Stolen by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 4) Page 4

  Vaw Vaw was the kindly Portuguese grandmother they’d never had. She’d lived next door to their grandfather’s old mansion and had taken care of the girls like her own. Aside from their aunt, Vaw Vaw was the next closest thing to family they had.

  “Milly…” Zara bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was spend a family dinner together with Elan. “You couldn’t refuse?”

  “Well, actually, I tried.” Her smile faded. The kettle hadn’t started, even though the light had turned on, and she smacked it with her open palm until it made a second, more decisive, click and began to boil. “Grateful as I am for her cooking, I knew you probably wanted to spend the first night together alone.”

  Zara stopped. “Alone?”

  Milly looked up at the sharp tone. “You don’t?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Your missing husband and baby emerge from the sea and you don’t want to spend time with them as a family?”

  Oh, she had it all wrong. “Zain’s terrified of me and I barely recognize Elan.”

  “I thought you said he was your soul mate.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Zara gripped the clothing bag tight enough to crumple it. “I’ve grown up since then and I have no interest in him whatsoever.”

  “Zara?” Elan stopped in the doorway, interrupting them. “Ah.”

  His hard physique was deliciously outlined against the now sunny skies. Including the massive, thick cock she’d admired.

  In the past, she used to wrap her mouth around him and suck. Relish his escalating cries as her perfect warrior lost control and became savage with desire. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he would pull her mouth to his and crush her in his kiss. She would clasp him, squeeze his waist between her legs, and rub her liquid desire all over him.

  Zara squeezed her thighs together. She had no interest.

  Milly gasped at his full frontal nudity and turned her back. “Excuse me. Sorry. I’ll grab my book bag from the car.” She darted out the back door.

  Right. That conversation about her sister’s misunderstanding was not over.

  Elan tilted his head. True curiosity challenged his noble features.

  Zara brought him the clothing bag. “Put these on.”

  “Is your sister alright?”

  “Yes.” At his continued concern, she crossed her arms. “Nudity in front of other humans is disrespectful.”

  His expression changed to regret. He was always so considerate. Like a knight. She’d fallen fast and hard despite her best intentions.

  And that was not happening again.

  He took the clothes bag. “I will take more care in future.”

  “Good.”

  “Please convey a proper apology.”

  “Sure.” They had talked about a million things under the water but a few basics had slipped through the cracks. Zara grabbed the sailor suit she’d set out and pushed past him. “I’ll put on Zain’s diaper.”

  The baby was on his belly kicking air. Worry twinged in her guts.

  She knelt at his side with the thin diaper.

  Zain looked up and studied her with his wide, dark eyes.

  “Hello.” Her voice cracked.

  His gaze on her remained steady, dark brown flecked with aquamarine. Their irises had combined colors into Zain’s, just like their names were echoed in his. Combining names had been Elan’s idea. Zain was a mer name, but it also sounded like “Zane,” and could sound normal to humans, too.

  She cleared her throat. “Don’t be alarmed.”

  He wiggled uncertainly.

  She sucked in a deep breath. The problem was her. Her soul light. Meaning, her nerves, her baggage, her issues. She was tied in knots of shame and sadness and memories, and she had to move past it for both their sakes.

  “I’ll be fast,” she promised, more to herself than to him.

  Before she could psych herself out, she grabbed his waist, sheltered his head, and flipped him onto his back.

  He was smaller and slighter than other one-year-old babies, and he wiggled and whimpered his protests on the warm tile.

  His legs felt smooth yet rubbery, skin thick from scales. He had ordinary knees, the usual male baby equipment, an innie belly button, a chubby belly, and skinny arms. Skin above his rubbery toe-foot-ankle scales was ordinary softness like any human baby.

  Her baby.

  Zara’s heart thumped hard.

  Zain’s expression turned frowny.

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Calm.

  Zain calmed as well. It worked! He continued to stare at her.

  A lump formed in her throat. She was touching her son. Her son.

  He began to frown again, his little forehead wrinkling, and she quickly strapped on the diaper as he arched his back and rolled over onto his front again.

