Page 5 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

3

Morgana

W hat happened last night?

The fragments of the dream I had awoken from hadn’t left me: a whirlpool of darkness, shadowy figures crying out, a rushing sound, blood flowing into the water. My blood . All the while, unblinking red eyes watched me. A chill ran down my spine as I recalled the sensation of something reaching out to me from the shadows.

Another cold, steely morning peeked through the curtains. I pulled myself from the bed and moved shakily toward the window. There was a song about drunken sailors stuck in my head, and I found myself humming it . I couldn’t remember where I had heard it before. Perhaps I’d made it up in my dream.

Finn—that was the dark-haired man’s name from yesterday. I’d been with him last night. Strange, I didn’t remember leaving him. Had I come home and poured myself one too many red wines?

Shit , it was a workday.

I scrambled down the stairs. Granddad was not in his bedroom, and the rest of the house was dark. Barry must have come by to pick him up in his old truck while I slept. They would be out on the water by now.

The thought of seeing Finn ignited a flicker of excitement in my belly.

What is wrong with me?

I didn’t have much experience with men, but I was pretty sure that if you met a strange man and then woke up unable to recall the night’s events, you should not be fantasizing about them.

I studied myself in the bathroom mirror; I looked pale. I rubbed my hands over my face. Ugh! The patch of hair on the back of my wrist!

I scrabbled in the bathroom cabinet for tweezers, wincing as I plucked it away hair by hair.

Skye was chewing a pink piece of gum that matched her pink lips. Her dark hair was piled high on her head in an elegant bun. I had to admire the effort she put into her appearance each day. My hair prickled around my shoulders as I scoured my satchel for the key to Celtic Keepsakes.

“I thought you might have dressed to impress the dark and mysterious man.” Skye giggled as she stood patiently, poised, waiting for me to open the door so she could follow me inside and continue interrogating me.

“Geez, thanks. And his name’s Finn,” I muttered, fumbling with the lock until it opened.

“How do you know that? Don’t tell me you talked to him.” She rushed in after me.

“Yeah, briefly. Down at the jetty.” I feigned business at the cash register.

“Well, what was he like?” Skye leaned on the glass counter and peered at me with wide nut-brown eyes.

“We didn’t talk much—just exchanged names. He’s just moved here, and then . . . I don’t know. I think I fainted.” Saying it out loud made me feel even more ridiculous.

“Oh my gosh! What did he think?” Skye squeaked. She was high on the drama.

“I don’t know. I woke up in bed.” I felt my face flush and wished Skye would return to her store.

“He could have drugged you, for all you know! He looks like the sort to do that kind of thing. He dresses strangely and hangs around all on his own . . .” Her reprimand trailed off into silence as the bell over the door jingled.

Finn smiled as he entered the store and strode up to the counter. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, not at all,” Skye muttered. “I was just leaving.” She threw me a look of warning before turning and strutting out the door. The sound of her patent-leather boots only died away once she reached the carpet of her adjacent shop.

Finn’s loose black sweater was rolled up at the sleeves, and the tattoos on his forearm were on display. I moved out from behind the counter, grasping his hand to get a better look, and he smiled down at me—an inviting smile. His skin was cool beneath my burning palm, and the rest of the shopping center fell away, replaced by our closeness. My blood seemed to be coursing faster than usual.

The tattoo was like nothing I had ever seen; it was a work of art. Around his right wrist was a cuff-like structure comprising three lines. On top of them were symbols. They looked like runes, but I couldn’t place them. The rest of it wrapped elegantly around his upper arm, forming an intricate band of interwoven Celtic knots. Between the weaving, there were dark spots. Some were filled with strange markings, but in others, there was imagery. One encompassed a small cluster of fossilized shells; another looked like the moon above a dark horizon. The same strange runes that formed the bands around his wrists also ran up and down some of the arcs. The design was intricate, yet it had a raw, unrefined edge.

He stepped closer to me, and I liked the way he smelled. Something about it was familiar—like sea salt blowing off the waves. I pushed the sleeve of his sweater up further to see the rest of the ink, heat rising in my cheeks. The air grew tighter, closer , between our bodies.

“This is amazing,” I breathed, unable to downplay my curiosity. The soft hum of the heating system was the only sound that accompanied the blood pumping in my ears.

Then I noticed the scars. They were barely visible under the ink, but I could see them in the bright light of day, winding around his wrist and up his forearm. It was as if the tattoo had been cleverly designed to cover them.

