Page 5 of Entranced By the Nakken (Freedom, Love, Monsters #4)

Tsunis

Deep below the babbling brook, Tsunis glared at the goopy mass that swirled and writhed at the back of the sea cave they wasted their days in. To conserve energy between their contracted meetings with the human, Tsunis reverted to their most primitive form. A monstrous, ugly mass.

Tsunis had met many of their own kind living in the human realm during their years of searching the rivers for help.

Across the globe, there were similarities between them but starkly different preferences.

Tsunis discovered that many of their kind living in this realm considered the muddy form to be their most natural, and shapeshifted into humanoid, dragon, or horse bodies only to hunt.

Things were different back home. Born in the hycean realm of Hydra, Tsunis grew up in the capital city of Glacis, where channels upon channels of sweetwater rivers flowed all the way to the bountiful falls of Aqualis.

Unlike their n?cken cousins, Tsunis preferred their draconic and merling forms. This form was…

uncivilized. It was, quite literally, dirty.

Logically, Tsunis knew their brethren from this realm were shunned for reasons other than being made of dirt.

Oftentimes, they were feared for good reason.

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, n?kks, n?ckens, 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 gritted teeth.

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.

“Would you like some, Stare Bear?” Casey’s tone was friendly, but the green in his otherwise amber eyes twinkled. The tingling in Tsunis’ ears trailed down their neck, shooting straight to the hidden glands between their legs.

“Pass,” Tsunis gritted out.

“Your loss.” Why did this human constantly sound amused?

Was he not taking this seriously? Despite being trapped in this realm for a decade, Tsunis was ignorant about the fascinating ways of humans.

The ones they’d fed from weren’t a fair comparison, but even those they’d observed from a distance were nothing like Casey.

Casey lifted the water to his pink lips, which parted like a lily in bloom. Tsunis looked away so quickly they had whiplash, but they couldn’t tune out the sounds of his swallowing. They glared at the foaming water and sent a prayer to Glacia for goddessly might to help them through this contract.

“So, about this blood contract.” Another gulp of water descended Casey’s throat. Only when they heard the lid screw back on could Tsunis meet Casey’s gaze. “It’s supposed to teach me to be as good of a musician as you, right?”

“You will surpass me.”

Casey laughed but sobered at Tsunis’ deepening glare. “No way.”

“You doubt me?” Tsunis growled.

“Not you.” Casey bumped their shoulder with his. Tsunis stiffened, their gaze snapping to the spot of impact. “I’ve never heard a single song like yours. It’s me that I doubt.”

“But my song is not your song.” Something about the sentence felt untrue, but Tsunis wasn’t lying.

Casey shrugged. “I’ll never play as well as you, and that’s okay. But I’m curious how these lessons are supposed to help me improve when you’re not teaching me anything.”

How utterly offensive! Tsunis rounded on the infuriating human, bending one knee flat on the blanket. “It’s you who does not know how to learn!”

Casey’s eyes widened a fraction, then sparkled as he laughed. Laughed!

“You’re fuckin’ right,” Casey conceded. He waved his hands, palms out. “Also, I think you’ve solved a huge mental block I’ve had since leaving school, so, thank you, my wise professor. Please forgive me.”

Tsunis’ muscles relaxed a fraction. “All is forgiven.”

“Besides, I enjoy spending time with you. Even if I’m doing all the work.”

There it was. Comments that made Tsunis’ chest tighten, and their sensitive glands loosen.

Thankfully, Casey didn’t linger in the silence. He cleared his throat and flooded the woods with music. Subsequently, Tsunis was awash in the sensations of his seamless control between gritty rasp and powerful falsettos, accompanied by a subtle bass from skillful fingers.

After quite some time of the pleasurable torture, Casey paused. This time, he didn’t try to make conversation, and Tsunis found themself wishing for any reason to fill the silence.

“My home is called Glacis, after the goddess, Glacia.” Tsunis forced the words through a lump of seaweed in their throat. Manifesting their violin, they stroked the smooth bone stem. “I was almost named Glacianic after her as well.”

“Glacianic is a pretty name.”