Page 10 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)
CHAPTER TEN
AMATHEIA
A s Betmal carries me to the front of the house and out the double doors, I find myself confused and a little disjointed. He’s…affectionate—flirtatious even. And when I asked if that’s how vampires are, he said yes. Yet that hasn’t been my experience with the Keeper or Pietro and Alessandro from Higher Grounds. Of course, they’re all mated. But still.
I wish I could have asked Morgan while she was here. She seems so worldly, I bet she’d know. It was so nice to see her again in a more normal setting, although I regret getting so wrapped up in painting that we never ate her casserole. I feel like we could be friends, and I’ve never had one of those outside of Thatraeia.
In the kitchen, Betmal had every chance to kiss me, if that’s what he wanted. And depths below, I would have welcomed it even though I swore to keep this project professional. Maybe it’s just that nobody’s ever shown interest in me like this. I know there have been interested mermen before, just like I know that my uncle shut them all down and scared them away, ensuring I’d never date until it was someone of his choosing.
And fuck me, that time is now, I guess. The idea of a suitor makes me want to barf. I know my parents wouldn’t have forced me into this. We’d have discussed it. They’d have cared about my opinion.
But hearing how Malakat talked about Prince Stefan makes me certain I’ll find him horrible. Her description of him doesn’t inspire confidence. I suppose Caralorn telling me about the arrangement was the push I needed to finally take my future fully into my hands. Because, if I know one thing, it’s that I won’t be used as a political pawn. If Stefan has his way, he’ll probably take me back to his kingdom, and I will never see Thatraeia again.
Absolutely fucking not.
Which brings me back to my current confounding state of affairs.
As Betmal and I fly over downtown, it occurs to me that I need to conduct more research about vampires. I don’t know what I’m in for traveling with one, and I’d like to feel more prepared—I can always count on the Historical Society to have what I need. I suspect if I tell Betmal I’d like to go there, he’ll take me, but then I’ll be forced to explain what I need to research. That could be awkward, especially if his flirtatious style is just the way all single vampires are.
No, I’ll go after he drops me off.
True to his word, he alights gracefully on the lake’s edge, then stalks up to his knees in the water. He sets me carefully down and waits for me to unstrap my prosthetic and remove my clothing.
“I’ll put these in the locker for you,” he offers, holding out his hand.
When I set the leg in it, he tucks it over one shoulder and bends low, brushing his lips over my cheek. “Tomorrow, ma siréne. Come to me when you can. Comm me, and I’ll swing by to get you.”
“I will.” I resist the urge to step onto my tippy-toes and kiss his cheek the way he does mine.
For a long moment, ruby-red eyes flicker with an unnamed emotion, but he stares right into my soul. Like always, I feel like Betmal understands me to my core in a way nobody else has ever taken the time to. If he looks hard enough, he’ll read my plan to hobble up to the Historical Society, and he’ll insist on taking me himself.
“Good night, Betmal,” I say with a wink. “Try not to lose sleep thinking about my neck, alright?”
He barks out a laugh, looking off into the distance. When he looks back, the black pupil of his eye has eaten up the dark red iris. “If you only knew, ma siréne.”
He spreads his wings wide and crouches down. When he bullets up into the sky and heads for the locker, depositing my stuff inside, I splash backward into the deeper water. Turning, he pushes easily off the beach and coasts over the water’s surface to me, dragging one hand in the water. I follow playfully, reaching up to brush his fingers with mine. It occurs to me that it would be fun to grab his hand and yank him under. But I don’t do it. I just play until we reach the far side of the lake.
He uncurls his fingers from mine and swoops off into the trees. I pull myself up onto a log and watch as he glides gracefully through the huge trunks and off into the darkness. I sit and stare for a long time after that, thinking about the dynamic between us, about how playful and sensual he is.
I could get used to it. I think I have gotten used to it, and too quickly.
Will that change when we leave Ever to see his friend?
I should go up to the Historical Society now, but since I’m meeting Betmal tomorrow, it would be just as easy to do it in the morning.
Somehow, I manage to get back home and into the suite I share with my cousins without anyone questioning me about where I’ve been. Since the Sea Julienne is one of my primary responsibilities—the one nobody else wants—it’s easy to disappear for hours at a time. The only indication that anyone has noticed I’ve been gone is a surreptitious look from Thatraeia when I sink into my bed and pull the woven seaweed coverlet over my tail.
