Page 112 of Seduced By the Mermen
Sterling’s judgmental eyes flick over the lot of us. “They can find everything you need without you leaving the comfort of your hotel room. No need to walk anywhere,” he says like an ad for the shopper.
“That’s just it. I want to walk around and see the city for myself. Delmar does too.”
“Delmar can walk around and come back and describe it to you.”
“You know that’s not what she wants,” Zion says.
“Sometimes you can’t get what you want, only what you need. Which is what this shopper will do for you.”
“You can’t always get . . .” I sing, and the three of them stop and stare at me.
“You sing well,” Delmar says.
“Indeed,” Zion agrees.
“I don’t know about that.”
“What was that song?” Delmar asks.
“It’s by the—” I stop myself because I’m about to enter Abbott and Costello's famousWho's on Firstroutine. “A band. A British band. I want to go out. Please, Sterling?” I put my hand on his forearm and give him what I hope are puppy dog eyes. Perhaps a bit childish when he’s looking out for my safety. “You can’t wrap me in bubble wrap.”
“A bubble net would not work on land,” he growls.
“Bubble wrap—it means you have to let me move a bit, breathe, and unfortunately make my own mistakes.”
“No mistakes.”
“Right, no mistakes. But I will be on alert, as will Zion and Delmar. And you’ll be with us, right?”
“Yes, I’ll be with you,” Sterling says.
“I can’t imagine anything happening.” I cock my head to the side.
The streets are crowded when we get out of the car near the Tower of London. It’s something I’ve always wanted to see. And while Sterling doesn’t want us to go in, it’s still interesting walking near the river. There are tons of restaurants and shops. We even pass Shakespeare’s Globe theater. I do my best to explain Shakespeare to them, but they’re not picking up on how important he is to literature. It’s still odd to me how they are missing anything that’s for pure entertainment from their culture.
The sun has dipped low in the sky, and there are more people around now. Enough that the tension rolls off Sterling in waves.
I stop by a silly T-shirt that saysExecution? So dramatic. I just ghost people. And there’s a cute drawing of the Tower of London with a ghost in Renaissance clothing holding a phone. It’s so silly, but Marlee would love it.
I look up, and Zion and Delmar have walked on. Sterling is behind me but a good ten yards back, like he’s taking in the whole forest of people, scanning each one of them. I back away from the shirt, holding it out, and a tall, muscular man bumps into me. My head twists, and I hold his dark brown eyes. He’s big, shifter big.
A shiver runs through me. “Excuse me,” I say and step toward the vendor’s cash register.
“Blair?” Sterling calls from the other side of the kiosk.
The male inclines his head and slides down an alley.
“Did you see that man?” I ask Sterling as he moves to my side.
“No.” Sterling whips around.
“He went down the alley,” I say.
Sterling takes a step away from me but then stops. “Shopping’s over. We’re going back.” At that moment I’m not sure if he means back to the voyager or back to the Saint Redford.
We end up back at the hotel. Back in the room without my silly T-shirt.
We eat dinner in the room, and afterward I’m sitting on the sofa, my head on Delmar’s shoulder.
