Page 26 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

AMATHEIA

M organ hugs me in front of Herschel’s Fine Dining, and then Herschel comes out of the front door to hug me as well.

“We cannot wait for tomorrow, lovely girl,” he says kindly, folding his hands over his plump belly. “It is going to be amazing! It’s been so long since we’ve had a haven-wide party!”

“Oh, don’t forget Halloween,” Morgan says with a laugh. “That’ll be coming around again in a few months, and you know Miriam won’t let us forget it. I think she’s taken to human holidays even more than us humans do.” She turns to look at Thatraeia. “Halloween is so weird and cool, and it’s the best time. You’re gonna love it.”

“Awww,” I whine with a laugh. “I missed it last year, but I heard about it at Higher Grounds the next day. I can’t wait to see it this year. I heard the pumpkins chased people, and Miriam had candy scorpions and exploding pumpkins in her front window display.”

“It was amazing,” Morgan gushes. She gives me a soft smile and pulls me in for another hug. “You’ll be here to see it. Shit, maybe the goddess Thalassa herself will knock some sense into your family, and Malakat and your other cousins will come.”

I snort. “Malakat celebrating a human holiday? The lake will freeze over before that happens.”

“Well,” Morgan says, “I’m holding out hope for them not to be douchebags.”

We laugh together as we walk toward the corner of Sycamore and Main. Main looks so beautiful at night, all flickering lights and colorful flowers. It’s almost busier than the daytime. Couples and groups cross the street and frequent every business. As usual, Higher Grounds has a line out the door.

I smile when I see a handsome dark elf with giant sweeping horns walking down the line, offering monsters sample sizes of some sort of drink.

Morgan nudges me. “That’s Diavolo. I heard he’s living with the Higher Grounds guys and Valentina now. He’s so nice; I met him last week at the shop. He’s mostly running their Grand Portal Station location.”

We watch as the handsome male gives out the last of the drinks. He twirls his round tray expertly in one hand before stalking toward the front door and through it, smiling at the patrons as he goes.

“I can’t imagine three mates,” I muse as we pause on the street corner.

Morgan laughs. “I’m telling you, when you’re ready, come with Abe and me to the kink clubs in some of the other havens. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. You can just watch. Sometimes that’s the most fun.”

“I’ll go,” Thatraeia says, slipping her hands into her back pockets.

Morgan and I spin on a swivel.

Thatraeia’s eyes spring wide. “What?! I’m just saying, I’ve heard a couple stories, and I’m curious…”

I stare at her in shock, this woman who seems to have suddenly fit into Ever as easily as if she’s lived downtown her whole life.

“I’m in awe of you,” I admit, pulling my cousin into a hug. “You’re so brave to defy your father and remain up here.”

“Don’t be,” she whispers, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I’m in awe of you , Ama. And I can’t wait to share your gift with all of Ever tomorrow.” She pulls me in for a quick hug. “I love that we’re getting to be friends and family all at the same time. Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, dahling .”

We both laugh as she pronounces the moniker Betmal calls all of us, complete with his elegant accent.

“You dork,” I say with a laugh, slapping her on the side.

“Dorks for life.” She winks at me. “Night, Ama.”

As I walk home, I’m equal parts excited for tomorrow’s event and full of dread over Caralorn potentially causing drama. It was bad enough what happened beneath the lake’s surface, but up here? With the downtown Evertons I’ve quickly come to love?

I just want him to leave me alone. But if I know one thing for certain, it’s that he won’t.

* * *

T he following evening, I’m a bundle of nerves thinking about tonight’s launch party. I rush around the house making sure I have everything I need to bring with me.

Pens to sign copies of the book for any Evertons who want one.

A clean paintbrush in case anyone wants me to sign with that.

Paints. A plate to put paint on in case I need it.

“Ama, darling, it’s time to get dressed,” Betmal calls to me from deep in his bedroom. No, our bedroom.

It’s our bedroom.

Nerves that have been shattering inside me all day decide now is the time to bash around in full force. I can’t stop thinking about Caralorn and hoping he doesn’t somehow fuck tonight up for us. But I’m also torn because, despite everything that’s happened, I don’t wish ill upon my uncle, even though he doesn’t deserve my respect.

That familial connection is a real bitch to logic around when your relative kinda sucks.

