Saved by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 9) Read online

  Hazel and Flora chatted amiably, and Hazel scrawled human script onto Flora’s papers, giving her the key along with many pleas to care for something called succulents, especially Phil. She talked Flora into charging her phone to complete conversations with her family members.

  Flora escorted them onto an airplane, which soared over the land and sea with a strange motor that muffled his senses. It was afternoon when they landed and drove to a boat, and evening by the time they reached the small atoll that had once formed a sacred island of their first target city, Sireno.

  Hazel spent most of the boat ride on the phone with Dannika. Her soul frequently darkened with panic, and she said things like, “I have to do what? But I can’t say that? Wait, that’s an insult too?”

  Other queens had started with the same instability.

  But no other queen had been asked to do what Hazel must do.

  The white atoll emerged from the sea.

  Flora handed Lotar a bottle of shiny Sea Opal elixir. “It’s about time.”

  This elixir would give Hazel the ability to transform into a mer.

  His heart thumped.

  He carried the elixir inside the yacht to Hazel.

  She tapped a long implement against the papers spread out before her on the table. “I’m just wondering if I upset someone—I mean, they’re kings, right? Could I start with somebody less important and work my way up?”

  He stood at her elbow.

  When she finished, he would—

  “Oh, is that water?” She snagged the bottle of elixir, cracked it open, and swigged it. “Thanks. I was parched.”

  Huh.

  Usually, there was more ceremony.

  But usually, he would give her his mating gemstone, and he did not have that to gift either.

  She finished the elixir, replying to Dannika between gulps. “I know, I know. ‘Have faith, Hazel.’ It’s easier said than done. And I still feel bad about burdening Flora with everything. You’d think if I was planning to turn in my notice, I’d have updated my operating procedures.”

  “That means your heart was never committed to leaving,” Dannika assured her, her voice sounding tinny from the phone. “And now look. You’re about to be a very important person. You’ll go down in history as the first person to circumnavigate the globe underwater.”

  “So long as I don’t win myself a Darwin award.” Hazel glanced at him and lowered the phone. “Are we at the atoll?”

  “Almost.”

  “Oh, God.” Her soul darkened—which would not help him activate the elixir—and brightened again. She bid Dannika farewell, straightened her papers, and held out her hand. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He must activate the elixir.

  He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her soul flared before their lips even touched.

  She welcomed him. Anticipated him. Wanted him.

  Lotar.

  His heart ached.

  And then her lips moved against his, exploring and tasting. Enjoying.

  He must activate the elixir in her veins by causing their souls to resonate as one.

  Their kisses last night had been too short.

  He now took this chance to explore.

  She meshed their lips, and he traced their shape, suppleness, feminine flavor. The sweet spiciness that was Hazel. She parted, opening to him, baring herself fearlessly.

  He pulsed deeper, and she vibrated with a gentle moan. Yielding, entangling, inviting.

  Her confident strokes urged him to quest even deeper, to know her more. He took that invitation and filled her, plunging into all her crevices.

  She moaned again and clung to him, trusting herself to his capable arms. Her breasts mashed against his chest. Her thigh rubbed his straining cock. Her breathing broke, went ragged.

  Her naked desire hooked him in, plunging deeper and deeper until he looked on the abyss of emotion. Hazel was his one. His soul. His mate.

  And someday, the mother of his young fry.

  He had to pull back before he staggered.

  She panted. Her eyes glistened, lips bruised, and her soul glowed like an anchoring beacon.

  This was a dangerous kiss that made him lose his mind, forget time.

  Forget everything but her.

  Hazel.

  She blinked, soft and centered, and then she wiped her mouth and giggled, grinning at him with a light as bright as her soul. “Oh. Hi. That was nice. Let’s do it again.”

  Yes, he could do that—

  “Guys?” Flora knocked on the wall inside the open door and cleared her throat. “We’re, uh, we’ve arrived.”

