Page 36 of Drown Me Gently

He held it to Auren’s mouth. The prince’s jaw clamped shut, eyes blazing. Ulric lowered his voice, leaning in, speaking just above a whisper so the guards couldn’t hear.

“Please…” he begged. “Don’t make me force you to drink this.”

But Auren stared him down, unmoving.

And so Ulric did what he never wanted to do. Touch those full lips with violence and cruelty, instead of lavishing them with tenderness. He pried Auren’s mouth open and poured the liquid past clenched teeth, holding him until it was swallowed. When it was over, Auren choked and sputtered. The guards released him.

Ulric stared straight ahead, heart so heavy it might sink him.

“It is done,” he said, though his voice barely carried. The silence afterward was jagged. Auren’s hands trembled at his sides. He looked at Ulric like he couldn’t recognize him. Like he’d become a monster.

When Ulric dismissed the guards, he expected Auren to leave. But he didn’t.

“So that’s it? You trap me in the depths. Keep me close—only where you can see me?”

Ulric didn’t answer.

“You won’t love me,” Auren continued, voice shaking. “But you won’t let me go either.”

He was right.

Ulric couldn’t speak. His throat had closed around the words he’d never be allowed to say.

I want you. Gods help me, I love you. But if I touch you, I’ll burn.

The magic will destroy me.

Already, the ink beneath his skin was thrumming. One of the runes on his wrist flashed dangerously, threatening a flare.

“Leave,” Ulric said, hoarse.

“I’ve been trying to,” Auren replied.

And then—he was gone.

The moment the water stilled, Ulric collapsed to the far end of the apothecary. His tentacles curled in around him like armor. He almost wished they would turn on him, wrap tight around his throat, and choke the grief out of him. But the guilt was already doing that, granting him a long, slow death right through the heart. He pressed his forehead to the stone wall, watching his shattered instruments drift through the water like a shipwreck.

The scent of magic and broken herbs filled the space. Bitter. Ashy. Wrong.

He curled tighter. Disgusted with what he’d done.

And unable to stop wanting the Mer he had shackled.

He was alone now. Alone with the ache. Alone in a cage Ulric wrapped around him in the name of protection.

When Auren first tried to rise—just high enough to feel the sun’s warmth kiss his skin—his body stopped responding. And then, like a weight was tied around his fins, he was yanked downward with brutal force. The magic gripped tight, slamming him into the sand. His tail locked up, muscles spasming. It felt like gravity had multiplied tenfold, pressing in on his ears, like the ocean grew teeth and was dragging him back into its belly.

It punished him.

Every time he swam upward, pressure surged through his limbs until his vision blurred. He couldn’t breathe. Not when it was light he craved and couldn’t have. Not when the surface was so close yet out of reach. He couldn’t even rise high enough to feel the warmth of the sun.

The realization broke something inside him.

Auren collapsed into a seagrass field, body trembling with exhaustion and rage. The tall, rippling blades swayed. Tiny bubbles curled through the water from his gills, rising to nowhere. Sea turtles grazed nearby, their wide jaws grinding on the soft fronds. One blinked blankly at him, then returned to chewing.

It was quiet here. Peaceful, even.

He hated it.