“Are they sure? What about some kind of…octopus?” Tony guessed with a grimace.
Nelson shook his head. “The wounds don’t match any known animal bites, from land or sea. And there is only one type of cephalopod found in Chesapeake Bay, the brief squid.”
“They were all found in Chesapeake Bay?” Tony said, stunned that anything that deadly could dwell in Ronan’s waters without him knowing.
“The last victim washed up on Hickory Point,” Nelson said as he pointed at a spot on a map and Tony’s jaw fell as he went to get a closer look.
“That’s almost smack dab between us and Pooles Island,” he noted and Nox nodded.
“We planned to ask Ronan if he’s seen anything strange out there.”
“Not that I know of,” Tony said with a sneer. “He mentioned having a trespasser last night but said it wasn’t worth worrying about and that he took care of it.”
“He usually calls me or Howard Sherwood if there’s trouble,” Nox said but stared at the map, seemingly unable to pull his eyes away from it. “You’re sure Ronan’s alright?”
Tony gave him a hard look. “What about Ronan is ever alright? He’s a miserable asshole, but he was the same miserableasshole he’s always been when he told me to get off his boat this morning, at Bowleys Marina.”
“Okay… Do you want to talk about that? Did you two have a falling out?” Nox asked carefully but Tony cut him a furious glare.
“No.We didn’t have a ‘falling out’ but I don’t want to talk about Ronan. Ever. Fuck that miserable merrow. Fuck him for all of eternity,” Tony said with a firm nod, ending the subject forever as far as he was concerned.
“Got it!” Nox said, exchanging a quick look with Nelson, who raised his hands cluelessly.
“Sounds good to me?” he attempted and Tony nodded.
“Good. We never bring him up because he’s got nothing good or helpful to add to this,” he said and notched his chin at the board. “What can I do?” he asked, happy to have something other than Ronan to think about, prepared to dive headfirst into a worthwhile distraction. He was still fuming about being dumped—again—by Ronan, but Tony was going to prove that he could be useful and deserved a respected place on the team.
Two
One month earlier…
ARoman had washed up on his beach.
Dumped.A Roman had been dumped on the beach and Ronan was properly pissed off as he gathered the young man in his arms and carried him to the cottage. Ronan had sensed that a ship was close, despite the godawful night and the howling winds. The Roman was sick when Ronan came upon him—and unconscious—but he wasbeautiful. Ronan was momentarily captivated by thick, black lashes, perfectly chiseled features, and wide, softly curved lips. The lad looked like he smiled a lot, but Ronan could feel that the young man’s spirit was waning and that his heart was too heavy.
Ronan’s siren soul also noted the young man’s lean, yet muscular frame and immediately craved the taste of his skin, his tongue, and his cum. It was an insatiable reflex that often plagued Ronan when there were visitors to his island. Being a merrow, Ronan was cursed with inconvenient desires whenever he was in the presence of another. But being a merrowmanmeant that Ronan was so viciously ugly, no one would ever desire him in return.
And like his merrow brethren and all those who had come before him, Ronan despised humanity—mainly men—and preferred to be left alone. He’d made his home on Pooles Island one-hundred-and-ninety five years ago and had lived a mostly private and peaceful existence, free of any annoying desires or interferences.
Ronan wasn’t the only secret on Pooles Island. After it was taken from the Iroquois, The Army had used it to test various munitions and the island was considered part of Aberdeen Proving Grounds. It was off limits but Ronan had made an agreement with a past commander to maintain the lighthouse and keep trespassers off the island in exchange for the small patch of beach he had built his cottage on. That commander had retired decades ago, but none of his replacements or the armory sergeants that came and went throughout the years ever thought to inquire about the crusty old asshole running the lighthouse on Pooles Island.
That was how Ronan liked it, but his instincts warned that the castaway in his arms could upend his safe, quiet, orderly life. Strangers often brought trouble with them to Pooles Island and Ronan knew which strange troublemaker had dumped this castaway on his beach. He’d give Lennox MacIlwraith an earful as soon as his “guest” was comfortably resting.
If it were up to Ronan, he would have called his dogs back inside and shut the door when he spotted the bay boat steering away from the shore. And he would have turned back when he found the body on the beach. But he was bound by an ancient oath and the bodycalledto Ronan, beckoning and demanding his attention and aid. The urge to claimandcare for the young man was so strong, Ronan was aching and sweating by the time he carried him through the small cottage’s front door.
Ronan was thoroughly disgusted with humanity and Lennox MacIlwraith when he laid the young man on the bed and brushed the hair away from his face. It was damp and stringy from the weather and illness, but Ronan suspected he would look like an angel when he was happy and healthy. Ronan also sensed thathehad made this young man sick and was the cause of his unconsciousness.
HowRonan had managed to enchant a stranger was a concerning mystery, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the undead changeling that had attacked him a few weeks earlier. Ronan had been out with his dogs, patrolling the beach, when a small, screaming corpse flew at him. It knocked Ronan onto the sand and would have sucked the life out of him if it hadn’t been for the dogs. They circled and quickly understood that Ronan was in danger and had pounced on the little horror, sending it fleeing as swiftly as it had appeared.
Thankfully, Ronan was able to drag himself back to his cottage and nurse himself back to health. He had been safe inside the cottage because Lucas MacIlwraith had warded it against dark magick and demons, but Ronan should have asked that it be warded against the witch’s son as well.
“And yer a strange one, aren’t ye?” Ronan mumbled, nodding as he took in the classic Roman features and sensed a hint of something ancient in the young man’s destiny. “The past is upon us, lad.”
The past had made the beautiful Roman sicker than any enchantment could, but Ronan would heal him of that as well and send him on his way as quickly as possible. Once he’d woken the Roman up.
“Let’s get ye out of these wet things and see what we’re dealin’ with,” Ronan said as he set about stripping his new guest out of his cold, soggy layers.
An hour later, Ronan’s charge was resting comfortably beneath two quilts. His color was already improving but Ronan had to build up the fire until the cottage was as hot as an oven. He was at the stove, checking a pot of stew when he heard a weak mumble from the bed behind him.