Page 24 of Drown Me Gently

That wasn’t an answer. That was a dismissal. That was a lie wrapped in duty-bound tradition. Ulric hadn’t been called. He’d run.

Run from me.

But as the days dragged on and the loneliness thickened, grief gave way to anger. If Ulric was so repulsed by him, so appalled by the idea of wanting him, then he could keep his silence. Auren didn’t need him.

And he sure as hell didn’t need to obey his orders. Not anymore.

If he can throw me aside so easily, I’ll go where I’m wanted.

And in a single, furious act of defiance…Auren broke his promise and surfaced.

The water was calm when he broke through it, stars smeared like spilled salt across the sky above. And there she was. The Windless. Her sails were drawn tight, her lanterns darkened for the night, rocking gently in her berth.

Auren didn’t rise just yet.

He stayed beneath the surface, watching. Waiting. He knew better than to climb aboard while light still glowed from the captain’s quarters. So he remained beneath the hull, conserving breath, pulse thundering in his ears while his mind wrestled between hurt and hate.

Damn Ulric. Damn Atlantis. Damn all those who dismissed him and cast him aside like unwanted clutter.

Minutes passed, and the light from the captain’s quarters finally went out. Now was his chance. Auren took one final pull through his gills and shot from the water. He caught the loose hanging nets, dragging himself up the Windless’s starboard side, sliding silently onto her deck. He’d barely had a second to orient himself when—the echo of boots on wood. Auren threw himself behind a stack of barrels laden with sweet-smelling fruits. He grabbed his fins, shoving them back, trying to conceal their starlit glimmer. The footsteps drew closer, then paused at the railing. Auren dared peek from his hiding place and…

And there he was.

Elias.

Dark curls tousled by the wind. Pale skin kissed with moonlight. A heavy coat thrown over broad shoulders, one hand braced on the railing as he gazed out into the dark sea. He placed what appeared to be a long, hooked piece of wood into his mouth, and a second later, the rich scent of smoke mixed with the salty air.

He hadn’t seen Auren yet. But the way Elias stared into the waves, searching, made Auren’s chest tighten.

He never stopped waiting for me.

Auren felt it deep in his bones. The foolishness of his absence. The bitterness of his own fear. He’d run from something that had never once turned away from him. Without thinking, Auren flopped his tail once, the heavy thud vibrating along the wooden deck. Elias’s head jerked toward the sound.

Then their eyes met.

And everything stopped. Elias removed the burning wood from his mouth, setting it aside and taking a step toward Auren as though in a trance.

“I never lost hope that you’d come back,” Elias said, breathless as he leaned on the ship’s edge. “I looked for you. Every day. I never gave up.”

The human approached slowly, Auren fighting every cell in his body to remain still. With trembling limbs, Auren extended his arm and placed a delicate shell necklace—white spiral turritella strung on a line of braided kelp—into Elias’s hands. A gift. A peace offering. An apology for disappearing. Elias held it as though it were bestowed upon him by a god. Like it was proof of a dream come true.

“I will cherish this. Thank you. You are… a miracle.”

And those damned eyes. The sky blue gaze that saw him. That touched him without ever making contact. And this time, Auren knew he would never give up on this. On him.

Elias.

From that night forward, Auren returned. Nearly every evening. Even if only for a few minutes. Elias was always waiting. He never pushed. Never tried to touch. Never demanded anything.

Auren sighed in frustration, wishing he could speak above the waves. Wishing he could tell Elias all the things building in his chest. That he was grateful, that he was afraid, that he was beginning to feel something dangerous and sweet in the human’s presence. But no words came.

Still, Elias never seemed to mind the silence.

He spoke gently and somehow always found ways for Auren to join the conversation. A flick of the eyes. A nod. The subtle tilt of his head or twitch of his lips as if to say, Do you agree? Did you like that? Auren found himself nodding, laughing without sound, more and more.

Their conversations were brief. Four minutes, maybe five, before Auren had to submerge again to breathe. But those minutes were everything. They became the sun around which his days orbited. The one thing steady in the storm.

And Elias—gods, Elias was beautiful.