Page 12 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)

CHAPTER TWELVE

AMATHEIA

M y mind goes blank at Betmal’s words. His mate ?

Thalassa below, he can’t be serious. Can he? Shit, shit, shit, I haven’t gotten to that part in my vampire book, and I don’t even know what that entails.

“Explain,” I manage to sputter, heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

I find him insanely attractive, and he’s crazy flirtatious, but it’s just because that’s how single vampire males are…right? It’s what the book said!!!

He stands between my thighs. Reaching out, he unstraps my leg and carefully sets it aside. Crossing the room, he grabs the tins of cream and begins to slather them on my skin, as carefully as ever.

Ruby eyes meet mine as he works. “When I first saw you at Higher Grounds, your blood sang to me, ma siréne. I had to know you, to introduce myself. For vampires, finding that soul-deep connection can feel like seeing a part of yourself finally. I suspected what you were to me then.”

He rubs gentle circles over my knee, soothing away the pain from Martin’s earlier ministrations, eyes locked onto mine. “And I also knew I had a project that needed to be done. When I found out you were a painter, I knew I’d hire you for that project. A benefit to that is you being alone with me in my house, all the time. You are my mate, Amatheia, and that is why my mouth heals you. My saliva has no healing properties for anyone else. This,” he gestures between us, “is irrefutable.”

I sit fully upright, gobsmacked at this confession as shock courses through me in waves that make me feel like I’m suffocating. “So…you knew this whole time? And you hired me to get us alone together? And what about this trip?”

He shakes his head. “Non, ma siréne. I would have hired you for this project regardless of my feelings. It was lucky happenstance that you are who you are, and I am who I am, and I also needed an artist. Very, very lucky indeed.” He caps both tins of ointment and sets them aside, then slides his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a sexy professor.

“You have questions, darling, I can see that. Ask me anything, anything at all. I am an open book.”

I gasp like a fish out of water. I’ve never felt so unsteady or unmoored.

Except that, deep inside me, something that’s always felt trapped at the bottom of the lake breaks free and rejoices at what he’s saying. I want what he’s suggesting, want it so badly, I can taste it. And he’s standing right there in front of me.

But the entire reason I took this job was to finally gain my independence. And being mated feels like the farthest thing from independence I can possibly imagine. Isn’t it?

“I…I’m not sure what to say,” I admit.

Betmal’s smile goes coy, his fangs poking at his lower lip. “Say you feel it too, that my words make sense because every time we’re close, you wish we were closer. Say you want it, ma siréne.”

He brings his hand to my throat and wraps his fingers around it, pulling me until my chest bumps against his. He feels so good pressed to me, and the sensations his proximity unleashes inside me have my doubts flying away on the tide.

He hovers those sinful lips above mine. “There is no one here to judge us, to see us, Amatheia. Allow me to kiss you. If you don’t enjoy it, nobody ever has to know.” His breath is warm against my mouth, and I open just to breathe him in.

“If you do not enjoy this, ma siréne, we shall never speak of it again. Deal?” Crimson eyes roam my face as I debate my answer.

What if I say yes?

What if I say no?

My heart pounds in my chest. He breathes in, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Your blood, ma siréne. The smell intoxicates me. Ask me to kiss you.”

“What if I don’t?” I lift a brow.

“Anywhere you like,” he continues. “I didn’t specify your mouth, darling.”

Heat barrels through me with all the strength of a train. I’ve had so many thoughts like that, and never had the chance to act out any of them. I was a fool to think I could keep things professional with a male this sensual, a male who thinks he’s mine. And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t even want to. I’m terrified to say yes, but I’m more terrified to say no. If I tell him no, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Just one thing bothers me.

I’m upset he used his power to put me at the head of a line. I can’t live with taking someone else’s spot, knowing pain the way I do.

“Call that man and tell him to do my leg when he can. I don’t want to be ahead of anyone. Do that, and perhaps I’ll ask for a kiss.”

Betmal’s eyes narrow, and he removes his hand from my throat to cross his muscular arms. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t ask me to do that,” he barks. “You’ll be in pain for weeks, months, maybe. Don’t ask me to watch that, knowing I could fix it.”

I scoot all the way to the headboard, ensconcing myself in the pillows like a queen. “If you think I’m yours, then you should know I don’t feel comfortable being the cause of someone else’s pain. Call him, or I’ll call him myself. But then I’ll be mad at you.”

I shoot him a ferocious look to demonstrate how very mad I can be when the occasion calls for it.

Betmal growls but crosses the room to the communication disk on the wall. He tosses it to the floor and directs it to call Martin. Martin’s hologram appears, and in a very terse conversation, Betmal directs him to craft my new leg at whatever his normal time frame is. Martin seems confused by the conversation, but agrees he’ll let us know when it can be done.

