set the glass down on the counter. He turned, slowly, and faced Howard. She saw his hands twist in the air, but she couldn't quite tell what she said. Howard couldn't either by the look on his face. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, buddy. Whatever." He got to his feet, blatantly ignored Johnny, and pushed closer to Helena. "Listen, can't we at least talk without him here? Can't you even give me that chance?" "I don't think so." Helena still was uncertain about what, exactly, was going to happen with Johnny, but she had no doubts about what would happen with Howard. Nothing. It was over, and if there had ever been any chance at reconciliation, he'd ruined it with his cruel remarks about a stranger. "Shit." Howard glared at Johnny, who stared back, implacably. "Tell him to stop staring at me." Helena grabbed Howard's arm. "Why don't you just go, Howard, before the storm hits? Just...get in your car and drive away." He jerked his arm out of her grasp and dusted it off like she'd burned him. His handsome face, the one she'd once loved so much, had turned sour and ugly. He smoothed his polo shirt and straightened his belt. "I love you, Helena," he told her. It sounded like the first honest words she'd heard from him since she could not remember when. She felt sorry for him, but the memory of him pounding into his secretary, their faces

contorted with lust, while Helena had stood in the doorway would not leave her. "What we had is over, Howard. It's been over for a long time." He looked over to Johnny, who stood still and silent. "Walk with me to my car. Give me that, at least." She sighed. "If I do, will you just...leave? Will you leave, Howard?" "I'll leave. I promise." "Johnny, I'm going to walk Howard down to his car." Did he even know what a car was? He nodded as though he did. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She followed Howard out the door, down the stairs and to the sandy driveway. The sky overhead had gone nearly black. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the wind whipped her hair around her face. The ocean had become a maelstrom of white-crested waves dashing against the sand. Howard stopped next to his car. He looked up at the house, and Helena followed his gaze. Johnny stood silhouetted in the window. Howard scowled. "I've been an asshole," he said. The wind tore at his words. He brushed impatiently at his normally-coiffed hair. "But that's no reason for you to live in squalor with some backwoods hillbilly without a tongue." Helena crossed her arms around herself to combat the chill in the air. "You obviously know nothing about me, Howard, and you never have. You don't know anything about Johnny, either, so just leave him out of this. It has nothing to do with you." "It has everything to do with me!" Howard's words came out through gritted teeth. "Damn it, Helena! That ring you're still wearing on your finger says it has everything to do with me." She'd almost forgotten about the ring, a subdued aquamarine in a platinum setting she'd picked out on a whim. That she hadn't chosen a diamond for their engagement seemed somehow significant in retrospect. She'd moved it to her right hand since leaving New York. Now she slipped it off. It rolled in her palm as she tried to hand it back to him. Howard refused to take it. "I don't want it back." "I don't want to wear it." Helena cupped her fingers around the ring. "You bought it. It wasn't cheap. You should have it back." "I said I don't want it back, Helena!" She'd never seen him so angry. It was a little unnerving, watching his face twist with such fury. She actually took a step back from him. "Howard." She said his name to try and calm him, but a thunderclap blocked her voice. She tried again. "Howard, I'm sorry. But it's over between us." "No! I won't accept that!"

He clenched his fists and she took another step back. The first fat raindrops splattered down, cold on her arms and face. Howard swiped at his face. The rain pattered down faster. They were both going to get soaked in another few minutes. "You have to accept it," Helena shouted over the storm. "I'm sorry, Howard, but you had to learn someday you can't get everything you want, all the time." With relief, Helena realized she meant what she said, and that she was no longer sorry to say it. She lifted her face to the rain and laughed despite the cold. She was really done with Howard. She looked up to the house, to Johnny's shadow in the window, and laughed again. She had a whole new future ahead of her, if she wanted it. "Good bye, Howard." "Damn it!" he shouted. "You can't do this to me!" Helena rolled her eyes, annoyed. "I'm not doing this to you. You did this to yourself. When are you going to get that?" "I said I was sorry! What more do you want?" "I want you to leave." She pointed at the car. "And you said you would. Now get!" "And if I won't?" For a minute, she was frightened again. He was very angry. Every line of his face and body showed her that. Even mild-mannered men could be pushed to intemperate acts when faced with not getting their own way. Howard had never been mild-mannered. He threw down his tennis racket if he lost a match, he pursued colleagues he'd felt wronged him with a vengeance categorized by stolen clients and underhanded business dealings, and he had no compunctions about returning merchandise he'd already used but suddenly no longer desired. "My God," Helena said. "What did I ever see in you? You're awful!" He growled at her. Actually growled, like a dog. Helena took another step back. Then she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. Her sense of self-worth and ten years of martial arts refused to allow him to intimidate her. She held out her hand. The ring soon swam in the puddle of water in her open palm. "Take back your ring and get the hell out of here. I never want to see you again." She looked him up and down. "If I could tell which was your head and which was your ass, I'd kick it." That stunned him into open-mouthed silence. She had to stifle a giggle, not wanting to make more mockery of him than she already had. Howard snarled and showed the teeth on which he'd spent more money than the ring in her hand. "You are such a bitch!"

