You wouldn’t think sitting on steel would be, but he’s holding me with one hand tight around my hips, the other resting on my knee. I feel so safe amid the chaos around us. “Yes. Am I squishing you?”
“Not at all.”
I lean back against him, my head in the crook of his neck, right below his helmet. He smells so freaking good, like walking in the woods right after a rain.
The music halts, and a hush falls over the crowd. The tank rises higher upon a pedestal, so I’m able to see the mermaid clearly.
Her skin is pale, pearlescent white, as if she’s been carved from the purest ivory. There are jewels stuck to her torso and chest, but her breasts are bare.
Her hair is long and flowing, with shades of pale pink and light lavender blending together in a soft pastel hue. And her ears… I’m used to the pointed tips of the fae, but hers have delicate ridges and curves that mimic the shape and movement of a fin. They seem to move independently, twitching as she watches the crowd.
I lean my head against Ez’s helm. “Why is she here? Do you think she’s trapped?”
“Look at her arm.”
She moves her body in a graceful rhythm, but I catch sight of a steel band emblazoned with stars around her forearm.A bargain circle.
“She’s probably upholding her end of a contract with someone from down here,” Ez says. “Whatever she bargained for must have been important.”
For some reason, it makes me sad.
The siren flicks her large tail and ascends to the top of the tank. She grabs onto the side and hoists her torso above the water. The crowd gasps in awe at her every movement. Then she opens her mouth and sings.
The sound is ethereal, mesmerizing. My heart seems to rise and fall with each note. I don’t understand the language, yet the haunting beauty of her words sink into me like an anchor.
“Do you understand her?” I whisper.
Ezryn leans forward, helm resting on my shoulder. “It’s a seafaring language from the Summer Realm. She sings of a lost lover.” His voice takes on a deep rumbling melody in tune with the mermaid, “I met you on the ocean’s edge, beneath the moonlit sky. We danced among the waves that night, our love a lullaby. But then the storm clouds rolled on in and tore us apart. And now I sing this mournful song, with my broken seabound heart.”
“You can speak a language unique to Summer?”
“I speak over ten languages.”
“Oh…” My skin shivers yet heat flips in my belly. I wonder what it would be like to listen to him in one of these beautiful tongues.
The mermaid’s voice carries throughout the entire ballroom, rendering the crowd speechless.
“Oh, my love, my sweetest love,” Ezryn murmurs, “lost to the deep blue sea.I’ll sing this song of longing until you return to me.”
I intake a breath, and my gaze drifts from the beautiful creature in the water to Ezryn. The dark makes his visor even more impenetrably black than usual, but I can sense his gaze on me.
He pulls off his leather gloves and stuffs them into his belt. “It’s hot down here,” he mutters, but then his bare hand returns to its spot on my hip.
“What else is she saying?” I whisper.
His finger traces a circle, slipping between the slits of fabric until they touch my bare skin. “For though the tides may ebb and flow, and the winds may ever blow, my love for you will never fade, like the starlight’s gentle glow.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back, reveling in the warm caress of his voice and the touch of his hand on my skin. It’s too gentle, too teasing, only small circles.
His breath reverberates within his helm, and he shifts, leg pressing harder against me. My hips quiver and I writhe, suddenly desperate for more friction. The crevice between my legs pulses, and the crowd disappears. There’s only the bewitching siren song and Ezryn’s broad thigh beneath me.
His left hand trails up my knee, and his right hand pushes aside the strips of fabric to grip the soft flesh of my thigh. He presses so powerfully, indentations form. My breast shudders with my rapid breath. He’s pretending to watch the show, but those deft fingers skirt higher and higher.
My hand drifts up to caress the side of his helmet. “Say something to me in a language of Spring.”
He tilts his head, and I can almost picture him—that strange, faceless yet familiar image I have—lowering his brows and staring at me with a seductive gaze.
“Please.” The word comes out more plead than pleasantry.
