Page 97 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Liar.” He smirked. “We were engaged to be married, you know.”

My eyes widened in horror. “I was a child.”

“Well, yes, but I don’t think my father would have made me marry you when you were six.” Cormac arched a brow. “Besides, the war made it—” He stopped himself.

“The war?” I prompted.

Cormac looked down at his hands as if he had just realized they existed. He blinked and shook his head before looking up. As soon as his eyes met mine, he slipped back to his easy flirtatious smirk. “What was I saying?” He rolled his eyes at his forgetfulness. “Oh yes. You’ve never been with a merman before. Would you like me to show you what it’s like?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the ground began to shake beneath the carpet of silk cushions. Between the lush pink fabric, the stone split into jagged cracks, and darkness loomed between each gap. My pillow began to sag as the fabric sunk into one of the cracks in the marble. I managed to fling myself to standing a moment before my seat disappeared entirely, my feet tangled over each other until I fell forward—right into the arms of Cormac Illfin.

He was hard as a rock, though warm at the same time, and his arms came down around me like a vice as he held me towards him. I looked up, dazed, with my heart racing enough to feel it in my gills, and his green eyes looked down at me. The color of evergreen trees.

“We—”Weneed to run.

Before I could finish, my words died in my throat, smothered by his lips.

Cormac Illfin, the Sídhe that had hated me from the moment we had met. The one male that had to be right about everything and, more importantly, ensure I waswrong. Cormac Illfin, a merman, the king of my enemies. The male with an ego so big that it was a wonder he could even fit through doorways or stay upright in the water.

The man that had protected me, even though I was an enemy.

It took a moment to remember why kissing Cormac Illfin was a terrible idea. It took longer for my body to get the message as my back arched. My breasts brushed against his hard chest as the kiss grew more profound, from the demanding press of his lips on mine to the subtle coaxing that urged my tongue to come out and play with his. His hands skimmed my arms before moving to my waist.

I squirmed, unsure if I was trying to escape his touch or revel in it.

Realization slammed into me like a blow to the head. “The floor—”

Cormac silenced me with a kiss, and I pushed him away with a growl. “The floor?” he asked, both brows raised, waiting as if he hadn’t just interrupted me with his lips.

I twisted in his lap, ignoring how his scales felt on my bare legs, and gestured to the stone floor, which had cracked moments before. It was pristine, without so much as a nick or scratch. My mouth parted in confusion before I remembered that I was inside of a dream. More importantly, Cormac’s dream.

My eyes narrowed as I turned back to him. “You did that on purpose.”

He managed to look as innocent as a newborn babe. “Did what?”

“You know what.” I slapped his chest.

He caught my hand and cradled it. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you are talking about. All I know is that I have better uses for your lips, and I fully intend to get creative.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” I slid off his lap and put my hands on his hips. “It’s time for you to wake up. Now.”

His evergreen eyes rounded. “I’m not asleep.”

I growled in frustration.

The walls began to shift, turning to grains of sand and rolling to the floor. The stone creaked and groaned as it began to dissolve. The sound made every hair on my body stand up. It sounded almost exactly like the Whispering Pass but different. Louder, as if I was right under the falling silt.

The pillows began to dissolve too, and I reached out and grabbed Cormac, holding onto his wrist for fear that I would lose him if the dream changed somehow. He took my touch as an invitation and pulled me close again. I let him, but I told myself it was only because of fear.

“Where are we?” I wondered as the world shimmered into focus, but there was nothing for miles around. Nothing but stark empty water and two men on the battlefield.

It looked like thousands of trees in the distance, dark sticks pointing towards the surface with roots in the sand. Trees didn’t grow underwater like that. The roots were straight, and the trunks glittered in the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the shallows—it was a forest of tridents. Hundreds of merfolk had died on the battlefield we stood on, their bodies dissolving to foam to join spirits in the underworld.

Cormac no longer stood beside me but in the center of the clearing. His trident in his hand and his armour dented and broken.

I recognized the man in front of him. It was my uncle.

My feet kicked off against the lakebed before my mind processed what was happening, and I raced towards the two men. My uncle lifted his sword, the hilt gilded with fat rubies, the color of blood. Cormac rolled his body in the water and used the bulk of his tail to knock my uncle to the ground.

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