Page 47 of Magic Potions and the Merman's Lure

I hiss softly to myself in frustration. How troublesome. I should be filled with thoughts of how to woo and seduce my female into mating when the time comes, not possessed with such doubts. And my mate should be wearing a look of happiness rather than the exhausted tension that has followed her everywhere lately.

My shoulders slump in frustration and I quickly peek at my mate, noting that her brow is drawn and there is a dark smudge between her eyebrows where they are knotted as she squints at the text. The dark smudges are also apparent beneath her eyes from her obvious lack of rest. She is tired. I can see that clearly. My gaze rakes across the room, noting the unmistakable taste of my mate and the faint impression of her power lingering upon everything she has claimed is hers. There is a table set up in one corner with all manner of tools set up orderly upon it, and another where there are traces of spell work lingering, but everywhere I look there are books, whether on shelves or stacked neatly on tables. Even those workspaces are not excluded from being buried beneath at least a couple volumes.

My lips twitch as my gaze falls on some new editions piled upon the table in front of the couch where we are sitting. It is not surprising. My mate lives in the world of her books so naturally this is an ever growing and ever-changing thing. If only there was a way to add to my own magic stirring within her. Instead, my magic is like the little teapot in the center of the table slowly being swallowed by the stacks of books around it. I tip my head as I regard it. It really is a very small and insignificant looking teapot.

White with a scattering of pink flowers across it, it marks the softness within my mate in contrast to the hard angles of the books everywhere. If that was my magic it would be just as small and distinguished within the heart of power. My eyebrows slowly rise as I belatedly realize that I am staring at it. I close my eyes in frustration. Ridiculous. A teapot is not going to help my own magic grow to knot my lure more firmly within her. Unless.... My eyes fly open as an idea begins to form.

Water carries the imprint of all things it touches, and therefore it carries life. This is something that all Aquanas know, for it can carry our own magic far and amplify it depending on how we enchant it. So why not make that work in my favor and give her a stream of my magic even when we are not joined?

I glance at my mate beneath my lashes as I reach forward and rest my hand over hers before she can think of turning the page. Her eyes shoot up to my face in surprise, but I smile and stroke the back of her hand with my fingertips, taking care with my claws.

“Time to take a rest,” I murmur. “You have been working very hard. Allow me to prepare some tea for you.”

Her expression clears and she returns my smile with a nod of agreement. “You are right. Tea sounds great if you do not mind making it.”

I brush the back of my claw very gently against the tip of her nose affectionately, enjoying the way it wrinkles with her responding smile. Though I have enthusiastically claimed her a dozen times, my sweet mate has no idea at all how enticing she is. A lock of pale hair hangs forward, brushing her cheek with her every motion, teasing me with its silky glide over her smooth skin.

“I would not have offered if I minded,” I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear.

With another fond smile I rise from the couch and pick up the tea pot as I straighten. I can feel her eyes following me as I leave the room, and nothing pleases me more than knowing that, for the time being, I am the sole focus of her attention. Even with the space of the living room and kitchen between us, I can feel it dancing over my fins and every nerve ending as I move through her kitchen. I feel like a male of worth at this moment and it entices my lure to dig deeper. My eyelashes flutter close to savor it and for a moment there is a lurch within my belly and a flare of arousal so intense that I am forced to lean into the sink to keep from falling. I relish it, however. Such sweet agony.

A shiver runs along my fins, but I push the feeling away to focus on the tea as I set to work in preparing it. Filling the teapot with hot water, I lean over with my back to my mate and breathe over it, infusing my magic directly into it with a soft hum, my tongue clicking at the roof of my mouth to send the magic forth with my body’s electric pulses. Once I am satisfied that a good quantity of my energy dances within the water, I add the tea leaves and allow it to steep for a minute or two before straining and carrying the pot back out and setting it upon the small table erected in the middle of the couch. She looks up with a smile and sighs when she slams the book shut and gives it a look of disgust.

“No luck?” I inquire as I drop to the couch on the side of the table.

She shakes her head and thumps the book with her finger. “There is no getting around the fact that we need a suitably strong core ingredient to raise the tide of the magic. I have tried it on my own with everything from ground shells, sand, and other findings from the beach. I even paid for saltwater pearls to be shipped and tried them all without success. I just can’t seem to get the tides to shift high enough.”

