Page 21 of Blood of the Sirens
And Merrick was fucking special.
I stared at myself in the mirror, despondent. I was a twenty-six-year-old fat girl trying too hard. Tears heated at the corners of my eyes.
“Fuck you!”
Heated voices jerked me from my pity party, alarm and adrenaline racing through my veins as it always does when you are a female alone. I grabbed the bat I kept by my bed from my stint playing softball in junior high and darted toward the front door. I opened it fully at the sight before me: Merrick waving cheerfully goodbye to a golf cart full of women in bikinis, indifferent to their enraged, scowling faces.
“Thank you for the ride!” he called out happily.
They did not seem pleased with him. One in a bright orange bikini with white, platinum blonde hair spied me and scowled. “Fucking fat ass. Weirdo.”
I couldn’t help but flinch at her insult.
Merrick whirled on them, suddenly a terrifying vision of muscles and aggression.
The golf cart sputtered, then chugged down the gravel path. All four women flipped him the bird as they went.
Merrick happily gave it back to them with both hands, waving his arms dramatically after them with a wide grin.
I covered my mouth with my hands, unable to find words as he walked toward me, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“What wasthat?” I demanded, still unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Merrick shrugged. “I asked them to take me for a ride. They seemed happy to do so until we got here and I said goodbye. Hu—people are strange, eh?”
I eyed his chest, still bare except for the old-fashioned leather bag that hung from his neck and shoulders. Muscles for days.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” I murmured. Those bitches had thought they were getting dibs on a prime bit of ass, only to be used as a taxi service. To me.
A bubble of laughter welled up in my throat, and I snorted before I could help it. Didn’t want him thinking I was crazy, after all.
“Want to come inside?” I offered instead, my voice an octave higher than it usually was.
Merrick just kept smiling as if he was simply thrilled to be here. He followed me up the creaky porch and across the threshold, greedily taking it all in as he turned his head this way and that. His intense interest only spiked my anxiety further. The house was literally falling apart. He was going to think I was just trash.
Maybe I was; a fat, bastard-born, white bitch with no prospects.
Stop it.
I shook my head.
“Sorry it’s a bit messy, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors,” I offered.
Merrick stood in the kitchen, looking around with an odd sort of wonder. He picked up his foot from the ceramic tile, then placed it back down again.
Was he not from here? Maybe from a third world country or something? That would explain the strange accent and the overall wonder. Maybe I didn’t need to feel as embarrassed of the house as I thought. He looked impressed, if anything.
I relaxed. Slightly.
“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got Diet Coke, orwater. Tea, even.” I tried not to babble, but it was impossible. I was so goddamn nervous.
He blinked at me. “I will drink whatever you are drinking.”
I opened the cabinet and retrieved two classes. “Coke it is, then.”
I reached into the fridge and grabbed the two liter, almost colliding with Merrick as he stood directly behind me, peering into the fridge with frightening intensity.
“ ‘Scuse me,” I mumbled, maneuvering around him to get to the counter, trying to squeeze my ass between us in the narrow galley kitchen. I always felt self-conscious about my body in such small spaces.
