Page 35 of Cruel Tides

With long breaths, I steadied myself until my rage subsided enough for me to think rationally.

“I know you have big feelings about all of this. I get it. But I’m going with Claira, Barren, and Leander. I don’t care if it’s to the Indian Ocean or the bottom of the Undersea—I’m going with them.”

Laverne snorted her disapproval, but I pressed on. “You don’t have to accept it, Laverne, but there it is. We can talk to Barren downstairs. I’m sure he can get you on a plane back to the Pacific, but I won’t be going with you.”

Emotion tugged in my chest, and my face heated as I quietly added, “I won’t return to the Pacific if it means leaving my mate behind.”

Laverne’s jaw plunged open. Her tongue twitched, likely agitated by the weight of a thousand comebacks she wanted to sling at me. But then her mouth snapped shut, and with a derisive roll of her neck, she dropped off the bed with a heavythunkand strode through the door that joined both our rooms without so much as a backward glance.

I rubbed at the back of my neck as the door slammed shut, my eyes falling on the discarded keycards Laverne had spat out all over the floor earlier in the day. Now that I’d packed the last of my clothes, these rooms wouldn’t be ours much longer.

Claira moved closer, stealing quick, cautious glances at the door. It surprised me she’d even returned to my room, knowing Laverne was likely inside it. Laverne had treated her so cruelly this morning, I’d wondered if Claira would ever want to get close to me again.

When she came up next to me, she slung her backpack over one shoulder, her features furrowing with concern. “I can’t blame her for being upset,” she said with a frown, nodding at the door Laverne had used for her dramatic exit.

My head buzzed with a swirl of warmth and giddiness as the last of Laverne’s anger drained away.

Claira wasconcerned about me.

How was I lucky enough for Poseidon to match me with someone as amazing as her?

Sure, both Freechia and Laverne had cared about me—in their own intensely commanding sort of way. But the rest of my family and my kingdom? They’d never cared. As long as I was out from under everyone’s tail, they were happy to think of me as just another number. The spare of the Pacific.

But not with Claira. There was nothing commanding about how she spoke to me, and there was nothing dismissive in her gaze. Every time she reached for me, each delicate touch was precise and deliberate. Meant for me, and me alone.

I might not have been heronlymate, but I knew I was more to her than just a number. I could feel our connection as acutely as I could feel the pain in my back.

“You sure you’re well enough to go?” she asked, then drew in her lower lip again.

My fingers fiddled with the short hairs on the nape of my neck while I cleared my throat. “Yeah, of course I’m sure,” I said, my voice extraordinarily manly and convincing.

Well, that’s what I’d aimed for, at least.

“Sure you are.” Her eyes veered into a roll while she wrapped an arm around me as an offer of support. “You’re still in pain, aren’t you? Your face is so red… Do you have a fever?”

Sweet breath filled the air as she leaned in to examine my face, making my nerves flare like a bonfire swept up by an ocean breeze. Her soft palm touched my cheek, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the cooling sensation of her hand against my heating skin. “I’m fine,” I said, smiling. And I meant it. With her here with me, how could I not be?

Claira let out a hum before dropping her hand from my cheek. “You do feel warm. It might be better for you to stay here while Barren takes me back home.”

My heart stuttered with a sudden sense of dread, the world spiraling downward. Like the shock of the last drop of salt water evaporating off my tail, sending my bones ripping apart, transforming into human legs.

“No, I—I can go.” I didn’t want to be left behind. Not again.

“Hmm…” She eyed my bag before bending forward, picking it up by the wide strap and testing its weight. “At least let me carry your duffel bag down to the car.”

My flush deepened as I stole the strap back from her. “That’s all right. I can carry my bag.” What kind of partner would I be if I let my mate carry my things when she was already lugging around a bag of her own?

There was a creaking sound as the door connecting Laverne’s and mine opened, then snapped closed again.

Claira’s eyebrows lifted. “Is she spying on us?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Seconds later, the door swung open. Laverne’s tail wedged into the room, followed by her body as she came through the threshold backwards. Her neck was low and stretched long, tugging on a thick strap clenched in her jaws.

Her flippers scooted across the carpet, and with a final tug, she emerged with a bag nearly identical to mine. The one she’d insisted on taking along during our plane ride because I’d had one, too, even though hers was empty.

As far as I knew, Laverne hadn’t found anything to fill it with since we’d come to the Atlantic. So why was she struggling to drag her bag across the room now?

---