Page 14 of Tempting Triton
This smug ass. If I decide to never kiss him, he’ll never get to claim his prize. It doesn’t seem like much of an incentive on his part. Unfortunately, he’s right. I do want to kiss him. Not that I’d ever tell him that. I’m still unsure if it’s my own reaction or some kooky magical tether that’s influencing my brain and my body.
“Fine. But when I win, you help me find a way home.” Two can play this game.
“Deal.” He quickly shakes the hand he’s still holding before dropping it and darting off, leaving me floating. “Last one there is a rotten oyster!” He laughs.
“That slippery little—” I growl and kick off afterhim.
I feel my brain clear with every repetitive stroke in the water, every tense muscle, every kick of my legs. I gain on Triton, the metallic flash of his tail in front of me. Calm washes over me, and I feel the sharp prick of tears at the corners of my eyes. If you’re underwater, can you even cry, or does your body already recognize that you’re surrounded by salty water?
I gain inches at a time on Triton, a smile slowly creeping across my face. Not needing to take a breath is definitely an advantage. He glances back at me, and his eyes widen, shock evident on his face. My tentative smile morphs into a wide grin when he realizes I’m gaining on him. His tail pumps harder, but if he wants to play dirty, so can I.
I reach out with both hands and grab at the base of his tail, just above his flippers, and with all the strength I can muster, I yank Triton backwards, pulling my body along his with my hands until I’ve scaled the length of him and can use his shoulders to kick off in front of him. I feel a rush of water behind me as he swipes at my ankles with a growl so deep, I can feel it vibrate deep in my gut. I laugh, joy bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. I feel like it’s been so long since I laughed. My strokes become long and sure,and I’m cast back into the memories of swimming lanes and the crack of starting pistols. I feel powerful and confident.
I reach the handful of shipping containers now resting on the seafloor and let myself sink down to sit atop one while I wait for Triton to catch up. He should have been right behind me. I’m fast, but I’m not that fast. I rest for a minute, expecting to see him approaching from the blue at any moment now, but when he doesn’t appear, dread smothers my joy back down to the recesses of my mind. Where the hell is he?
Ever so slowly, a figure approaches, his tail lazily moves up and down in the water, and relief floods me as he nears. It’s short-lived as I realize something isn’t right. I curse. I knew something was off with him earlier. I race to meet him; his skin looks dull, goose pimples still pepper his arms, and shivers wrack his body. I throw one of his arms over my shoulder to support his drifting body and kick us towards the containers.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I feel his forehead, checking his temperature, an automatic, entirely human response. I don’t know why, or what I’m expecting, or what to even look for to tell if a merman is well or not. But I feel useless if I don’t do something.
His teeth chatter. “Th-the water is c-cold. Slowing m-me d-down.”
“The water feels fine to me?” I rub his arms to bring some warmth back into his body, feeling a sense of déjà vu all over again.
“M-mer are m-more sensitive.” Of course. I smack my forehead. That’s why they migrate for the winter.
“Okay, okay. Um.” I frantically look around me for something that can help. How can I get him warm enough for us to travel back to his home? “Wait here.”
He nods jerkily, and I dart inside the shipping container beneath us, hoping there might be something I can use. Blankets or clothing, anything, and not just slabs of useless white goods.
14
Triton
My core muscles spasm and ache as my body is wracked with shivers. I did not feel the water gradually decrease in temperature over the last few days until it was already at the point of affecting me. I should have realized when my Elena pointed out my speed was lagging, but I let my cockiness get the better of me, and I had been itching to find a reason to race her. Now, I am weak and a burden to my mate when I should be the one caring for and protecting her.
“This is all I could find. Frankly, it’s a stroke of luck that there was even anything we could use.” My mate pops up over the edge of the shipping container with white fabric bunched in one fist. She rushes over to me. “Here, put this on.”
She does not wait for me to do it myself before yanking the material over my head and pushing my arms through the holes. Eventhough she is rushing, she is careful not to catch the fins that run down the edges of my forearms.
“It’s only a T-shirt, but it’ll have to do.”
The fabric is tight against my skin, uncomfortably constricting the fins that run down my spine, but it is a decent thickness, adding a much-needed insulating layer, even if it is minimal. My Elena circles me, letting out a disgruntled noise as she fingers my back fin, squashed beneath the fabric.
“We’ll have to find something to cut the fabric here.” Her light touch sends a tremble down my spine, and she misconstrues it for another cold shiver. She continues around to my front.
“Alright, let’s get you home and get you warm. Can you swim at all?”
I nod. “W-will be s-slow.”
Elena grimaces. “Better than nothing. Alright, big boy, let’s get going.” She wraps my arm around her broad shoulders and pushes off from the container with me at her side. Together, with her strong limbs, we gradually make it back to the coral castle, where Ichó rushes out to us to take over from my mate as soon as he realizes somethingis wrong. Offering his dorsal fin for me to hold on to, he tows me back to my room.
He deposits me in the middle of my bed, Elena hot on his tail, before turning to her. “What happened?” he clicks at Elena, who, since sharing my essence, can now thankfully understand him the same as I can—a welcome side effect right now.
“He said the water was cold. Are you cold?”
“I have noticed a slight discrepancy, but I would not be affected by it in the same way. Mer are exceptionally sensitive to temperature.
“H-have not f-felt t-this since a p-pup,” I stutter out, curled in on myself on the bed as they talk about me as if I am not here.
