An impotent squeak of surprise and horror escaped her as she watched the arc of the blade. It flashed in the dull orange light before, with a clean, barely-audiblewhoosh,it sliced through the rope of hair Emory clutched in his left fist.
It was over in less than a minute, but Clementine felt like she watched the hair separate from his body in slow motion.
“Shedidn’thave a mating rope,” Emory said, so calm you’d think he didn’t just cut off five feet of perfect, meticulously maintained hair. Twisting his upper body, he held the mass out to her with a look of such all-consuming possessiveness, it made her toes curl in her boots. “Now she does.”
Her heart broke for his beautiful hair, now shorn in a jagged cut that barely brushed his shoulders, but that didn’t stop her from carefully accepting it. Clementine fumbled around for a moment before she discovered the hair tie she normally kept on her wrist. Holding her breath, she made sure not a single strand escaped as she bundled them together.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do with it, so she held it tight to her chest. Her eyes and nose stung.It’s just hair, but it feels like more.
He told her vaguely that mated merfolk didn’t have long hair. Having long locks was a sign of fitness to attract a mate, so really, it made sense that he’d cut it. But it felt bigger than that.
It felt and, going by the looks on the faces of the assembled merfolk,lookedlike he’d given her a part of himself. His identity. His history. The time he’d waited for her, unknowingly preparing for the life they’d have.
And he did it in front of them, not just because he needed to make a point, but because he wasproudto claim her.
Clementine coiled the long rope of hair around her right wrist and hand. Her shoulders drew back and her chin came up. If he was proud to claim her as his, then she was equally proud to claim him. She loved his wildness, his mischievous personality, the sweetness that lent every action an air of the utmost sincerity. She loved that he was her best friend, herfirstfriend. She loved Emory with everything she had.
She loved him so much that when Herman shifted his weight onto his hands, his shoulders bunching in preparation to lunge and his lips pulled back into a snarl of pure rage, Clementine didn’t hesitate.
With the smoothness of instinct, her magic parted the waves protecting her mind.
Between one heartbeat and the next, a blade of psychic energy sliced through Herman’s mind. In the split second when they were connected, Clementine heard the desperation in him, the twisted loneliness that had become its own special brand of cruelty, and weighed his worth in her palm.
His arms gave out from under him and his rangy form collapsed onto the smooth stone with a low moan of agony. Convulsions, small at first, began to course down his body in waves. He coiled his great body into a ball, his fists gripping his hair at the root. Blood trickled from one nostril — a thin black river against his white flesh.
A familiar hand clasped hers. Clementine leaned into Emory when he tugged gently, putting them eye to eye.
Cupping her jaw, he asked, “Did you kill him, my mate?”
“No.” She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “No, I just hurt him a lot. He’ll be fine.”
Emory gave her a peculiar look then. His head tilted, causing his shorn hair to brush the slope of one shoulder, and his expression was an odd mixture of pride and consternation. “I would have protected you. Even feeling like I’ve been dragged by a trawler across the sea floor, I would have, my mate.”
“I know, but he said nasty things about you. No one’s allowed to do that, Emory. Never. Hedeserveda little bit of pain for what he bragged about doing to you.” She didn’t really care that Herman had come to try and steal her away. He wouldn’t have succeeded. What made her angry was how he’d called her mate a coward, how he’d blithely admitted to hurting Emory in the past.
Clementine was no fighter, but the day she let that slide would be the day she met Grim by the riverbank.
Emory made a chuffing sound in the back of his throat. “You are more than a match for me, naughty thing.”
“She issofun, Emory!” Clementine peered over Emory’s shoulder to discover Mary Celeste had hauled herself onto the rock. She gave Herman’s tail a playful slap. “It’s about time Herman had his brains knocked around. Maybe this time he’ll learn to listen to his pod leader. If he acts up again, I’ll send my new sister out in her bubble-maker over there to curse him.”
Sister? Bubble-maker? Curse?Clementine blinked twice in quick succession. “Um… I don’t really?—”
“Enough, Celeste.” The scarred merman used his thick forearm to push his sister back. When he had some room, he bent to give Herman a closer look. Dark eyes shadowed by drawn brows flicked in Clementine’s direction. “What did you do to him?”
Trying not to squirm under his intense stare, she answered, “I basically put pressure on the pain center of his brain. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage.”
He arched a brow. “Do you mess with people’s brains often?”
“Only if they deserve it.” Truthfully, she’d never had cause to hurt anyone before. The times she’d dared to do anything similar, like the time she confronted the bear during a camping trip, she’d been very careful to knock it out rather than cause pain.
“My mate is ruthless,” Emory chimed in. He stroked her cheek and offered his siblings a smug, possessive look. “When I followed her into her cove for the first time, she knocked me out and bound me with my own mating rope. She even considered pushing me into the water to drown.”
No one seemed to notice the way Clementine went beet red at the memory.
Mary Celeste and her brother looked very impressed. The merwoman’s hair adornments made soft music as she pulled herself closer to where the couple sat. “It’s always wise to try and kill your mate at least once. How else will you know if they’re worthy or not?”
“That wasn’t exactly why I considered it. I was just freaked out.”