When the hologram disappears, Betmal remains across the room, rolling up the sleeves of his collared shirt. “It pained me to do that, Amatheia.”

“Oh, my full first name. Well, consequences of your actions and all,” I say lightly.

He’s across the room and on top of me before I see him move. His lips are against mine, his breath warm as he grinds his hips against my body, shoving my miniskirt up to my hips. The heat and hardness of an obvious erection brush over my mound and stoke the embers of the fire burning there.

“I did what you demanded. Ask me. Now.”

“Kiss my hand,” I tease. “I don’t know what I think about this whole ‘you’re mine thing,’ and I might need to see you in action. I’ve never had a boyfriend, you know.”

He sits up and grabs me by the wrist, his eyes never leaving mine. “I shall cherish being your first in all things, my darling.”

I can’t hold back a smirk. “And my suitor? Remember him?”

Betmal’s chuckle has flames licking over my skin, raising the scales along the back of my neck. “That male will never touch you, ma siréne,” he says quietly. The possessive, predatory way he says it tells me he would do anything to keep me from Stefan.

And thank Thalassa for that. I’d already decided Stefan was never going to be my future.

No…I’m staring at my future right here.

“Well, go on then,” I say, my tone silky with lust.

Bringing my fingers to his lips, he nips first one, then the next, sending shards of desire through me. The smirk on his thin lips tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Next, he sucks my middle finger into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it as he swirls his tongue over the digit. Still, he doesn’t look away. Not as he pulls my finger from his mouth with a pop. Dragging his tongue down my palm, he bites softly at the inside of my wrist, tongue dipping from between his teeth to tease my skin about all the ways Betmal knows how to be sensual.

He pauses, lips barely touching my skin. “Anywhere else need a kiss, ma siréne? Imagine this talented tongue somewhere more…intimate.”

“You’re serious about this.” I stare up at him in wonder. “You really think we’re mates? How? I’m merfolk. You know the males carry the children…right? There are incompatibility issues at play, Betmal, assuming children are part of your desire.”

“I’m serious about this,” he confirms. “I was in a relationship for so long, knowing it wasn’t the right one. And I wasn’t looking for you, yet there you were, right in front of me. Being with you is the easiest decision I’ve ever made.” He shrugs. “As for children, I have a grown son who is the light of my life. If you want children of our own, I will find a way, darling. Whatever you want, I will make it happen for you. Perhaps there is some magical way to accomplish this, if you want me to carry our sons and daughters.”

Something breaks inside me at his words. Something tender and needy. That huge part of my heart that always wanted someone of my own, someone who would put me first and be in my corner. Someone who would look at me the way Betmal’s looking at me right now.

“Kiss me,” I command.

He grins and drops down to one hand, leaning over me even as the weight of his body presses me hard into the mattress. I could get lost in him like this, in the feeling of being so completely possessed by another.

But when his lips brush mine, opening just enough to suck at my lower lip, my mind goes blank. Or maybe everything in my brain is burning up, because there’s nothing but his mouth on mine. The first pass of his tongue along the seam of my lips is gentle, probing, tender. When I moan, he deepens the kiss and flips us so that I’m on top of him. Both of his hands come to the back of my head, carding through my hair as he explores my mouth with practiced skill.

But I want the version of him that’s not so in control. Grinding my hips against his hardness, I preen at the way he groans into the kiss, parting from me for a moment.

“I will not turn that down if you offer it,” he growls. “Think long and hard about that, ma siréne, because if that is on the table, I’m taking it. But today has been a day of revelations, my darling.”

I cry out as his kiss moves to my chin and downward from there. He’s all soft bites and deep growls as he nips and licks at my skin, until I’m rocking my hips against his hard cock and trying desperately to figure out what to do next. But he’s got that figured out too, slipping his hands down the back of my skirt to play at the crack of my ass. He moves deftly, stroking and rubbing his fingers over my ass and down my cleft to my pussy. I’m the only one who has touched me there, and I’m embarrassed by how wet I am.

“Soaked,” he growls into my mouth. “I could use my gift on you if you like. I could talk to you and rack this body with pleasure. What do you think about that use?”

I can’t find an answer except to pant into our kiss as he explores my body with teasing, tantalizing fingers. That’s when I realize the kind of access I have being on top of him. Sitting upright, I pull his shirt open to reveal a muscular chest covered in swirling red tattoos. Like always, a cluster of necklaces surrounds the ziol cross nestled between his pecs.

“It’s yours,” he says quietly. “Shall I show you how to use it?”

I’m so shocked at his offer, I pause and stare at him. “I’ve read about this. It’s a ziol bloodletting cross, right? That’s quite a gift, Betmal. Shouldn’t we…wait and make sure we’re compatible? Or go on a few dates, or…something?”

