Page 13 of Tempting Triton (Mated Myths #2)

Elena

S crambling off Triton, my movements feel so much more fluid now beneath the water, as they do each time Triton shares his essence with me.

He groans, releasing my arms. True to his words, his hands did not wander.

I should have pulled away from him as soon as the mate bond overtook us, but my sense of self-control went out the proverbial window.

I feel like I had a fever as heat rushed through me, unable to tell what fueled my actions between the mate bond and the blood rushing to my aching core.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” I can feel the heat in my face, chest rising and falling rapidly as my heart beats wildly.

Triton clears his throat. “Do not apologize. I rather enjoyed it.” He smirks at me, his playful jabs distracting me from my discomfort.

“Ugh, of course you did.” I go to splash him again, but I forgot we’re underwater, so all I achieve is a slight change in the pressure of the water as it moves toward him, which makes me more annoyed. His smirk grows wider. How can his face look so kissable and punchable at the same time?

“Come, my Elena, let us return home. It has been a long day, and you need to sleep at some point. We will head out to the barrier tomorrow, and it is a long swim. You will need your energy.” He holds his hand out to me, and I surprise myself by slipping my hand into his rough one.

My body cannot help but be drawn to him.

His skin feels cool beneath mine, still warm from soaking up the sun’s rays above the surface.

Goose pimples radiate over his golden arms.

I let him pull me beside him as we make the swim back to the coral castle, weariness taking over me at the sleepless night and adrenaline dump of our fruitless search for the others.

It takes me a moment to realize we’re not traveling as quickly as we had on the way to the beach.

Triton’s movements are sluggish and slow.

“Are you okay?” I pull on his hand to stop him .

“Of course, my Elena, why would I not be?” He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I study him, puzzled. I can’t tell if it’s the depth at which we swim or if his beautiful golden skin looks muted.

“You’re just moving a little slower than usual.”

He scoffs. “I am not.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I will prove it. Let us race to the sunken containers, first one there wins.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

Oh, he’s so on. My competitive streak perks up. I didn’t become an Olympic medal winner for no reason, and if I’m perfectly honest, I’ve been itching to test out his speed since I realized the advantage I would have in a race, being able to breathe underwater.

There has to be a catch, though. “What does the winner get?”

His canines glint as he grins at me wickedly, sending shivers down my spine.

“If I win, I request a proper kiss.”

I open my mouth to protest. He gets to kiss me every time his essence wears off. He holds a finger up to make me pause .

“A kiss for no other reason but to feel your lips upon mine, not as an exchange of my essence. A kiss because you want to, not because you need to.”

I snap my mouth shut. Oof, he is clever. “What if I never want to?”

He shrugs his shoulders as if expecting my question. “Then it would be your choice. But if the last one was anything to go by, I imagine you do want to.” He smirks.

This smug ass. If I decide to never kiss him, he’ll never get to claim his prize.

It doesn’t seem like much of an incentive on his part.

Unfortunately, he’s right. I do want to kiss him.

Not that I’d ever tell him that. I’m still unsure if it’s my own reaction or some kooky magical tether that’s influencing my brain and my body.

“Fine. But when I win, you help me find a way home.” Two can play this game.

“Deal.” He quickly shakes the hand he’s still holding before dropping it and darting off, leaving me floating. “Last one there is a rotten oyster!” He laughs.

“That slippery little—” I growl and kick off after him.

I feel my brain clear with every repetitive stroke in the water, every tense muscle, every kick of my legs.

I gain on Triton, the metallic flash of his tail in front of me.

Calm washes over me, and I feel the sharp prick of tears at the corners of my eyes.

If you’re underwater, can you even cry, or does your body already recognize that you’re surrounded by salty water?

I gain inches at a time on Triton, a smile slowly creeping across my face.

Not needing to take a breath is definitely an advantage.

He glances back at me, and his eyes widen, shock evident on his face.

My tentative smile morphs into a wide grin when he realizes I’m gaining on him.

His tail pumps harder, but if he wants to play dirty, so can I.

I reach out with both hands and grab at the base of his tail, just above his flippers, and with all the strength I can muster, I yank Triton backwards, pulling my body along his with my hands until I’ve scaled the length of him and can use his shoulders to kick off in front of him.

I feel a rush of water behind me as he swipes at my ankles with a growl so deep, I can feel it vibrate deep in my gut.

I laugh, joy bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.

I feel like it’s been so long since I laughed.

My strokes become long and sure, and I’m cast back into the memories of swimming lanes and the crack of starting pistols. I feel powerful and confident.

I reach the handful of shipping containers now resting on the seafloor and let myself sink down to sit atop one while I wait for Triton to catch up.

He should have been right behind me. I’m fast, but I’m not that fast. I rest for a minute, expecting to see him approaching from the blue at any moment now, but when he doesn’t appear, dread smothers my joy back down to the recesses of my mind. Where the hell is he?

Ever so slowly, a figure approaches, his tail lazily moves up and down in the water, and relief floods me as he nears.

It’s short-lived as I realize something isn’t right.

I curse. I knew something was off with him earlier.

I race to meet him; his skin looks dull, goose pimples still pepper his arms, and shivers wrack his body.

I throw one of his arms over my shoulder to support his drifting body and kick us towards the containers.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I feel his forehead, checking his temperature, an automatic, entirely human response. I don’t know why, or what I’m expecting, or what to even look for to tell if a merman is well or not. But I feel useless if I don’t do something .

His teeth chatter. “Th-the water is c-cold. Slowing m-me d-down.”

“The water feels fine to me?” I rub his arms to bring some warmth back into his body, feeling a sense of déjà vu all over again.

“M-mer are m-more sensitive.” Of course. I smack my forehead. That’s why they migrate for the winter.

“Okay, okay. Um.” I frantically look around me for something that can help. How can I get him warm enough for us to travel back to his home? “Wait here.”

He nods jerkily, and I dart inside the shipping container beneath us, hoping there might be something I can use. Blankets or clothing, anything, and not just slabs of useless white goods.