Page 18 of Bind Me

Then I see her still leaning forward, focusing on a dark hole in the shimmering scales of her tail. Her beautiful skin is exposed where there are missing scales.

I’ve seen a mermaid being completely scaled back in Tartarus, tortured, and it was horrendous.

Seeing this beauty suffering, a primal fury kindles inside me, especially when I hear a whine softly escape her lips as she runs a finger over the wound.

A fierce instinct to protect her flares in me.

With my gaze still on her, I notice as the little critter from the water, her apparent companion, sidles up to her, nudging against her gently. A knot twists inside me at seeing her pain.

As my mind races, I recall the sight of one of Asbesta’s guards leaving her cabin not long ago, his hand wrapped and bloodied. Could he be the cause of her pain? Was that why she retaliated and hurt him?

Fuck, he’s lucky he’s still walking because if I’d been there, his head would be rolling.

Breathing heavily, I can’t quite explain my sudden obsession with this mermaid, but something feels right about her. It’s satisfying, has me buzzing, and I want more.

Watching her for a few moments longer, my anger flares at what might have happened to her.

Taking one last look, imprinting her on my mind, I turn and dart from my hidden spot, disappearing into the night. Each step is driven by a storm of fury, my chest thumping louder, and suddenly, I feel more alive than I have in decades.

Sasha

Iflinch awake with my heart hammering, my eyes snapping wide, and stare at the wooden ceiling. The remnants of yesterday’s events cling to me, cold and terrifying, as I keep picturing Asbesta coming for me.

Chowder makes a small whining sound as he curls up alongside my legs in bed.

I glance over to my bedside table to see the time, but instead, my gaze lands on something entirely unexpected—a container. My breath catches in my throat.

Wait, is that the same container I used yesterday, the one I put the guard’s fingers into? Except he took it, and I didn’t leave it on my bedside table.

My chest tightens, and a chill sweeps through me as I struggle to breathe. How did that get here?

Frantically, I jump out of bed, stirring Chowder out of his sleep with my sudden movement. My mind races with thoughts of Asbesta or perhaps the guard breaking into my place while I slept. My heart thunders louder as I check the front door—it’s still locked. I rush through the house, finding nothing else amiss, no windows open, nothing tossed about.

Back by the bed, I stare at the transparent container, starting to realize something even more unnerving—there are no fingers inside, though a bit of blood on the inside confirms it’s the same box. There’s something else in there.

Tentatively, I pull back the lid, and inside, to my utter disbelief, I find the two scales from my tail. The ones I plucked out yesterday as payment.

I blink at them, a mixture of confusion spinning in my mind.

“What the hell is going on?” My hands shake, the box trembling as I hold it. All of a sudden, everything feels unsafe—the room, my home, the world outside. Yet as I curl my fingers around my scales, I’m deeply appreciative of having them back. I can’t reattach them, but just holding a part of me, a part I thought I’d sacrificed, softens the ache.

I don’t know what happened or why, but I’m on my feet, pacing the room. Someone broke into my house as I slept, most likely watched me sleep, and then headed out. And not even Chowder noticed, or he would have made enough noise to wake me up.

That’s fucking creepy. So why the hell did the guard or Asbesta return them?

With Chowder now stirring and watching me with his big, curious eyes, I rub the top of his head.

“Feel like something to eat?”

“Who isn’t ready for chowder?”

I smirk at his cuteness and get up, my mind on fire.

If someone really wanted me hurt, they would have done it while I slept. And while that doesn’t ease the chill on my skin, it helps stop the panic crawling through me. Tonight, I’ll be setting up the house with some trip wires and sleeping with my weapons.

After a rushed morning, I head into the office, trying to shake off the events of last night.

Now, I’m leaning against the kitchen counter in the office at work, chatting with my boss, Ada, who looks every bit the seasoned bounty hunter. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, she’s tall and looks like she can handle herself in the field. But it’s her smile that catches me off guard—soft and welcoming. Her lion shifter heritage is apparent in the slitted, golden eyes and the taut pull of her blonde hair in a tight bun, which really brings out their brightness.

---