Page 132 of The Last Lost Girl

When the sea swells over my mouth and nose, I don’t have the strength to hold my breath. Seawater runs into my lungs. My arms and legs are numb. I blink and see them floating out from my body like Hudson’s did when the siren pulled him under far too long.

Then Nyin is torn from me. Her shriek pierces my ears. There’s thrashing and fighting, snarls and the sounds of tearing scales and flesh.

“Nyin?” I try to yell.

But the fight continues, swirling so close I finally see what she’s fending off: two sirens who look like she did before the salve healed her.

Water floods my ears. I can’t stay afloat.

I tilt forward and sink under.

A clawed hand wraps around my arm above the elbow and I’m being dragged through the dark water so fast, I can’t even lift a hand to try to pry it away. My ears pop from the mounting pressure.

Bubbles rush over me as we surge through the tides.

The longer I hold my breath, the more my stomach screams.

I can’t…

I breathe in the sea.

Then, everything goes black.

forty-two

“Open your eyes,” someone says.

But I don’t want to. They feel so heavy.

Their hand is on my stomach. It’s broad and warm. Comforting.

I lift my lids to half-mast before they slide back down.

“That’s good. Again…”

I try again, and the lids open a little farther. The world beyond them is blurred and way too bright.

“All the way this time,” he encourages.

I open them fully. My blinks are heavy at first.

“Good girl.”

A young man stands beside me. His smile is wide and playful as he looks down at me.

I’m lying on something hard. My back is stiff. When I try to sit up, he places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Not too fast or you’ll be sick,” he suggests softly.

I’ve never seen green eyes like his. They aren’t as heavy as emerald, and they aren’t cold like evergreen. They’re vivid, wild, like spring plants revived and blessed by sun and soil.

I squirm to ease the ache in my back. My fingers splay and ease into gritty, wet sand. “Where am I?”

“How is your stomach?” he asks instead of answering.

“My stomach?” I turn my head to the right and see waves rolling up a sun-kissed shore.

“If you feel sick, I’ll need to roll you onto your side.”

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