Page 43 of Claimed By the Deep
My climax crashes through me with stunning intensity, pleasure waves that seem endless while he holds me safely. I cry out his name as rain falls on my face, dimly aware of his own release following mine.
Afterward, we remain entwined, his tentacles supporting me while the storm rages. Rain has soaked us both, but neither of us moves for shelter.
"That," he says, voice still carrying alien harmonics, "is what you mean to me."
I nestle closer. "Message received."
Cyreus retakes his human form, finding control again. He carries me to the cabin, his strength making it effortless despite the boat's rocking. Inside, he wraps me in dry blankets, his naked human form against me, warm and right.
As lightning flashes and thunder rolls across the water, I curl against Cyreus's chest, feeling the rhythm of his three hearts beneath my ear. Today he showed me his past, his origins, the world he lost when he came to Earth.
But what matters most isn't where either of us came from. It's the future we're building together, one dive at a time, one truth at a time, one moment of connection after another.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of what that future might hold.
Cyreus
TWENTY
Idetect the vibrations before Meri does—propellers cutting through water, still distant but approaching. After a century in Earth's oceans, I recognize the distinct signature: Coast Guard.
"Company," I tell her as she surfaces beside Deep Pockets, arms full of silver flatware and navigation instruments from an 1890s merchant vessel. "Patrol boat from the east. We should move."
Meri doesn't question. She's learned to trust my senses. "How long?"
"Fifteen minutes before visual range." I help load artifacts onto the dive platform, my tentacles making quick work of what would take her several trips. "Enough time if we hurry."
She climbs aboard with practiced efficiency, stowing our valuable finds in the hidden compartment beneath the deck. I remain in the water, watching the horizon where a white shape appears.
"You should go," she says, glancing in the same direction. "I'll lead them away, make it look like a pleasure cruise."
"I'll follow beneath you." The thought of leaving her unprotected, even though she handled these encounters for years before me, feels wrong.
Her smile mixes exasperation with affection. "Fine, but stay deep. Their sonar might pick you up if you're too close."
I prepare to descend, but she leans over the rail. "Meet me at the cove tonight?"
"Of course." I note the hesitation in her voice, sensing something specific on her mind. "The usual time?"
"Eight o'clock." She glances at the approaching vessel. "Now go."
I slip beneath the surface as Meri starts her engine, watching her steer away at casual speed—not fleeing, just a boater enjoying the afternoon. The patrol boat adjusts course to intercept, but it's clearly routine.
Still, I follow at a distance. The thought is almost laughable—what would I do? Rise up like some sea monster to frighten them away? Reveal myself after a century of careful concealment?
The patrol boat catches up about a mile from our site. I rise close enough to hear standard questions about destination and purpose, which she answers with practiced ease. They check her documentation, warn about weather, then continue their route.
When they're beyond visual range, I surface to find Meri waiting, amused.
"You didn't need to follow me," she says. "I've been handling the Coast Guard for years."
"I know." I shift partially to human form, arms resting on the platform while my lower half remains tentacled. "Consider it a personality flaw."
"I find it endearing, if unnecessary." She touches my face casually, an intimacy that still amazes me. "Good finds today. The silver service alone covers my slip fees for three months."
"Your business is improving?"
"Thanks to you." She checks her navigation display. "I should head back. Fergus expects me by five."