He grins at me, rocking his hips beneath mine as he drags my pussy over his cock. My skirt provides next to no barrier, and I’m wearing no underwear beneath it. His pants are soaked with my need.

“Of course we’ll date, ma siréne. But compatibility is not going to be an issue.” He glances down at his lap as if to prove his point.

“What are we doing?” My voice is soft, tentative as I stare at the male I thought was my friend. He is my friend, maybe my best friend. And he’s so much more than that. When I examine the deepest, darkest places of my heart, I know he’s right. I was drawn to him from the moment we met.

“I’m pursuing you romantically,” he says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “And if we want to take it easy, you can be my girlfriend for a time. But we both know that word scarcely encompasses what we are to one another. Don’t you think?”

“I like it,” I admit. “But when we’re working on the project, we need to be in professional mode.”

He laughs and rocks my hips harder against his cock. “I can’t agree to that. Because when you paint, I find myself entranced. And I cannot agree that sometime I might not leap over the railing, tackle you to the sofa, and fuck you on top of a canvas. I am, after all, just a vampire male, the most sensual of creatures, obsessed with blood and sex. Or so the books would lead you to believe.” He jerks his head toward my bag across the room. “Or have you not gotten to the chapters on sex yet?” When he grins, embarrassment fills me.

“I saw when I set your bag down, my darling.”

I laugh. “I was just trying to learn a few things, you know. I was?—”

“Already mine,” he says. “Trying to figure out if I was yours. I was attempting to take it slowly, darling, but I should have known it wasn’t possible with a connection like ours.”

I lie down on his chest, folding my arms over his pecs. “So, what will it be like dating a vampire?”

He scoffs. “Any old vampire? Boring but lots of hot sex, probably. Dating me? That’s another beast entirely.” He sits up and kisses the tip of my nose. “Prepare to be pursued, fed, supported. Prepare to travel, to make love in every haven in the system. Prepare to have your senses delighted, my love. Because my sole purpose is to please you.” He strokes chunky strands of my hair over my shoulder, eyes scanning hungrily over my face and neck. “When I met you, my world narrowed, ma siréne. You are at the very center of it.”

“Is that so?” I laugh and pretend I’m thinking. “I suppose you’ll have to learn what pleases me, then.” It’s so fun to play with him like this. It’s such a natural extension of our easy companionship.

“Do you know?” he asks quietly. “Do you know what pleases you, Amatheia? Have you had a chance to explore pleasure for yourself?”

Shame fills me before I remember that I don’t have to feel that with him.

“No.” I pick at the tangled pile of necklaces resting against his chest. “My uncle’s always planned a connection for me to some far-off kingdom. He chased off every merman who was ever interested. I was never allowed suitors, until Stefan.”

“Over my dead body,” Betmal growls. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re a touch possessive.”

His eyes flash angrily. “If possession means being there for you always, yes. You've never had someone in your corner until you’ve had me at your back.”

Momentary hesitation fills me. “What about your former mates?”

“What about them?”

“Is it a problem if we run into them?”

He sighs. “I can’t say it would be a pleasant experience for you, but they really have nothing to say.” He frowns. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, ma siréne, but they’re in my past.”

I finger the ziol around his neck. It’s beautiful, a cross encrusted with swirling metalwork and inlaid red jewels.

“This was my mother’s,” he says softly. “Given to her by my father. The first ziol in our family line. It’s very, very old, and I have carried it for a long time. In all the time I was mated, I never offered it to them.”

He shifts forward and lifts the ziol over his neck, settling us upright in bed at the same time. My eyes are drawn to his chest and below, to abs clearly outlined and thick with muscle.

“Take this as a symbol of my utter adoration,” he whispers, slipping the cross over my neck so it dangles between my breasts. “When you are ready, my darling, tell me, and I will show you how to use this to bring you great pleasure.”

I pick up the cross, admiring the stunning inlaid red jewels. They’re slotted between clear diamonds so it looks like blood dripping down the frame. Betmal remains silent as I set the necklace against my skin and nibble my lower lip, staring at his muscular chest.

“Touch me if you like.” He reaches down and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor.

I’m overwhelmed by stacked shoulders and the strong lines of his neck. He reclines against the pillows with a self-satisfied smile.

I reach forward and rest my hands on his chest, feeling his strength. Dragging my hands down to his stomach, I explore the dips and curves of him. He’s all male, all dominant strength and masculine intensity. And he remains quiet as I explore, touching and marveling. Because I can’t stop myself. This was supposed to be a job. Make the money, hope it was enough to grant me at least some independence from the merkingdom, and that was that.

I didn’t expect him.

He brings his fingers to my forearm and strokes, giving me a quizzical look. “What are you thinking about?”

I look deep into those ruby-red eyes.

“How unexpected this is. How attracted I was to you from that first moment, but how I didn’t want to muddy the waters of a job that might allow me some independence. And now…this.” I gesture to him, and he laughs.

