Whatever it was, Clementine was grateful. Even if it was only shock that would eventually wear off, in that moment, when she sat on a cushion and stared at her guest across her coffee table, she washappy.
The kind of happy that felt removed from her, bigger than her. The kind that made her want to sit back and whisperwow.
Emory’s habits and mannerisms were foreign to her, certainly, but his presence was… easy. Natural. She’d spent weeks feeling the tenor of his mind out there in the distance, but it was more than that familiarity that made her comfortable. It was his wicked smile, his almost childlike curiosity about her home, and the keen way he watched her — not as a predator watches prey, but as someone who cared.
She wasn’t sure what in the world she was doing. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. But she knew that for the first time in a long time, she feltgood.Not just good, but giddy, desired, excited. She didn’t have to know what her plan was or what would happen next because with Emory, at least for now, she didn’t have to play it safe.
He thinks I’m brave,she reminded herself.So I’m gonna be brave and just… enjoy this.
Processing her first sexual experience and all the things he apparently wanted from her would just have to come later.
“Are youcertainyou don’t want some of the liver?” Emory asked her for the second time. His expression was so distraught that she almost agreed to give it a try, but one quick look at the massive hunk of flesh on the cutting board reminded her why she initially declined. He’d balked at the suggestion that she try cooking it. He couldn’t seem to understand why she had a similar reaction to his insistence that she eat it raw.
“I really appreciate the gift,” she gently replied, “but I’m not sure if my stomach can handle shark liver.”
Emory’s jaw worked back and forth as he considered that. He sat on the other side of the coffee table, his enormous form partially propped up on cushions she’d stolen from the couch. She was pleased by hownormalhe looked in her home, how right it felt to sit with him and share a meal, as eclectic as theirs was.
“What do you eat?” A webbed hand poked at the bowls of snacks and plates of cheese, crackers, and fruit she’d hastily set out for them. Emory didn’t appear to approve of much of it, though he gave some of the saltier foods a curious sniff. “What kind of meat do you like, my Clementine? I will hunt it for you.”
“I don’t eat that much seafood, to be honest with you.” Growing up primarily in forests and mountain ranges didn’t provide a lot of opportunity for things like sushi.Unless you count Rocky Mountain oysters…
Emory gave her a long, baffled look. “My father ate the meat my mother hunted for him. Do not all humans eat meat? How do you sustain yourself on plants and breads alone?”
Clementine only just managed to swallow a bite of pear before she asked, “Wait, your dad was human?”
It was a strange thing to realize she knew next to nothing about the man whose cock had been in her hand only an hour prior. Emory didn’t feel like a stranger. When she watched his expressive, alien face shift with emotion, when she heard him exclaim at the water pressure in her shower, when she handed him plates to arrange on the table — it all felt like he’d always been there, a friend she’d always had but never known.
And always, the song of his mind whispered in the air between them, haunting and beautiful. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but it was better than the silence of the island.
It wasmagical.
“My father was the last lighthouse keeper,” Emory explained in an off-hand way as he began to pluck chunks of dense, pale meat from the cutting board with his dark claws. The way he moved was itself rather alien: all quick bursts of fluid grace punctuated by long stretches of perfect stillness.
Clementine dropped her half-eaten slice of pear back into the bowl.“What?”
Emory paused chewing to give her a startled look. Swallowing his bite of liver, he surprised her by reaching across the table to stroke a lock of her hair and let out a low, crooning hum that cut through the distant sound of waves crashing on the rocks outside. “Why does this distress you? Many of my kind are half-human. Well, it used to be that way, at any rate.”
“I’m notdistressed,”she assured him. She didn’t try to stop his petting, though. Clementine was quickly coming to crave all Emory’s touches, erotic or chaste. Shelikedfeeling desired, and she even enjoyed that squirmy, eels-in-her-belly feeling she got every time their skin brushed.
Emory skimmed the rough pad of his thumb over her cheek and frowned. “Then why are you shocked?”
“BecauseIwas told when I got the job that the last lighthouse keeper was murdered.”
“Murdered?” He waved his hand, dismissing that notion with an accompanying roll of his eyes. “Land dwellers always think the worst of us. My father wasn’tmurdered.He was mated, just like almost all the other people who tried to live on our island. It used to be common to snatch a mate who wandered too far from shore.”
Clementine reeled. The way Emory told the story, it sounded like all the deaths and the mysterious disappearances were reported in error. Except that couldn’t be right, not when there were somanyaccounts of aggression from merfolk, and certainly not when body parts and bloated corpses had been found.
“Mated? But that doesn’t make any sense. There are verified reports of murders on the island. At least three people were confirmed dead.”
Emory’s eyes took on a dark gleam. “I didn’t sayno onewas murdered, only that my father wasn’t. But even that was a close thing. My mother saved him from being drowned in the frenzy to claim him.Aftershe fought off her rivals. That also doesn’t take into account those who trespassed, or threatened young, or disrespected the water. A great many beings have been made into happy mates, but many have been fed to Tempest, too.”
“Oh.” Her gaze fell to the table and all the food scattered across its surface. Goosebumps prickled her skin. She’d never doubted her ability to protect herself before, but hearing him so casually mention how his father was nearly killed was a bit of a wake-up call, particularly in light of the day’s events. “So… What happened? Did they run off together or something?”
“They lived in a cove off of Point Reyes for a while, but when my mother conceived, they decided to reclaim the island. My father was more comfortable raising a family here. Once he and my mother passed into the depths, I claimed the territory as my own and my siblings scattered around the Bay.” He wiggled his webbed fingers in the direction of the city. “My sister Mary Celeste is the closest. She sticks to the black coves by the bridge so she can be near her obsession — a female selkie she’s been unsuccessfully trying to court for ages.”
“So, wait, your father livedhere?With just his mate and his kids? For how long?”
Emory was quiet for a moment. His eyes, so dark and wide with their expanded irises, were distant as he recalled a life she could barely fathom. At length, he answered, “I believe my parents were mated almost two centuries.”
