Page 24 of Claimed By the Deep
I nod, unable to deny it. "Yes."
"Why?" The single word carries three days' worth of pain and confusion. "Why didn't you answer when I called?"
How do I explain the fear that consumed me after our encounter? The way her blue lips and shaking hands haunted my thoughts? The growing certainty that loving me would destroy her?
"Because I was afraid," I admit. "Afraid that what happened between us was a mistake that could have killed you."
"But it didn't kill me."
"You nearly died of hypothermia because I lost myself in touching you, neglecting your wellbeing. Because my need for connection made me risk your life for my own selfish desires."
She studies me for a long moment, then does something unexpected. She laughs.
"You idiot," she says, but there's affection in her voice alongside the exasperation. "I nearly died because I chose to stay in the water with you. Because what we were doing felt more important than being safe or smart or careful."
"Meri." I begin, but she cuts me off with a decisive gesture.
"I haven't survived two decades of solo diving by letting others decide my risk tolerance." She leans forward, her gaze unwavering. "I'm a grown woman who's been navigating dangerous waters since before you knew I existed. I know the risks, and I accepted them. What happened wasn't your fault—it was my choice."
The certainty in her voice undermines every justification I've built for staying away. But there are still truths she doesn't understand, choices she hasn't been asked to make.
"You don't know what you're choosing," I say.
"Three days ago, I thought I was losing my mind. I couldn't work, couldn't sleep, couldn't think about anything except whether you were real. Whether what we shared actually happened or if I'd finally cracked under the pressure of too many years alone."
She stands up, moving to the edge of the platform where she can see me clearly.
"The only thing that's scared me this week is the possibility of never seeing you again. That I'd spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been."
The hope in her voice creates an almost unbearable pressure within me. For three days, I convinced myself that staying away was the noble choice, the selfless act of a creature who loved her too much to claim her. But looking at her now, seeing the pain my absence has caused, I realize how wrong I was.
I wasn't protecting her. I was protecting myself from the possibility of rejection.
"I've been alone for so long," I admit. "I don't know how to navigate this. How to be what you need without destroying what you are."
"Then we'll figure it out together," she says, echoing words she spoke in the cave that feels like a lifetime ago. "But first, you need to come closer. I'm tired of shouting across twenty feet of water."
Despite the fear, the uncertainty, the knowledge that this choice will change both our lives irrevocably, I find myself swimming toward her. Toward the connection I've craved for a century. Toward the woman who calls me beautiful and chooses me despite every rational reason to run.
"Closer," she says when I stop just out of reach. "Close enough to touch."
I drift near her platform, close enough that she could reach out and trace the line of my jaw if she wanted. Close enough to catch her scent, to see the determination in her eyes, to understand that she's not going to let me retreat again.
"Better," she says softly. "Now we can talk properly."
But talking from the water while she stands on the platform still feels like maintaining distance. Like keeping one foot in the world I can retreat to if this goes wrong.
I allow the transformation to flow through me, my true form dissolving back into the human shape that has become comfortable around her.
As I take my human form, I allow myself to hope that this magnificent, stubborn human is exactly what I've been waiting for my entire long life.
Meridian
TWELVE
"May I?" Cyreus asks from the water, gesturing toward my boat.
I get it immediately. The first step. He wants to join me properly, not just float nearby. "Of course."
