Page 35 of Stealing the Merman

“When I first saw you at Shroud Cay,” Finn said, “I smelled him on you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Finn lay the fish aside he had been about to gut with a sharp piece of rock. He put the latter away too. “Because I wasn’t sure. It had been months since I met Conall and didn’t expect to encounter him. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Until he showed up.”

Darin huffed. “You know how I ended up with Kristian and the rest? Conall kicked me off his ship. After he dragged me away from you at Shroud Cay, he didn’t speak another word to me. He dumped me at the next port like a piece of rubbish. He was mad with jealousy, and I was scared shitless I’d run into him, and he’d murder me. So I left pirating.”

The wind picked up, tousling the hair on top of his head, where it was longer. For a second, he looked lost and lonely. The image struck a chord in Finn because it reminded him of something else he’d seen—Conall’s expression when Finn found him on the sandbank. Finn wanted to hug Darin. What he said didn’t line up with the impression Finn had in Shroud Cay. “I doubt Conall would murder you. I don’t think he was angry with you.”

Darin reared back. “Not angry with me?”

Conall’s eyes had wandered over Finn and Darin, taking them in, individually and together. There’d been no jealousy in his expression. Only lust.

“Did he attack you?” Finn asked.

“Um, no. Of course not.”

“Did he yell at you?”

“No.”

“There you have it,” Finn said. “He wasn’t jealous. If he had been, he would’ve attacked you on the spot. Or me. Conall is possessive, and he acts when someone infringes on his territory. But he didn’t. If anything, I had the impression he enjoyed seeing us. Perhaps enjoyed it too much for his liking.”

Darin picked up another shell. It was cream-colored rather than white like the others, and yet when the sun caught it, its light reflected as beautifully off it. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a vulnerability to Conall that’s hard to spot. But it’s there, underneath all the moody grunts and the bulging muscle. He hides it well, but I noticed it on that sandbank. I’ve never seen someone that devastated. He told me he’d suffered shipwreck, and that he was the sole survivor. Everyone else must’ve drowned by the time I found him.”

“He wouldn’t want me to feel sorry for him, but this makes my heart hurt.”

“Mine too.”

“How do you feel about Conall and me?” Darin asked, vulnerability edging into his eyes. “I didn’t know that you and Conall… Does it bother you that he and I…”

“No,” Finn said and shuffled over to pull Darin into his arms. “I don’t mind at all. He’s big enough for both of us, don’t you think?”

Darin snickered. “That he is.” He dropped his head onto Finn’s shoulder. Finn held him tight, hands running over his skin to soothe him. “Why do I feel at home with you?” Darin asked.

Finn had no answer other than a kiss on his head. Darin continued his work with renewed energy. So did Finn, and they fell into a harmless conversation about Finn’s journey south with the dolphins and how he met the manatee population in Culebrita’s largest bay.

Darin threaded shell after shell onto the strings until he had a chain of a foot and a half in length. He eyed it, made adjustments and finally smiled. Finn was about to ask him what he’d use it for—he’d never seen someone put shells on a chain and wondered what kind of tool this could be—when Darin moved and crouched behind Finn. He lay the string of shells around his neck, closing it at his nape. A necklace.

Suddenly the beach was too quiet, despite the splash of the waves and the twitter of the birds in the trees. Finn’s heart beat out of his chest.

When Darin finished, he came around and threw a leg over Finn’s hips, straddling him in the sand. He looked at him with a smile so bright, it lit his whole face. The golden flecks of his hazel eyes glowed.

“It looks good on you,” Darin said.

Finn blinked. His hand flew to his collarbone where the chain rested. His fingertips trailed along the smooth shells and their grooved edges. “What…”

“It’s for you, a gift.”

No one had gifted Finn anything in his life, let alone jewelry. He didn’t know much about human culture, but he’d learned from Tarlis, who’d been educated at the merking’s court. A gift of jewelry held meaning.

Finn stared at Darin, perplexed and unsure what to say. He managed to say, “Thank you,” and cupped Darin’s face and sealed their lips together. Finn put everything he had no words for into the kiss, hoping it would translate.

He ran his hands over Darin’s neckline, where his own necklace rested. Could it be from a lover? Other than Conall? Finn’s guts twisted painfully. “Is this…”

“It’s from my late mother,” Darin said, and Finn felt ashamed at the relief washing over him.

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