Page 90 of Storm and Sea

“How about this? Nobody around.” He placed her left hand on his shoulder and took her right. “May I?” he asked, his opposite hand hovering beside her waist.

“U-uh-huh,” Marina stuttered and tried to keep her breath even as he placed his palm on her waist, hardly making any contact at all.

“Listen, bringing me away from the crowd still isn’t going to protect your toes.”

“Lucky for me, I’ve lost feeling in all ten toes,” he said, taking a step backward and leading her into a simple four-step sequence.

“Liar,” she snorted, following his lead.

She managed through half the song before stomping on his foot. “See, I told you I’m no good at⁠—”

He pulled her in tighter, his hand sliding from her waist to the curve of her back.

“You’re doing beautifully. Let’s go again.”

“Okay,” was all she could say past the hummingbird tempo in her chest. He led her through several more sets and Marina didn’t even notice when one song ended and another began. She was only aware of her gliding feet, the warm pressure on her back, and the flush in her cheeks.

With a delicate twirl, they ended the final song, coming to a standstill as the last note lingered in the air.

“See, I told you it only takes practice.”

Marina was panting. “I guess there’s still hope for me.”

“Have more faith in yourself, my dear,” he said, his words like a caress.

He brought her hand to his lips, and Marina hoped her gasp went unheard as a chaste kiss ghosted across her knuckles.

“Until next time, Marina.”

As he released her hand, he pressed something small into her palm before turning down the alley and fading into the night. Marina stood in a daze for an embarrassingly long time before inspecting the gift in her hand. Inside a thin cotton pouch tied with a bow were the blue opalescent fish-scale earrings. Her stomach twisted as she realized she never asked for his name.

It felt like no time at all before the fireworks ended, the last sizzle of light and sound fading into a starry sky. The silence settled heavily in their ears.

Nyel was reeling, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the explosions in the sky or the onslaught of sensations that had besieged him in the span of a breath. Something had happened—or tried to—but whatever it was felt incomplete.

Nyel ducked his head and squeezed his eyes closed as twirls of golden light zigzagged across his vision, likely remnants of the overwhelming emotions temporarily blurring his sight. That’s all they were—nothing more. And the feeling? He had no explanation.

Yet, deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, a tiny ember of thought sparked to life, whispering to him.

He knew. He knew. He knew.

“Well, that’s the end of my favorite shirt,” Atreus said, examining his shredded dress shirt.

“You can’t fix it?” Nyel asked, knowing Atreus to be very adept with a needle. Or really anything with his hands.

“No. It’s a goner.”

He tore the fabric off himself, the back completely shredded by his barbs. They dried on the beach, regaining their human selves. Luckily, Nyel’s clothes were baggy on him to begin with, so with the addition of his rounded fins, his shirt only stretched. His pants, however…

“I think my pants are a goner,” Nyel said, facing Atreus, embarrassed at his likely exposed rear.

“I can fix that—just a bit of velcro, and it’ll be hardly noticeable. For now, though,” he said, handing Nyel his torn shirt, “tie this around your waist to cover it.”

“Thanks,” he said, blushing as he tied it to hide himself.

Only then did Nyel realize just how shirtless Atreus was. He’d never seen him with this much bare skin before. Even when the other men shed their camicia, Atreus always kept himself covered. Was that why it caught Nyel off guard now? Why did his gaze keep drifting to the sculpted ridges of Atreus’s abdomen? Even when he realized he was staring, Nyel couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“We should get back,” Atreus said. “After the fireworks, things usually close up.”