Shoving the negative train of thought aside, I join Betmal in the closet. He stands at the back, leaning against the wall with a large box in his hands.

He crooks two fingers at me. “Come, ma siréne, open your gift.”

I’m into the closet in a moment, taking the box from his hands. “Betmal! You did not have to get anything.” I slap his chest. “I didn’t buy you anything! Do we need to have a discussion about presents and when they’re acceptable?”

He laughs. “I’ll never agree not to buy things for you. Please remember that I spent thousands of years wishing for you, darling, and I’m a billionaire many times over. I could never spend all the money I’ve made. So, no, I will never agree to forgo the gifts.”

“Good,” I say with a laugh. “Because I didn’t buy you anything, but I did make you something.” I set the box down. “Let’s come back to that because something tells me it’s gonna be sexy, and I want to show you mine first.”

“You have me intrigued, darling.” He laughs. “Show me.”

I drag him out of the closet and across the kitchen. We don’t stop until we reach the workshop.

“Go on upstairs!” I push him ahead of me. The workshop and I messed with this earlier, and I can’t wait to show him something I’ve been working on in secret for the last week or so.

Betmal laughs until we reach the top of the stairs. There, hung above his desk on the wall, is a giant portrait of us. I’ve got my back to his chest but I’m looking up over my shoulder with a smile. He’s smiling down at me with one hand wrapped loosely around my throat. His mating bite is evident in the twin pinpricks just above my shoulder.

“I think it’s some of my best work,” I admit, wrapping my arm around his waist.

He stares at the giant portrait, at the way he’s holding me close, staring at me with love in his eyes. And I’m equally obsessed, based on the look on my face. Rather than painting us in full color, I opted for shades of black, gray, and red.

“Ama.” His voice breaks as he pulls my back to his front, encircling me with both arms. “It’s the most stunning work you’ve done yet. I’m…I have no words, ma siréne.”

I turn in his arms. “I love you, Betmal of House Zeniphon. And even though we’ve faced our challenges, I’ve always taken comfort in knowing you’re by my side. We can do anything if we’re together, right?”

His eyes shine glossy with tears as he bends and presses his lips to my mouth. “We can,” he murmurs. “I love you, Amatheia.”

Our kiss is tender, gentle, his tongue making a thorough exploration of my mouth as tears slide down his cheeks. When we part, he stares over my head at the painting, his extra lid slipping over his crimson irises.

“You really do like it, don’t you?” I stroke his smooth jawline.

“I adore it,” he whispers. “It’s perfect, you sneaky female. When did you even make time to do this?”

I laugh. “I was sneaky. I want to open my present now, but I’ll tell you all about it on the way back to the house, if you want.” Around us, the wallpaper pulls off the walls in sheets that unroll and reroll with excitement. The workshop has been waiting to unveil this.

“We did it!” I reach for the wall and rub it gently. “Thanks for your help, my love.”

The wallpaper stills, and the floorboards rumble under our feet.

“She’s overcome with emotion.” Betmal glances at the home around us. “You are a wonder, Ama.”

I take his hand as he leads me out of the workshop and back to our closet. He strides to the back as I stare at his ass, admiring how freaking gorgeous and round and muscular it is.

“I can feel you staring, ma siréne,” he says from the far end of the closet.

“Just admiring what’s mine.” I join him, slipping my arms around his waist, up his shirt to rest on his muscular pecs. “Maybe we should reveal the gift later. And right now, we should be naughty. What do you think?”

He spins, handing me the box again. “This may be the only time in our entire life I turn you down when you offer that, darling, but there’s no time. We’ve got to be at the juncture of Sycamore and Main in half an hour, and you are not dressed.”

“Oh fuck,” I snap, turning to the outfit I laid out.

Betmal stays my hand. “No, Ama. Present first.” He hands me the box and takes the top off.

Inside is a pile of sequin-covered fabric.

I glance up at Betmal. “Is this…?”

He smiles. “Custom-made to fit you for tonight’s event. Try it on, please.”

He holds the bottom of the box as I take the pile of fabric out.

When it falls long, I gasp. It’s a dress, but not just any dress. A slinky, fully sequined dress with a slit almost up to the damn neckline.

“Betmal, my lady bits are gonna hang out of this!” I shoot him an accusatory look. “Or is that what you had in mind?”

“Just put it on.” He laughs.

