Page 16 of The Merman's Betrothal
Despite being the one to suggest it, Neacel didn’t sound like he enjoyed the prospect at all. Fionn couldn’t blame him. All Neacel had wanted from the evening was a chance to talk tohis crush. Not to get stuck between his prince and a potentially devastating twist of fate.
‘Are you sure you… felt… it?’ Neacel quavered.
‘I’m certain.’ The ferocious pull of the current had ebbed away to a gentle ripple, but it was still very much there, like a tide within Fionn’s chest.
Fionn stared at the rise and fall of Rory’s soaking, bedraggled body. Humans shouldn’t stay in wet clothes, should they? The cold would creep deeper inside them, or something.
Fionn tugged Rory’s coat off and covered him with the jacket from his human disguise instead. He pulled on one of the fabric kilts for himself and threw the other at Neacel. ‘Don’t bother with the rest. Let’s get him indoors quickly. Do you know how to get to that address?’
Neacel snapped to attention at the firmness of Fionn’s orders. ‘Y-yes. I think I’ve passed that street before. I can guide us.’
Fionn lifted Rory by himself. Studied his stubbornly human features again.
He wasn’t ready to accept it yet. While following Neacel’s faltering lead through the quiet streets of Ullapool, Fionn concocted all sorts of reasons for why his mate might live on land.
Perhaps Rory was a Minchman who’d been exiled and his body had somehow de-acclimatised from life in water. Or maybe he was under a terrible curse and had his natural aquatic form stripped from him. Or maybe he had amnesia and didn’t know his Bluefolk origins.
These possibilities were feeling less and less likely as they approached the house listed on Rory’s plastic card. It was a bland, white-fronted building in a row of similar white-fronted buildings. The windows were narrow and had curtains drawn while the front door opened right onto the pavement. There wasno greenery around it, nor signs of life in general. It wasn’t even in view of the loch.
It was not a house that Fionn felt any Minchman would be keen to set foot in, let alone spend their whole life inside.
At Neacel’s prompting, Fionn felt around for keys in Rory’s trouser pockets. He’d had reservations about Neacel’s familiarity with human culture earlier, but now he was glad of having a little expertise to hand.
Neacel unlocked the door. Fionn ducked through the doorway, taking care not to bang Rory’s head on the door frame.
They entered into a dingy hallway with a staircase right in front of them. Fionn made a face as Neacel suggested that dry clothes and a bed would most likely be found upstairs. Stairs, in Fionn’s view, were unpleasant things made to magnify the effects of gravity while also messing around with one’s balance. He would rather be able to simply swim upwards instead of taking tiresome, measured steps.
They stumbled into the bedroom—easy to find, as the only other room on this floor was a tiled bathroom—and Fionn carefully dropped Rory onto the bed. The man gave a quiet groan, but otherwise made no movement. He seemed to be sleeping now rather than being blackout unconscious.
Neacel went through Rory’s drawers and deposited a pile of clothes on the bed. ‘Shall I leave you to dress him?’
Fionn considered how out of place he felt in this human room, and also how Neacel looked at him as though he should hold all the answers. He didn’t want to show just how out of his depth he was.
‘Yes. Wait downstairs,’ Fionn said authoritatively. ‘Keep an eye on the road, in case anyone else appears to be coming to the house.’
Neacel nodded gratefully and disappeared.
Finally, Fionn had both the time and the presence of mind to study his mate up close.
Back in the club he hadn’t had more than a moment to process what he thought or felt about the stranger his body was rushing towards. Somewhere underneath the hurricane of the bond igniting, Fionn’s initial impression had been that Rory was quite short for a Minchman and that his face seemed hard and serious.
Fionn had never given much thought to what qualities he would find attractive in a mate. He’d always been too caught up in dreading the qualities hewouldn’tfind attractive. Of Redfolk, all he knew for certain was that his betrothed would have red skin and fins of some kind. They were an insular society, with diplomatic visits occurring rarely and in secret with the Blue King. This gave way to rumours about what they might look like. Too much wild hearsay about Redfolk had fuelled Fionn’s imagination with monstrous extra limbs and spikes and tails and who knew what else that might be common among creatures in the fae realm.
None of these features were evident on Rory, which came as something of a relief.
Apart from that, Fionn found his opinions didn’t form as naturally as he’d hoped.
Rory seemed… sturdy. As Fionn peeled back the wet clothes he uncovered firm muscles, bulkier in his arms than elsewhere. A little soft in the middle. More dark hair that formed a trail from his chest to his crotch. It wasn’t as prickly as the hair sprouting from Rory’s chin—which Fionn discovered via a curious test of fingertips. By comparison, Bluefolk body hair was so fine as to be virtually invisible, and Fionn had never met a Minchman with a beard.
Even while asleep, Rory’s expression lacked levity, like his mouth was set into a permanent frown. Pulling off his trousers,Fionn found solid thighs and a thick cock resting amid more dark pubic hair. There were fine hairs on Rory’s legs, too—still a little darker and coarser than those found on Bluefolk, but soft to the touch.
Fionn gazed at Rory’s naked body for a long moment. Waiting for his bond to ignite again.
Nothing much changed.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a spark? A feeling like lightning in his soul?
Fionn found himself getting angry. Wasn’t this man supposed to make himfeelsomething?
