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“I have a commission I should be working on,” Luke hedged, stopping just short of the lounger.

Syrus opened his eyes and shot Luke a smirk. “You can work on it later. Colby and I will entertain ourselves.”

Well, now it was extra tempting. Look at Syrus, using logic in his arsenal of wiles.

Luke certainly had more freedom to work with Syrus in his life. Syrus might call himself their protector—and he was, at the core of it, because Luke knew in his bones that Syrus would die or kill for either Luke or Colby—but househusband might be the more appropriate word when it came to their day-to-day.

Maybe it was the leftover rhythm of his life in the seas, but Syrus didn’t seem to mind endless swaths of free time. He filled it in whatever way he felt like in the moment. Quality time with Luke and Colby was his main preference, of course, but he also occasionally went on side quests, like volunteering at Shauna’s shop in exchange for babysitting.

Not that Shauna wouldn’t have done it without the quid pro quo, but Syrus seemed to like it there. And Shauna never said no, because Syrus also seemed to have a knack for making sales despite not knowing a damn thing about the crystals. Luke couldn’t blame any of the customers either. When a big, beautiful man dressed in colorful hippie rags told someone that some sparkly rock paired perfectly with the color of their eyes, that person bought the damn rock.

Syrus fit here, in Pine Bluff. He fit as well as any other coastal eccentric. The ridiculous flowy clothes he’d come to wear, the intensity he brought to every interaction, his propensity for bright colors and mysterious statements. He could easily have been born here, raised here, and no one would have been able to tell the difference.

If the ocean called to him in any forceful way, Syrus didn’t let it show, other than with his daily swims. Luke joined him often as not, usually in the early hours after dropping Colby off at day care. However Luke’s bond with Syrus worked, the freezing temperature of the water didn’t bother him anymore, and he had yet to find the limit for how long he could hold his breath. Still, he usually headed in before Syrus, then sat at the beach with a thermos of coffee and enjoyed the peaceful quiet.

When there were other people lingering on the beach, Syrus would swim around the bend to transform. The locals now knew him as a proficient swimmer who liked to tread dangerously in deeper waters, but he’d proven himself capable enough that no one begrudged him for it. It helped that he hadn’t committed the ultimate sin of requiring any sort of maritime rescue.

And Luke had, of course, bought the damn boat. How else was he meant to let Colby see how beautiful Syrus could be in the wild? They took it out on weekends when they could, though they had to drive up the coast to the next town over to find calmer waters. They did it often enough that Colby now recognized “Papa Sywus” in his merman form just from the sight of his tail lifting out of the water. Luke would probably come to regret that when Colby was in kindergarten telling everyone about his merman stepfather, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it.

So yeah, Syrus filled his time just fine, especially when one factored in all the hours he spent lounging in the nude. Which often led to…other pursuits. Pursuits Luke was trying to resist in order to finish the set of chairs he was working on.

Trying to resist and already failing.

“Luke,” Syrus crooned, seeming to sense his capitulation. He lifted a beckoning hand. “Join me.”

Luke sighed and turned his face to the sun. It did feel good, he had to admit. “Just for a minute, then.”

He sat gingerly at the edge of the lounger, only to be immediately pulled down until he was draped over Syrus’s chest, their legs awkwardly tangled.

“Ah,” Syrus sighed, wrapping both arms around Luke’s lower back. “That’s better.”

“Aren’t I blocking your sun?” Luke asked, though it didn’t stop him from nuzzling his head into the smooth expanse of Syrus’s chest.

“You enhance it.”

Luke smiled in spite of himself. Charmer.

They lay in silence for a while, and Luke was lulled into an odd sort of half doze by the warmth of the day and the comfort of Syrus’s hold.

“What would have happened to me,” he eventually murmured, “if I’d been one of those sailors on a ship out at sea? In the old days.”

Syrus didn’t hesitate. “I would have taken you for my own.”

“I would have been terrified.”

Syrus hummed doubtfully. “Perhaps. At first.”

So smug. As if hypothetical Luke wouldn’t have lost his mind getting pulled into the water by a man-eating sea creature. But then again, Syrus would have only had to open his mouth to soothe him. Or better yet, seduce him. Keep Luke as his docile human pet. His reluctant mate.

Luke could almost picture it. The cold, murky depths. Crooning, wailing bodies all around him, with their eerie glow. And Syrus, with his tight, possessive grip, keeping Luke exactly where he wanted him, despite the danger all around.

Luke shivered with arousal. Which was silly and unwarranted. It wasn’t like his ideal life was as an underwater captive within a deadly pod of sirens.

A broad hand slid up under his shirt, cool skin caressing his overheated flesh.

“Do you like that thought, sweet Luke?” Syrus asked, a knowing lilt to his voice. “Captured by me? At my mercy?”

Luke didn’t answer. Anything he said would just give himself away.