Page 33 of Claimed By the Deep
"What's on your mind?" he asks as I sip the hot tea.
"How surreal this feels. Yesterday I was a single salvage diver with a failing business. Today I'm..." I pause, searching for appropriate terminology. "What am I exactly? 'Girlfriend' seems inadequate, but I don't know the Agual equivalent."
"Chosen mate," he replies without hesitation. "Though the bonding ceremony would formalize it in my culture."
"Bonding ceremony?"
"A joining of minds beyond physical connection. It creates a permanent link between partners—emotional, mental, sometimes even physical awareness across distances." His tentacles drift around me as he speaks, unconsciously protective. "But it's irreversible. Once bonded, we become part of each other for life."
The weight of his words settles over me. "How long do your people typically live?"
"Several centuries. Perhaps four or five human lifespans."
I blink, processing the implications. "So if we bonded, I'd be committing my entire life, while you'd be making a much longer investment."
"Time loses meaning when you've found your perfect match." He cups my face gently. "But yes, you would be choosing to spend your existence with someone whose nature you're still discovering."
"And you'd be choosing someone who'll age and die while you remain in your prime."
Pain flashes across his features. "I try not to dwell on that aspect."
The conversation has veered into heavy territory but we’re interrupted.
The radio crackles to life, startling us both. Charlie Morrison's voice cuts through the evening air, tension evident in his tone.
"Deep Pockets, Deep Pockets, this is Tidewash Harbor. Please respond."
I glance at Cyreus, then at my boat floating peacefully at anchor. "I should answer that."
"Must you?" Something possessive edges into his voice. "Can't your human world wait?"
"Not if Charlie's calling directly. He only does that when something's wrong." I move toward the boat, Cyreus following. "Besides, I've been out here all day without checking in. People might be concerned."
I pull myself onto the dive platform and grab the radio, Cyreus remaining nearby in the water, out of sight should anyone approach.
"Tidewash Harbor, this is Deep Pockets. Sorry for the delayed response."
"Meri, thank God." Charlie's relief is palpable. "I've been trying to reach you for hours. Where are you?"
"Just doing exploratory diving. Had my radio turned down. What's wrong?"
"Coast Guard's asking questions again. They want to know if you've been working the sanctuary waters, and they seem serious about it." His voice drops. "Also got a call from your insurance company. Something about overdue payments?"
My stomach tightens. The insurance payment I've been postponing, hoping this month's salvage would cover it. "How overdue?"
"They didn't say, just mentioned possible policy cancellation if they don't hear from you by close of business tomorrow."
I close my eyes, real-world problems crashing back like a rogue wave. No insurance means no legal diving, which means no income. And with the Coast Guard investigating...
"Thanks for the heads up, Charlie. I'll handle it."
"Be careful, Meri. Whatever you're doing out there, maybe it's time to consider a different approach."
I sign off and set the radio down, suddenly exhausted by the reminder of my precarious situation.
"Difficulties?" Cyreus asks gently.
"The usual. Money, insurance, legal issues." I sit on the platform's edge, feet dangling near him in the water. "The Coast Guard is investigating, which means they're building a case. And my insurance company's threatening cancellation."