“Ah, ma siréne, nothing worth having is ever wholly uncomplicated. Independence can still be had, darling.” His hand drifts up my shoulder and around my upper body, his fingers carding into my hair as he pulls me flush with his chest. “You can do whatever you want, anywhere you want, Ama. I am not your master. I will be your lover, your partner. I am on call for snacks, my sweet. I have no desire to control you.”

Tears spring to my eyes as I stare at him.

He smiles softly. “You asked what it would be like to date a vampire, ma siréne. What I just shared is what it will be like to be loved by me .” His eyes flash with emotion. “Come here and kiss me again.”

* * *

L ater that afternoon, I watch Betmal as he gathers items from around the room and stuffs them into an elegant leather bag.

Is this real? Is this my real life? Because I’ve never been lucky, and I’m not fool enough to think Malakat and Caralorn won’t raise the depths over this once they find out. The new leg is a big enough deal, but I could likely hide that for a while. Betmal, though? I can’t hide him, and I would never want to.

The storm is coming, though, because the moment I decline Prince Stefan, Caralorn is going to lose his mind.

I can’t think about that right now, however. We’re going to get something to eat, and Betmal has already promised to show me around Arcadia.

I keep thinking I’m going to wake up to find myself in my shell bed, surrounded by my cousins and wishing I had a way out of my life. Part of me can’t wait to get back and update Thatraeia. If she sees a real way out, I think she’ll be on board to come with me.

I’ll go back to the merkingdom. I have to. I can’t just…disappear from the lake. But for the next day or two, I can pretend this is my life all the time, that I get to just travel and go places with Betmal.

As we cross the lobby, a shorthorn minotaur male at the front door swings it open for us with a deep bow. “Betmal of House Zeniphon. Good to see you, sir.”

Betmal claps the male on the back as we pass. “You too, Belirius. Give your parents my love.”

The minotaur smiles and nods as we exit onto the street. Outside, it’s just as bustling as it was before, although, admittedly, I was focused on the gash on my thigh when Betmal swooped us through the lobby.

He slides an arm around my waist. “Alright, darling. There’s a perfect place just around the corner where we can get a drink and have some peace and quiet. They’ve got standard Arcadian fare, lots of meat and vegetables. Does that sound alright with you?”

I nod. “I’m up for anything. I’m feeling like such an adventurer just being out of Ever.”

He smiles and reaches up, tucking long strands of hair back behind my ears. “I can show you the world, ma siréne, if that’s what you wish.”

I want to say yes, show me everything, even as the reality of accepting Betmal as mine begins to set in. But something about him unlocked a side of me that’s willing to go against the grain. Between our project and this trip, I’m taking more risks than I ever have. I’m less worried over that than I probably should be.

Betmal guides me carefully up the street. We swing a right at the corner and duck immediately into a glossy black doorway covered with flowering vines. Inside, the restaurant is just as stunning. Vines and flowers drip down from the ceiling, giving it an overgrown forest vibe. Huge tree trunks spring up from the ground. Some are hollowed out with tables set inside.

I’m busy admiring it as Betmal speaks with the hostess. She leads us to a two-person table set on a small platform in a front window. It’s tucked into a little alcove with bookshelves on either side that soar all the way to the ceiling.

Betmal pulls out my chair as the waitress sets two menus on the table. I take a seat carefully, holding Betmal’s hand as I lower myself. Even though we applied the ointment before we left, the usual pangs are back, sending shards of glass up into my hip.

How did I live with this for so long? I know why I did it, but now that I’ve had a taste of freedom, I can’t imagine going back to the way things were.

I ignore all of that as Betmal sits across from me, crossing one leg elegantly over the other. He leans back in his chair and rests one arm along the back of it.

“Darling, I’ve been here many times. Would you like to peruse the menu, or shall I order for us and surprise you?”

Delighted he’d think to do that, I pick the second option. I love surprises.

A pixie waiter comes over and introduces himself as Jack, and he and Betmal hit it off right away. I watch as they joke and Betmal orders. I don’t recognize the name of anything he asked Jack to bring us, but it’s fun to watch them interact. Betmal has such an easy, natural way with everyone we’ve met. I suppose he’s had quite a bit of practice over the last few thousand years.

Jack returns with a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for each of us. I stare at Betmal as he brings the glass to his nose and swirls the wine, sniffing delicately at it.

“Perfection, Jack,” he croons. “Absolutely lovely.”

I swear Jack’s chest puffs up, but he bows to us both and leaves.

Hours later, I’ve eaten my fill, and we’ve drunk two bottles of wine. I’m tipsy as depths but having the time of my life. From our vantage point, we can see the entryway to the hotel across the street, and we’ve spent the last hour inventing stories about the people entering the hotel.