“You alright?” she mouths from the shell bed next to mine.
When I give her a thumbs-up, she harrumphs and flips over to face the wall.
Unsettled and hating being at odds with her for not sharing more, I turn the opposite way. The inlaid mother-of-pearl wall begins to flip around, all the triangular pieces spinning and turning until they form into a painted picture—my favorite picture—of my parents and me before they passed. Father floats behind Mother, his arm around her waist. They smile down at me as if I’m the pride of their life.
And I suppose I was before their death. But it’s all been downhill since then. I miss them so much. Yet when I think about my prosthetic in the locker on shore, I know they wouldn’t want this pain for me. In my heart of hearts, I realize I’ve been torturing myself over their deaths. I don’t know if that’ll ever stop, but for my sake, I have to try.
I stare at the painting, reaching out to touch the paint strokes in thanks to the castle for her kindness in showing me. Eventually, I drift off to sleep, cocooned by a faint, relaxing current.
* * *
I n the morning, I quietly pack a bag with an extra shell bra. All the land clothes I own are in the locker on the shore, but I can at least bring this with me. Grabbing a shell comb and my mother’s pearl earrings, I slip quietly out of the suite.
Descending into depths of the city, I move through still-dark streets until I reach the very edge of the kingdom. I manage to make it up to the shore without seeing anyone else. I suppose it’s a good thing the merfolk are more nocturnal than anything, although the city is technically never fully asleep.
On shore, I limp to the log and shake myself dry. Reaching into the locker, I grab my land clothing and stuff it in my wet bag. Then I apply Betmal’s ointments to my stump. Today it doesn’t hurt that badly, although I worry how it’ll feel by the time I make it to the Historical Society downtown. It’s a solid half hour of fast walking.
Strapping my leg on, I stand and test out the pain. It’s slightly tender but the best it’s felt in literal years. Feeling victorious, I throw my bag over my shoulder and head for town. Walking is easier than it’s been in ages, but by the time I make it to Downtown Ever, painful stabs begin to jolt through my knee and up into my hip bone.
I sit at one of the picnic tables in front of Scoops Ice Cream. It’s not open this early, and I don’t think they’ll mind if I borrow the seat for a moment. Unstrapping my prosthetic, I slather on more of the gel Betmal gave me, sighing with relief as it soaks into my skin. Closing my eyes, I lift my face to the sun, enjoying the warmth as its rays caress me.
“Good morning, Amatheia.”
Startling, I jump and open my eyes, turning toward the direction the voice came from.
Abemet, Betmal’s son, stands there with both hands slung in his pockets, looking for all the world like a younger version of his father. Unlike Betmal, Abemet’s expression is more neutral. He glances down at my leg.
“Prosthetic still giving you trouble? Let’s do something about that, shall we? I can have someone come to?—”
“That’s okay,” I say quickly. I don’t know if Betmal has told him about our impending trip, although I can’t imagine he’d care. “I was just heading to the Historical Society to grab some books, but I needed a moment.”
He reaches out and opens his hand. “Let me help, please.”
Taking his hand, I allow him to pull me back onto my feet. My leg feels better now that Betmal’s ointment has soaked in. I’ll just need to remember to reapply it every quarter hour or so.
Abemet glances at the bag over my shoulder. “Taking a trip?”
I decide right then that secrets are not my way, and if Betmal needs to keep this trip one, then he needed to tell me that yesterday. Smiling, I opt for the truth.
“Betmal noticed how much my leg was bothering me and offered to take me to a friend who can quickly make me a better-fitting leg.”
When Abemet’s neutral expression becomes a smirk, I laugh nervously. “He was probably getting sick of me falling all over his house doing this project. I’ve knocked things over two or three times now.”
“Mmm,” is all he says.
“Anyways,” I rush on, “I’m nervous about leaving Ever, but I can’t wait to maybe get a better leg. It’s long past time.”
“You deserve to live pain-free,” he says quietly. “I’ve told you so many times over the years.”
“I know.” I hold his arm tightly as we pass the movie theater, the Historical Society in view up ahead on the right. “I just…I knew it would cause a fight at the castle. This is going to cause one for sure , but my uncle’s not the one living with this pain, and it gets worse every year. I just…I can’t do it anymore.”
