Page 52 of Stealing the Merman

“It has nothing to do with you,” Finn said, washing away any lingering doubts. He shuffled closer, and they huddled together.

Darin picked up his tumbler. “I understand. He gets like this.”

“Yes. When I was alone with him after pulling him from the sandbank, he was even more closed off, withdrawing more frequently. It’s how he is.”

“I wish I knew why.”

Chapter Fifteen

Conall

Conall’s feet sank into the cool sand. The sun had set hours ago, and while the hot and humid air enveloped him, the ground was cold against the soles of his feet. With every step he took, the sounds of drunken laughter from the tavern faded more and more into the background, and its lights dimmed as he walked away until only the moon illuminated his path.

Conall reached the shoreline where tranquil waves lapped at the beach, at his feet. He left deep footprints in the wet sand, the sea filling them with water before washing them away. His feelings were a jumbled mess. Darin joining Finn and him ignited a strange happiness in Conall. It was good to see him, and Conall was glad he got to share Finn with him. He should’ve been boiling with jealousy at how Finn lit up when he looked at Darin. It should drive him up the wall how keenly Darin jumped into Finn’s arms.

But Conall wasn’t jealous. The two of them together had an oddly calming effect on him. It made sense—if he was with both, he wouldn’t get emotionally attached to one of them, right? He could enjoy them without risking his heart. Or that was what he told himself.

Finn and Darin made him feel needed on the deepest level. Finn’s insatiable lust would keep them busy, and Darin required a firm hand to be happy, firmer than what Finn could provide. But Finn gave Darin the easy, light-hearted affection Conall struggled with. They complemented each other.

Palm trees rustled in the light breeze, and the scent of the ocean reminded Conall of home. He’d always lived near the sea. Back in Scotland, the shore wasn’t far from the clachan he grew up in, and as an adult, he’d done nothing but sail. Home. There wasn’t a home for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make one. Years of pirating had tired him, and he was painfully aware of the risks the outlaw life posed. Every raid was an opportunity to die. As captain, he bore the additional risk of mutiny, and sometimes, pirates killed their captain in a dispute.

What if he settled down? Vieques was as good as any place, perhaps better. It was an outlaw haven; therefore, there’d be nothing to fear from the authorities. He’d lost the wealth he’d made over the years when he ended up all alone on that sandbank in the Bahamas. But the year and a half since had been fruitful. Conall had enough to settle and take on safe work.

Vieques Town was too dirty and crowded, but he could have a nice life along the remote parts of the coast, such as the island’s south. It had to be quiet there. Conall mulled it over. A day aboard a pirate ship was another day that could cost him his life. His decision fell as he strolled down the beach, alone in the dark. He’d have to do some exploration, see what was available in the area and how he could start over in the south of Vieques. His ship lay safe in the harbor of Vieques Town, and he’d discharged the crew after arriving on the island. It wouldn’t cost him anything to leave for a while and see what the island had to offer.

“Oh, we’re coming with you,” Finn declared when Conall told him and Darin of his plan to scout out the south the following day. They were sitting on the steps leading up to the town hall’s entrance, eating fruit.

“You don’t need to,” Conall said. “I’m going for just a few days. There’s a track through the jungle that leads to Esperanza on the south coast. Nothing exciting. Enjoy town while I’m gone.”

“No,” Finn said with enough determination to surprise Conall. He could be fierce.

“We’d love to come,” Darin said, picking up a banana from the small pile of food at their feet.

“Plus,” Finn said, scooting closer to Conall, lowering his voice. “I’m going to need you later. And tomorrow. And the day after. You can’t ask poor Darin to do all the work.”

Darin scoffed.

Conall wouldn’t call fucking Finn work. His cock twitched at the mere thought of sinking between Finn’s spread thighs, pounding him into tomorrow.

A part of Conall had hoped to be alone for a few days. Darin and Finn could spend the time with their friend Zade, whom they’d met up with in the morning. He seemed like a nice person, and relief had washed over his face when Darin told him that another acquaintance of theirs, Luis, had recovered from some sort of health issue. Whatever.

Being alone would clear Conall’s mind, and he’d gain emotional distance from his boys, but they weren’t having any of it. Another part of Conall was glad—the part that longed to be close to them, holding them, protecting them. He had to be mad. None of this was a good idea, but in the end, he let them have their way.

They left town along a broad trail. The vile stench of the outskirts was unbearable, especially for Finn. They walked through the pungent smell of feces and rotting flesh. Finn gagged audibly. He struggled more than Conall, who’d grown up around the smell of farm animals. Even Darin, used to the malodor of London, wrinkled his nose. Vieques Town wasn’t Conall’s future, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a home elsewhere on the island.

They passed the last houses before the settlement tapered off into the jungle. On the verge of wilderness, a stray cat came running from behind a hut. The scraggy tabby shot toward them, then halted and sniffed the air. Conall huffed when it gave him a wide berth as it approached. Clever animal. The corner of one ear missing, it’d learned the hard way to stay away from danger. It approached Finn, who sank into a crouch and held his hand out for the cat to smell. Once it had satisfied itself that he posed no threat, it meowed and nuzzled him. Finn picked up the cat and held it close, the animal purring as he petted it.

Darin came closer and reached out to stroke its back. The cat whipped around, hissing, hairs standing on end. Darin, wide-eyed, backed off, but the cat had already jumped out of Finn’s arms and shot into the bushes.

“You’re better with animals than me,” Darin said.

“They don’t perceive mermen as dangerous,” Finn said. “It’s possible this little fellow had bad experiences with humans.”

“Now you have fleas.”

“What?” Finn asked.

“The cat,” Darin said. “It had to be full of fleas.”

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