Page 68 of The Fae Menagerie
"I will, I swear."
He tried to sit on the back of the viewing couch and almost tipped it over, stopped only by my unmoving body holding it in place. He squealed as the water filled his shoes and rose above his ankles.
"Can you swim?"
He snorted. "Now you ask?"
"I didn't even consider?—"
"Of course, I can swim. My parents own a string of casino hotels. I launched myself into pools before I could run. My nanny taught me to swim after I almost drowned the first time."
I'd almost drowned once, too, but I forced the memory from my mind. This was going to go as well as it could, and then I would be free of the viewing couch so I could take care of Parker. Thinking anything else would only make my heart beat out of my chest and send me into a full-blown panic attack.
I hated water. Hated it. I was an anthousai, a flower fae, and I loved the feel of rain and shower water on my skin, but I couldn't stand the thought of being in a pool, tub, or fountain.
"Breathe, Doyle. You can breathe."
Except I couldn't. I panicked when my father held me beneath the water of our courtyard fountain, back flat against him, wings beating uselessly as I tried to kick my way toward the sunlight above.
And then I'd died. That was the only way I could describe it, because what happened next wasn't supposed to happen to an anthousai, not at all. I had a dream of swimming with my father beneath the fountain, diving into a cave to his amassed wealth, hidden from my winged mother.
"All this will be yours one day."
Except when I'd awakened, Father said I'd hit my head thrashing against him and knocked myself unconscious. None of it was real, not the cave beneath the fountain, not the pile of gold, nothing.
The water approached Parker's knees, and my shoulders. Outside, the storm clouds creeped ever closer. Only Prince Drummond and his consort remained, surrounded by their guard of red caps. He must have sensed me staring at him because he met my gaze and smirked. I didn't know if I wanted to hug him or throttle him when we got out of this. Maybe both. He could have told Grandmother he wasn't my fated mate. Then, I wouldn't have been in this mess.
I wouldn't have been in the menagerie, but there was no denying I would have met Parker. Bret would have summoned me by my name either way. I would have denied knowing what "take care of him" meant, either way. He was my fated mate, and the fates brought us together.
The cold water sloshed onto my chin when Parker moved suddenly. He stood up, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to use me as leverage to keep himself as dry as possible. I didn't blame him. I only wished I was wrong, that the couch sat higher than I thought, that viewing hours would end before the water — One ear plugged before the other, making me feel dizzy. Then,the other followed, leaving me in silence. I missed the sounds of Parker's breathing. Under the water, the only sounds were the steady overflow spilling from the lip of the kitchen sink and the occasional tap against the glass.
We had less than an hour to go before the viewing bell sounded. I could make it until then. I hoped.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
PARKER
God,this ridiculous fae creature. I loved Doyle, and it nearly killed me when he fell into a trance after he burned all the oxygen in his lungs. I shouted as loud as I could and stood above him, shaking his shoulders until I got a mouthful of water for my efforts.
"Come on, Doyle! Wake the fuck up!"
The resounding gong of the viewing bell should have been a joyous sound, but it rang hollow when Doyle stayed in his seat, unmoving. His body shifted when I tugged at his shoulders, thank goodness. I tried to pull him to his feet, but he didn't budge.
Doyle was supposed to take care of me, not the other way around! There was no flat surface for him to lie on, no way to clear his lungs of water. I knew how to swim, but I didn't know how to give someone CPR in water without the risk of drowning myself.
I grabbed him under both armpits and pulled him over the scrolling woodwork along the back of the couch, landing hard on my feet in the water. I cradled Doyle to my chest for a moment, saying a silent prayer this would work. Then, I grabbed him under the arms again, careful of his wings, and maneuvered himas close to sitting on the back of the couch as I could with the sloping design and the still unconscious fae tipping dangerously close to the water.
This was the best chance I was going to get, a slightly lopsided Doyle. I lifted his wings out of my way and grabbed him beneath his ribcage from behind, hoping to everything holy he had a diaphragm. I shoved in and up as hard as I could, and sighed with relief when I heard a splash, and then a sputtering cough.
"Parker?" His voice was weak and rough from the water. I tried to leap onto the back of the couch beside him, but it was too high, and the water too deep, for me to get enough leverage.
Doyle looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "There you are." He reached down and wrapped an arm around my waist, easily lifting me to sit beside him, though facing the opposite direction on the uncomfortable ledge.
"Don't you ever do that to me again," I groused.
"What did I do?"
