But he won’t. There’s no point. That thing isn’t human. I’ll be long dead before it ever lets its guard down.
If I want to get out, I need the key. The one around his neck.
How the hell do I get it though?
14
Alette
The hours after the merman leaves feel like the longest of my life. Each hour is a hundred years, stretched out by the slow drift of silt and the way water warps all sense of time. I just count breaths, count heartbeats, count the bruises blooming across my wrist and ankle. I’m not even sure if I’m alive anymore, or if I’m just a forgotten creature, a fossil waiting for centuries of lake-bottom dust to turn me to stone.
When the door opens again, I’m not ready or prepared. My entire body tenses, and I whirl around, ready for trouble. Instead, there’s a muscular body in the doorway, silvered by the water, hair glowing pale in the gloom. For a wild, mad second I think it’s another monster, but then it moves, slow and precise, and he slips in closer.
Cassius.
He stands in the open, arms clenched into fists, eyes cold and intent. The water slides over his skin like he was born to it, which, now that I think of it, he probably was.
I’m so relieved I want to laugh and weep at the same time, but all I manage is a sick little hiccup.
“Cassius?” My voice comes out small and frightened.
“Alette!” I see a flicker of relief and gratitude flash across his face.
He glides in, not quite walking, almost floating. It looks so easy for him, and the obvious hits me… that he's a water fae. He must be as comfortable on land as he is in the water.
I never thought I'd envy that.
He stops a foot away from the edge of my chain’s reach. He glances at the shackle, at my bare foot, at the bloody spots where the skin is scraped raw. He crouches and inspects the lock. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” I say, even though I don't feel okay.
His hand brushes my skin, and a jolt goes through me. It’s impossible not to notice that we’re both barely dressed. He’s in nothing but his boxers, and I’m almost naked. Having him touch me in such a vulnerable state is hard to ignore, but I try to, because we have far bigger fish to fry than my outfit worries.
He examines the shackle, eyes darting over the mechanism. His hands are gentle, just careful touch and slow pressure. He tugs at the chain, testing it. “Iron,” he says. “Old, but not brittle.”
He glances at the rest of me, up and down, a healer’s look, but it still makes my cheeks burn. “What happened?”
I force my jaw to stop trembling. “He dragged me under. I couldn’t fight him, no matter how hard I tried. Then, he… kissed me, and I could breathe under water–”
“A merman’s kiss gives the recipient the ability to breathe underwater,” he says, which explains a lot.
I keep going. “He wants me to clean his house.” I gesture at the trash, at the fork and the wires and the bones. “He left me here, chained to this ball.”
Cassius frowns. “Did you try to open the lock?”
I nod. “I haven't been able to open it, but the key’s on his neck.” I hate how small I sound. “He’s big. And strong.”
Cassius cautiously pulls me into a gentle hug. I want to pull him in and bury my face in his chest, but I’d be too embarrassed to actually do it. Not with the serious water fae. And not when I can feel just abouteveryinch of him with almost nothing separating us.
Releasing me, he tries the lock, then the hinge. He doesn’t waste time with useless questions. “Where’s your dagger?”
I point at the far wall. “I tried to stab him, but it ended up in the wall. I’m sorry.”
He lets go of me, turns, and, without effort, swims across the room. The movement draws my eye to places I shouldn’t be looking, and I try not to gawk at the sheer size of him as his flaccid length bobs in his boxers down the side of his leg. For some reason, I swallow. Hard. I force my mind to focus on the dire situation we’re in. Onanythingexcept that.
It takes him two seconds to find the dagger and yank it free. Wincing in pain, he drops it, and I suddenly remember that I’m the only one who can hold the dagger. Gritting his teeth, he picks it up again and makes it a short distance before hissing and dropping it again.
He finally brings it back and drops it in front of me, then inspects the blade, then the lock, then the chain. “I’ll try to cut through it,” he says, and I almost believe that he can succeed where I failed.
