Arion grits his teeth. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“So kiss him, then.”
“I will.”
Arion doesn’t turn away. In fact, he only seems to stare harder. In challenge. In threat. But this is good; I can prove to both of us that our kiss meant nothing. That nothing has changed, and it won’t ever happen again. I just helped Arion breathe easier. I’ll help this man do the same.
I crook a finger at the stranger, beckoning him forward before asking Arion, “Does he have a name, or should I just moan my own?”
Arion growls at that. So easily provoked. I flash him a seductive grin, and his gaze burns through mine. “His name is Gavriall,” he says. “Go on, mermaid. Tell me how he tastes.”
“Gavriall.” I fix my grin on the man. He’s handsome. Tall and lithe. High cheekbones. Smooth tawny skin. He’s just, unfortunately, nowhere near as attractive as Arion. “Would you like the ability to breathe underwater?”
Gavriall nods fervently, his cheeks purpling.
I don’t waste another second. In truth, I really don’t want anyone else to die. Not because of me.
I touch the cleft on Gavriall’s chin with a tender finger, and he shivers. Then, softly, I brush my lips against his. He presses a warm hand against the small of my back. It feels wrong. Too cold. Too smooth. Too different.
However, Arion is definitely feeling this through the bond, and I don’t want to give him the smug satisfaction of knowing I was nearly undone by his lips and no one else’s. So I moan, sliding my fingers into Gavriall’s hair. Arion watches me. He doesn’t look away. Not as Gavriall’s gills emerge. Not as Gavriall’s hand slides up over my spine. Not as my breasts push into Gavriall’s chest, and his sword falls to the ground. Abandoned. Forgotten.
Arion glares. His muscles tense. But he doesn’t look away, so I don’t either.
Gavriall breathes me in, and my tail wraps around him. His tongue flicks out then, caressing mine with a gentle stroke, and—
“Enough.”Arion hooks an arm around my waist and drags me back into his chest. I collapse against him with a surprised gasp. Somehow, Arion has collected the sword as well, and he thrusts it toward Gavriall, keeping his other hand on my stomach. “Here. Arm yourself. Gods know you have no other use.”
Gavriall beams at us, gills slitting the flesh behind his ear, and accepts his sword.
“Thanks,” he says easily, as though Arion isn’t fuming and I’m not trembling in a warlock’s arms. “I thought I was going to die about fifty different ways in the last ten minutes.”
I fight to ignore the heat branding my belly from Arion’s touch.Why won’t he let me go?
“You followed us,” Arion says. Not a question. A statement.
“Technically, I followedher.” Gavriall gestures to me while treading water with clumsily kicked legs. “You inquired about Abysses, about Mortem’s heart, and then freed a mermaid from her noose. You’re a traitor. The entire kingdom wants you dead. I figured you were either onto something, or…” He drifts off, but Arion is happy to finish the sentence for him.
The warlock somehow becomes even more rigid behind me. “Or you would turn me in. Take the credit for my capture.”
“In my defense, they’re offering alotof money to whoever brings you in. Dead or alive.”
Arion snarls at that. “Hence the sword.”
Gavriall nods, not the least bit ashamed. “Hence the sword.” A pause. A single beat where I wonder if I’ll have to kill this man with my bare hands. The cord pulses with Arion’s anger. Withremorse. “I couldn’t let you die. Turns out, I don’t have the stomach for murder. Just for coin.” He meets Arion’s gaze and holds it. Something passes between them. Something almost akin to understanding. “Since I’ve tethered my ship to your rocky shores—where are we headed next?”
Arion’s voice drops to a dangerous decibel. “You’re not staying, Praesepultus.”
“I disagree.” Gavriall wags his brows. “I’m the one with the sword, after all.”
Arion’s mouth falls open with another argument, but I lift a hand and press it to his lips. A shock of lust lances through me. I pretend I don’t feel it. “We don’t have time to measure dicks right now. If you want to come with us, you’re going tohelp us.” Arion balks at that, but I refuse to remove my palm. “He’s here. He knows where we are. He knows what we’re looking for.” My gaze narrows on Gavriall’s face. “He either dies, or he stays.”
“I votestays,” Gavriall offers. “I have many talents, least of all my effervescent charisma. I don’t hog blankets, and I make a mean cup of citrus tea.”
I ignore him, feeling Arion’s frustration boil to a head. “We need a safe spot where we can discuss this further. We can’t resurface anywhere near that isle, and we can’t keep treading water here. Since both youandthose robed freaks found us, it’s not impossible for others to do the same. Our best bet is one of the Sel’s underwater caverns. We rest. We talk. We—we figure this shit out. Okay?” I peer over my shoulder at Arion in question, and his gaze continues to sear into mine.Throughmine. He nods once. His lips part against my hand. My stomach tumbles.
“Sounds positively fabulous,” Gavriall says, plunging forward with zero sense of direction, “but perhaps we should save the simmering sexual tension for when we arrive. Eaten by sharks or speared by cultists aren’t exactly my ideas of fun.”