Abemet is quiet the remainder of our walk, and I wonder if I’ve said too much about my uncle and the pain. Monsters don’t always like to talk about it or obvious things like missing limbs. I think, sometimes, it makes them uncomfortable for someone to look like they need help. That’s my theory, anyway. I’ve seen the sorrowful looks as I limp down the street. I’ve heard the occasional whisper. I’m not blind to how others see me. I just wish they saw me for more than my disability. I wish they saw the rest of me, because my limb difference is such a small part of Amatheia, the Female as a Whole.
When we pause, I realize we’ve arrived at the Historical Society. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t notice. But friendly building that she is, she swings her doors wide for me, inviting me in.
Abemet nudges me forward gently. “See you later, Amatheia.”
I bid him farewell and enter one of my most favorite places in the world. I love the Historical Society—the smell of the books, the quietness of it, the hidden worlds each tucked into neatly handbound tomes.
I get quickly lost in a section about vampiric history. Luckily, there’s a small book entitled “Vampires for Humans: What You Need to Know.” I grab that and a book of French words and find a seat.
Perfect. Because I know as much about my vampiric brethren as I do humans themselves, even though I’ve met a few. I’m not supposed to join Betmal for an hour, and it won’t take me terribly long to get back to the forest. I’ve got time to read up on vampires.
Taking a seat in a quiet corner, I flip through the first pages of the book. The very first sentence fills me with existential dread—fear Betmal is the way any single vampire male would be around an unmated female monster.
In vampire culture, sex and blood are inextricably intertwined. The giving and taking of blood is by invitation only, and may happen between anyone at any time and in any location.
Thalassa below, he has mentioned biting me several times. Was he waiting for an invitation? Does that mean he wants to have sex with me? Concerned, I read on.
Vampires, of all monsters, are intensely sexual in nature, often taking multiple partners in days-long orgies that push the limits of sexual creativity. Highly renowned for their prowess in the bedroom, vampires are often sought by other monster species for the pleasures of their company.
A flush runs through me, thinking about Betmal buried beneath a pile of bodies. The image of it irritates me even as I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. Growling, I read through the first chapter to learn that, yeah, vampires are really into sex. Sex and blood, blood and sex—everything is about those two things.
I’ve heard whispers of some of this, and when I asked Betmal about vampires, he mentioned sex and blood so casually. Still, seeing it in black-and-white textbook form makes it seem far more real.
Eventually, I can’t read anymore, because what I’m picking up is that vampires are insanely sensual monsters. Betmal would probably be flirtatious with anyone. And that’s fine. That’s his right. He was mated for a long time; he’s probably missing his sex orgy days or…whatever.
Irritation sparking jealousy deep down inside me, I toss the book into my bag and head for the door. When I exit, I’m surprised to find Abemet sitting on a bench just outside.
He glances up at me with a half-smile. “All done, Amatheia?”
I gasp like a fish. “Were you waiting for me?”
He shrugs. “Something like that. I thought perhaps I’d accompany you to your next destination.”
I gulp but this isn’t a big deal unless I make it a big deal.
“Well,” I begin with a laugh, “we’d be headed to the lake. That’s where your father is picking me up.”
Expression completely neutral, Abemet inclines his head as he lifts the blue comm watch on his wrist. “Call Betmal, please.”
Moments later, Betmal’s voice echoes out of the watch’s surface, his name hologram floating over it. “Darling, how are you?”
Abemet’s smile grows a little broader. “Hello, Father. I’m well. I ran into Amatheia, who tells me you’re taking a little trip. I’d love to accompany her to meet you at the portal station.” He glances at me. “She looks ready to go.”
There’s momentary silence, and then, “Of course, my son. I’ll see you both there.”
Abemet drops his hand to his lap and stands, reaching for my bag. “I suspect I know what you came here to research, Amatheia. Would you like to discuss it?”
Oh, depths below. Am I that transparent?
He chuckles. “I’ve been around a long time, my friend. And I know my father well. What would you like to know?”
A blush heats my cheeks. If I had a collar to tug at, I’d be yanking on it right now.
“Well, I…I suppose I’m trying to understand what behavior is normal for a vampire male. We’re headed out of town, and I want to make sure I don’t do something inadvertently inappropriate or…” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure. This is weird to talk about with you.”
Abe’s nostrils flare, and he pauses to glance at me. “What sort of behavior do you mean?” His voice is almost perfectly neutral.
