Page 6

T he next morning, it was raining.

I sat on the comfortable bench on my porch, where I was protected from the ghastly weather by a wide overhang, and sipped my second coffee of the day.

Rain pounded on the roof with steady, percussive thuds.

The strong wind tossing it about in great gusts was so bitterly cold, I was amazed that it wasn’t hailing, or even sleeting.

Water spilled over the edge of the roof as the downpipe gurgled, struggling to discharge the overflow from the gutters.

Sayan stood before me, frowning. He’d been awake early again, although instead of teasing me out from under the covers, he’d been content to lie curled around me until I got up.

He’d even waited—more or less patiently—as I made my first coffee and toasted thick slices of bread cut from a three-day-old loaf, but while I was in the middle of eating, he’d abruptly whisked himself outside, letting the door slam behind him as he always did.

When I followed him out, bundled up in a warm coat and holding a steaming earthenware mug between my hands, he must have known that we weren’t going swimming.

He pretended otherwise.

“Hurry and drink your disgusting coffee,” he said as soon as I lifted the mug to my lips. He touched a finger to the bottom of the mug and helpfully tilted it. “Then we shall go to my lake.”

I almost choked on the coffee, pulling back before he could tip the lot straight down my throat.

He shifted from one foot to the other then stuck a hand out from under the shelter of the roof and held it there to catch the rain in his palm. His fingers opened and closed slowly.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood for a swimming lesson today,” I said. The sky was grey and thick with rainclouds. It might clear up later, but if I had to guess, we were in for it for a few hours yet. “It’s not a very appealing prospect.”

He stared at me, confused.

“It’s horrible weather,” I said.

Sayan tucked in his chin and widened his eyes. He couldn’t have looked more offended. “It is glorious weather.”

“For ducks.” And, I supposed, naiads.

He frowned. “Was that one of your human jokes?”

“Yes.”

“It was not funny.”

I set my coffee mug on the bench and leaned forwards, taking hold of the backs of his thighs to pull him closer.

After a moment of resistance, he allowed me to draw him between my parted knees. His hands went to my face and he lifted it, gazing down at me with hunger and disappointment. We watched each other quietly.

“You really do not like this weather?” he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

“I don’t.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. “You really do?”

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled, releasing the deep breath with a sigh. “I do.”

“I prefer it when the sun is shining and the air is warm.”

He gave me a sceptical look. “You are living in the wrong place for warm air,” he said, with all the authority of a naiad who’d spent his first ever winter awake and on land.

Winter hit the north of the kingdom hard, locking it for months in ice and deep falls of snow. Despite that, Sayan had continued to strut around naked, insisting that he wasn’t cold.

He continued to go out to his lake every day without fail to do whatever it was he did, but while he wasn’t outwardly bothered by the temperature, the season had affected him in other ways.

He’d turned into a soft and snuggly kitten.

He’d happily spend hour after hour by the fire, more often than not choosing to lie on the floor.

He’d join me on the sofa for lovemaking, but otherwise, he’d decided that such human nonsense wasn’t for him.

I had no complaints. For one thing, it was a tight fit with both of us on it.

For another, I liked to see him there at my feet, whether he was poised and graceful or spreading his long, elegant limbs with abandon all over my expensive rug.

Winter had quieted him.

Spring and summer, it was safe to say, drove his appetites and desires up.

Along with his energy. Even now, he was swaying gently in my grip.

I squeezed the backs of his thighs, feeling the lean muscles tighten and relax under my palms. “Go,” I told him. “Your lake is waiting. When you are finished with your lake, I will be waiting.”

He bit his lip in hesitation. “Right here?” he checked, pointing at the wooden floor beneath his bare feet

“Here at the cabin, not here on the porch. I’ll be inside.”

Hiding from the rain, like any sensible man who had no other demands on his time. Reading a book, catching up on my correspondence, and drinking more coffee.

All by a crackling fire.

“You will not go into town?” he said.

“Not today. Tomorrow.”

“Unless it is a clear day tomorrow. If it is clear, we will go to the lake, and I’ll teach you to swim again.”

Was it wrong that I hoped it would continue to rain?

Yes. Wrong, and pointless. I wasn’t going to get out of this swimming business.

“Whatever the weather, I still have to go into town. I can do that in the afternoon. We can go to the lake in the morning.”

