Page 10 of Entranced By the Nakken (Freedom, Love, Monsters #4)
Tsunis
Tsunis stared at the human’s mouth, the spot where their own lips connected to their cheek tingling like the sting of a sweetwater eel. They balled their fists to keep from checking if it was puffy like a mate mark. The thought should be frightening, but Tsunis wasn’t afraid. They wanted more.
Then Casimir sang, and thoughts became raindrops that foretold a coming storm.
Everything became clear in the center, with Casimir’s voice engulfing them, his spirit song so powerful it might uproot the oldest cyprus trees.
The strength of it grabbed hold of Tsunis’ soul and wrenched them along for the ride.
They swayed with the force of its winds, falling forward.
They landed on a hard surface and clung to its safety as wave after wave of Casimir’s spirit raged around them.
It was the kind of storm that tore through everything in its path, clearing the way for nature to pave anew. The kind of storm that remade worlds.
When the winds slowed enough for Tsunis to catch their breath, droplets had gathered at the corners of their eyes. The hard surface keeping them upright was Casimir.
“Hey,” Casimir whispered. He moved the instrument off his lap and shifted toward Tsunis, concern written in every line of his face.
Concern morphed into horror when he noticed their tears.
With urgency, he twisted, taking Tsunis in his arms and wiping the water away as though it offended him. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” Tsunis barked, but it was weak. They allowed Casimir to wrap them close, so close they were practically on his lap. “Do not apologize for your song, Casimir.”
Consternation painted their human’s beautiful face. Their human. It felt so natural to say.
“But it made you cry,” Casimir argued. He supported Tsunis with one arm, the other reaching up to sift through their hair. It felt too good, especially when his fingers grazed their sensitive ear fins.
“The best songs do.” Tsunis bit back a moan as the tips of Casey’s fingers grazed their fin tips again. “Your song is mightier than the mountains of Glacis. I could drown in its depths and die whole.”
“You wouldn’t drown.” Casimir traced Tsunis’ jaw, his eyes full of mirth, not understanding how serious this was. “You can swim.”
“You’re impossible. The worst pupil to ever contract me.”
Tsunis’ gaze landed on their human’s smile, trying to gain the courage to replicate what they’d done earlier.
It was some kind of human mating ritual.
They’d seen others do it, faces pressed together before escalating to more normal reproductive behaviors that Tsunis would recognize no matter the difference in equipment.
“In Glacis, my kin and I fought for music to be shared equally,” they shared through raw vocal cords, though they hadn’t been the one singing.
Casimir continued his sweet petting, grazing skillful fingers over the points of their earfin. Tsunis shivered and gave in to temptation, reaching forth to trace Casimir’s plump lower lip. They would inform him how intimate his touch unknowingly was. Soon. Not yet.
“Centuries ago, merlings fought merlings, syrens and nakkens alike. Kin against kin. The war with the krakki–similar to your krakens–is only the latest disagreement between water dwellers on how the waters and their music should be shared.” They were blathering on about ancient history, absently playing with Casimir’s mouth. They snapped their hand away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Casimir’s breath hitched as Tsunis forgot to resist the temptation to lick their thumb where it’d touched his mouth. “I will listen whenever you have something to say.”
Tsunis couldn’t focus like this. They caught Casimir’s hand before it ran its course over their fintip, opting to hold it instead. “I learned to harness my dragon as a weapon of war long before I was taught to sing, and my first song was of destruction.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“I didn’t know any better.” Tsunis paused to listen to the river.
“Two moon cycles. That’s how long my people enjoyed peaceful waters before the pollution of this goddess-forsaken world flooded into ours.
" Tsunis sneered at the landscape that’d become too familiar for them to truly hate. “I know nothing of their fate.”
“I’m so sorry.” Casimir pulled Tsunis flush against him, and they rested their head in the crook of his neck. “You must be so worried.”
“Yes.” They tensed as Casimir pressed his full lips to their forehead, but relaxed when he rested his cheek there afterward. “I was lucky to be near our portal and made it to safety.”
“Our portal?”
“Yes.” Tsunis hadn’t realized they’d said it that way but didn’t correct themself. “The portal I found when I was a young recruit exploring the training compound illicitly. It brought me here.”
“When we first met.”
They nodded against the hard wall of Casimir’s chest. As a Glacisian warrior, Tsunis didn’t lack strength, but Casimir’s proximity leant them a different version than muscle and magic. “Something happened that day. When I got home, there was. . . a shift.”
“I felt it, too,” Casimir whispered, his grip tightening.
Warmth filled Tsunis as they let his words sink in. “I’ve been fighting so long, I forgot why music is sacred. Why we fight for it. Your spirit song reminds me. I wonder if it would remind my homeland.”
Tsunis laid their palm over Casimir’s chest, memorizing his rhythm. It was a shame their people would never meet Casimir’s song. They were from two different worlds. Casimir belonged here, and Tsunis was stuck between worlds.
The allure of Casimir’s spirit song couldn’t change the fact that Tsunis belonged nowhere.