  Whew. He was diapered.

  He made the swimming gestures, scooping air uselessly, unbothered by the diaper.

  Zara pulled the blue-and-white sailor onesie over his big head, fluffing up his dark brown hair. He mewled. She pushed through, tugged his arms through the holes, and snapped it under the diaper butt.

  Diapered and dressed. Ready for Vaw Vaw. Zara let out a huge sigh.

  On her other side, Elan pulled on a white T-shirt with another faded dive shop logo and long navy-colored athletic shorts. “You did that with skill.”

  She snorted. “Shocking, right?”

  “No. You are his mother, so some things come naturally.”

  Her heart squeezed. She wanted it to be true. “That’s the maternal instinct I was talking about.”

  “Of course.”

  Elan studied her as intently as Zain had. Seeing through her. Probably sensing her “soul light” or whatever mermen saw in people. Waiting, wanting things from her she couldn’t give.

  Just like before.

  “We are meant to be a family,” he said quietly.

  His intoxicating nearness was dangerous, but his words — those were always the most dangerous of all.

  She stood. “We’ll talk after dinner.”

  “You cannot avoid this.”

  Yes, she could.

  Zara angled away from him. “My ex-neighbor’s cooking.”

  He looked like he had much more to say but he wisely fell silent and gathered up Zain. The car ride across the small island was short. Vaw Vaw’s two-story gray house, made from island stone, had cheery bright red shutters and doors. Under the purple flowering vine-trailed veranda, older adults chatted, sharing drinks and smokes, at the casual blue-washed tables and wooden chairs. A small retaining wall garden overflowed with tomato bushes and fragrant herbs.

  A passel of children raced across the green lawn toward Milly’s car as they got out. They clustered around Milly, asking for the treats — loaves of American-style banana bread — she carried under one arm.

  Elan positioned himself in front of Zara, a powerful shield, and asked quietly over his shoulder. “Is this safe?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “This is not your family?”

  Ah. “These ones are safe.”

  Elan cautiously moved forward, his powerful form filling the consignment store T-shirt and shorts. Zain straightened, alert, in Elan’s arms.

  Elan had always been protective, but his determination to face danger first was more pronounced. In a foreign environment, above the surface, he prioritized her in a way no man ever had.

  She’d liked it before. She liked it now. Too much.

  Shaking off her feelings, Zara deliberately walked in front of Elan and greeted the extended uncles, aunts, brothers, and nephews.

  He tensed behind her.

  Oh, because she was clasping hands, or “touching,” people other than “her husband.”

  She tried to speak to him out of the side of her mouth. “It’s okay to touch other people on the surface.”

  He replied through clenched teeth. “I know.”

  But he made no move to return their tentative gr
eetings.

  Feeling his tension, Vaw Vaw’s relatives fell silent.

  She understood.

  They were normally very friendly, but had never seen a merman before, and didn’t want to get the first all-important greeting wrong. How should she explain that she was the one causing his tension?

  “Relax,” she ordered him.

  His aquamarine eyes fell into deeper stress lines. In his culture, a mer could only touch his own bride. Any male that accidentally touched another’s bride, even to save her life, risked losing limbs or exile. Watching Zara touch these men clearly twisted his feelings, and he refused to touch any females himself. He would relax this taboo the same time Zara happily dove into the ocean, which was currently looking to be never.

  Vaw Vaw burst from inside the house, diminutive arms wide and white smile wider. “Zara! And your husband and baby.”

  Her accent was only lightly tinged; her English was excellent from working her teen and early adult years at the American base on Terceira. Despite her age, her dark hair was only threaded with gray and thick old-lady glasses rested on her stub nose, held on by a pink beaded lanyard.

  Behind Zara, Elan held his breath and braced.

  Vaw Vaw smooshed Zara against Elan, hugging them at the same time. For being such a small woman, she packed a powerful hug. “Welcome! Welcome to my home, my new friends.”

  Elan trembled. The urge to explode was barely held back by his will.