It was worth it, to see his smile.

I would never understand the bond he had with his lake, but it charmed me. And he wanted, desperately, to share his joy with me.

I glanced at the rain, still sheeting down, and reconsidered. It wasn’t that cold. Should I…?

Sayan’s smile turned knowing. “Not today,” he said, leaning down and kissing me sweetly. “Tomorrow is soon enough. Although I think that you are quite mad to not appreciate all of this water.”

He released my face and slipped out of my hold, darting off the porch in a blur of movement. One instant he was before me, and the next he was standing out in the open.

He was drenched in seconds.

The rain gusted hard against him, whipping his long hair to one side, and he laughed with delight. His beautiful body shimmered, the shape of him blurred by the veil of thick rain hanging between us. He raised his arms out to the sides, arching his back and feeling , with every part of his body.

I’d seen him do the same in the throes of making love.

Using both hands, he scraped his wet, dark hair off his face. He held still for another moment, staring at me through the curtain of rain, and then he was gone.

Our next lesson went about as well as the first.

“I don’t know what that means !” I said in frustration. “You keep telling me to float but I don’t know how!”

“You just…you float. You float !”

“Sayan—” I growled.

“You relax. Let the water take you. Float !”

He could not get his head around the fact I was entirely too preoccupied with the water taking me.

Specifically, with the water going up my nose, down my throat, and into my lungs.

I hadn’t even realised that I was afraid of the lake until Sayan tried to get me to frolic in it with him.

When I was traveling around the countryside in search of a remote and peaceful location in which to spend my quiet retirement, I’d heard talk of Laskeld and its beautiful lake. I’d heard talk of its naiad, too, although I’d dismissed that as nonsense designed to make fools of tourists.

I’d gone some distance out of my way to come and explore the area, took one look at the lake, and it was love at first sight. I’d been instantly captivated.

But I’d never once considered dunking myself in it.

Perhaps because I truly was the ignorant city-dweller Sayan had called me a few moments ago when, once again, I failed to let the water take me, and ended up spluttering and thrashing instead.

The problem was, I didn’t want to surrender.

I didn’t want to lose control.

I wanted to be in control.

We stood waist-deep in the water, glaring at each other.

Sayan’s face was a study of frustration and determination. He narrowed his eyes at me, jaw tight and chin lifted.

My lips twitched in amusement. I leaned into him, resting a hand on his chest. “My love,” I said, “I really think you should let someone who once had to learn how to swim teach me.”

His hand covered mine at once, holding it there. “ I once learned, Erik!”

“All right,” I said. “Then someone who learned in the last ten, twenty, or thirty years. Not in the last two or three millennia.”

“Two or three? I am not an infant . No. I will teach you. It is not hard. I do not know why you cannot do it on your own. Here.” He grabbed me, lifted me, and tried to set me on my back again.

There was no more sensual coaxing, no kissing or teasing me into it. We already knew that I could do it if he was distracting me and my eyes were closed. It was when my mind registered what was happening that I locked up, panicked, and went under.

“Let’s do it again,” he said, attempting to lie me on the surface of the water as if he was setting a dinner plate on the table.

I kicked and thrashed, my head went under, and once again he hauled me out and up with an aggrieved sigh.

As soon as I’d stopped coughing and spluttering, I launched myself at him and got my legs around his waist and an arm around his neck.

His eyes brightened.

I kissed him hard, pushing for entry and driving deep inside when he yielded with a soft little moan, his hands on my arse holding me steady.

His short breaths struck my wet cheeks. I drew back in slow increments, kissed him one last time, and pulled away.

“I am going into town this afternoon,” I said, “and I will ask Henrik Berglund for advice.”

Sayan scowled.

I set a finger over his lips. He pouted.

“You want me to swim with you, don’t you?” I said.

He opened his mouth to reply, but I playfully pinched his lips shut. His eyes opened wide, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d done.

“That was a rhetorical question,” I said. “I will ask Henrik how one goes about it. As a human. I’ll ask him to teach me, or help me find someone else to teach me.”

Sayan’s green eyes were shadowed and conflicted.

I released his lips. “And then you can show me your lake.”

The conflict bled away and was replaced with eagerness. “I can take you to my island. To my waterfall!”

“There is a waterfall near here?” It was the first I’d heard of it.