Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,65

hadn’t stopped them and given me a place. I know nothing of finishing schools or matching services, I only know this…” He spread his hand across his chest and sent a soft ping.

It wasn’t like the intimate vibrations he shared with Lana or even the call to the seahorses, but Evens’ eyes widened, and with an indrawn hiss, he covered his sternum with his palm as Sting had.

“What is…” Evens closed his eyes. “I hear…a song.” His hand clenched into a fist over his heart—either trying to hold his heart or block it.

“I need her.” Sting let the sound fade. “I need to tell her that.”

The other male lifted his head, blinking hard to clear a sheen from his eyes. “Just tell her…the way you just told me. Hell, I’m half in love with you myself.”

Sting grunted, a rude noise to dispel the lingering song. “She is stronger than you.”

After a moment of stricken silence, Evens chuckled. “It’s true I’ve always been a sucker for love,” he admitted. “Otherwise, why would I be trying to revive the Intergalactic Dating Agency here?”

“Profit or treachery,” Sting suggested as alternatives.

Evens shook his head. “You don’t say the right things, but I believe you when you say you feel them.” His hand crept up to his chest again, fingertips pressed in a circle above his heart, as if he could reach in and scoop it out.

Such a gesture was harder than it might seem for Earthers and Tritonans alike, Sting could’ve told him, since the bones and cartilage and muscle in that area were quite tough to protect that vulnerable organ.

“All right then.” Evens put both hands on his desk. “Three lessons of courtship, which is the battle portion of love, such as you know it. Number one. Know your enemy. And by enemy, I mean your lover. What do they desire? How does that align with and enhance what you desire? How does that happen now? And forever.” He peered at Sting as if to confirm the lesson.

Sting nodded his understanding.

“Second, plan your attack. By which I mean courtship. How will you prove with superior forces and overwhelming firepower that you should be the victor?”

Sting frowned. “She is stronger than I am,” he confessed. “She may not believe it yet, but it is true.”

Evens nodded. “That is often the case with brides, especially worthy adversaries like Lana. So what other talents can you use besides strength?”

Sting squinted, considering the techniques used during the war. “Deception, coercion, tactical maneuvering.” He scowled. “I do not like these words around Lana.”

“So, if we remember that the war is over?”

Sting closed his eyes even further. “Swimming together. Singing. Eating sweets. Searching out the secret places on her skin that make her—”

“Exactly!” Evens beamed at him. “You’re getting there. For the third lesson—never give up.”

Sting tilted his head. “Do I look like the sort who has ever given up?”

“You don’t appear the sort who has ever waged war for love,” Evens shot back. “And just so we’re clear, never give up doesn’t mean you should force potential lovers to do anything they don’t want to do. It means not giving up on love itself.”

Sting scowled at the other male. “Do I look like the sort who would force her to do anything?” When Evens took a breath, Sting added quickly, “Because I’m not. And even if I was, she could stop me.”

Evens pursed his lips. “Love makes all of us monsters.” As he fell silent, his eyes darkened in a way that seemed unlikely for an Earther. An anomaly worth questioning, if Sting didn’t already have a more important mission.

“I think that is not true,” he mused. “Maybe…love makes us more of what we already are. I am a fighter”—and monster too, perhaps—“and so I will not give up. But I will also sing and make chocolate pudding and listen for the flow of her blood that tells me when she wants my sting.”

Evens considered him. After a long moment he gave one nod. “And that’s enough to get you started tonight. Oh, one more bonus tip. Everything I learned about love came from bad movies and worse songs and the absolutely most abominable poetry.” He grimaced. “Love is…what you and your someday bride—”

“Lana.”

“Lana,” Evens said on a long sigh. “Love is what you make of it together. Ask her what love means to her. Tell her what it means to you.”

Sting nodded at him wordlessly, showing that he understood. But his gills felt as dry as Tritona’s