A giant troll male carries a handsome pixie male in his arms like a bride, seemingly oblivious to anyone staring at them.

“Hmm.” Betmal rubs his chin as we stare out the front window, spying on the pair as they head across the street in our direction. “I think perhaps the pixie is here for medical intervention. They discovered they’re perfectly suited to one another, and now he can’t bear to set his mate down.” He gives me a meaningful look.

I snort and take a sip of my wine. “That story sounds awfully self-serving.”

Betmal winks. “It was worth a try, ma siréne.”

“Oh, what about those two?” I gush, pointing to an elegant vampire couple striding toward the hotel’s entryway. The woman walks stiffly, her chin held high, black hair pulled back into a harsh bun. But she’s stunning. And the male by her side exudes confidence, wearing a black shirt open to his navel and tight black slacks.

Betmal freezes and makes an unhappy noise. “Ah. They’re away on a weekend excursion to keep the romance alive. That one’s easy. Those are my ex-mates.”

My mouth drops open as I stare at the handsome couple, then back at Betmal. “Thalassa below, do you need to go say hello? Or should we hide? Or…what do you want to do?”

He narrows his eyes, watching as they near the hotel’s entryway. Eventually, he looks over at me. “I had many years with them, Amatheia. I don’t feel the need to chase them down to speak, but I also don’t want you to think I’m hiding you from them.”

“Of course not,” I rush out. “We can take this slowly. We sort of said that might be an option, so I don’t want to say hello if you don’t.”

“I don’t.” He grimaces. “It’s unfortunate they’re here, but let’s not let them ruin our lovely lunch.”

I glance out at the darkening sky with a laugh. “I think you mean dinner. The shift has already changed, and we’re probably getting a new waiter soon.” Glancing back out the window, I stare at the beautiful vampire couple who were part of Betmal’s life for so long. It’s hard to believe they’re Abemet’s parents too. I don’t see anything of him in them.

When they disappear into the hotel, I turn to look at Betmal. But he’s looking at me, lust obvious in his eyes.

I lean over the table and bring my chin to my palms. “What are you thinking?”

A soft growl is his answer. “That I booked us adjoining rooms because I had every intention of being a gentleman. But now that the truth is out, I am going to find it exceedingly difficult not to perch at the foot of your bed and watch you sleep.”

I sigh. “You make it sound so easy to be together.”

He shrugs. “It can be, Amatheia, once you stop caring what others think, which is something I did a very long time ago.” He lifts his chin. “For centuries, my only focus was Abemet and raising him. But now I get to think about what I want for myself.” He waves at the hotel across the street. “I don’t have to think about them or their wants or cares. I get to think about you and us and it is easy.”

I nod, but inside I’m a turmoil of emotion.

“It’s not going to be easy with my uncle,” I whisper. “The new leg is one thing. The disappearing for a few days is another. I’m going to catch an earful for that because I’ve never been gone that long. But when Prince Stefan eventually arrives, all depths will break loose.”

Betmal’s nostrils flare. “I know this is the opposite of moving slowly, but you don’t have to remain in the merkingdom if you don’t want to. I want you with me, in our home. If that is uncomfortable for you, Catherine would gladly welcome you at the Annabelle Inn for as long as you want. They are excellent hostesses.”

“I honestly think my uncle would send my cousin Malakat or the King’s Guard to retrieve me if I did that.” I frown over at him, swirling the dregs of my last glass of wine. “Not to mention I’d feel guilty leaving Thatraeia without me. She’s more delicate. You should really think about if you’re ready for a fight with Caralorn, because that’s what this will be. I’m not sure I really absorbed that until we came here and I was away from Ever. I left town , and I told no one, Betmal.”

His frown matches mine. “Your uncle doesn’t frighten me, darling girl. I knew his father, and his father before him, all the way back to the beginning of your clan’s line. I am ancient in comparison to him, over two thousand years old. There is nothing your uncle could do that would worry me, other than the way he treats you, and how that affects you.”

I reach for his hand, stroking the back of it. He turns it over so that I’m touching his palm, his fingers curling underneath my wrist.

“I don’t want to be the cause of a lot of drama in town,” I admit. “I’ve flown under the radar for so long.”

“Suffering to ease others’ pain,” he reminds me. “You don’t deserve that, Amatheia.”

We fall silent after that, because he’s right. I know he’s right. Yet I still dread returning to Ever and facing the music for choosing myself and my comfort for once. Every day that passes takes us a step closer to a big showdown, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

* * *

E ventually, we make our way back to the hotel and to our rooms. Betmal insists on rubbing his ointments on my leg again, but, honestly, it feels good. Maybe it’s just knowing I’m almost done with this prosthetic. I feel lighter than I have in years. The usual guilt over my parents’ deaths has even receded to the back of my mind.

