Page 9 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)

B efore taking in anything else about his surroundings, Rory’s whole world was filled with the keen grey eyes of the man he’d been kissing . The fucker had his face right over Rory’s. He had a hand splayed on Rory’s chest. They were both fucking naked .

Or might as well be, save for the kilt wrapped around the man he’d been kissing’s hips. Heat radiated from him. The guy was ripped . Abs like a set of coasters. Defined pecs that looked good enough to squeeze. Leaning over like he was about to climb on top and ride Rory like a motherfucking cowboy.

Rory’s cock plumped up painfully fast.

‘Get off,’ Rory croaked, bolting upright. He realised he was sat on his own bed. Hadn’t this fucker been trying to drown him a minute ago?

The man he’d been kissing raised his hands and backed right off, taking several steps away from the bed.

‘I’m not here to hurt you.’ His voice was oddly musical. Graceful, like the way he moved. ‘I promise I only want to help you, Rory.’

‘How do you know my name?’

The stranger nodded to Rory’s wallet on the bed. His driving license was laid next to it. ‘My name is Fionn.’

Finally, Rory had a name to go with the kiss. Fionn.

‘You tried to drown me,’ Rory replied thickly.

‘I saved you from drowning.’ The big bastard’s imposing stance sank a little. ‘But I see why it looks that way to you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about that.’

‘Sorry about kidnapping me and dragging me out of town? Where the fuck were you taking me?’

‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’

The part of Rory’s brain that was responsible for rational thought tried to get his attention. You should boot him out of your house, it told him. Stop asking questions. Call the police.

You are also still naked, pointed out the other part of Rory’s brain, the one that was currently dealing with a shock of dizzying arousal and confusion, and was far too excited by the entire situation.

It felt like one of those pornos where the strapping stud finds an implausible reason to wind up naked in the leading lady’s bedroom—except in this scenario, Rory couldn’t work out which one of them he wanted to be the leading lady.

Frankly, both versions of the scene playing in his head were equally depraved and mutually thrilling.

And, ultimately, terrifying.

What the fuck was wrong with him? A single kiss from a man and suddenly it was like he’d never been horny before. He’d definitely never been horny for a man, ever. Fucking no, sir.

But then, he’d never had a man as hench as this show the slightest interest in him, either. And suddenly there was one in his room, near-naked and ready to go.

Fionn’s eyes dropped to Rory’s cock and lingered, like he was scrutinising it. Rory’s cheeks set on fire. Just having the guy’s attention on it was like having his dick stroked.

Rory hoped none of this was obvious to the barely-clothed stranger in front of him. Or maybe he hoped it was. Maybe one of them could suck the other’s cock and call the whole crazy encounter a night.

Instead, the kilted asshole tried to have a conversation.

‘I asked before if you recognised me, and you didn’t. Is that the truth? If any of this,’ Fionn waved broadly at the entire room, ‘is a pretence, you must tell me now.’

‘Never met you before,’ Rory grunted back. He tried not to stare at the way Fionn’s silvery hair swished elegantly over his shoulder. ‘Never seen you before.’

Fionn nodded like it was the answer he was expecting. He squared his shoulders again, facing Rory down like they were about to wrestle. He looked damn near regal, all drawn up with self-importance. ‘Rory Douglas, what I am about to tell you will change your life forever.’

Kick him out, kick him out, Rory’s rational brain chanted.

Suck his cock, suck his cock, rebutted the other.

Fionn cleared his throat, standing to attention. ‘I represent the Blue Men of the Minch. A race humans commonly call merfolk, for we do live in the ocean. I am Prince Fionn, first Prince of the royal Bluefolk line. And it seems that you, Rory Douglas, are my soul mate.’

Ah, fuck no.

Rory’s boner deflated so fast he went light-headed. He jumped up from the bed, lunging for his boxers to cover up as quickly as possible. ‘Right. Nice one, mate. You’ve had a few too many, aye? Time to get the fuck out of my house.’