  Zara worked one hand free and rubbed Elan’s bicep. They were safe. He was fine. It was okay.

  By degrees, the trembles stopped. He finally did as she asked and relaxed.

  A wave of protectiveness swept across her heart. She felt broken, but Elan was the one who couldn’t handle a gentle grandmother’s hug. He had been broken from long ago. His culture had broken him.

  He needed to be fixed.

  Vaw Vaw pulled back. Wrinkles swallowed her face and arthritis bent her knuckles, but her grip was still firm and her kindness unparalleled. She craned her neck over Zara to see Zain. “This is your baby!”

  Elan held Zain tighter.

  “Yes.” Zara tugged on Elan’s elbow to lower Zain to Vaw Vaw’s level. “Here he is.”

  Elan obeyed reluctantly. Vaw Vaw moved in close. Elan stiffened to granite.

  Zara rested one hand on his bicep and stroked his shoulders. “You can hold him if you want.”

  Elan made a noise of protest.

  Zara made a calming, shushing noise. Against his will, it seemed, Elan relaxed.

  “Of course I want.” Vaw Vaw cooed and poked Zain with a little finger. “Look at you, beautiful young man. What a beautiful young man. What a baby.”

  Zain began to smile.

  Elan’s jaw dropped.

  But it wasn’t so miraculous. Not really. Vaw Vaw had saved Zara as a tiny child. They weren’t related, but Vaw Vaw had always welcomed Zara and Milly into her home, and after they’d returned as adults, she’d stopped by their house often with a tureen of stew or freshly baked bread. Of course, with the instincts of children and animals, Zain could tell Vaw Vaw was safe.

  Vaw Vaw laughed to see his smile and held out her arms to lift him. “May I? Excuse me, Papa, may I hold your beautiful young man?”

  Elan hesitated.

  Zara rested her hand more firmly around his bicep. “It really is okay.”

  He looked at her.

  “I trust her more than I trust myself.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Have more faith.”

  Yes, she knew that she had to control her soul light.

  Zara nudged him impatiently. “Go ahead.”

  With her endorsement, Elan released Zain. Vaw Vaw swung the baby to her chest, and he made a pleased gurgling noise.

  Elan tensed to take back their son at an instant’s notice. But there was no distress.

  As a grandmother of thirty and growing, Vaw Vaw was a master at bouncing Zain, touching his fins, complimenting his handsomeness, and speaking in the calm sing-song of unconditional love. His smile only grew wider and happier the longer he was in her arms.

  She carried baby Zain into the house with promises to get him tasty food and introduce him to the others, who would love him exactly as he was.

  It made Zara’s own heart swell with memories.

  Elan sought her hand as though needing an anchor. She took his hand, reassuring him, and squeezed.

  His shoulders relaxed. He was a large tattooed warrior, a force of nature, a First Lieutenant in charge of defending a whole undersea city. Attuned to any risk, careful of any danger. Releasing his son to this strange woman must have been the hardest thing he had done in a very long time. And when Zara told him it was safe, he respected her judgment. And her.

  She couldn’t let her heart swell painfully. She couldn’t let Elan into her world. She couldn’t feel this gratitude for his constant support buffering her like a rising tide, reminding her that he was always her first, strongest, and most faithful supporter. She absolutely must not get used to the feeling of her husband under her hungry hands again. No.

  Elan had shown her not every man was hurtful, untrustworthy. He had shown her the meaning of honor.

  Losing Zain had been like losing her dream.

  Losing Elan had been like losing the other half of herself.

  With Vaw Vaw’s successful greeting, the other relatives stepped forward to greet Elan. He returned their greetings stiffly, but doing his best to perform according to the laws of her land.

  And Zara felt the dangerous cracking of her shields as she leaned against Elan, giving him the silent comfort he seemed to need in order to function.

  This could only end in heartbreak.

  Chapter Six

  Who was this peaceful, domestic Zara? Elan didn’t recognize his fiery wife.

