Page 8 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMATHEIA

D epths below, I couldn’t be any more embarrassed. Betmal should never have seen Thatraeia’s hissy fit. I’m going to lose this job before I ever get a chance to paint a stroke. But now that I know Uncle Caralorn plans to pawn me off to some other clan, I’m fully determined to help myself out of the lake and an unwanted arrangement.

Betmal keeps reassuring me that it has to be me who does the art, but damn, I hope he really means it. Because as much as I love my cousin, she won’t be able to keep this secret forever. Once Malakat or my uncle find out, all hells will break loose. I can only hope I’ve got enough money saved up by then to leave and start fresh somewhere else. Maybe somewhere that has no merfolk at all. Somewhere I can fully be myself. Perhaps I’ll even try to heal the guilt that’s part of why I don’t just fix my prosthetic issue. I’m aware I need to do work on that.

But the pain is a good reminder to be careful and cautious in my decisions. Except for this one, because I truly believe my happiness depends on it. I can’t go into a loveless marriage and foreign clan out in the sea. I won’t.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I apologize again as Betmal leads me along the forest path toward Sycamore Street.

“Never apologize for family insanity,” he says kindly, holding me steady as we step over a large log.

“Tell me more about your family.” I squeeze his arm as we slowly round a bend in the trail.

He flashes me a bright smile, twin fangs peeking out from his upper lip. “My son Abemet lives here. You probably know him as this haven’s Keeper, although he doesn’t serve in that role anymore.”

“Wait,” I blurt out. “The Keeper’s your son? Truly?”

Betmal smiles. He looks proud, eyes crinkling in the corners as he beams. “Not the current Keeper. You might have noticed he’s a centaur. But your former Keeper, yes.”

“I saw the resemblance when we met, but I didn’t realize…” I stare at his pale skin, those high cheekbones and thin but lush lips. Our former Keeper is very handsome, too. He must get it from his father.

“Definitely my son,” he says. “When I was mated, there were two of us males. We never had any testing done to see who actually sired Abemet, but we always knew he was mine. He’s like me in so very many ways, even apart from his good looks.”

I laugh. “You’re charming, though. I know Abemet relatively well, and he’s not much of a joke cracker.”

Betmal’s smile falls a little, growing thoughtful. “He used to be. The Keeper training stole that from him, as it used to do all Keepers. After he went through the program, I forced HQ to make…well, let’s call them updates. The training is far gentler now.”

He falls silent, still carefully guiding me down the path toward the street. I sense he’s slightly upset about the Keeper topic. That’s not a surprise. Becoming a haven keeper is an incredible honor, but the training that zaps them of their emotional nature, forcing them to be highly logical, also seems to zap most keepers of their empathy and good-naturedness. Abemet was an incredible leader, but very dry and serious. I respect him greatly, but he doesn’t get jokes.

We round a corner to find a beautiful old convertible with its top down parked by the side of the road. Betmal opens a door, helping me in. “I hope you like car rides, ma siréne. We’re going home the long way.”

“I’ve only been in a car once or twice,” I admit. Actually, the last time I was in a car, Abemet drove me from Doc Slade’s back to this very path, helping me to the lake so I could return home after the revenant attack.

But we don’t need to talk about that and ruin a peaceful moment.

Betmal slides gracefully into his seat, putting the car in gear.

I reach over and pat the back of his hand. “Tell me something I don’t know about vampires.”

He smirks. “What do you know of my kind, darling?” He glances over, grinning, then pulls the car into the street.

As we head toward Downtown Ever, I consider that. Finally, I laugh. “You’re dangerous, according to my cousin Thatraeia. You drink blood. And…honestly, that’s about it.” I’m not about to mention the sex bit. That’s the only other thing I’ve heard whispered about from time to time.

He chuckles. “Your cousin is right. I can be dangerous. Any monster can be under the right circumstances. But vampires can be beautiful too. For example, did you know we all have wings?”

I stare at his wingless back, wondering if there’s something I’m not seeing.

“Hidden, ma siréne,” he says with a playful wink. He leans slightly forward in his seat. “Watch.”

My mouth drops open as giant, shadowy black wings appear to grow from his back, lifting over the back of the seat. They twist and turn like smoke until they hang high above his head, fluttering in the wind. He flares them wide and curls the right one around me until I’m completely cloaked in darkness.

They’re stunning. Fucking beautiful.

“I had no idea,” I manage as I resist the urge to pluck at feathers that look so real one moment, then like smoke the next.

“You can touch, if you like.” He smiles, eyes on the road as his left wing flutters and folds behind him, resting over the back seat of the car and trailing in the wind.

“I’ve never read about this in a book.” Reaching up, I stroke my fingers along the feathers closest to me. They’re cool and soft but rigid in the center just like bird feathers. “What else can you tell me?”

He tucks his wing tighter so it drapes over my door and down across my thighs. I touch the feathers absentmindedly. He’s like a cat, resting in my lap to be petted.

“We are a highly sensual species.” He glances over at me with a big smile. “Vampires own most of the kink clubs in the haven system, and even in the broader human world beyond our borders. Sex and blood are deeply intertwined for us.”

Oh gods, he doesn’t seem to feel awkward at all bringing up the topic of sex. I can’t even fathom being that casual about it. Merfolk society is not like that at all.

“I can’t really understand that,” I admit. I’ve never even had sex. Aside from some rough, awkward fumbling when I was a teenager, I’ve barely even dated. I cast away the sour feelings that dredges up, determined to focus on Betmal and this incredible opportunity to learn more about the world outside of our lake.

