Page 6 of Taken By the Storm King

I lay back against the impossibly soft pillows. Just a short rest, then I’d explore more. Find a way out if I needed it. My eyes drifted shut as exhaustion swept over me.

My last thought before sleep took me was of black eyes and warm hands trailing fire across my skin.

Sleep pulled me under, but instead of peace, I found Sarah.

In my dream, we stood on Earth’s last clean beach, waves lapping at our feet. The water was wrong though---too green, too thick.

“You left me,” she said, her voice hollow.

“I had to,” I told her. “The mission--“

“Not then.” She turned to me, but her face kept shifting---sometimes Sarah, sometimes Brooke, sometimes Emme or Imogen. “Now. You’re forgetting us.”

“I’m not,” I protested. “I’m trying to find you.”

The tide rose suddenly, swirling around our knees, our waists. Sarah’s face finally settled, her expression sad.

“Don’t forget why you came,” she whispered as the toxic water reached our chins.

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding. The room was dark except for the glowing crystals near the ceiling. I pressed my hands to my face, finding it wet with tears.

“I won’t forget,” I whispered into the darkness. “I promise, Sarah.”

THALASSAR

Istood in shadow beyond the translucent water barrier, watching Lucy move through the room I’d given her. The chamber I’d placed her in was one of our finest---built into the eastern cliffs of the island, with panoramic views of the ocean below.

The golden-blue glow from the luminous pearls illuminated her hair, highlighting those intriguing streaks of silver. None of my people’s hair ever changed color like that. I wondered what it would feel like between my fingers. A strange warmth spread through my chest, an unfamiliar easing of the constant tension I carried.

Stop that.

But I couldn’t stop watching. She ran her hands over the intricate coral carvings that lined the walls, pausing to study the ancient stories etched there. The silk of her nightgown floated around her with each movement, caressing her form.

I stared, transfixed as she stretched up on her toes to examine a higher carving, the fabric pulling tight across---

What is wrong with me?

I jerked my gaze away, directing my attention to the schools of fish darting past the great window. But even they remindedme of her---the way she’d moved through the water when I’d carried her here, graceful despite her near-drowning.

And yet, this human woman---so fragile, so alien---had unsettled me in ways I couldn’t explain. Why had I saved her? Why had I brought her here? These weren’t decisions I’d ever planned to make, and they gnawed at the careful control I’d spent decades cultivating.

And yet, there was something about her---something I couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t just another human intruder. The way she’d looked at me, unafraid and defiant, had stirred something deep in my chest. It was madness, but I couldn’t deny it.

I couldn’t stay out here forever. The liquid-like surface parted around me with a faint hum, and the cool droplets slid off my scales as I entered.

Lucy spun toward the sound, her body tensing. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, her expression sharp and wary.

“You again. Did you...” Her voice faltered, but then she straightened, chin held high. “Did you change me?”

The question caught me off guard. My gaze dropped to the robe, thoughts straying to the bare skin beneath before I caught myself. I forced my tone to remain even. “No. My handmaidens dressed you while you were unconscious. We don’t let guests remain in wet, damaged clothing, especially when they’re injured.”

Her nose wrinkled, and she glanced down at the soft nightgown and robe. “Right. Guests.”

The word carried a sharp edge, and I had no doubt what she really thought of her situation.

As I opened my mouth to reply, Naia emerged from the shadows near the door. She bowed slightly, her pale violet scales shimmering as she moved.

Lucy’s gaze shifted to the smaller female of my species, her suspicion momentarily replaced with curiosity. “Thank you,” she said slowly, gesturing at the robe.

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