A shadow flickered across Finn’s face as he caught my gaze tracing the patterns. He tensed as if about to pull his arm away but hesitated, then said, “Do you make a habit of latching on to handsome strangers?” His voice was an icy drawl. He rolled his sleeve back down, and his eyes met mine—cold, distant, as if my touch had repulsed him.

I was drawn from my trance as the leather goods shop across the way swam back into view through the glass windows. I was still holding his wrist.

Shit, shit, shit.

I let it drop, wiping my palms on the side of my jeans. Why had I grasped his hand in the first place?

Pretend you’re incredibly interested in tattoos.

“Did a tattooist do that? I—I was thinking about getting one.” A lie. I dug my hands into the pockets of my pants and glanced out the window.

“No, it was a friend of mine.” He shrugged. Even in the daylight, his eyes were the ocean’s black, but his irises had flecks of gray.

“How are you feeling? That was strange last night.” He grinned as if shaking off the shadows.

That’s right— last night. The touch of his skin had made me forget that I had woken up in my bed unable to remember how I’d gotten there.

“What happened?” I tried to act nonchalant, but the question cascaded from my lips in a gush.

Finn moved to lean against the glass counter, and his iciness was replaced with the same air of confidence he’d had at the jetty. “I suppose you could say you fainted toward the sea. I grabbed the back of your coat to stop you from falling in and then carried you away from the edge. The water here could give you hypothermia, and a storm was coming.”

I searched his eyes and thought I could see something welling in them—it looked like curiosity.

“Oh.” I blushed at the thought of being carried in his arms.

“I took you home. I didn’t know what else to do. Your granddad let me in, and I sat by your bed for about an hour until the storm passed. When it looked like you were sleeping peacefully, I left.” He stepped forward, and I thought he might reach for my hand. Instead, he seemed to think better of it and moved back, regarding my face.

“You sat by my bed?” My cheeks burned as I thought about the underpants that might have been strewn on the floor. “But wait! How did you find my house?” I tilted my head, studying his expression.

I thought I saw his cool exterior falter, but then he smiled. “You regained consciousness and told me. Then you fell asleep again in my arms. I think you were having a bad dream.”

I remembered the familiar nightmare I had awoken to and hoped I hadn’t been thrashing about.

“Is this the first time something like this has happened to you?” Finn’s eyes seemed to bore into mine.

Each moment of silence echoed between us like a heartbeat. It was as if he thought my secrets would be revealed if he looked hard enough. I liked that he seemingly found me interesting. My body was responding to the stare in a way that I had never experienced, so I tried to sense his feelings despite myself. Nothing .

“I don’t habitually faint into the water, if that’s what you’re asking.” My emotions wavered between grateful and embarrassed. “Thank you,” I added, as a shudder worked its way down my spine. What would have happened if he hadn’t been there? The water was freezing, and I would have fallen into it while unconscious.

“I couldn’t have my only friend here drowning now, could I?” He pushed off the counter, closing the space between us again.

At that moment, a couple of shoppers entered.

“I better go,” Finn said. “I’ll see you in a few days. I’m really glad you’re okay.”

He lingered for a moment, and I wondered if he would say something else. Instead, he gave me one last smile as he turned and stepped out of the store.

I was left speechless. My cheeks were hot, and my fingers were trembling. To my horror, I was sweating. Gross!

Why would he not see me for a few days? My body had become a shaky mess, but . . . I would miss this feeling.

“So, do you think you’ll sleep with the mysterious lad?” Skye said, playing with the marshmallow in her hot chocolate.

She had insisted we meet for dinner at the café beneath the Ferris wheel. It was at the end of the lane, tucked behind the coffee cart. Glass panels extended from the weathered stone, sheltered by a tin roof shading retro blue patio furniture. We were seated in the outdoor area, a heater humming overhead.

“Just this morning, you were telling me he was dangerous!” I put down my burger and wiped my fingers on the blue-and-white napkin, which matched the table and chairs. “Like he would want to sleep with me anyway,” I added. But my skin prickled at the thought of being in Finn’s arms. I knew they had already held me, yet try as I might, I couldn’t recall it.

“I think he does.” Skye popped a fry between her pink lips without smudging her gloss. “Why would he have found you last night and then again this morning? Guys only want one thing.” She giggled.

“Intelligent conversation?” I raised my eyebrows as I watched the sun dip behind the distant cliffs.

Skye must have noticed the grimace I was trying to hide, because she pressed, “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it before?”

My stomach turned, and I let my face answer the question.

“A guy like Finn would have slept with heaps of girls!” Skye chewed on her cheek before adding, “I bet he’s the kind of guy who expects women to go all the way because he asks them to.”

The nausea in my gut expanded.

“There’s no way I’d go all the way just because he asked me to!” I folded my arms across my chest.

