Page 20 of Claimed By the Deep
"For both of us." She sips her drink, steam curling around her face. "I've never... with someone like you..."
"It was remarkable," I offer. "But undeniably complicated."
"Because you're not human."
"Because I exist outside your world. Because what I am would horrify most of your kind. Because your life involves responsibilities and connections entirely separate from a creature who lives in darkness."
She falls silent, processing my words. When she speaks again, her voice carries a forced neutrality.
"So this was a one-time curiosity? An interesting experiment?"
The hurt beneath her controlled tone strikes me like a physical blow. "That wasn't my meaning—"
"Then explain whatyou did mean."
I struggle to articulate the conflict raging within me. "I mean that after a century alone, I lack the framework for this. I mean you deserve someone who can walk beside you in daylight, not a secret you must hide. I mean I'm afraid of wanting something impossible."
"What if I want to try anyway?"
The hope in her voice creates an ache in regions of my body I didn't know could feel pain. "You can't grasp what you'd sacrifice—"
"Stop." The sharpness returns to her voice, that core of steel I've admired from afar. "Stop deciding my limitations for me. I'm a grown woman who just willingly banged a being from another planet. I think I can handle making my own choices about what I want."
She's right, of course. But something primal in me wants to protect this remarkable human who called me beautiful instead of monster, who trusted me with her vulnerability, who looks at me with wonder instead of terror.
"Your lips still haven't regained normal coloration," I deflect.
She touches her mouth reflexively. "They'll warm up."
"You should return to the cabin. Restore your core temperature completely before attempting navigation."
"Is this your strategy for ending an uncomfortable conversation?"
"It's my strategy for preventing hypothermia while we determine what comes next."
She studies me a moment longer, then nods. "We will figure this out, Cyreus. This doesn't end here."
The certainty in her declaration sends contradictory impulses racing through my nervous system—hope warring with terror, desire with practicality. She disappears into the cabin, and I track her movements by sound—the adjustments to the engine, the familiar pre-departure routine.
When she emerges again, she moves with her typical efficiency, fully recovered from the cold's effects. "Ready to head back?"
I nod, though part of me wishes to keep her in this isolated cove indefinitely, away from the complexities awaiting us. "I'll guide you. Stay near the headland where the swells are smaller."
"You're coming with me?"
"I'll remain underwater, ensuring you navigate safely. The storm is worsening."
She starts the engine, and I slip beneath the surface, matching pace with Deep Pockets as she maneuvers out of the cove. This familiar pattern of watching over her feels transformed—no longer scientific observation but something possessive, protective. She isn't merely an interesting specimen anymore. She's become... mine, in ways my scientific mind struggles to categorize.
The journey to Tidewash Harbor takes longer than usual, fighting against the building storm. I stay close, surfacing occasionally to verify her progress, ready to intervene if conditions overwhelm her vessel.
As we approach the harbor entrance, we reach our inevitable separation point. Too many witnesses in the harbor, too many questions if someone spots an anomaly in the water.
I surface one final time near the harbor mouth, keeping just my head above water. She's already spotted me, throttling down to near idle.
"I can't follow you further," I call over the wind's howl.
She leans over the stern rail, close enough that I can read the conflict in her expression. "When will I see you again?"
