Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,85
back in Sunset Lake, right where she’d been before.
With her pajamas plastered annoyingly to her body, she struggled through a side stroke for the shore, one arm wrapped in a lifeguard rescue carry around his chest and neck. Had she saved him? By sacrificing Tritona and maybe Earth?
But she didn’t stop swimming.
Though it seemed the night and her paddling would never end, finally muddy gravel raked under her grasping hand. She missed a stroke, gulped lake water and weeds, almost cried from relief.
She heaved Sting up beside her and collapsed across his chest, clinging as tight as that restraint harness had been—and feeling almost as shattered.
When his big hand weakly cupped the back of her head, she did cry.
He flinched. “Did I hurt you?”
She butted into his hand again. “Only when I thought you were dead.”
“Die? From just one laser overload? Or just one spaceship crash? Or just one—”
She kissed him, partly to silence whatever threat might come next but mostly just to kiss him.
When they both ran out of air again—more pleasurably this time—she lifted her head. “At least I didn’t have to worry about drowning you.”
Gazing up at her, he touched her cheek. “I could’ve drowned as the Diatom sank. I was unconscious and wouldn’t have been able to purge my gills. You saved me.”
Her eyes prickled again. “Together,” she reminded him.
“Help me up,” he said softly.
Her breath hitched again that the powerful man needed her help for such a simple task—but she should be grateful he could speak or she could breathe at all. Carefully, she levered him to his feet, grunting a little to catch him when he swayed.
“Functional but suboptimal,” he reported.
She let out a chuckle that was part sob. “You’re doing better than the Diatom. Our poor ship…”
“That you held us together at all impresses me.” He took a step away and gazed down at her. “You’ve come a long way, Lana Wavercrest.”
She laughed again, more bitterly this time. “Actually we are in the same pond as before, but this time there’s no resurrecting the Diatom.”
He shook his head. “Not many could have done what you did, even trained and experienced fighter pilots. I wonder if using your power to revive the data gel gave you some synergy with the Diatom that enhanced performance.”
She grimaced. “You mean like the Tritonesse made us into better weapons?”
He tilted his head. “Something like that.”
“I didn’t ask the ship to die for us. That seems wrong.” She looked over her shoulder at the dark water. “But we have more immediate problems. We’re stuck out here on the shore with the wreckage of the spaceship sticking out of the water.” If planetary security happened to catch an intrusion on the defunct trajectory—
As if her very words had conjured their doom, an indistinct shout echoed through the dark trees that ringed the lake.
At least the impromptu swim had washed all the blood away. But it had washed away what was left of Sting’s burned and shredded clothes too. All that was left was the very stripped-down version of his battle skin, minus all the pockets, with only enough coverage to prevent immediate X-rated exposure.
And her shredded pajamas were almost as bad.
They looked at each other, and his lips twitched. “We are going to need many words to explain,” he murmured.
She scowled at his amusement. “You hide over there, when they get here, I’ll tell them I was abducted by aliens—”
“I’m not sure how that is concealing an extraterrestrial presence on earth,” he interrupted.
She gave him a look. “And then while I distract them, you jump out from behind them and take their keys.”
“You have given this significant thought,” he said approvingly. “I will follow your command.”
But before they could jump some hapless camper and steal their truck—or, perhaps more complicatedly, grapple with closed-world security forces—the shouting became more distinct “Lana! Sting?”
A moment later, Evens emerged from the trees in a sweep of flashlight beam. The light traced over them and then fell to their feet when Lana raised her hand to shield her eyes. Where were her protective lenses when she needed them? More protective clothing would’ve been nice too.
Sting stepped in front of her as if he’d heard the thought. “Lana says I should sneak up behind you and take your keys,” he told the shopkeeper.
Evens scowled. “You already have my motorcycle.”
“It was a fine conveyance,” Sting said solemnly. “It awaits your return at the Wavercrest abode. Unless it too was bombed.”