Shucking my clothes off, I step into the dress and pull the halter top up over my head. The slit actually goes all the way up my prosthetic leg, so when I walk, my leg will be visible to anyone who sees.

Betmal spins me to the mirror on the other side of the closet, bringing his lips to my ear. “I wrote you a poem, my darling. Would you like to hear it?”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror as I nod. Soft lips come to my ear, his focus never leaving my eyes.

“The moon forever gazes upon the sea without ever knowing the kiss of its waves. Daughter of the salt, I have unraveled the secret, why gods envy mere mortals. Do you know it? For each time we meet, I am reborn. A lifetime gifted with the span of your company. It is in this which lies the answer: amour.”

My mouth drops open as he grins and presses a less-than-chaste kiss at the base of my neck. “You made that up ?!”

“Yes, ma siréne. Poetry is a favorite pastime of mine, and you are my favorite topic.”

I laugh and shimmy deeper into his arms. “Does that mean there are more poems about me?”

His answering chuckle sends heat flushing through me. “Perhaps, darling. When we come home tonight, I can share more, if you like.”

“I love it, and I love you,” I manage.

He grabs my hand and spins me slowly in front of the mirror. “You are absolutely ravishing in this dress. And if we didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d pull it off you inch by inch with my teeth to show you exactly how much I love it. But we have a date, darling.”

“Oh, I am definitely wearing this dress,” I murmur. “This is incredible, mate.” I spin in his arms. “Thank you, Betmal.”

He grins and nips at my lower lip. “Thank me with your tongue later, ma siréne.”

We make it out of the house with minimal shenanigans. The house waves all her shutters at us as we go, and regret fills me that we can’t shrink her and take her with us to experience tonight’s event.

We walk hand in hand toward Main Street. As we round the final bend near the Community Garden, I’m shocked to see what feels like all of Ever crowded at the intersection.

Abe and Morgan walk up the street toward us. Morgan wears a gorgeous crimson sheath dress that’s tight around her waist and flares long. Her triplet sisters, Wren and Thea, join us, all dressed to the nines. Thatraeia walks next to Wren, and next to her is Taylor, Alba the centaur’s nephew. He wears a vest cut to show off his muscular chest, smiling down at Thatraeia as she grins at me.

“Oh my goddess, you all look so beautiful!” I clasp my hands together as I stare at the gorgeous sisters. Morgan loops my hand through her arm and turns us to face Main Street.

“Look at all of this, Ama. This is all for you and Betmal. The whole town can’t wait to celebrate with you.”

Betmal joins us, taking my free hand. “Leave me out of it. This is a celebration of Ama’s gift. I don’t need any attention, thank you.”

We laugh and head for the intersection. I notice Arkan standing in front of the gathered crowd, his hands clasped in front of his waist and his beautiful wife, Hana, by his side. When he sees Betmal and me, he nods and raises both arms high.

“Evertons! If I could have your attention, please!”

A hush falls over the crowd as we stare at our mayor of sorts.

I turn to Betmal. “I don’t remember this being part of the plan. I thought we were meeting at Town Hall. Wanna fill me in on your sneaky plan? Because this has you written all over it.”

Morgan pats my hand. “Don’t forget your sneaky friend-slash…shit…what am I to you, relationally speaking? I think you’re my step-mother-in-law? That sounds fucking weird. Anyways, Arkan, Betmal and I did this. You’re welcome in advance.”

When I glance at Thatraeia, she simply laughs and throws both hands up. “I was sworn to secrecy. Sorry, but not really?”

I gasp as I look between them, unable to do anything but snort at how schemy they are. Turning to the front, I smile as Betmal squeezes my hand tighter, love filling the mate bond in my chest.

Arkan continues speaking, “Prepared to be dazzled, Ever. I present a night of celebration for the town of Ever and everything it represents. A place where ever-y-one is welcome, right?”

The crowd snickers, but he raises his arms higher. “Prepare yourselves!”

He drops his hands, and sparkles rain down from the sky in great sheets, cloaking Main Street. I’ve never seen the town’s glamour in person, although I know it exists and can be edited by the Keeper depending on Ever’s needs.

But as the sparkly wave overtakes every building and falls over the crowd, my mouth drops open in shock. Paintings—my paintings—are overlaid in front of every building, forming a hallway all the way down the street and culminating at Town Hall.

