Page 25 of Drown Me Gently

Always dressed in some half-wrinkled linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, collar loose and open to the air. The wind loved him, brushing back the dark curls from his face, teasing open his shirt just enough to reveal the smooth line of his chest. Pale skin. Sharp collarbones. The thin line of freckles at his throat. Auren found his eyes drawn to it every time.

Even his trousers, thick canvas tucked into oil-stained boots, enchanted Auren. Everything about Elias was strange and soft and solid. Tangible in a way Merfolk weren’t. And Auren drank him in.

And if Elias himself was beautiful, his words were even more so. He showered Auren with such poetic words, such honest and vulnerable declarations that Auren was constantly flushed. Elias called him gorgeous, ethereal, even. That his scales caught the light like tempered glass, shifting color with every breath. That he couldn’t look away.

Elias held his gaze without shyness or shame. Told Auren that his eyes didn’t shine…they struck. He told him his hair looked like it had been dyed in the essence of roses. And when Auren looked confused by the statement, Elias brought him the flower the next day.

“It’s the closest I could find. But it still doesn’t compare to your beauty.” Elias said, and tucked the delicate petals behind Auren’s ear.

Auren shivered. The closeness, the subtle brush of fingertips over the shell of his ear. It was overpowering. Then Elias’s enraptured gaze roamed up and down the contours of Auren’s body, and the Merman had to look away, abashed by the awe in the human’s eyes.

“Even the lines of you,” Elias murmured, “don’t make sense. You weren’t made for symmetry. You were made to be perfectly imperfect.”

Auren didn’t know how to accept such praise. Didn’t know where to place it inside himself. The look in Elias’s eyes was too much. Auren shifted, the weight of being seen pressing hot against his skin. Not like a prince. Not like a nuisance. But like he was a story worth telling.

“Some people pray to stars,” Elias whispered. “But I think I’ll start praying to the sea. Because it gave me you.”

He told Auren he’d studied marine life his whole life, hoping that one day, a creature like him would exist.

He studies the sea as I study the land.

Auren shivered at the possibilities. Of what they could learn from each other. How they could enrich each other’s lives.

“You’re the answer to a question I’ve been asking since I was a boy,” Elias said. “And now that I’ve found you… I don’t think I could ever stop asking for more.”

Auren’s heart had thundered so hard he thought it might burst.

One night, Auren surfaced to find Elias sitting cross-legged on the deck of the Windless, a hollow wooden instrument in his lap. When his fingers plucked the strings, a sound Auren had never heard before filled the air.

Soft. Melodic. Wrapping around him like an embrace. And then… Elias began to sing.

Auren was so captivated by the song—by the voice, by the sound—that he didn’t realize how long he’d been above the waves until his gills burned and his mind went fuzzy. He panicked, wheezing, and flung himself back into the water.

The next night, Elias had a new song. And the next. And the next.

Auren never tired of them.

But, save for the night with the rose, he never let Elias get too close. Instinct and years of warnings kept him cautious. But Elias never seemed to mind. Never tried to touch. Just watched him like he was something worth seeing. And for once, Auren let himself believe it.

Then the first snow came. The docks froze. And when Auren surfaced, the Windless was gone.

Panic consumed him.

He dove and scoured the bay, heart cracking with every wave. Had he been discarded again? Then he spotted it. Just beneath the surface, caught on a rock where the ship had docked. A glint of glass.

A bottle.

Inside was a message, inked on tanned animal hide.

I’ll be back for you in the spring, my darling. Please wait for me.

Auren made a startled sound at the words, causing Iska to flinch and then chatter indignantly beside him.

My darling.

My.

He read the words over and over, heart fluttering wildly. Feeling that single word. The word of possession. Of wanting Auren enough to claim him as his.