Good gods.She could only imagine what that must have been like. A man mated to a fierce merwoman, cut off from the world after the EVP abandoned the island, believing him dead. The living conditions must have been miserable without regular shipments of supplies, and the isolation…
Did he give his life up willingly? If so, she wondered what kind of love it would take to choose that sort of existence, to choose a mate sodifferentand at such cost.
What would I trade for a love like that?
Clementine’s gaze traveled back to Emory without conscious thought. She found him thoughtful, his brows lowered and his claws drumming aclick-clackingbeat on the edge of the coffee table. His mind’s song was quiet, almost mournful.
“Was he happy?”
His claws stopped drumming. Emory met her gaze squarely, but took a moment to choose his words before he answered, “He was loved fiercely by his family. I… I didn’t try to understand him as much as I should have, but I believe he was happy with his life. With my mother.”
Her fingers shook a little, but Clementine didn’t let nerves stop her from leaning across the table to hold his hand. “I’m sure he was.”
Without missing a beat, Emory turned his hand over to entwine their fingers, holding her captive with a blatantly covetous squeeze. “I will make you happy like my mother made my father, my precious Clementine. You’ll see.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. It just seemed unfair that he could be so striking, so predatory, and yet so very earnest. How was she supposed to get her sea legs under her, emotionally speaking, if he kept saying things likethat?
Shaking her head, she asked, “How can you want to be with a person you’ve only just met?”
A sly look crossed his aquiline features. “We didn’tjust meet.I have been watching you and listening to you for weeks. You have accepted my gifts.” He raised his free hand to show off his bracelet. “Youclaimedme. You made me come for you. We have been courting and now we are mates. Easy.”
“You know I didn’t understand what was going on, right?” Certainly if she had, she would have sprung for something a little better than a cheap souvenir bracelet. Not that he seemed to care. For all the pride shining in his ghostly pale face, the bracelet might as well have been made from solid gold.
Still wearing that proud look, Emory arched a dark brow. “You seemed to understand it well enough when my cock was in your hand, naughty thing.”
After all she’d seen and heard in the minds of others, Clementine didn’t think she was truly capable of beingembarrassed.It was both wonderful and exasperating to discover that wasn’t the truth. It turned out that Emory could effortlessly make her blush.
“You know what I meant,” she grumbled, reaching for a cheese puff.
Emory followed her lead. Plucking up a puff with the very tips of two claws, he smugly popped it into his mouth and began to chew.
Clementine could only laugh as a look of shock crimped the corners of his expressive mouth. “First time trying a cheese puff?”
He smacked his lips as he examined his cheese powder-tipped claws. “I occasionally trade for land food, but I’ve never tried something so… orange.” He tilted his head to one side, then the other, showing off his long fall of damp hair. “I like it.”
“Orange cheese is the best cheese,” she agreed, “but don’t tell my father I said that. He’s a chef and would be horrified I don’t love a hundred year old gruyere aged in a monk’s dirty sock or something.”
Emory wrinkled his sharp nose. “Why would anyone want that?”
“Exactly.”
Moving dishes around, Emory made room between them for the bowl of puffs. That done, he untangled their fingers to scoot himself around the side of the coffee table, putting himself catty-corner to her. He looped one black and white, heavily muscled arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer, until she was all but plastered against his side.
“We will share this as our meal instead of the liver,” he announced, his tone incongruously grave, as he gestured to the bowl of neon orange puffs.
Her stomach did that squirmy thing again, but this time she understood exactly what it was:attraction.Clementine’s heart stuttered as she leaned her weight into his side. She was used to being so self-contained that she never considered how nice it might be to just… feel someone else.I’m cuddling with a man. I’m having a meal with a man who likes me and doesn’t think I’m weird or too quiet. I’m havingfun.
She liked that. Shereallyliked it. Not just because it was new and made her insides feel warm and gooey, but because she liked Emory. A lot. Maybe not enough to sayhey, let’s be mates,but she also didn’t want him to leave. If she could have, she would’ve frozen that exact moment in time and lived in it forever — just the two of them sharing a bowl of cheese puffs.
“If you like them, I have more in the cabinet. I always buy the family size because I eat so many. I have a horrible weakness for junk food.” Clementine eyed Emory’s thickly padded chest thoughtfully before she added, “Maybe next time I do a supply run I’ll get two bags.”
“Next time you do a supply run, I will escort you,” he replied, giving her a stern look. “Now I want to know more about you, my Clementine, so you will stop calling us strangers and start calling us mates. Tell me more things like how you likejunk food.”
He made it sound so easy. Effortless. Like they were a done thing and all she needed to do was catch up.
Maybe it is.
Clementine tried to remember what her sister said about doing what felt right, when it felt right, damn what anyone else would say about it, but it wasn’t easy. She’d dreamed of having someone behers,unequivocally, happily, for so much longer than she would ever admit. It was hard to wrap her head around the fact that it might actually be happening whether she was ready for it or not.