A virtual red carpet rolls down the middle of the street, disappearing into Town Hall at the far end.

Tears spring into my eyes as the Evertons start forward, marveling over the art and talking amongst themselves. I watch as they reach out and touch my brushstrokes.

There’s the portrait of Iggy and Alo, and next to that, Wren. Farther down is an up-close view of just the vine wrapping around her arm. All of Main Street looks like one giant painting.

“Come on, dahling ,” Morgan says, clicking at me like I’m a horse being ridden. “Let’s go!”

As we make our way down Main, I’m more and more overwhelmed by how beautiful my art looks like this. Betmal is a silent, comfortable presence in my mind, filling me with love as we walk.

We reach the end of the street before I’m ready, but the red carpet runs all the way over the lawn and into Town Hall, where red streamers hang from every window, her doors flung wide open. In the long hallway that leads to the auditorium at the back, lights are strung in a haphazard crisscrossed fashion, looking like stars to light our way.

“Come.” Betmal pulls me toward the front doors, glancing around almost like he’s looking for something. Slight hesitation fills our bond, and I push concern back.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“I just can’t wait to see it,” he lies.

“Betmal,” I warn with a growl. But the crowd pushes us up the stairs, through the doors, and down the long hall into the auditorium.

I was in here earlier to help set everything up. A table full of books sits on the stage with two chairs so Betmal and I can sit and sign books for the Evertons. My original artwork is placed at different stations throughout the room.

But I don’t recognize anything past that. This’ll be Morgan and Betmal’s doing. Those sneaky sneaks.

String lights hang down from the ceiling, giving the entire room a timeless, ethereal glow. Floating, flickering candles hover just below that. Herschel’s waitstaff glide around the room with trays of hand snacks, greeting our guests. But they don’t look like themselves. No, they’re glamoured to look like painted versions of themselves.

It is awesome!

I drag Betmal and Morgan in front of me. “Did you two?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan crows with a satisfied smile. “Yeah, we did.” She pushes Betmal and me toward the front of the room. “Now go enjoy yourselves!”

Looking up at my mate, I smile. “Thank you, my love.”

He bends down to breathe against my lips. “My only goal is making you happy, darling. Mission accomplished, judging by the smile on this beautiful mouth.”

“Mission accomplished.” I press my lips to his, forgetting about the milling crowd around us. When we part, I jerk my head toward the front. “Shall we sign some books, ma vampíre?”

He quirks a brow upward. “I love the French, my sweet.” He brings his mouth to my ear. “But if you have time to learn French and paint secret portraits, perhaps I’m not keeping you busy enough in the bedroom. I’ll remember that, ma siréne…”

A chill snakes down my spine, followed by a flush of heat outward from my core.

I lift my chin defiantly, knowing my eyes glimmer with need. “Maybe, Betmal. Maybe you need to work a little harder . Perhaps teach me a few new lessons?”

He places a finger under my chin, lifting until I stare into his gorgeous eyes. “I will remember this impudence when we return home.” He brings his lips to my ear again. “We haven’t explored all the kinks related to bondage and submission, but tonight seems a good time to begin your lessons in those.”

I stare at him, this shocking male who pulled me from a humdrum life and gave me a chance to chase my dreams.

He must see all the thoughts running through my head, or read them with his gift, or feel them in our bond, because he smiles. “I know, darling. Come, let’s enjoy this night, shall we?”

The next two hours fly by. Betmal and I visit every painting and talk to Evertons as they swing by to ask questions. Iggy and Alo stand with their portrait, and Iggy tells everyone all about it in a voice seven decibels too loud.

It’s adorable.

Eventually, Betmal and I take the stage, and the Evertons line up to have free copies of the welcome book signed. I write my name carefully, whereas he signs with giant, carefree swooshes of the gold permanent marker. I laugh watching him; it’s like he does everything—exactly the way he meant to without a thought about anyone else’s opinion.

When he bristles, rising from the chair, I freeze with sudden concern. He calls his enormous wings and leaps over the signing table, landing gracefully in the center of the room. The crowd parts around him as I stand, heart thudding rapidly as he stalks to the auditorium door.

And there, oh goddess, there in the door stands Caralorn, Malakat hovering by his side. At his right stands Prince Stefan, and behind him, filling the hallway, is the entire King’s Guard.