Page 28 of Seduced By the Mermen
I scan the perimeter. The Portsmouths and my pod are sitting. Tight as salmon swimming upstream along the back bench. Nico, Eros, and Holter sit in the three chairs, their backs to me. Forrest is at the head of the table, because he’s Forrest and the ass thinks he’s in charge of everything. Which, over the years, we’ve just let him believe because it’s fucking easier than listening to him talk. He thinks he’s governor everywhere. A gag is what he needs.
On the end of the bench, Castor the Golden Prince sits with Annabelle next to him, then the daughter who needs to get her damn hair under control, and next to her, Blair.
Zion’s next to Blair, looking perfectly smug. He’s been going off about how lovely she smells, how reactive she is, and fine, maybe she’d be a good fuck. Her light blue eyes twinkle at him, and I want to wring his damn neck. He’ll have a fucking lot to say about it tonight. Another reason to make sure I don’t come home until they are all in bed.
The door opens, and my eyes jump to the entrance. The Tinom are easy enough to keep track of, but the current aroundthe room is turning into a frenzy. It might as well be a ball. One where no one gets to fuck and everyone goes home stuffed full of damn Koralli teacakes.
“Are you going to use this chair?” It’s Blair. How in the hell did she get off the bench?
“What? Uh, no.” I pick the nearby chair up and lift it to my shoulder. “Do you want it?”
“I was thinking it would be nice. We’re a little tight. Annabelle’s almost falling off the bench.”
“Her mates wouldn’t let her fall.” I’m still holding the chair, and I have no idea who came into the teahouse just now, only that the door opened and closed again.
Blair licks her lips and laughs. “So, the chair?”
“Right.” I set it down and then pick it up and hand it to her, holding it at a more appropriate level. I glance over her head, and my pod mates are watching. Forrest looks fucking hopeful, and I want to stick a fork in his eyeball. Alexei’s leaning forward, his head balanced on his hands, his elbows on the table. Zion’s smirking. Only Clark seems to understand the situation and turns away from me.
“You’re Sterling Mason.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I am.”
“And you don’t want to join us?”
“I’m working.”
“Oh, I see.” She turns to the counter, then back to me. “What would you recommend I get here?”
It takes me a second to realize that she thinks I’m a... She’s smiling. Damn. I swallow. “I don’t work here, but you know that.”
“I do. You’re not wearing a salmon pink apron with sea anemones and coral on it.”
“No, I’m not.” I cross my arms over my chest. The leather of my jacket crinkles and echoes in my mind through the teahouse.
“But you’re working?”
“I am.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. If you change your mind, you can sit with us.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, if you do, you know where to find us.”
“Indeed.” My chest fills, and I step back, finding the coolness of the exterior window. And I’m wondering again about the sanity of letting human women walk around our city. They’re too fragile. What if the window behind me was to break? There wouldn’t be any way to save Blair. My heart thuds in my eardrums.
She pivots through the crowd, maneuvering with the chair as a shield. There are plenty of males interested in her, but there are more interested in her daughter. And then I realize I haven’t scanned the room in the last few minutes.
She sets the chair down at the end of the table. Castor moves onto it. Annabelle wasn’t even on the end and in no danger of falling. Castor pulls Annabelle onto his lap, making room for Blair to slide in. Zion says something to Blair, leaning around Marlee. Of course he does. But I can’t make it out over the din of the growing crowd. I’m an expert at reading lips, but I can’t see Zion’s lips because they’re blocked by Marlee’s hair.
Forrest calls the server over and orders more food. I’m following along with the small talk that drives me crazy. “Oh, the tides have been rough for the last few weeks. A school of puffer fish got into the salmon tank and made them drunk.” I want to stab myself in my own foot with my retractable trident, and I’m not even sitting at the table.
More and more males pour into the teahouse, and no one’s leaving. At one point, I even lose sight of my other agent stationed by the door.
Another group comes in. Not a pod of males, or at least not yet. I step toward the counter to get the owner to shut the doors. This last group is younger and, like adolescent male dolphins, they’re damn stupid. They’re gawking at Blair and Marlee. But worse, they’re shouting. Even the humans turn at their calls.
“There she is! Athena, she’s beautiful.”