  She peeled and cut green-threaded, seeded fruit called kiwis at a counter while the elder named Vaw Vaw carried baby Zain between the women working in her small, cluttered kitchen. Since the beach, Zara had never fully taken her eyes off Zain. In this homey kitchen, for the first time, she focused on her simple peeling task with a small smile on her bright, calm face.

  Elan did not share that peace. He couldn’t take his eyes off either. He felt his attention tearing in half.

  “Here, wine.” Vaw Vaw handed him a short glass of red liquid. “From my cousin’s vineyard.”

  He accepted the odd-smelling concoction with thanks. After being hugged tightly by the small woman for an extended period, brushing her cool fingertips to take a glass did not seem so large a violation. But he still kept himself back from the other females. He was well aware no other males came into this room. He remained in the doorway.

  Anyway, he must acclimate to this human practice. Once Zara saw his determination to respect her ways, then perhaps she would extend the same respect to his.

  Zain, resting on Vaw Vaw’s wide hip, reached for the passing wine.

  “Oh, you little one! It is goat’s milk for you. Do you like goat’s milk? Here is some from my sister’s goats.”

  Zara’s smile increased as Vaw Vaw tipped the thick cream into Zain’s mouth. She held the cup steady so he could control how much, if any, he tried. He mostly played with the glass without tasting the liquid.

  Vaw Vaw noticed Zara’s soft smile.

  “Oh, Mama. Would you like to feed your baby?” She set the glass on the crowded counter and lifted Zain to hand him to Zara.

  Her smile fled. She dropped the peeler on the cutting board and fumbled to accept him, her soul light fluctuating in a panic. Zain immediately started crying in Zara’s sticky hands.

  The other females cooking in the kitchen laughed.

  “So sorry, my darlings, for surprising you.” Vaw Vaw took him back with a laugh and then saw Zara’s stricken face.

  She rested a hand on Zara’s shoulder and murmured in her ear so even Elan, standing just on Zara’s other side, could barely hear. “Don’t worry. It is common after a long absence. He is young and
will quickly change.”

  She sniffed. “I just want to hold him.”

  “You will.”

  Zara shook her head.

  “Yes. He cries because you are his most important person. He worries about getting everything right.”

  Zara looked up. “Really?”

  Vaw Vaw nodded. “It is certain.”

  From the safety of Vaw Vaw’s firm arms, baby Zain regarded his mother with wide, dark eyes.

  Her own chest light glowed with reassurance. Zara reached out one finger to stroke his cheek.

  He caught her finger in his small fist and clenched it as though making a promise.

  Her throat worked. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “See?” Vaw Vaw rubbed Zara’s shoulders reassuringly. “It is already beginning.”

  Her expression filled with faith.

  Where Elan had sought to comfort her, this Vaw Vaw succeeded. This gentle elder could reach Zara’s heart effortlessly, and now he understood why she held such a position of respect. He was truly grateful.

  Vaw Vaw wove between the aunts, checked on pots and dishes, and then carried Zain out to a toy-strewn, children-filled room.

  Zara rubbed her cheek with her wrist as though to dry a tear that hadn’t fallen. She picked up the knife to finish slicing kiwis.

  Elan positioned himself in the outer doorway to keep a watch on both of the precious ones in his life.

  “Can we play with him?” the young children begged Vaw Vaw. “Can we play with the baby merman?”

  “Yes, my babies. Sit here and I will set him in your lap.”

  And, again to Elan’s shock, Zain willingly went into the arms of a slender girl while the others looked curiously on and begged for a turn. She watched over them expertly, pointing out observations to enchant smiles and excite wiggles.

  “Can we walk him?” a little boy asked, demonstrating that he wanted to hold Zain’s hands and help him walk like a human.

  “No, my babies. He will injure his fins. He must make human feet first. Mermen can shift between fins and feet when they want to. Did you know?”

  “We learned that in school,” the little boy said archly.

  A strange emotion moved in Elan’s chest.

  Only a year ago, the mer were unknown to the human world except for the few islands that passed the traditions of the mer to their sacred brides. Now, modern humans learned about the mer in school. How could his elders hope to pretend their existence remained secret?