“Well, Betmal’s an excellent host,” I say quickly. “I just…I don’t know that much about vampires, being that you and the Higher Grounds guys are the only ones I’ve ever met.”
He smiles, but it looks forced. “Well, I’m not the best example, given my Keeper training. It zapped me of, well, a lot of my personality, and so I’m not…normal.” It seems hard for him to admit that aloud. He runs both hands through his blond hair. “Morgan says, if I say it, maybe one day I’ll internalize it, and some of what I lost will come back, but that’s not helpful to you in this moment.”
He grabs my hand and loops it through his arm again. “How about a primer on vampires in general?”
Nodding, I focus on him even as the pain in my leg starts up again. As we walk toward downtown, he fills me in. “Do you know what a ziol is?”
When I nod, he seems relieved not to have to explain the bloodletting cross to me and moves on.
“Any mated male would hold off on flirting with you unless he knew his mates were looking for that sort of dalliance. If I flirted with you, for instance, you’d know that Morgan was into that.” He gives me a quick look. “This is not me flirting; I’m just using myself as an example.”
I think back to Betmal’s nose against my neck and have to hold back a laugh that Abemet would think this was anything at all like flirting.
“Any unmated vampire would flirt with you if he was sexually interested. But sensual as vampires are, they still need some sort of connection. We’re sexual by nature, but that doesn’t mean we want to have sex with everyone we see. We’re just more…open to it than other monsters.”
I have questions. A lot of questions. But I can’t ask Betmal’s son questions about his father’s sensuality. Depths, how awkward. So, I keep my mouth shut even though I want to ask him everything bouncing around in my mind. Instead, he keeps talking, and I zone out with the pain in my leg. By the time we’ve reached the portal station entrance, I’m holding back from gasping aloud.
Betmal appears out of nowhere and swoops me into his arms, kicking the portal station door open. He crosses the giant portal station room and sets me on a bench, unstrapping my prosthetic and setting it carefully aside. Abemet appears next to us, placing my bag next to me on the bench. Betmal says nothing but opens my bag and digs around for the ointments. I’m not sure who to stare at, him or Abemet, so I look between them as Betmal slathers both ointments over my knee and stump, careful to coat every inch.
Abemet watches his father with something like amused satisfaction on his handsome features. As Betmal rubs the last of the ointment in, Abemet clears his throat.
“I think you’ve covered it, Father.”
Betmal glances up, brows furrowed. He looks angry. “I was supposed to pick her up to avoid her walking and feeling worse.”
Abemet frowns. “My apologies. We were talking, and she had applied it already. I didn’t think she’d need it so soon again.” He glances down at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask, friend.”
Thalassa below, this is getting weird. Grabbing the prosthetic, I strap it back on and stand, gritting my teeth against the pain.
“It’s fine, and I appreciated the excellent conversation.”
Abemet nods slowly, glancing between his father and me. “Well, I’m headed to Shifter Hollow to meet with pack leadership and the Keeper. I’m around if either of you need anything.” He gives Betmal a look. “How about dinner when you return? I’d love to…catch up.”
“Of course, darling,” Betmal croons. “Call you when I’m home. Give Morgan my love.”
We watch as Abemet sails away. He moves as elegantly as his father, although the similarities end with their physical looks.
Betmal turns to me, reaching out to place a hand on my hip. “I absolutely must insist on picking you up next time, ma siréne. This ointment is not a miracle worker.”
“I know.” I reach out to place my hand on his chest. His skin is the same temperature as mine. Cooler than most other monsters but still warmer than merfolk. “I promise to listen next time. Probably.”
He lets out an irritated huff, then spins us to face into the room. “Moving on. That green glowing circle across the room is the portal. It’s simple. We’ll step in, walk through a tunnel, and reappear inside Hearth HQ’s Grand Portal Station. Once there, we’ll find the portal for Arcadia, and then we’ll walk through another tunnel and appear in their portal station. Easy. Are you ready?”
“Your ointment’s already working a miracle on my leg,” I say with a laugh. “So, yeah, I’m ready.” I stare at the glowing green door, marveling at how similar it is to my imagined drawings. That leads me to wondering how similar the portal station will look. Nerves and excitement fill me in equal measure.
“Good.” He gives me a wicked grin. “Then let’s go on an adventure.”