With that, she spins on her heels and enters the apartment behind her. The door closes before I can get even a peek inside.
“Well, my friend.” I clap Hunter on the back. “I think what you need more than a night out is a very stiff drink.”
“Or ten,” he says without an ounce of humor.
“Or ten,” I agree, still staring at the door where the sweet woman disappeared.
7
“I’m baaack!” My mate sing-songs as the door to her home opens. Relief floods through me at hearing her beautiful voice again. I wanted to go with her, but she insisted I stay, which was probably a good idea as it gave me more time to study her language.
If I understood right, she went to get us something to eat, though I’m not sure what that entails. I haven’t seen anything that looks remotely edible so far, no fish or kelp or even clams. She tried to convince me to eat something she called acraaakeer, but I abstained.
Everything she’s eaten herself since she found me has been wrapped in weird packages, and tonight is no different. I can admit it smells delicious though.
“What… foraged?” The words come out slow, I want to be sure I get them right. It is my first attempt.
My mate drops her package on the flat surface in the middle of her cooking space, her mouth open like an adorable guppy.
“You… Did you just talk?” She eyes me warily. “Or am I losing it? Because it sounded like you spoke English.”
“I did,” I reply. She speaks this language, too. Shouldn’t she recognize it? Have I misunderstood? I thought I was getting it, but maybe it is more challenging than I first believed. Her roommate left soon after she did to go to something they calledwerk, so I wasn’t able to practice with another human.
My mate’s mouth does the cute little fish thing again, opening and closing like she can’t figure out what she wants to say. Seas below, I want to kiss her.
“How…? Have you always spoken English? Oh my god, could you understand me this whole time?” Her words come out so quickly it’s difficult to understand, but her shock and anxiety are clear through the bond. I go to her, wrapping her in my arms and stuttering out a purr. Her cheek lays against my chest, though I wish this silly cloth wasn’t between us. I think she called it atee.
I plant a kiss on her hair, and she looks up at me. Her breathing has regulated but there is still a question in her eyes.
I gesture at the device she called a television, and try to think of how to form the words I want. It is easier to understand this language of hers than it is to speak with the eloquence I’d like. “I learn. But… English is… hard.”
My mate scoffs. “You got that right. We took things from every language around the world and then butchered them together to create something with the most finicky rules.”
Her lips are too tempting, so I drop my head to kiss her deeply. She tastes of fruit I’ve never known, but now desperately want to try. Her arousal blooms, and I slide myhands down her backside, gripping her rear to pull her against my hardening erection.
I still cannot believe human males walk around with their cocks unprotected, just dangling free outside of their bodies. Seems like an evolutionary misstep. Even the thin textiles they cover themselves with offer little protection.
My mate pulls back, her palms on my chest to push away slightly. “Wait. Wait. Okay. What’s your name? What do I call you?”
My lips scrunch because as much as I want to hear my true name on her lips, she doesn’t know the language of merfolk. I think about the sounds and syllables of my name under the water. There was a name I heard from her television earlier that might work, it has some of the same soft hissing sounds and vowels of my name. “Call me Caspian.”
“Caspian.” She tests my name on her tongue, and I decide it’s perfect. It doesn’t matter if I never hear it in my language, as long as she keeps saying it. Even better if she screams it as she comes on my tongue.
“And you, little starfish?”
Her brows furrow. “Starfish? Is that supposed to be a nickname for me?”
“Do you like it?”
“I’m not sure… let me think about it. At least it isn’tsea slugor something I guess,” she muses.
“Sea… slug?” I tilt my head uncertain exactly what she means. This is not a term I’ve heard before.
“You know, uh…” She grabs a device and pokes at it a few times, then turns it to show me an image of the adorable creatures that cover the sea floor. Each is unique, some with extremely bright colors.
“Ah! Yes! Very beautiful. Vibrant, just as you.”
“Riiighht. Anyway, my name is Madison. But my friends call me Madi. Sometimes Mads. And my dad used to call me Skeeter but that won’t make any sense to you so?—”
