When she asked how in the world he managed it in the ocean, of all places, where boat propellers, predators, and any number of other unsavory things could get caught in his luscious locks, Emory had puffed up with pride.
“Long hair is the sign of a strong, unmated hunter,”he’d explained with one of those rakish smiles.“The first rope you learn to braid is your own hair. The first thing you learn to guard in the water is your own hair. The first thing you learn to care for is your own hair. My fine mane is a sign that I will be a good mate for you, my Clementine.”
She supposed that made a certain amount of sense, especially when she considered all she’d learned about his people. They were a lot like dragons, though she only knew aboutthemin theory, since the closest she’d ever come to one was on her m-lev ride from the Orclind to San Francisco.
Merfolk and dragons were very display focused. They used flash to attract attention. Dragons came in a variety of incredible colors, tended to favor flashy jewelry and nice clothes, and were viciously houseproud. Merfolk, on the other hand, displayed their status in the length of their hair, their ability to survive in the capricious ocean, and their physical prowess — including what Emory had gleefully explained to her as theirgenital markings.
She couldn’t say it was hisgenital markingsthat made her want him, but they didn’t hurt. Neither did his glossy black hair.
Even if it did sometimes leave a puddle on the floor when he climbed out of the moon pool.
The moment Emory’s gaze fixed on her, laserlike in its intensity, deep grooves around his mouth and eyes eased. “There you are,” he breathed, offering a tired, lopsided smile. “I missed you, my Clementine.”
She swallowed hard.Don’t be a weenie.“I missed you, too. Did you have a good swim?”
He cleared his throat and glanced away, toward the open bedroom door. “It was a good evening swim, yes. I checked the urchin beds. I think I’ll trade some soon.” He flashed her another smile, brighter this time, and began to pull himself down the hall to the bathroom. “I’m going to rinse and then we’ll eat together. I want to try yourlas-ayn-yatonight.”
For someone so large, Emory moved with a surprising amount of grace and speed. The white tips of his fins had nearly cleared the doorway of the bathroom before he even finished his sentence.
Desperate to keep her nerve, to do this partright,Clementine hustled after him. “Um, the urchins sound great! Maybe I can… come with you when you trade them? I really want to see the ocean market.”
She stopped in the doorway of the luxuriously modern, veryelvishbathroom. Emory reached for the silver knob of the shower stall, but paused, his claws resting lightly on its surface and his head turned away from her.
At length, he replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should stay on the island where it’s safe and quiet.”
Clementine tried not to feel the tiny sting of his words. It wasn’t like he was wrong, but it also summoned up too many memories of missing out on life for her to feel nothing at all. “I can handle a small crowd. I used to do it all the time.” In a smaller voice, she added, “I want to see the other parts of your life, Emory.”
She didn’t need to be with him all the time, but part of the nagging lack in her chest was not rooted simply in their lack of sex. It also came from the fact that Emory had a completely separate life in the water. If he was serious about being mates, she wanted to be part of that, too; not just the person he came home to, and not a partner whowaitedday in and day out.
She wanted to livewithher mate, not just next to him.
Emory’s fingers tightened on the shower stall’s knob. She half expected another grin, maybe a wink tossed over his shoulder, but he didn’t turn to look at her at all. Prying open the glass door, Emory’s tone was uncharacteristically grave when he answered, “It’s dangerous. I won’t risk you, Clementine.Ever.”
Echoes of a lifetime of warnings from her parents, all the doors shut in her face, all the times she’d had to grit her teeth and smile through the loneliness, crashed against the vault of her mind.
You can’t go to the party, baby. There will be too many people. Maybe your sister will bring back some cake if you ask her nicely, though!
No, Em, college is too dangerous. We’ll look into online classes.
I’m sorry, honey, but…
The sound of water raining down against the sleek, iridescent tile of the shower floor made her jolt. Clementine blinked back the hot sting in her eyes as she watched Emory pull himself up onto the bench and reach for one of the detachable showerheads.
Be brave.
ChapterSixteen
Swallowingthe lump in her throat, she forced herself to walk up to the glass stall. Her hands began to shake, so she stuffed them behind her back, her fingers intertwining in a stiff knot at the base of her spine. “Emory.”
He’d lifted his arm, showing off all that corded muscle and thick abdominal padding as he began to rinse the seawater off his body and down the drain. It cascaded down his hair as he held the showerhead close to his scalp. Tiny droplets caught the golden light of sunset when they danced around his eyes, which opened slowly to give her a quizzical look.
“Clementine?” His angular brows bunched. “You don’t normally stay when I rinse. Is everything?—”
“Am I doing something wrong?”
The showerhead nearly fell from his grasp. The spray caught him in the eyes a moment before he corrected his grip and hastily lowered it.“What?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here. I feel like— like everything’s been great with us. I love being with you.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But I must be doing something wrong, because it feels like you don’t want to share the ocean side of your life with me. I get that maybe it’s private, or there might be something cultural I’m missing, but right now it feels like you just need to escape from me or something and…”