  “Already?” Hazel’s soul dimmed. “I mean, great. Haha. Ah…”

  Unease seeped into Lotar.

  When had Flora opened the door?

  He followed Hazel as she repacked her bag, left it with her last instructions to Flora, and went to the railing at the back of the yacht. She stared over the atoll in the sunset. Her worry matched his own.

  He must notice everything. Her safety depended on it.

  But he was on the land, of course. He would not be so distracted under the water.

  Not even pressing her nude body to his for the length of their danger-fraught trip.

  Not even by her kiss.

  Nine

  The sun descended like a big orange ball into the turquoise ocean. Gentle waves rocked the white yacht anchored by the small chalky island tufted with green. Seabirds flew to their nests with farewell calls, and the triple-shot of hazelnut latte, the last she’d probably get in a year, buzzed in her veins.

  This was her first time in the tropics. The water of the Hudson was black, and nobody would ever willing jump in, but this looked like a magazine. Blue in every direction.

  It was beautiful, serene, and terrifying.

  Hazel gripped the shiny gold rails.

  This had been her one chance to live like a successful entrepreneur, taking private jets, lounging on millionaire yachts, luxuries at her fingertips, and she hadn’t even paid attention because she’d been trying to fix up her life for the next two years.

  A loose sort of disappointment warred with the lingering sense of having forgotten something.

  Bottled water, keys, phone. She had given those to Flora already. Her hands were empty.

  “Are you sure I can’t take my passport?” Hazel asked.

  Flora laughed. “Where are you going to carry it?”

  Lotar stripped to bare skin, daggers, sheaths, and his trident. His muscles rippled and the smooth trident gleamed. He was like a god. A god with a seashell necklace.

  Most mer carried a small woven pouch where they stashed things like the Sea Opal they’d give to their future soul mate, but he didn’t even carry that.

  “You could weave me a seaweed passport holder,” Hazel told Lotar.

  He rested his trident in the crook of his elbow. “That will drag in the water and slow our travel.”

  “And that big trident won’t?”

  He shook his head.

  Sure. Whatever.

  He moved to the steps.

  “It’s time,” Flora said softly.

  Augh.

  Hazel unpeeled her fingers from the railing, stomped over to Flora, drained her third—and final—hazelnut latte for a year, and unbuttoned her swim cover. “You know my last road trip was Idaho to New York? We packed my brother’s Civic. It was ridiculous.”

  “I bet.”

  “My brother drove. We spent all six days in Iowa and Nebraska. Okay, that’s not true, but that’s what it felt like because day two into the trip, we put in a Lynyrd Skynyrd CD and the player went insane. It stuck on one song and refused to skip, eject, volume change, nothing. We couldn’t even shut it off without unhooking it from the battery, which my brother didn’t want to do, so we played ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ on repeat for the entire trip.”

  Flora gaped. “You must have heard it in your nightmares.”
r />   “I did. And ever since that fateful time, I refuse to travel anywhere without three sets of earplugs, two sets of earbuds, and a white-noise app.” Hazel stripped off her swim cover, folded it, and untied her cute polka-dot bikini top. “And now I’m supposed to travel over a year without lip balm, road snacks, aspirin…? Do you know how many audiobooks I could listen to over two years? What if we get to one of these hidden sacred islands and they have a Starbucks? I’m getting a headache right now.”

  Of course, she had just drunk three lattes in a row.

  Flora laughed and averted her eyes as she took Hazel’s clothes. “Well, you don’t have to worry about rogue music players. Don’t the animals make music?”

  “Yeah, I heard it’s like white noise. Infinite elevator music.” Hazel was babbling to combat her nerves. She handed her suit to Flora.

  “You might want to memorize the office number,” Flora said. “In case you need anything.”

  “Oh, I have that.” Hazel tapped her head. “Memorized forever.”

  “I guess you have everything you need, then.”

  No way. But Hazel made fists of determination. “Okay, I’m ready to drink the elixir.”

