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Luke thumped his head against the back of the couch repeatedly.

Tricky. Fucking. Merman.

Luke slept well, which was both necessary and frustrating in equal measures.

With all Syrus’s revelations, Luke should have by all rights tossed and turned the whole night. But with Syrus’s broad, cool body at his back, his possessive arm curled around Luke’s waist, Luke’s exhaustion had given him no choice.

Safe, his body seemed to say. We’re safe and held, and it’s time to rest.

Even in his dreams, underwater yet again, floating in some endless, rocking sea, Luke was held. Strong arms and warm muscles and something underneath them, something firm and powerful and undulating, keeping them in place despite the pulling currents.

Luke even had a vague recollection of waking up in the middle of the night to Syrus’s soothing voice and Colby’s tired, disgruntled murmurs, but he’d settled back into sleep without investigating. When he’d asked Syrus about it after his morning alarm went off, Syrus had grinned proudly. “An escape artist.”

He’d said it gleefully, as if maybe it wasn’t the first time he’d put Luke’s crib-scaling son back to bed in the wee hours of the morning.

He was incorrigible, this merman. Always making it much too easy to see a future here. A partnership. Mates, if that was what the nonmortal citizens of Pine Bluff wanted to call it.

What had Luke even been so upset about yesterday? The soul factor? The nebulous understanding of what that even meant? The accelerated dating timeline that didn’t seem to bother Syrus in the slightest?

Oh, right. Yes. All that.

But none of that apparently mattered. Not to Syrus. Not when, according to him, Luke had answered his song.

Maybe that was the key after all. Maybe hearing it again would help Luke understand in the way Syrus seemed to think it would.

Or maybe Syrus was being cagey and evasive and once again trying to sidetrack Luke with promises of “soon.” Because apparently Syrus needed to be in his true form, in the water, to repeat the experience to his satisfaction.

Luke sighed as he ran his spatula through the scrambling eggs in his pan. There was a salmon filet already on a plate for Syrus, although he’d also declared he’d like to go back to the ocean and try hunting for his own fish, possibly that night. His feet seemed to be bothering him less. When Luke had asked, Syrus had only mysteriously told him, “A pod begins to form.”

So that was…something.

Currently, Syrus was entertaining Colby while Luke made breakfast. Luke could hear Syrus “reading” to Colby, which in this case entailed him going through each picture book’s illustrations and making up his own stories for what they represented.

It was soothing to listen to him, especially paired with Colby’s giggles and enthusiastically repeated words. Again, it was too easy to see all this continuing. Simple mornings, restful nights. Mind-blowing orgasms.

And in between, in the cracks and dancing around the outskirts, a kind of magic Luke had never known to hope for.

Luke plated the eggs with a frown. Was Syrus really going to get his way so easily? It didn’t seem fair. He should receive some sort of punishment for his heavy-handedness, going forward like he had without Luke’s say-so. At the very least, Luke should make a list of questions and concerns. And no more filling each other until he had.

A rap on the back door had Luke jumping in place, almost dropping his spatula on the floor. The half window showed two shadowy forms peering in. Luke was calling for Syrus before he even registered it.

Syrus appeared from the living room in an instant. The look on his face was…fierce. Protective. A little bit terrifying. He pushed Luke behind him, every muscle in his big body rigid with tension.

“Hello?” a female voice called out. “Luke, darling, don’t be shy. We come bearing croissants.”

Luke slumped forward against Syrus’s back as relief flooded through him. He didn’t know what he’d been afraid of, exactly, when he’d seen the two figures, but he recognized Daphne’s voice. She and Sybil were at the door.

What had Seth said about it? Not to be surprised if they showed up and invited themselves over for tea? Before the crack of dawn was a little early for teatime, but Luke supposed the general gist was the same.

He tried to step around Syrus to let them in, but Syrus let out a low growl, keeping Luke behind him as he stepped forward himself and opened the door the barest inch.

“Oh my, how fearsome,” Sybil drawled. All Luke could see was the broad expanse of Syrus’s back, but he could imagine the look on her beautiful face, arch and amused.

“What are you doing here?” Syrus asked, and that was definitely not arch amusement lacing his tone.

“We came to talk to you, of course. Riley was very spare on the details of your visit, and inquiring minds would like to know more.”

Syrus grunted, a remarkably inelegant sound compared to his usual noises. “Why use the back door?”