Page 96 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Wench? Love?” I put my hands on my hips. “Why don’t you call me by my name?”

“Your name?” He appeared struck dumb. I knew he wanted to tell me that we had just met, but something stopped him. Cormac’s brow creased as if he were working on a complex equation before his face smoothed back to the benign arrogant man I knew so well. “I don’t need to know your name to fuck you.”

“Be still my heart,” I said dryly.

“Come sit,” Cormac urged. “We can talk.”

My eyes narrowed as I thought about his offer. Perhaps if we talked, he would say something that would reveal a way out of this cushioned hellhole. With a shrug, I decided that it couldn’t hurt. I swam over the cushions before finding one close enough to Cormac that I could hear him without shouting but not so near that he could touch me if he got any ideas.

“Just talk,” I said sternly.

Cormac gave me a lopsided smile that seemed foreign on his face. It was as if I was talking to the mer-king before the rigors of war had forged him in steel and stone. I wasn’t sure what to think. The princelings had a very set hierarchy in my mind. Cormac had always been in a category reserved for irritation, ire, and the desire to castrate. I had not imagined that he had a sense of humor or a flirtatious nature.

“This is your harem, is it?” I twisted my fingers together as I struggled to make conversation. “It’s nice. It looks like the inside of a clam.”

“A clam or a woman’s pus—”

“Ah!” I sat up, the sound loud enough to interrupt. “No need to use that word.”

Cormac shook his head, smirking. “Why would the harem master choose a concubine that had never serviced a male before? Let alone one that has never serviced a merman before?” he wondered.

I glanced down at his tail. “Is being with a merman different than being with one of the two-legged fae?”

He gave me a look filled with pity. “So naïve.”

My fists clenched. “I can gut you like a fish in seven different ways. Say that again, and I will show you how proficient in filleting a mer I can be.”

Cormac ignored my threat as he studied me in a new light, his fingers steepling in front of him as he leaned forward. “I’m beginning to think you’re not a concubine,” he muttered.

“So perceptive.” My voice was as dry as the sand on a summer’s day.

He didn’t finish whatever revelation he had begun, as he smiled gayly. “Do you wish to know what makes a merman different from any other lover?”

I glared.

Cormac held up his hands in surrender. “I will not attempt to stick my cock in you.”

I looked back down at his tail. “If you even have one,” I muttered.

Cormac’s eyes narrowed. “Would you like to see it?”

My cheeks burned, and I forced my eyes to his face. I wanted to say no, but my mouth stumbled over the word until I cleared my throat. “Stop it. You’re flustering me,” I warned.

“I know.” He sat back smugly.

“We have to get out of here, Cormac,” I said after a moment, allowing my fatigue to fill my voice. “If you stay in this room any longer, you will die.”

Cormac frowned as if he had no idea what I was talking about, and I supposed that made sense. I hadn’t had many dreams where I was aware that I was dreaming.

“Have we met before?” he asked, studying my face in a new light. “I’m certain we have.”

“Yes,” I said, tired. “We’ve met.”

Cormac tapped his finger against his bottom lip as he tried to place me. “You’re the Cruinn Princess,” he said, snapping his fingers at the realization. “I saw you years ago.”

I searched my memory, but the days following my mother’s death had been a blur. I had been so small then, and I remembered being scared and surrounded by strangers as my uncle was coronated. I knew that the mer-king, Cormac’s father, had made a try for the High Throne but had been killed for his attempt.

“I remember,” I lied.

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