When Betmal finishes with my leg, I stand and cross to my bag, grabbing the light pajamas I brought for the trip. He waits at the foot of my bed, one foot crossed over the other ankle as I pull my shirt up over my head. Red eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring as I shimmy out of my skirt next, revealing my fully nude figure.

He clears his throat, eyes roving up and down my body. “Darling, this hardly seems like taking it slowly. You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe a little,” I admit, still feeling tipsy and delicious. “And maybe I’m just getting you back for what you did to Martin. Poor thing.”

“Yes, poor Martin,” he murmurs, crossing the room and stopping right in front of me. Reaching out, he drags the backs of his fingers along the underside of my left breast.

The nipple pebbles, gooseflesh covering my skin even as heat and need swirl through me.

“These need my mouth.” He brings his fingers up to my nipple and pinches lightly, pulling until I arch into his touch with a small cry.

Why did I start this? What was I thinking?

Betmal steps closer, sliding his hand around my torso to rest between my shoulder blades. He brings his mouth just beneath my ear.

“You mentioned moving slowly for a time, ma siréne, so I’m going to retire to my room and work for a while. But if you should wake in the night and find yourself in need of anything, anything at all, I’m just in the next room.” He nips hard, and my body jerks as adrenaline floods through me. I grasp at his shirt as he growls into my skin. “Goodnight, ma siréne, sleep well.”

Releasing his hold on me, he presses a chaste kiss to the tip of my nose, then turns. He crosses the room with predatory ease, opening the far door as I stand, desperately trying to decide what the depths to do with myself.

He pauses in the doorway, flashing me a brilliant smile. “Anything, darling. I’ll be waiting.”

Fuck.

Oh fuckity fuck.

“Okay,” I manage. “Goodnight, Betmal.” Mate ?

He sails through the door and closes it quietly. I grab my leg and shove it back on, then hobble across the room to plant my ear against the thick wooden door. Betmal pads quietly around the room. Moments later, the swish of clothes hitting the floor echoes softly. I clap a hand over my mouth to avoid making any noise at the idea of him naked in the room next to mine.

What would happen if I opened the door right now?

What would happen if I simply crawled into bed with him?

I turn and rest my back against the wood, closing my eyes as thoughts war in my mind. I want to go in there. But I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. Are we really doing this? Am I really going to start dating a thousands-of-years-old vampire? What does that mean for Thatraeia? What does it mean for my relationship with my family, if I can even call it that? And how do I feel about all of it?

Sighing, I hobble back toward my bed and fall into it, pulling a pillow between my thighs as I consider everything. I fall asleep thinking about him and dream about traveling the world with Betmal, seeing all the things I’ve never been able to.

In the morning, I wake to find him seated at the singular round table in my room, sipping an espresso as he speaks with Martin via the communication disk. Martin’s hologram spins when I slip out of the bed, don my pajamas, and join them.

“Good morning, Amatheia,” he says cheerfully. “I was just telling Betmal how I had you farther back on the schedule, but I really couldn’t stop thinking about your case yesterday, so I worked through the night and completed your leg.”

I give Betmal a warning look through the hologram, but he throws both hands up in a “not guilty” pose.

Martin smiles at me. “Come by the shop this morning if you can. We’ll fit it, and I can make any final tweaks as needed.”

Surprising emotion runs through me. Is this happening? Betmal wraps up the conversation with Martin and pulls me into his lap, tucking me against his chest. “Everything all right?”

I sniffle as tears fill my eyes. Pressing against him, I sit up and stare into his eyes. “The last day has been one shock after another, and I can’t believe this is happening. For twenty years, I’ve thought about this, and now, because of you, it’s happening overnight. I just…is this real?”

Betmal’s jaw goes tight, and he nods. “You’ll never want for this sort of care again, ma siréne, not if I have anything to do with it. If your needs change, we’ll fix the problem over and over. If it is within my power to do so, it will be done. You’ll start believing me if I keep saying it.” He smiles down at me. “How did you sleep?”

The first tear spills over as I stare up at this wondrous person who has so quickly invaded my thoughts and my heart. He’s not asking why I didn’t come to his room. He’s not pressuring me for anything more than my company. What started as a relatively simple job has turned into…a whole thing. And honestly? I’m powerless against it. Betmal is an all-encompassing maelstrom, sweeping me up inside his power and holding me close.

I got used to this way too fast, and I worry that a day of reckoning is coming for us. But the idea that I could have a new prosthetic—today—is too exciting for me to worry. Last night’s worries will keep for tomorrow.

We dress quickly, although Betmal insists on rubbing ointment on my leg before we leave the room.

I’m a bundle of nerves as we leave the hotel and walk the short distance to Martin’s. When we enter the shop, he’s up front, rubbing oil over a sleek metallic-looking leg the same shade and sheen as my natural leg in humanoid form. I step closer, shocked to see there’s even the barest hint of aqua and rust scale pattern down the outside, just like my full leg.

