Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,13

war was all we’d known,” he said at last. “And it was why I was made at all.”

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.”

He looked down at her. Although they were both sitting, she was just so much smaller than he was. “As you said before, my skin is armored, my eyes always shielded.”

She drew another breath but then let it out slowly. “I don’t know, Sting. I think I screwed up that ship pretty bad. When I was crashing…” She shuddered. “There were a few too-long minutes where it looked like the end.”

The memory of flames seemed to dance in her sin-brown eyes, shadowed with the glimpse of death. He’d seen that darkness far too often himself. For himself, the cold, bitter black felt like home, but for her, he wished he could lighten and sweeten it—bright as the drizzle across the top of the sin-mans. “I think you are tougher than you know.”

“But not armored.”

She wrapped her soft hands around her own cup. “So if I tell you where the ship crashed, maybe you can fix it and then fly away?”

“You must take me there, yes.”

She frowned at him. “Can’t you just swim there? I know all the waterways around here are supposed to be connected.”

If she wasn’t with him when he repaired the Diatom, he would not be able to launch without her. “I can go by myself,” he agreed. “If I am seen by closed-worlders, Tritona will be sanctioned and the innocent Earthers will have their minds wiped. But if you don’t want to go—”

“Okay, okay. As if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough.”

Frowning back at her, he said, “There is no guilt. Just truth and necessity.”

She snorted. “You sound like my tarot cards.”

He perked up. “Are those as tasty as sin-mans?”

She shook her head. “Too often, they tell me what I don’t want to hear.”

“Then don’t listen.” He pushed to his feet. Now that Lana had agreed to accompany him to the Diatom, the leaden feeling in his belly was gone, making room for more rolls. He stuffed his down and eyed hers. “Why haven’t you finished?” He couldn’t warn her that she might never have them again, not without revealing his scheme to take her away.

She pushed the plate toward him. “I’ve had enough. If I have to take you to the ship, let me get changed. I’ll meet you in the library.”

Grabbing the platter, he followed along behind her until she turned towards the stairs.

She stopped and jabbed one finger toward the big room with the glass cistern of fish. “There. You wait there. You aren’t coming to my bedroom.”

He stood obediently in the doorway and watched her head up the stairs.

Halfway to the landing, she stopped to peer back at him. “Do not follow me,” she warned.

When he didn’t answer, she huffed and flounced the rest of the way out of view.

Would she try to run away? Not that it mattered.

If she ran from him, he would find her again.

Chapter 4

Should she run?

If she did, she had no doubt he would find her again.

Lana paced two steps forward and back behind her closed door. As if that would keep him out.

Why had Marisol and Ridley sent Sting after her when they knew their new lives would be better without her? The Tritonesse had made very clear that she was some sort of eldritch horror, as if that hadn’t already become clear to her as her zaps got stronger. Ridley’s pathological fear of deep water had only threatened her sense of self. And even Marisol’s allergy to water had threatened her own life but no one else’s. The zaps were getting strong enough to kill others. And whatever the Tritonesse thought she was—nul’ah-wys—seemed even worse than death.

She would just have to take Sting to the crashed spaceship and convince him that it was better to leave her behind. No doubt he believed he could trick her or force her into going with him. But she wasn’t going to ruin anyone else’s life. If she had to stay here, locked up on the remote estate and become the new Wavercrest recluse, that would be best for everyone.

Now she just had to trick Sting. Or force him…

A little shiver went down her spine as she stripped out of her pajamas. After a moment’s hesitation, she chose her best pair of matching panties and bra; really, they were too silky and pearly white for tromping around the wilds of Montana, but the support was top notch,