Helena didn't let the insult bother her. "Take the ring." "I told you, I don't want it back." She shrugged and looked toward the storm-swept sea. It had gone nearly the color of Johnny's eyes. "Fine. I'll toss it in the ocean." "You wouldn't dare!" "Last chance," she said, and offered it again. "Take it now, or it's going to the bottom of the sea." "You are such a bitch!" "Careful, Howard," she told him. "You're starting to repeat yourself." He made no move to take the ring from her, so she closed her fingers around it and marched toward the surf. She heard him calling from behind her, but found he was easy enough to ignore with the sounds of the storm to block him. The rain plastered her hair to her cheeks and she swiped at it, but the grin remained on her face. She laughed aloud and shook her head. "You can't have everything you want," she said aloud and laughed again. "Idiot." She'd reached the edge of the surf before he caught up to her and yanked her backward by the hair. **** Jeenai watched from the window. His woman--Helena, he reminded himself. Helena was showing something in her hand to the man called Howard. Jeenai sneered. Howard was no warrior's name. He should have beaten the man to a pulp, but had held back for fear of upsetting Helena. Carrageenai females had no trouble defending themselves and rarely called on a mal to help them. Human women seemed somewhat more defenseless. Helena called to a protective side of his nature he'd never known before. They seemed to be arguing about something. The man's face contorted. Jeenai moved closer to the window, forgetting human windows contained a clear, hard barrier. He bumped his head and cursed. The guttural sound that issued from his throat sounded harsh and strange, not forceful as it would have under the water. Now Helena seemed to be offering the man something from her hand. Something shiny. Her ring? Jeenai moved his head, but was unable to see more. He itched to go down to them, but she had told him she'd be back. He paced in front of the small window. The pain in his legs and feet intensified with every step, and he had to pause to catch a breath in lungs that suddenly seemed too small. He forced himself to breathe deeply, then again. A red haze swam in front of his vision. When he was able to clear his eyes and look back down at the scene below, Helena and Howard had disappeared. Jeenai strained to see where they'd gone, but could see only

slashing rain and hear the sound of thunder. A flash of light lit the sky. He caught a glimpse of bright, flowing hair. He went to the porch and saw Helena running toward the ocean. What was she doing? Was the man pursuing her? Jeenai leaped from the porch rail to the rocky sand below. His knees buckled from the impact and he sprawled onto his face. His skin instantly stung from a myriad of scrapes and bruises, but he got to his feet and ran through the rain. His body shuddered beneath the cold onslaught. He wasn't used to not being able to regulate his internal temperature. None of that mattered. All he could think of was getting to Helena. As he came closer, he saw the man had grabbed her hair, yanked her backward, and knocked her into the waves. The ocean crashed around her as she struggled in Howard's grip. Jeenai ran into the surf. The instant the salt water touched his skin, he felt the change begin. **** "You son of a bitch!" Helena grabbed at Howard's wrist as she got to her feet. She was soaked from head to foot from the pouring rain and now the salt water. She used the side of her fist to chop at his arm until he let go. "Keep your hands off me!" "Don't you throw that ring in the ocean, Helena!" "I gave you a chance to take it back and you didn't want it!" she yelled. Incredibly, the ring still remained in her closed fist. "Take the ring back, if you want it so much!" He grabbed for it and caught his fingers around her wrist. Maybe he didn't realize he was hurting her, or more likely, he didn't care. His grip bit into her skin and ground the bones together so hard it made her gasp aloud. Water slid down her throat and choked her. She began to cough. "Give me the ring!" She held it out to him, but he was shaking her so fiercely she couldn't show him she still had it. Helena flailed at him, but couldn't get a good purchase in the shifting wet sand. Waves crashed around her feet, further unbalancing her. Finally, she lifted her hand toward Howard, who grabbed at the ring and let her go. Johnny came from out of nowhere. He ran straight into the water and reached for her. He pulled Howard off her, and Howard stumbled back, clutching the ring triumphantly. Helena went down into the water again and came up spluttering, mouth full of salty, sandy water. "Johnny!" He had fallen. She watched in stunned silence as his body shifted in front of her eyes. His legs melded, meshed, and became sleek and smooth...a tail. Not scaled and glittering like the pictures of mermaids in fairy stories, but blue and smooth like a porpoise's tail. It melded perfectly into his waist which, like the rest of his skin, had darkened to the same blue color. He writhed in the water and rolled deeper, pushing