The tears return as I stare at the top cup portion where I’ll attach it. It’s far more detailed with dips and grooves that look like they’ll match up to my knee.

“Let’s try it on, sweetheart,” Martin says quietly, gesturing for us to come back.

We follow, Betmal a soothing presence at my back. I sit in the same chair as before, Martin dropping onto the stool in front of me. He looks up with a serious expression.

“My prosthetics come with a bit of magic to them, so you won’t need straps like before. Instead, the magic forms a sort of suction against your leg. To take it off, you just apply pressure to one side to break that suction. Here, try putting it on. All you need to do is bring it to your leg until the fit feels right.”

Shocked, I take the limb with trembling hands. Betmal unhooks my current prosthetic and sets it aside, ruby eyes locked onto the new one. A smirk tilts his lips upward.

Nerves clanging in my chest, I pull the new leg to my knee and jump when it suctions tight like a second skin. Sparks fly up from the connection, and then a warm sensation spreads from the prosthetic up along my leg, pooling pleasantly in my knee.

“It auto-applies a healing spell, although it shouldn’t be needed, assuming the fit is right. Let’s have you stand and do a quick jump to see how you feel. If there’s any pain at all, I’ll tweak the leg, and then it’s all yours.”

A jump.

A jump?

I look up at Betmal. I haven’t jumped anywhere since I was ten. The idea is unfathomable.

Betmal slings both hands in his pockets, giving me a confident smile. “Let’s give it a try, shall we? You can hold my hand if it helps.”

I grab for his hand the moment he suggests it, standing tentatively on the new leg. But…there’s no pain. I take a step forward, then another as Betmal curls his fingers lightly around mine.

“Oh my depths,” I whisper, spinning in place.

Without pain.

“Try the jump,” suggests Martin, crossing his big arms with a broad grin on his handsome face.

I blow out a breath and look at Betmal, who’s also smiling. Then, I hop in place, grimacing as I wait for the sensation of glass slicing through my hip.

But it doesn’t come. So, I hop a little more.

Nothing. No pain. No irritation. Nothing at all. It’s as if the prosthetic was a true extension of my original leg.

The reality of it hits me like a ton of bricks, and tears flow from my eyes as I bring both hands to cover my mouth, staring at the men who are giving me back movement. Movement I haven’t had since I was a child.

Martin stands and claps Betmal on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a moment.” Then he turns to me with a smile. “This is wonderful, eh?” Without waiting for me to answer, he stalks from the room and disappears toward the front of the shop.

Betmal pulls me toward him, his smile as big as Martin’s. “Ma siréne, talk to me.”

I shake my head. I can’t. I can’t find the words to thank him for this gift. I can’t find the words to say anything at all. So I bury my face in his neck and wrap my arms around him, sobbing into his skin as he croons and rubs my back, holding me close. His crisp, clean scent fills my senses as I cry and cry and cry. And the entire time, my leg is fine. There’s no pain. I can just stand and hold him, and there’s no worry about where the closest chair is or how far my destination is from me.

The tears fade, and heat replaces my overwhelm. Nuzzling against Betmal’s neck, I lick a stripe to his ear then bite just beneath it.

A low grunt of pleasure is his answer, his hold on me tightening. He turns to look at me, lips brushing against mine.

“I have no shame, ma siréne, I will do this right here in the back of Martin’s shop, but for your first time, I’d love a bit more romance.”

Growling, I leap into his arms and wrap my legs around his trim waist. I attack him with my lips first, thrusting my tongue into his mouth as his responding groan goes guttural and ragged. He spins and presses me to the wall as he takes over, sucking my tongue between his lips as I imagine him doing the same thing much lower.

He growls and grabs my hair in both hands, guiding my neck back so he can drag his mouth up to my chin. “Ama, you smell delicious, my sweet.”

Depths below, when he says my nickname like that, it’s utterly sinful.

He nips my chin, then moves down, each bite harder and harder until he pierces the skin just above my collarbone. His groan of need has Martin clearing his throat from the front room.

Betmal parts just far enough to laugh, then wraps his hand around mine. “Come, darling, let’s take this party elsewhere.”

We swoop through the short hallway to the front of the store where Martin waits patiently, examining a speck of dust as if it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Charge my card, Martin!” Betmal shouts as he pulls me toward the door.

I try my best to thank Martin as we rush from the store, but it’s no use. We reach the street and nearly break into a run. When we round the corner, I crash into someone, stumbling backward into Betmal’s arms.

The moment I catch my balance, I throw my hands up in apology, only to look into the narrowed, crimson eyes of Evenia, Betmal’s former mate. Aberen gets in my face immediately, but before I can say anything, I find myself behind Betmal, who keeps one arm wrapped around me and the other by his side, his fist lightly balled.