I play with the feathers at the very tip of his giant wing, anxious to switch to a subject I might have an opinion about. “Have you ever met another monster with a prosthetic limb?”

He nods. “Yes, ma siréne, many over the centuries.”

I suck in a breath. I suspected as much, although Caralorn loves to make it sound like I’m the first monster in the history of monsterhood to be missing part of a leg.

I tug on a wing feather without thinking. “I wonder if they all have similar experiences to mine.”

“Some, yes.”

Silence falls between us as we drive along dappled roads and through beautiful forest along the outer edge of Ever. To my right, the glowing green ward is barely visible through the trees. Wind rustles my hair as I play absentmindedly with Betmal’s feathers.

When I risk a glance over at him, one side of his mouth is curved up into a partial smile. The silence is sort of nice, even though it seems like it should be awkward after my question. I let the quiet stretch long until we round a bend in the road, and I realize we’re already at his place. He pulls the car in the driveway. The house waves both front doors in greeting. I wave back, laughing as he puts the car in park.

When he hurries to open my door, I blush. He’s so thoughtful. I’m not accustomed to that.

“Darling, there are plenty of monsters with prosthetics who manage to get along without much pain. They run; they play sports; they live a full and normal life.” He taps my knee where the cup for my leg sits. “Shall we explore finding you a leg that fits better and allows you to move without pain?”

I rise, realizing we’re standing so close to one another. I don’t want to make this awkward. My leg is not his problem.

“It’s fine.” I force brightness into my voice. “Don’t worry about me.”

I deserve this pain, and I keep it around as a reminder.

Those are the words I don’t say, and they’re the truth.

“Ah.” He grins and swoops me into his arms for the second time today. “We are not done talking about this, woman.”

He carries me inside and straight to the kitchen, setting me on a barstool. Then he rounds the big concrete bar to the fridge. When he withdraws a platter covered in plastic wrap, I grin. The scents of cheese and something tangy like tomato drift to me. Licking my lips, I watch as he sets the tray down and removes the plastic covering.

“Let us eat something before you get started.” He pushes the offering across the island toward me. I was right about the tomatoes and cheese, but the large plate holds a few types of crackers, some dried fruit, smoked salmon and even seaweed kimchi, which shocks me because it’s a merfolk delicacy that I’ve never seen in Ever.

I raise a brow. “Seaweed kimchi?”

He smirks. “I’ve been around a long time, darling. This comes from a good friend of mine in the beautiful coastal haven of Renitar, which is half on land but takes up a giant section of sea, too. He assures me this is the best of the best, but I hope you like it.”

Grabbing a pinch of kimchi, I plop it on top of a cracker. The first bite fills my senses with the salt, sugar and the unique taste of truly excellent, perfectly harvested seaweed. Not the junk we’re able to grow in the lake.

Another thing that’s my fault.

“Depths, that’s good,” I murmur around a mouthful, even as I reach for another cracker. “My uncle insists on importing seaweed kimchi from a friend in an ocean-based haven because our crops don’t taste the same. This is just like that. Sometimes I think we should have just moved there, but merfolk are so predatory, we’d have to attack and take it over. I suppose he wasn’t willing to do that.”

Betmal’s crimson eyes drop to my mouth, narrowing even as his smile grows broad. His fangs peek over the edge of his lips.

I’m feeling playful, though, because this food is so delicious. And because, despite Thatraeia’s warning about how dangerous he is, I don’t feel that way around him. He’s been nothing but kind and charming. Perhaps he’s a spider, luring me into his web. But at the end of the day, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.

“Are all vampires as charming as you?”

He snorts. “Not hardly, darling. I’ve honed this charm over several thousand years of existence and quite a few business dinners. Plus, I was born with a certain amount of it.”

“Bunch of humility too,” I tease.

He shrugs. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn that humility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Why be humble if I can be this?” He gestures at himself, drawing my gaze to his upper body. Like always, he wears a collared shirt that’s open to reveal his chest and all those incredible tattoos. A low-cut vest highlights his trim waist, a chain leading to a front pocket hinting that he’s probably carrying a watch.

“What are you thinking about, Amatheia?” His voice goes low, deadly. It’s the croon of a predator about to pounce, and it raises the soft scales along the back of my neck.

“Wondering if I should have taken this job,” I say. “Because, as far as I can tell, you’re paying me to eat your food.”

He laughs and pushes the plate closer to me. “Why did you take the job, aside from my obvious charms and excellent negotiation skills?”

I grab another cracker and pile kimchi high on top of it, considering how much to tell him. Eventually, I decide I feel comfortable around Betmal. I don’t think he’d do anything to ruin my plan.

“I want to leave the lake.” I set the cracker down and fumble with my hands in my lap. “I want to live independently, away from Caralorn. I love most of my people, but I’ve never felt that I fit in.” I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him about the Prince Stefan development. That’s my issue to deal with.

Betmal cocks his head to the side. “If I can ask the blunt question, is it because of your leg that you feel this way?”

It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. Do I feel different because of my fin? Or does that just exacerbate how I already felt anyway, an orphan thrust into a rigid society, displacing Caralorn’s eldest in many ways?

“I suspect it’s all interconnected.” I bring one leg up, planting my foot on the chair seat and tucking my knee to my chest as I look down at my half leg. “I’d like to see the world. I’ve never been content to remain in one place. Taking this job means I might have a chance to do that.”

Betmal reaches across the table, placing a hand on my knee, his expression serious. “If that’s what you want, ma siréne, that’s what you shall have.”