Page 42 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

My sweet man. He thinks he’s boring. He just doesn’t realize how quietly commanding and powerful he is. There’s power in steadiness. Unshakability.

I picture him beside me, facing Koshchei, the Bone Lord, the Demon King of the Rusalka—and he doesn’t run.

He should run. He’ll be killed if he doesn’t.

“I have to get those baskets on the truck. It comes through each hour,” I murmur. With a fleeting smile and a peck on Kev’s cheek, I slip away.

My thoughts stay with Kev as he talks to his brothers. I hear him say, “When you meet the one, you’ll want to tell the world—and you’ll probably start with your dumbass brothers.”

Me. I’m the one. His one. The one he told his mother about, the one he let his brother meet. I’m invited to Thanksgiving.

My hands fly through the trees, ripping and twisting off the red and gold fruits, heedless of the yellowjackets that buzz around me jealous that I’m stealing their sweet, ripe apples.

Kev can’t see me for what I am, even when I try to show him. There will be no mistaking Koshchei, one of the old ones, one of the ones meant to reside below. I have to make Kev see that I’m a danger before the true danger arrives.

Love is blind, but for once, I wish a man could see me for the monster I am.

“IF YOU’RE DRAGGINGme into that big barn for hanky panky, I’m not going to say no—but hay is prickly, and I think that term ‘roll in the hay’ is vastly overrated.”

“We’re not going to the barn, we’re going past it. Onyx Stream. It’s a little strip that joins the big river, my river. The river in Pine Ridge splits off from the Susquehanna in the south and feeds into the Chenango in the north,” I pant. The sun is surprisingly hot, and I want to slide into the cooler water like a drowning man wants his next breath. The soak in the bathtub and the quick shower I had this morning aren’t the same as swimming in nature, or absorbing the river and the sea into my veins.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I shed my borrowed clothes in the shade of the line of windbreak trees that separate the river from the cornfields. Kev’s startled yelp echoes in my ears as I break into a run—naked body flying over rocky ground and mossy grass before I slide into the water like a penguin off a glacier.

Beneath the water, I take in long, shuddering breaths, cold water filling my lungs and passing back out easily, a simple in and out, air and water equal to my kind—at least up to a point. My skin smooths. It prickles and tingles as my “second skin” forms—the long white dress that’s meant to be see-through, that’s meant to show my curves and hidden places. It’s a “covering” when dry, but when wet, it’s every man’s temptation.

“Girl, I thought you were skinny dipping! Not that your dress is hiding anything.” Kev crouches by the water’s edge, shaking his head. “Where’d you pull that from?”

“It’s my second skin. It can form at will.” I’m honest.

He thinks I’m teasing. “Fine, fine, a magician never reveals her secrets.” his voice drops as he leans over and strokes my wet cheek. “But if you’ve got any magic handcuffs back at your place, I wanna know about it.”

I bite my lip, insides tight, mind momentarily distracted from my goal of making him leave, save himself. “Who would be wearing them?” I whisper. I assume it would be me. All shackled.Spread. At his mercy. I feel the slickness that’s wetter than water slide along my pouting lower lips, begging him to split me, to fill me...

In a few weeks, Koshchei could do so much worse, and it wouldn’t be in a fun way.

Kev smirks. “We can take turns—as long as you’re into it.”

“I’m into everything with you—but you shouldn’t be with me. I... My culture is different than yours.”

Kev nods seriously. “I know, baby. There are bigots in this world who will say we shouldn’t be together, but skin doesn’t matter. Ancestry and heritage don’t matter—I mean, they’re important, but they shouldn’t separate people. They should share their differences, and make new traditions that combine in beautiful ways. I’m a medical man. On the inside, we’re all the same—even with bio-individuality. We bleed red. We have bones and organs. Our experiences may never be the same, but we can learn from each other. We can love each other.” He shifts to sitting cross-legged and bends to take my hands. “If we want the world to be a better place, we can’t let those idiotic voices that separate people by their colors win. Different but equal is a thing, baby.”

“That’s beautiful and noble—and not what I meant. Look, I... The women in my family use men. Kill them, in many cases.” I wait for him to flinch. He doesn’t. “I seduced you. You are not feeling love, you are feeling desire.”

Kev shrugs. “Both. Girl, I loved you when you were Venus in a little white bathing suit and I loved you sticky and covered in pansy root.”

“Tannis root,” I correct, but then shake my head. “Being seductive is not something I can turn off!”

“Good! I like being under your spell.” Kev cocks his head and narrows his eyes. “You want me to leave? Tell me. Say, ‘I don’t have feelings for you, and I want you out of my life.’ And don’t dothat noble shit where you’re trying to save me from making my own grown-ass mistakes or decisions.Youare not a mistake.” His tone is playful but turns severe. “And don’t you lie to me.”

“I—I want you to be safe more than I want you in my life. That’s true.”

“Well, I want you in my life more than I want to be safe.” For a moment, he looks shocked by his own admission. “Damn, that’s not something I usually say.”

“It’s the spell,” I mutter in a mournful tone.

“You’re not a witch!”

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