Page 7 of Entranced By the Nakken
This realm was nothing like Hydra.
A tune grated inside their soul. To think of their home was to invite suffering. How many had survived the pollution? After centuries of war, a tentative peace between their people and the krakkis had finally been achieved—in time for another tragedy to strike. Before the pollution swept through the channels of Glacis, Tsunis had allowed themself to hope for something more than a life as a warrior. A softer life, with a mate, and a full clutch to fill the water with bubbles of laughter.
Tsunis choked down the sour tune. Those dreams were too painful to revisit. They were dead, as useless as the portal they’d thrown themself through to wind up here. Trapped, but alive.
A spicy scent sank below the surface. The human approached. A flash of panic scorched away the homesickness. Why was Tsunis afraid of a human? Of all the regions Tsunis had visited in this realm, their kind fed off humans. Nixies, nøkks, näckens, they all had their methods. They stole a human’s innermost song or drowned them—or more commonly, both.
As a decorated warrior, Tsunis was not unaccustomed to violence. Their first few years trapped here, determined to find a way home, they’d done whatever it took to keep their energy. Those years haunted them more than the countless krakkis they’d slashed down in the war.
“Tsunis?”
Glacia’s good graces, how melodic their name sounded dripping from Casey’s tongue. For the short time they’d spent apart, Tsunis heard that voice in their head on repeat.
I hoped to see you again.
Breathtaking.
I want to know more about you.
Tsunis shifted into their merling form and manifested their intricate violin, pausing for a moment to appreciate its comforting weight and hum of stored magic. Being made of lunar whale bone, known for its magical amplification and storage properties, the violin was a piece of their homeland. What gave this human the impression they’d share anything so important with him?
Making their way to the surface, their indignation grew with every kick of their fins. Maybe Casey had forgotten the ridiculous promise.
They breached the surface, blinking their membranous eyelids a few times against the sun, keeping their glare pinned on the prying human on the bank. The damned man had the audacity to be as pretty as a budding lily while Tsunis was angry with him. Casey wore a top with tiny sleeves, and his bottoms cut off inches above the knee. The scowl tightening Tsunis’ cheeks grew worse as they accidentally noticed Casey’s bared skin, muscle tone visible under a layer of healthy meat. In Tsunis’ wildest moondreams, their mate possessed such a stature; proof they were well taken care of—though, they’d spend much of their time full of Tsunis’ clutch, a cute pooch in their belly.
A pleasant tingle traveled over Tsunis’ cheek scales to the tips of their ear fins, making them shiver. They tore their gaze from Casey to where his instrument lay beside a basket on a cozy blanket close to the water’s edge.
“Hey there.” Casey’s voice washed over Tsunis. This close, it was like an orchestral phenomenon, and Tsunis yearned for more so badly they almost commanded him to speak.
“Greetings.”
Casey’s smile deepened. He sat on the blanket, dangling his feet in the water. He thumbed through his notebook, guitar resting in his lap, and looked up at Tsunis expectantly. Tsunis stared back.
“Well?” Casey glanced at the blanket beside him. “Are you going to stand there and make me sing today, or would you like to sit?”
Tsunis swallowed. This was a contract. That the human’s beauty unnerved them mustn’t mean anything.
They took a seat beside Casey. The downstream lapped at their knees, and Tsunis wondered if Casey had noticed their preference to be near the water.
“Begin,” Tsunis commanded.
To their delight, the good little human obeyed without hesitation. A mellow rhythm wound through the trees from his fingertips. It was a pleasant enough sound, but when Casey sang, Tsunis tensed. Their eyes fluttered closed in undeniable confirmation that yesterday’s odd sensation was not a fluke.
The warm baritone of Casey’s voice made Tsunis’ body hum from somewhere deep inside, uncomfortably close to the cave their spirit song dwelled.
Tsunis could tell when someone was performing the song of their spirit, as could any of their kind. Casey was not. Not for a single moment of their previous session, and not now. Nevertheless, Casey’s music impacted Tsunis as deeply as if it were their own spirit song.
Goddess, it was uncomfortable.
It was like being baptized in Glacia’s tears. Tsunis fought the powerful flood washing through their insides with grittedteeth. They dared not look at their pupil, for that would surely snap their control. They focused on the calming sensation of the water lapping their fins, watching the disruption of the flow when they kicked back and forth.
The vibration storming through their veins tapered off when Casey’s song ended. A scowl forced Tsunis’ lips apart and they whipped around to face their pupil.
“I did not—”
“Relax, professor. I need to wet my throat.” Casey reached into the basket, oblivious to the erotic ideas his words brought to Tsunis’ mind.
Casey lifted a bottle of water to his lips. Watching the pearl of his throat bob with every swallow, Tsunis was paralyzed by the urge to liquify and jam themself into the container. They tore their gaze away as Casey lowered the drink, their earfins tingling fiercely.