  “You already did.”

  “I did? Oh. Wait, was that what was in the bottle Lotar gave me? I didn’t realize…huh.” Gosh, what an idiot she was. She couldn’t be that inattentive on the All-Cities Gyre, or she’d pour out historical mer champagne and break priceless artifacts. “I guess that’s it. Should I…do I just dive in?”

  Flora smiled encouragingly. “We’ll wait for an hour, then return to Cancun, and our local contact will check here every week until we hear you’ve made it to your destination.”

  In case something went wrong. They couldn’t enter the first city, or they had to abandon the whole project.

  Okay.

  She always had Lotar.

  Right.

  Hazel turned to take his hand, dive in, and shift for the very first time.

  He was gone.

  Wait, what?

  Flora laughed again. “He’s so stealthy. He dove in already.”

  Gah. Everyone was waiting for her, and she was already behind!

  Hazel rushed to the stern, pinched her nose, and jumped.

  Sploosh.

  The water rushed over her head, warm and enclosing, and her ears popped. Was that normal? It must be normal. She wasn’t a swimmer. Hazel bobbed back to the surface and gasped. But Lotar wasn’t up here.

  Oh, duh.

  She gasped and dove.

  Would the water sting if she opened her eyes? It might sting, like the chlorinated water at a pool, but she had to see.

  Nope, it didn’t sting.

  And actually, the water wasn’t even blue. It was clear, like glass. Really clear.

  Colored fish skittered over the reef below her.

  It stretched over to the atoll.

  And out the other direction, under the boat, like an endless casino carpet in hallucinogenic colors so bright, they glowed.

  Where was Lotar?

  Oh, there he was. Beneath the yacht, hovering.

  Watching.

  His feet had shifted to marine fins, the skin stretched tight between his elongated foot and toe bones, and his gray tattoos shimmered like ghostly messages. His gray eyes nailed through hers, and a strange emotion whooshed through her as if she was looking into the eyes of a wolf, embedded in the wilderness, fierce and snow-dusted and powerful, but she felt no fear. Only intensity from meeting a wild creature in his environment, recognizing each other as equals, and moving on in their own ways.

  He waited.

  For what?

  Bubbles filled her mouth and nose.

  She couldn’t go anywhere like this. She had to shift.

  Right. Okay. She’d heard all about shifting. Seen it, even. She had to suck in the water and shift.

  Wait.

  Wasn’t Lotar supposed to help?

  Usually, the warriors helped…

  Hazel opened her mouth. Lotar?

  But what came out was, “Glrglr?”

  Bubbles erupted, and water glugged down her throat.

  She coughed and sucked water in.

  Wet, cold, deadly.

  She gagged and choked.

  No.

  Wrong.

  Help!

  This wasn’t shifting. This was how people died.

  She thrashed for the surface.

  Arms closed around her.

  Manacles. Killing her.

  She fought.

  The arms tightened, implacable. “Stop.”

  Water. Darkness. Death.

  Let go.

  “I cannot let go. You will hit the reef.”

  Huh?

  Hazel stopped fighting and opened her tightly closed eyes.

  A big orange chunk of coral stood inches from her forehead.

  Lotar’s arms closed comfortingly around her.

  Oh.

  She went lax in his arms. Her body ached from struggling.

  The reef stretched out beneath her, glowing with its unearthly aura. Twinkling fish darted between funnel columns and a small crab clacked its claws. A familiar background of noise like the faded mumble and hum of Times Square at lunchtime filtered in. But instead of a rideshare honking or a bodega owner cursing out a would-be thief in another language, the squeals and staccato emerged from the little seahorses clinging to seagrass, or fish with long ombre streamers gaping like she was the strange one.

  Cool.

  “Watch where you swim,” Lotar said softly. “Do not close your eyes.”

  “Blurgle.” She choked on the words. Tiny bubbles soared for the surface.

  “Do not use your mouth to speak. Feel the words in your chest.”