against the sand with his tail to little effect. He was caught, Helena realized with horror. The water wasn't deep enough for him to swim. He pushed himself up on his powerful arms, but Howard whirled and let out a cry of utter terror as his foot connected with Johnny's jaw. "What the hell is that thing?" Howard kicked again. Johnny bent in half to absorb the blow, which rocked his entire body. "Stop! You're hurting him!" "Him? This is some kind of monster!" Howard backed away, his face a mask of disgust. "Helena, what is this?" "It's Johnny," she managed to say as she went on her knees beside her lover. He reached for her, his gaze murderous toward Howard, and she realized that though he was at a severe physical disadvantage, he was still trying to help her. "It's Johnny, Howard." "My God, you actually fucked that thing?" Howard came closer and bent low. He suddenly spat on Johnny's face. "It's a fucking freak, Helena. I've never seen anything so nasty in my life!" "He's not nasty. But you should see the most disgusting creature imaginable, Howard, every time you look in the mirror," Helena retorted. She gazed into Johnny's eyes, dark with swirling colors. "I'm sorry, Johnny. You shouldn't have come after me." His hands spoke to her. "He was hurting you." His body shuddered as his mouth opened. The gill slits she'd noticed in the bathtub fluttered. She didn't find them so odd to look at now. Howard grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away from Johnny. "C'mon, get out of the storm! Come with me!" She tried to shake him off. "No!" He grabbed her harder. "Helena, let's go!" "I said no!" He still wouldn't let go of her. Helena stood and gave him a roundhouse kick to the midsection that sent him tumbling backward into the sand. She advanced on him, fists raised and her teeth bared. Howard got up and ran without looking back. **** I can't breathe. His form had changed. For the first time since joining Helena, his body was without pain. He moved muscles suited to lower gravity and less resistance, but he couldn't push himself far enough into the water. Her impossibly beautiful face loomed over him. Her hair hung in wet strings down around them both. He wanted very badly to kiss her.

"Johnny?" She voiced the name she had given him. He used his arms to push against the sand, but it slipped away beneath his fingers and made a deep furrow quickly smoothed by the ocean. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her how he felt. That it had been worth everything, worth even becoming foam on the waves, to have had her in his arms for even so short a time. She was not looking at him. She looked past him, at the man running across the sand. She got up. She left Jeenai there, and he fell back in the splashing water and waited to die. **** "Howard! Wait!" She hated to run after him, but Johnny was too heavy for her to move. "Help!" He heard her. She knew he did. The bastard just ignored her and kept running. Helena stopped after a few feet and looked back at Johnny. The water pushed and pulled at him. One wave came up high enough to cover his face briefly, and she could see him gulping like a human man would gulp a breath of air. She had to move him alone. She could not, would not, leave him there to die. Without another glance at Howard, who was a bastard and always would be, Helena ran to Johnny and lifted him under the arms. "You have to help me, Johnny. Push as hard as you can!" He moved his tail and pulled with his arms. They moved a few inches deeper into the water. The waves picked him up and lifted him, making it easier for them both to move. Then another, bigger wave pushed her to her knees and rolled him back up above the water line. He arched his body, but she could see his struggles were getting weaker. How long had he been unable to breathe? She could breathe. She could move. She bent and hooked her arms beneath his and pulled as hard as she could. This time, she made it all the way down to where the incoming waves met the outgoing ones. Johnny was face down in the water. She could see his shoulders heaving. She let him go just as a gigantic wave took her feet from under her. Water went up her nose and down her throat, burning. She choked and flailed, but could not longer tell which way was up or down. She could feel nothing beneath her feet, or above her head, or to her side. Her hands reached but found nothing but water. She was drowning again. **** Jeenai gulped the water past his gill slits and instant energy flooded him. He could breathe. He could move. He lived. He opened his eyes and saw a glitter of golden hair as Helena sank past him. Small bubbles of air leaked from her mouth. Her eyes were closed.