My chest heaves, and my muscles tremble. It happened so quickly. I wasn’t looking.

“Betmal,” purrs the other male. “How unsurprising to see you down a dark alleyway. Whatever are you doing here?”

“And with whom?” the woman tacks on, peeking around him to look at me. Her dark eyes are cruel, black hair pulled into the same harsh bun as yesterday.

I remind myself that these are the mates who didn’t appreciate him. This is the woman he could have given his ziol to anytime over years of being together. But he didn’t. So, I lift my chin and step out of his hold and around his side, smiling politely, although I don’t offer my hand in greeting. “I’m Amatheia, hello.”

The woman scoffs, shooting me a dismissive look. “So soon, Betmal? We’ve hardly signed separation papers.” Her eyes drift to the ziol around my neck, and her frown deepens as the skin around her eyes tightens. She almost looks…upset.

Betmal ignores the comment and returns her smile, but I don’t recognize this smile on him. It’s cruel and calculated and utterly devoid of the joy I usually see on his face.

“Lovely as it is to see you both, I’m taking my female back to our room. Chat soon, I’m sure. She and I are working on a project that I’ll need your stamp of approval on.”

The woman looks me up and down, bringing one black-nailed hand to her chin as she smiles. “Is that so?”

Betmal matches the smile. “It is, and you’ll stamp it the moment I ask. You owe me that much, and you know what will happen if you do not.”

Her nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think she’ll say something. But after a quick glance at me, she holds her tongue. Aberen, the male, says nothing and glares the entire time.

Betmal wraps his right arm around me. “I’m ready to go, ma siréne. Shall we?”

“Can’t wait,” I say brightly, placing my hand over his. We step around the other couple and head up the street, but Betmal’s tense and silent by my side. By the time we reach the hotel, he’s said nothing.

When we sail through the door, I stop him, shocked anew at how totally fine my leg is but worried at how quiet he’s being. “Hey, are you alright?”

He shakes his head, running both hands through perfectly coiffed blond hair.

“No, ma siréne. I hate seeing them, and I hate wondering if you feel awkward because they’re so obviously cruel. Today’s joy should belong only to you. I don’t want them to steal a minute of it.”

“Okay, so…” I stretch onto my tiptoes and bring my mouth to his ear. “How about we go upstairs and make our own joy, forgetting completely about them and focusing on all the many ways you can teach me about filthy dirty things. I’ve never had a chance to do them, if you remember.” I bat my lashes playfully.

His smile returns—the real one—and he whisks me into his arms with a chuckle. “Is this the taking-it-slowly track you spoke of yesterday?”

“Well…” I shrug. “We can still go a little slow, right?”

His feral grin suggests otherwise. “Perhaps, darling. I’ll have food brought to the room, and we’ll see how it goes.”

I laugh as he slips up the stairs toward our room. “My leg feels great. You don’t have to carry me, you know.”

“Oh,” he says, “I carry you because I want you in my arms. I’m not planning to stop doing so.”

By the time we reach our room, we’re laughing and panting together. He sets me down and backs me against the door, his hand wrapped around my throat as he kisses me so hard, I see stars. For long moments, we look at one another. And the entire time, the emotion from last night solidifies into a deep sense of knowing.

I want him.

I deserve to have him.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in my entire life. And while I think it’s smart to take things slowly, I also want to dive into him and experience everything. I’m going to take this moment by moment and follow my gut.

He opens the door and carries me through. Ten minutes later, food is ordered, and he pulls me out onto the room’s balcony. Outside, Arcadia is lit by winking lights and softly falling snow. It’s chilly, but not so cold that I need a coat.

Betmal stands behind me, both hands on the railing as his slightly warmer body heats mine. “Look at this beautiful, magical place, ma siréne. I want us to experience everything there is to see here. And in every other haven. And one day, if you like, I can take you to the human world to experience that.”

I gasp and spin in his arms. “Outside the haven system? You’d do that?”

He tucks my hair behind my ear, playing with the sensitive tip. “If you want it. You’d need a glamour, but that is easily crafted. I like to disappear into the human world from time to time, keeping up with important contacts and visiting some old friends.”

A knock at the door breaks through my shock. Betmal spins and walks to the door, opening it and bringing in a rolling tray of food. The scents of stewed meat, fresh vegetables and something sugary waft into the room. My stomach rumbles.

Betmal rolls the tray all the way toward our table, then grabs my notebook from the tabletop. He comes outside and hands it to me. “Draw for a while, if you like. I’ll get the food ready, darling.”

Another chaste kiss on my cheek has me aching for more.

Oh gods, he took my “take it slowly” mandate very seriously. It’s only been twelve hours, and I’m already regretting it.

What was I thinking?