Page 4

Chapter 4

Erik

I retreat back to the lagoon, pondering the deal I struck with the monster.

He needs to mate. And soon. But once he does, I will be free.

Will I die instantly? Or will my body simply revert to aging naturally after I am no longer cursed by the sea monster? Do I even have a preference? Any outcome will be welcome after my thousand years of imprisonment.

Since my body was possessed by the curse, I have maintained my youth and vigor. To any outsider, I likely appear no older than the thirty summers I was when my peoples’ ship capsized in the lake. Tall, strong, with my crew tattoos coiling down my arms and around my thighs, my body is that of a Viking warrior in his prime. My hair has grown wild in my many years alone, my beard is full and unbraided, and I gave up tying back my long, blonde mane centuries ago. The clothes I wore in the crash have long since deteriorated, and large furs are hard to come by along the loch’s shores. So in the summer, I leave my skin bare to the elements. Just one more reason I cannot venture onto the mainland with the humans about.

I lose myself in my thoughts, roasting fish on the open fire of the lagoon's sandy shore, when I feel the monster stir in the base of my stomach.

You will eat soon, I tell it.

We have company.

I start, sensing the presence of a human approaching. But who?

Silently, I creep through the island foliage towards the shore. As I peek through the trees, my heart constricts in my chest.

It is the woman from before, lying against a boulder on the sand, chest heaving with labored breaths. I feel my own breath catch as my eyes follow the movement, watching her ample breasts rise and fall with each intake of air.

The stirring in my stomach is back, but this time it is not the monster. Loyal to our agreement, he is mercifully silent, though I can sense him still coiled deep within me.

He is giving me space. To feel her presence and approach her as a man.

And the sensations I am feeling? Entirely my own human desires.

She is beautiful. Water drips from her flaxen hair, which fans out behind her head against the rock. I was already admiring her breasts as she breathed, watching the round, full swells bounce—not unlike the well-fed tavern maidens who populated my fantasies as an adolescent back home.

Pink nipples—delightful, pert buds—poke from the center of each one, and I find myself inexplicably yearning to suck one into my mouth, to taste her puckered skin. I shake my head.

I have been living in the water too long. Have watched too many fish with their pouting lips swarming in their mating schools.

Her lips, however, are full and dark, parted with her exertion. I watch as she lifts a strong arm to her round cheek, and swipes at a few damp hairs that curl around her face.

Her light hair, her strong arms… she reminds me of the women I knew from long before I ever sailed to this cursed land.

The rest of her body is lush and full. The tightening in my stomach, that old and familiar feeling that I know to be human need, almost overwhelms me.

I swallow as my eyes drift down to the sweet tuft of curly hair at the apex of her thighs. The water on her skin glints in the moonlight, and a sudden thought makes me shudder.

Is she as wet within?

I shake my head, casting my lust aside for now. There are more important questions to be answered now. How did she get here? I cannot believe that she would swim across the lake to the island. That is no simple feat; few humans attempt it, except for the occasional display of competitive athleticism they hold every midsummer. But this maiden is alone. There is no one to compete against. And she seems… tired.

Her eyes drift closed, and the water droplets that cling to her long lashes clump and fall in rivulets down her cheeks.

But then I realize that it is not only lake water causing the tiny rivers to fall. She is crying.

“What hurts you?”

She and I both jump at the words as they crackle from my mouth. My voice is rough, more growl than speech, from many decades of silence. I could not remember the last time I opened my mouth to speak aloud.

She turns toward me, squinting at the tree line. Realizing I have made a terrible mistake, but not seeing any way to rectify it without frightening her further, I creep out into the light from the cover of the low-hanging evergreen branches.

Her eyes widen. Like I did with her, she appraises my body, scanning her eyes up and down. She hesitates when her gaze travels below my waistline before darting back up to my face. Pink tinges her pale cheeks.

It is mesmerizing.

“Who are you? Why are you naked?”

Her voice, piercing and melodic, rings out like a bell in a storm. I cannot remember the last time I heard music like it.

“I could ask the same of you,” I respond, voice still rough from lack of use. She blinks, then looks down in shock before scrambling to cover herself with her arms. I shake my head and reach out a hand.

“No! Please do not cover yourself. You are too beautiful to hide.” Slowly, I approach her, taking small but steady steps across the sand. “What brings you here?”

Her tone is wary when she answers. “I come here every year. Well, not here. The cabin. On the main shore.”

I nod. I know I have not seen her on my shore before. I would have remembered a beauty like her sunbathing on my island.

“What about you? You look… like you’ve been here a while. Are you lost?” Her brow wrinkles, and silence stretches between us.

My chest shakes. Like bubbles rising deep from my stomach, peals of air propel themselves up my torso and out from my mouth in short barks. The sound cuts through the crisp night air, bouncing off the trees and echoing around us.

Am I… laughing?

When did I last laugh?

My whole body fills with warmth. My lips split into a wide grin, and my entire body feels… lighter from the action. This maiden… this woman, she made me laugh .

“In a way…” I begin, as the last of the laughter dies on my lips. Her face creases more, and I realize that the wrinkles between her brows are conveying concern. Concern for me. “No. I am not lost. This is my home.”

“You live here.” Her expression flattens.

She seems not to believe me.

“Yes. I have for many years. Alone.”

“And you… don’t wear clothes?”

Her eyes dart down below my waist yet again. My cock has been hardening as we parlay. I do not attempt to hide it. I have been alone for too long to be troubled by shame or embarrassment at my nakedness.

“No. I have no need.”

“It gets cold here in the winter, though, doesn’t it?”

“I stay out of the air in the winter.”

When the autumn winds shake all the brown leaves from the trees, I retreat to the depths of the lake. My monster and I both are more comfortable there.

Not that she needs to know that just yet.

“Huh.” Slowly, her hands drop to her sides. I feel myself harden further as I take in her full beauty once more.

Stunning . Simply stunning.

I hope I can convince her to stay. To mate. I do not understand the full consequences of the ritual He needs to perform to break the curse, but my monster did assure me she would be safe. Live. Thrive, He even said.

Perhaps after, she might even choose to stay. Perhaps, she could be mine.

My cock pulses at the thought, and the maiden’s eyes flicker to the movement. I smile.

“What is your name, lass?”

She raises her eyes to mine. The white light of the moon and stars glitter in their dark blue depths, and I find myself drawn to them like the lake waters in winter.

“Lillian.”

“Lillian,” I repeat, and for the first time, the sounds coming from my mouth don’t sound like they’re being pulled through the jagged rocks of the lagoon. Her name floats on my tongue and resonates in my chest, like the music that it is.

“My name is Erik.”