Page 59 of Cursed Waters

She started fidgeting with the end of my shirt, and my throat went bone dry. Warm fingers barely skimmed over my bare skin—a quick touch, then retreat—like she was toying with the idea of venturing underneath.

“Careful,” I warned, my muscles tightening to give her fingers more to skim. “Don’t want you cutting a hand on one of these jagged nipples.”

She stretched up and caught my lips with a soft kiss. “Shush, you.”

My mouth sealed instantly, inviting another kiss. Fingers spread, then lifted, cautiously moving up the planes of my bare abdomen, bringing my shirt up with them. If this was what being under a mermaid’s spell was like, I never wanted the glamour to end. Her touch was electric, like she possessed some foreign magic my body craved to learn, and I neededmore.

Suddenly emboldened, I took her lips for my own, nipping and teasing until a gasp opened her mouth up to me fully.Fuck yeah. She was perfect.More than perfect. Having her next to me was better than any fucking dream. Nails stung into my chest, raking and setting my chest on fire and—

I let out a hiss, breaking the seal of our lips in the most unmanly way possible. “Fuuuuck,”I groaned out, a fire-hot pain sending me rolling flat on my back. I was barely aware of Claira hovering over me, throwing off blankets, lifting my shirt up to my chin.

Bright lights flashed in my vision. “What in Poseidon’s Deep happened to you?” she gasped, her fingers finding the bruise over my ribs again. Just a light touch was enough to start my eyes watering. “I think they might be broken.”

That would explain the excruciating fucking pain I had when she touched them.

“I’m fine, just… give me a second,” I groaned, pulling my shirt back down.

Full lips tightened up in defiance, and she yanked my shirt right back up to my neck. “You’renotfine. Look at you!” she whisper-screamed back at me. Her touch turned tender as she examined my ribs again. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone. Next time, I’m going with you, ’cause if I had been there, I—”

I stopped her right there, grabbing the hand hovering just over my bruise. “I didn’t want you there.” The sharpness of my words made her flinch, but I held her hand firmly in mine. I would never regret keeping her away from him—I’d gladly die before I let him touch her. “If you had been there, he would have hurt you, too.”

“I’m not as weak as I used to be, you know.” Her free hand slid under the blankets and resurfaced with a knife in her fist. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

Fuck, my dick was hard. I swallowed shallowly, watching the knife turn in her hand. “I know you’re not weak, Claira. You were never weak.”

Content with that response, she nodded firmly, and the hand wielding the knife dipped back under the blankets. “I think you should get some sleep, Lee. You need to heal.”

“Mmh,” I grumbled, carefully rolling back on my side. She lay back down beside me, but to my stupid human dick’s dismay, she was careful not to make any contact.

“You’ll heal up faster if you rest. Especially if we get you back in the water soon.”

Sleep felt like the last thing I wanted, but then Claira curled up beside me, her hands finding my chest and her head nestling underneath my chin, and going to sleep next to her suddenly felt like the only thing that mattered.

22

Claira

The warm air of the sandhills tickled my nose, heavy with the scent of salt and pine. Visiting the sandhills was pure bliss—my favorite little getaway. Rolls of orange unraveled underneath a purple sky, the countless dunes awash with chatty crabs who swore they remembered me from visits years before. It was a welcome retreat from the usual rigors of early-morning fishing followed by dull hours of learning and schoolwork. A haven with reliable tides that swelled well below the line of hills. A place I could stretch my legs without the fear of—

A voice broke out over me, low and calm, with the rough edge of a throat parched after long hours of sleep. “Claira?”

The vision tore away from me as my eyes fluttered open, yet the sweet aroma of pine still mingled with my next breath. “L-Leander?” I croaked out, finding my voice equally broken.

Something brushed against my forehead, and I seized up like a fish caught in a net.

Slow, controlled breaths fanned over my eyelashes. The low hum of Leander’s lips tickled my skin as he pressed a kiss against me. “Good morning.”

“M-morning,” I stammered back. The morning fog was lifting, but so much had happened in such a short amount of time, it was hard to place where I was. It was like my brain had finally tried to process everything and had overloaded from the effort. Was I really lying next to golden, perfect Prince Leander? And had he really just used those heart-melting, pretty boy lips of his to kiss me on the forehead?

Forehead kisses were for babies and kittens. For grandparents to their grandchildren. They were reserved for only the most precious of moments, not something a merman—let alone aprince—should have given to a woman he’d taken into his bed for a night.

Not that we actually did anything,I thought.Did we?

With the way our bodies were melded together on top of his little bathtub-sized bed, it was hard to be sure. I felt my left arm tucked next to me, but I’d thrown the other over his side at some point, wrapping it as far as it could reach down his back.

Okay, okay. That was normal enough—it was cold in here, after all. I could give myself a pass for that one, but my legs… What the heck were they doing?

With the way my legs twisted, tangling around Leander’s thighs, I’d apparently taken his bottom half on as a body pillow sometime during the night. And not in the cute, cuddly way, no. I was latched on to him for dear life.

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