“Perhaps we can try together,” I suggest hopefully.

Keri taps her finger to her lips as she studies me as I pour the tea. I smile and lift my fins slightly, hoping for all the world that I look magically competent enough for her to accept my offer. I am being ridiculous again, but I do not care. A smile teases her lips mirthfully, confirming the matter but she does not call me on it or reject my offer. Instead, she accepts the teacup I offer her, and we sip in silence as we consider the matter.

“It is not that I don’t want to,” she says as she lowers her cup back to its saucer. “It’s more that I’m afraid that it will be a waste of effort and we will both be disappointed.”

“Our magic has danced together before,” I remind her. “We know that our magic could work together or else it would not dance at all. The question is if our current alone is strong enough for what you need. And if it is not...” I shrug, allowing that to finish my thoughts. If it is not, then we can continue moving forward as always.

She gives me a searching look but finally nods and clears away the teacups from the small table between us and replaces them with a small bowl filled with glittering powder that I immediately recognize. Ground pearls acquired from the seas. Although the members of my pod used talaxi pearls for the more difficult magic, my own mother used sea pearls enough that I am filled with optimism. Surely this will work with me helping her. She will see that it can be done with both of us working together without risking the dangers of gathering a talaxi pearl.

A thrill of excitement rushes through me when she suddenly reaches for my hands. I thrust them toward her eagerly and grin at her giggle at my enthusiasm as she takes them in hers. Her eyebrows jump playfully as she smiles, drawing another burst of warmth to my heart to the point that I am tempted to burst into song even though she will chastise me later for interrupting her work yet again when we climb from her bed.

The clasp of our hands stirs my lure within her as my magic rises and flows in response to that pull while her own power answers, shifting and moving around mine. My lure is still not entirely connected but the link is stronger between us, which fills me with a great deal of satisfaction. I know that she is aware of magic spinning between and within us because she looks up at me with an excited smile as the crushed pearls beneath our hands shimmer in reaction to the growing dance of our magic spinning together.

“This is our own natural current,” I murmur. “It flows continuously between us now even when we aren’t aware of it. It chases between us in its natural state, but to create a tide, it is more of a pull and give as we make them move together.”

She nods again, this time with determination, and her brow pinches slightly with her concentration. “I suppose one of us should begin.”

“I can start,” I offer. “Just follow me.”

Shifting the threads of energy within my lure, I push my magic, driving my energy into hers so that they roll together in a glittery wave toward my mate. Keri’s eyes widen as the magic flows over her and responds by pushing forward on her own magic, allowing the wave to crest and roll back toward me. My blood hums with excitement as it rushes back to me and crashes through me at the same moment that I drive it forward again. Back and forth we pass the tide over the pearls, and brighter they grow in response until they glow like the moon and shards of starlight. I am so certain that we are nearly there. The dust begins to spin and rise from the bowl, spinning in numerous delicate threads, the heart connecting the threads grows and brightens with an increasing intensity as the core begins to form.

The sea sings between Keri and me. We are one. We are part of the core, breathing it into existence, marrying the element of the sea with the magic of our love. Our tiding is growing and swelling, rushing forward in massive waves that crash through the room.

“Just a little more,” she whispers. “All of the threads need to be contained within the core.”

I nod but my entire body is rocking with the force of our magical tide eclipsing over me. I have never felt such a thing. I look up at my mate and notice that she is shaky with the effort to confine and direct the swelling rise of magic growing more feral by the moment. She turns the tide back toward me and something shifts with a wrongness that strums through me. My eyes widen in horror and try to tighten my hold on her but our hand-lock breaks from the force rippling out from the core as we are both flung backward by the sonic explosion that rocks through the house. The sand from the pearls abrades my scales sharply and I know her delicate skin in suffering similarly when I hear her draw in a sharp breath of pain, though she doesn’t cry out.

Groaning, I slowly push myself up from the floor and blink hazily across the room to where my Keri was thrown from the toppled couch. The coffee table is likewise tipped over, its piles of books scattered over the floor. A layer of fine pearl dust coats both pieces of furniture but it looks dull and flat—the natural magic within it exhausted. Brushing her hair out of her face, Keri peers up at me and smiles weakly.

“I guess that didn’t work.”

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