Rage, cold and sharp, flooded him, but he forced it down. She was right.
“So go back,” he said, forcing the words past the knot in his throat. “You do the dive. You play the part. He thinks you’re trapped. He thinks you’re a piece of property he can possess. Use that.” He turned back to face her, and this time he didn’t hide the fury that burned beneath his skin. “Let him believe you are broken. Let him believe he has won.”
“And then?”
“And then we find a way to end this. For good.” He rose to his feet, pacing the small space like the caged animal he felt like.
“We?” The question was small, hesitant, filled with a fragile spark of hope that he wanted to nurture into a roaring fire.
“I am your mate, Ariella.” The word was out before he could stop it, raw and primal and undeniable. “My beast has claimed you, and the male who stands before you claims you too. I will not let you face this alone. I will not let him have you.”
Her breath hitched. The patches on her skin blazed with sudden, brilliant light—gold and blue and violet swirling together in a storm of emotion.
“But my father?—”
“Will have to save himself.”
He could see the doubt on her face, but she nodded and rose to her feet. He walked to the entrance of the cave with her. The moon was high now, spilling silver light across the water.
“I’ll come back,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the sea met the stars. “After the dive. I’ll come back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He watched her dive into the waves, a flash of moonlight on water, and then she was gone. The beast inside him howled its protest, wanting to go after her, to haul her back to the safety of the cave and never let her leave again.
But he didn’t. He stayed watching the empty water, the moonlight catching on the cresting waves. He would wait. For as long as it took.
CHAPTER 17
The collar was strangling her.
Ariella stood before the mirror in her father’s quarters, her fingers clawing uselessly at the high, stiff fabric that pressed against her gill slits with every breath. Objectively, the dress was beautiful. Midnight blue silk that shimmered like deep water, with delicate silver embroidery climbing the bodice like seafoam. It hugged her figure in ways that made her feel exposed despite covering her from chin to ankle.
That was the point, of course. Merrick had chosen it specifically.
“Stop fidgeting.” Her father didn’t look up from his tablet, where columns of data scrolled in an endless stream. “The fabric is hypoallergenic. You’re not having a reaction.”
I’m suffocating,she wanted to scream.Your creation can’t breathe, and you don’t even notice.
But she said nothing. She’d learned long ago that her father heard only what he chose to hear.
Through the window, she could see the Coastal Festival already in full swing. The village had transformed overnight into a riot of color and noise—banners streaming from every building, merchant stalls crowding the marketplace, and the distant thump of drums carrying on the salt-laden wind.
A knock at the door made her flinch.
“That will be Merrick.” Her father finally set down his tablet, smoothing the front of his own formal attire—a modest grey suit that somehow made him look even more colorless than usual. “Remember what we discussed, Ariella. Smile. Be gracious. And for God’s sake, don’t do anything to embarrass me.”
The door opened before she could respond.
Merrick entered like he owned the room—which, technically, he did. He owned the lab, the equipment, the quarters they lived in, and according to the contract her father had signed, he owned her too. His hawk-like features were arranged in an expression of calculated pleasure, his flint-colored eyes sweeping over her from head to toe with the assessing gaze of a collector evaluating his latest acquisition.
“Exquisite.” The word was a purr, soft and satisfied. “The dress suits you perfectly. I knew it would.”
Her skin crawled, but she managed a polite smile.
“Thank you.” The words scraped her throat like broken glass.
He crossed the room in three measured strides, stopping just close enough to make her want to retreat. He reached out and adjusted her collar, his manicured fingers brushing against the sensitive tissue of her gills. The touch sent a wave of revulsion through her so powerful that her skin shimmered before she forced it back under control.
