He angled his head so that his crimson hair fell over his face, hiding his expression. "I'm telling you to get out of here for your own sake!"
My heart melted. River was trying to protect me from the poachers. Despite his own terror and the uncertainty of his future, River wanted to help me.
"I'm sorry, but I refuse," I said. "I won't let you be alone with these humans. I'm staying right here."
River raised his head, his red hair flying. I noticed tears in his eyes. "They'll find you, Castor!"
"Let them."
"But—"
"But nothing. A promise is a promise."
"You don't know what the poachers will do. They could capture you just like they did me!"
I nodded in understanding. "That's a risk I'm willing to take. If it means staying by your side, let them do it."
7
River
This guy was crazy.
I stared at Castor, incredulous and confused. I kept waiting for him to turn around and leave, but he didn't. Why would anybody would go out of their way to purposely endanger themselves for a stranger's sake? Maybe that was selfish of me, but after spending the whole day in the humans’ clutches, my sense of self-preservation kicked into high gear. I didn't know what they wanted from me, and I didn't want to find out. All I wanted was to go home.
And now here was Castor promising me he wouldn't leave my side. The only reason he'd offered for this ludicrous behaviour was that I was his fated mate.
Did I believe him? No. Well... I didn't know. After being burned so badly by my own stupidity—both in my past relationship and earlier today when I approached the boat—I was wary about trusting myself. I clearly didn't make the smartest decisions.
I didn't know if Castor was lying or not. But still, for some reason, I wanted to believe him. He was my only scrap of hope in this hellhole. Aside from Castor, I was completely at the humans’ mercy.
Plus, the guy wouldn't leave. I gave him plenty of outs, told him to get lost. But no. Castor was determined to throw himself in mortal danger for me.
I'm not going to lie, that did make my chest flutter a little bit.
Growing up, I didn't have many ties to mer culture. I was the only mer I and everybody else in my family knew. So learning about my biology and culture was nearly impossible. But there was one thing. My dad Nishiki told me a bedtime story he'd learned growing up in human society about a mermaid and her heart song. According to the story, her quiet heartbeat would grow louder and louder, creating a magical song that only she could hear. The beautiful sound would only appear around one person—her fated mate.
It was just a story. But as I thought about what Castor said, I was reminded of it.
I listened inwardly. My heart was thumping all right, but it was probably from fear and stress. There wasn't a single musical note to be heard. I was oddly disappointed, then felt embarrassed. Of course my heart wasn't bursting into song. What a ridiculous thing to expect.
"River? Are you all right?"
I shook myself out of my daze. "I'm fine. Well, I'm not, but you know."
Castor smiled gently at me. It was strange to see a beaver smiling. To be honest, before I met Castor, I never thought much of beavers at all. They were giant water rats that cut down trees with their teeth and that was it. I'd never spent time with one up close like this. For one thing, it surprised me just how big Castor was. His round stocky body gave the impression of robust strength, and his thick layer of oily yet sleek fur added an impression of ruggedness.
Castor glanced in the direction of the campfire. "Sounds like they're putting it out. They must be getting ready to sleep." Then he frowned and said urgently, "They're coming over here. I'm going to hide so they don't see me, but I won't be far."
A wave of despair washed over me. I got used to Castor's presence and now I wasn't going to have it. I grabbed the cage bars, feeling overwhelmed and childish. Just a few moments ago I was telling Castor to leave so he wouldn't be in danger, but now I didn't want him to go, even for a minute.
"You're leaving?" I whined.
"No." He pointed to a nearby thicket with his small human-like paw. "I'll be right over there. Don't worry."
I'd heard similar honeyed words before from someone else's lips, and it was a lie. I clenched the bars tighter, as if I could make Castor stay by grabbing them as hard as I could.
The men's slurred voices and stomping footsteps were getting closer.