He caught her in his arms. She hung there limply. He was too late. "I warned you." It was the sea hag. She rose from the depths, her white-and-black hair trailing behind her. She hovered in the water in front of him. She looked up. "There's quite a storm above. She'll never be able to swim back to shore. She's dead, or soon will be, mal." "I don't want her to die." He shifted Helena in his arms to speak to the hag. "I love her." "Does she love you?" "She hasn't said so." "She must say so, else you know what will happen. Of course, if she dies, then you will go on as you have always done. You're in your true form now. Let her fall to the ocean floor to feed the crabs and sharks. Join the rest of your people." "I can't do that. I have to save her, if I can." She gave him a fierce look. "You'd risk your life to save hers?" "I would." The hag nodded. "Then give her the lifekiss. Take her to the surface. See if she loves you. And if she does not, come back here to die." **** Lips caressed hers. Helena opened beneath them. A soft tongue stroked hers. She sighed and her eyes flew open. She could breathe. She was alive. She twisted in his arms. "Johnny!" The storm had passed. Now the night sky shone clear, the stars bright. The ocean had calmed. Gentle waves lifted them. Johnny pulled her close and kissed her again. Then he held her firmly and swam with her to the place where the waves began to break. A little further and she could stand in the water. He ducked below to breathe before reappearing. He spoke to her with his hands. Helena watched his graceful motions. "You have a question for me?" He nodded and asked. She thought very hard before she gave her answer, but after only a moment she knew there could be only one. She took a breath. She took a chance. She made the leap. "I do. I don't know why, or how, but yes, Johnny, I do love you." He put a hand to his throat, his eyes wide and startled. Then he looked out to the ocean and grinned. Far out, so far she could not be certain she saw it at all, a dark figure bobbed on the water's surface. Then, with a splash of silver, it disappeared. The surf caressed them. He leaned close, so close she thought he would kiss her again, and then he said, "I love you, too."

His voice was deep and soothing like the sound of the ocean. "You can speak!" "I can speak. I can breathe." He moved forward, out of the water, and took her with him. "I can walk." She laughed and cried at the same time. Johnny reached for her tears and wiped them gently away. He held her close while the water swirled around their ankles. "I don't understand any of this." "I think it's a story for another time." Johnny scuffed at the sand with his feet, then grinned at her. "It doesn't hurt." She didn't know what he meant, but something distracted her from asking about it. "I think we're going to have to get you some clothes." He looked down at his naked skin, at his long, strong legs, and at his penis, which rose at her words. The grin he gave her made a shiver run down her spine. "I have a better idea." All at once, Helena discovered she didn't really care about what the future would bring them. She didn't even really care how or why the fairy tale had come true. All that mattered was that it had. "C'mon," she said. "Let's walk together." And taking Johnny's hand, she led him up the beach toward the house and the bed they would share.

Megan Hart Megan Hart began her writing career in grammar school when she plagiarized a short story by Ray Bradbury. She soon realized that making up her own stories was better than copying other people's, and she's been writing ever since. Megan's award-winning short fiction has appeared in such diverse publications as Hustler, On Our Backs and The Reaper. Her novels include every genre of romance, from historical to steamy futuristic SF. In addition to her short erotic fiction for the Amber Kisses imprint, look for her other Amber Quill novels: Riverboat Bride, Lonesome Bride, Convicted! and Love Match. Megan's current projects include a fantasy series, a futuristic trilogy and a dramatic suspense novel. Her dream is to have a movie made of every one of her novels, starring herself as the heroine and Keanu Reeves as the hero. Megan lives in the deep, dark woods of Pennsylvania with her husband and two monsters...er...children. Learn more about Megan by visiting her website: http://www.meganhart.com **** Don't miss Driven, by Megan Hart, available Summer 2004, from Amber Quill Press, LLC

Del Tennvic and Linna Fortense would be perfect together, but one small problem is keeping them apart. Del comes from a planet where mating is for life, and the first time you make love to your partner is the last time you can ever make love to anyone else...

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