“But you’re twenty years old . . .” Skye’s nostrils flared delicately.

I laughed off her inquisitive stare, but my throat tightened.

There was no denying it: I did want to do all kinds of stuff with Finn, but there was a reason I was still a virgin. I thought back to my first sexual encounters. In these moments, the emotions had run so strong they blinded me. My fear and self-disgust were at the forefront, mingling with what I sensed. I knew this wasn’t normal, because if it were, other people wouldn’t enjoy foreplay or the act it leads to.

Skye must have seen a look pass over my face, because she said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You’re right. Finn, or any guy I encounter at this age, is likely to be a hell of a lot more experienced than I am.” I grinned as if to shrug the statement away, but it had been playing on my mind.

What if I sensed the same intense lust in him that I had found in the others? I hadn’t been able to pick up on Finn’s feelings at the jetty or in the store, but people’s emotions always became more unguarded when they were aroused.

“But you have something wonderful to offer.” Skye clasped her hands together in glee. “A virgin is a rare find these days, so don’t freak out. I’ll tell you anything you need to know.” She gave me a little wink.

“You can’t say stuff like that. It’s not the Middle Ages. I am not a sacrificial token to be led to Finn in a white dress.”

“Um, hello . I am comfortable in my sexuality. Don’t slut shame me for speaking my truth!” Skye snapped her fingers at me in a way that said I am woman, hear me roar while completely missing the point.

A chilly ocean breeze ruffled our hair. I inhaled—salt mixed with seaweed and fish. Another gust of wind hit us, and I was overcome with an urge to kick over the table and run down to the shore.

“Are you okay?” Skye’s concerned voice brought me back from my reverie.

My knuckles were white against the table’s edge, and I had raised myself out of my seat. Was I going insane?

I whipped my head around the café. If the Ferris wheel had been active, it would have been the hottest eatery in town, but thankfully, tonight, it only held three other diners.

“I . . . I was just enjoying the wind,” I muttered, immediately wishing I had formulated a less weird excuse.

“I think the dark and mysterious lad is starting to rub off on you.”

Skye giggled, and my shoulders, which had become tense, relaxed. She scrunched up the wrapper from her burger and aimed for the waste bin. It ricocheted off the edge of a nearby table and tumbled to the ground. “Damn it!” She stared at me in a pouty way.

“There was no way you were going to make that shot!” I scoffed, gesturing toward the trash can on the other side of the venue in the wheel’s shadow.

As I got up to retrieve the wrapper, the wind brushed against me, sending a chill up my spine. The hairs on my neck rose, as an eerie sense of foreboding settled in.

Behind me, Skye was bent over, texting on her pink iPhone in the open café’s warm glow. I exhaled, tossing the rubbish into the bin, then froze. A flicker of movement stirred in the shadows beyond.

Was someone watching me? There, from the gloom around the pedestal of the wheel. I squinted into the dusk. I knew someone was there. I sensed them.

“What are you looking at?” Skye’s voice made me jump. She had emerged behind me.

“Nothing. I thought I saw . . .”

Something moved again, followed by a flash of silver. I stormed into the darkness.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Skye was at my heels.

We reached the bottom of the wheel, and its white frame opened above us.

Skye let out a frightened gasp behind me as she, too, noticed the man.

Cloaked in black, he moved swiftly, the fabric gliding over the grass as he hurried away, but just before vanishing into the night, he glanced back, his gaze lingering.

Skye gripped the back of my arm as the meager glow from the café hit the inside of his hood. Her fear washed over me, mingling with my own. The man’s face shone silver in the half-light, and I could see his cheekbones were sunken. The sockets of his eyes were colorless chasms. Then in a swish of his cloak he disappeared into the darkness.

I couldn’t move, but Skye was dragging me toward the café. I stumbled after her, still I didn’t take my eyes off the spot where the man had been.

“What on earth was that creep doing?” Skye was shaking when we reached our table.

“I don’t even know why I chased him.” I was astonished at my boldness.

“What is that awful smell?” Skye wrinkled her nose.

I sniffed. “It smells kind of like the sea.”

“Aye, it smells like something died!” She dry retched. “I’ve officially got the creeps! I’m driving you home tonight. This town is full of weirdos.” She gathered her stuff from the table, still scrunching her nose.

“Thanks,” I muttered, slinging my satchel over my shoulder.

I didn’t feel like walking alone on the cold, dark docks tonight. The hairs on my arms were still standing on end. There had been something unnatural about that man. I couldn’t shake the image of his silver-tinged skin and how his cheekbones jutted, skeletal and hollow.