  Right, right. She knew that.

  “I…knew that…” Hazel made the strange vibration, sort of ticklish and sort of like gargling, deep behind her lungs. “I forgot.”

  He released her and floated a short distance back. His body was stiff as a board. He looked grim.

  No wonder. It was a good thing she was mer, because when she panicked, she swam the wrong way and basically tried to kill herself.

  “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “Sorry. I just—where were you? I was asking you to help. Isn’t shifting for the first time a big deal? But you hovered there and let me get in trouble. You watched.”

  He did not meet her eye.

  She was arguing with a stone wall. “Why didn’t you help me?”

  He shrugged one shoulder.

  “Why did you jump in? Were you trying to get away before I noticed? Leave me behind?”

  “The All-Cities Gyre is dangerous—”

  “So you were hoping I’d get so scared that I wouldn’t shift and you could go alone?”

  Silence.

  Great. Their years-long road trip was supposed to start now, and they were like fighting at the end of the block.

  He’d said he thought she was brave and smart and cautious and wouldn’t be vulnerable.

  But now he said the All-Cities Gyre was dangerous.

  “Do you even want me to come with you?”

  She vibrated the question in her chest, but the vibrations broke, affected by her emotions. She’d been so focused on her not-readiness that it had never occurred to her that maybe Lotar would agree.

  He remained stubbornly silent.

  Which really hurt, actually. “You don’t want me?”

  He focused on her. “I want.”

  Oh.

  Thank God.

  But… “Then, why did you just watch? I was flailing around, my first time as a mer.”

  “You jumped in. You shifted.” His fingers clenched. “You saw me.”

  “And I tried to ram into the coral reef.”

  “I did not realize. Because you moved with confidence. Your soul glowed. You were, for that moment, not a faint new bride. You were a bright, powerful queen.”

  The noisy ocean faded.

&nbs
p; He had not left her to her own devices because he wanted to abandon her. He’d assumed she was competent enough to shift on her own.

  Because she had shifted on her own. She’d just panicked and hadn’t realized it.

  He saw her capabilities. He saw her best and brightest moment. And he thought that was normal for her. He didn’t realize bashing into the reef was the default. He thought jumping in and being instantly amazing was right for Hazel.

  A queen.

  And he saw her soul. Which meant that somewhere inside, she was a bright and confident queen.

  She just had to find it.

  Okay, then.

  His fingers twitched.

  She paddled her stubby human feet to cross the distance between them and took his hand. “I’m not as cool as I seem, but, um, thanks.”

  Surprise, confusion, and a sharpening focus tightened his features, drawing down his dark gray eyebrows. His other hand secured her to his waist, and her ordinary feet dangled between his long fins.

  He was solid, reassuring, and here. Really here, like a date that had shut off his phone and gazed at her with his full attention.

  This was where she belonged.

  She would find her future here.

  His gaze lifted away.

  A low siren, like one of the alert options on her cell phone, echoed across the reef.

  His arms loosened.

  She turned to face the siren. “What’s that?”

  The torpedo-shaped gray fish with a white belly veered toward them. Long, narrow, and with a very identifiable hooked top fin.

  Almost like…

  “A shark,” he confirmed.

  “Uh, should we run?”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what people do when they see sharks?”

  But he didn’t move, so she didn’t either.

  The shark veered past with a flick of the current. Its eyes were slit like a cat’s and its mouth parted slightly as if it had told a joke and was waiting for her to get the punchline. It continued toward a deep cavern.

  Her vision stretched to follow it, even though it felt like she was looking across the Hudson and, without binoculars, picking out every cyclist crossing the Brooklyn Bridge at rush hour. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

  A concert of messy grindcore filled the ocean. It sounded a lot like her old neighbor’s painful late-night obsession with Japanese noise rock. Massive tentacles emerged from a deep cavern. A giant octopus? The shark veered away from the tentacles and curved toward them for another pass.