Fionn seemed pretty irritated by this. ‘Do you not feel the bond between us? The thread of fate that pulls us together?’

‘Honestly the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. I’m not into blokes, anyway.’ Rory hastily pulled on a jumper. His legs were still bare and a touch wobbly. Most of the nausea from earlier had dissipated, but there was still something… off… in his body.

He didn’t want to admit that even though his cock had lost interest, he still felt a magnetic draw to the madman in front of him. Something weird in his chest. It was all too much to process just now.

Then Fionn grabbed his wrist and Rory went rigid. There was a flash of something painful—anger, disappointment, hurt?—that wasn’t his. Fionn gasped and flinched away, staring at his own hand like it had produced a fountain of magical sparks.

‘It is real,’ Fionn seemed to mutter to himself. He shook his head and stepped into Rory’s space again. ‘I must show you, so that you will understand.’

Rory leaned away, afraid he was going to get smooched again. ‘Don’t even think about—’

Fionn turned blue.

Fionn the mad fucking merman turned motherfucking blue .

Rory squeaked and fell backward, landing on the bed. ‘What the fuck, ’ he gasped.

‘We can change the colour of our skin.’ Fionn puffed out his chest so that his tattoos seemed to ripple over his flesh.

The tattoo that Rory had first clocked on Fionn’s throat turned out to be the tip of a swirling, tatted iceberg.

The dark blue marks were almost geometric, containing patterns of straight lines, dots, and concentric circles.

But the designs were also fluid, hinting of animal shapes and maybe tools and also ocean waves.

The neck tattoos flowed down over Fionn’s shoulder, stretching diagonally across his right pectoral where they then petered out.

A similar series of tattoos covered much of his left thigh and hip, and from there the trail lifted diagonally upwards across Fionn’s torso, reaching for but not quite meeting the pattern spilling from his shoulder.

The effect pulled Rory’s eyes into the middle, to the blank space where skin the colour of a summer sky begged to be touched to prove it was real.

Rory’s cock twitched, suddenly, bafflingly, interested again.

It didn’t help that Fionn then bowed over him, making Rory hyper-aware that his legs were splayed wide open to receive Fionn’s rugged, tatted hips if he chose to close the distance.

Fionn stroked one side of his own throat: it caused several strange slits in his skin to flutter open. ‘These are my gills. For breathing underwater.’

Rory found himself paralysed between lust and terror. Lust for the rugged male body towering over him, and terror for the apparent monster that it belonged to.

‘What do you want with me?’ he wheezed, shrinking into the bed.

‘Do humans have soul mates?’ The monster blinked, and Rory caught a glimpse of a second pair of pale eyelids that slid back just a fraction of a second later underneath his normal ones. ‘Do you know what it means for me to say that you are mine?’

To Rory, it sounded an awful lot like the monster might be saying it wanted to shag him. ‘Soul mates aren’t real,’ he spluttered. ‘It’s just a— a— a thing you say about someone you really like. Not like you’re destined or— or—’

‘Fated?’ Fionn’s upper lip curled. ‘No, I didn’t think so either. But then I saw you. ’

Rory scrambled all the way across the bed on his back and fell head first onto the floor on the other side. He jumped to his feet, keeping the bed between them as a barrier.

‘You’ve got the wrong man,’ Rory garbled. He was beyond trying to make sense of the situation any more. His blood was running too hot and his brain was screaming mixed messages at him. ‘I’m not a mer… whatever you are. And I’m not interested. No way.’

To his abject horror, Fionn advanced around the bed.

‘I know you are human. I’ve never heard of this happening before in real life. But I can’t deny—’ the blue man backed Rory against the wall, ‘—that there is a pull between us. Do you feel it too, Rory?’

The monster reached out. His soft knuckles grazed Rory’s stubbled cheek. Rory swallowed hard, trapped in the stormy gaze of the man he’d been kissing .

‘No chance,’ he said faintly, before stepping in and pressing his lips to Fionn’s.