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I’d squared up against mermaids before, but none quite like her. The time Claira had spent on land seemed to only strengthen the ocean’s hold over her—or maybe hers over it, if she’d just let herself see reason.
Claira hovered over my bedroll as still as a scorpionfish, poised and ready to ambush. Her warmth blanketed over my chest, and I couldn’t fight the urge to inhale deeply, drawing in her scent. That’s when I felt it—the pointed tip of a knife. It pressed up against me, the side of its blade toying with my vulnerable neck. My breath caught.
“Leander,” she whispered again, her voice laced with irritation.
“Not gonna lie, but you’re the last mermaid I thought I’d find sneaking into my bedchamber for a little midnight fishing,” I mumbled, feigning a long yawn. “Not that I’m complaining. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.”
I reached for her through the darkness, my fingers easily finding a thick curtain of hair even in the shadows. When one of my fingers grazed her cheek, she seemed to go rigid under my touch.
“I see you forgot to bait your tackle.” I gestured to the knife and felt its tip bite into my neck, but the sting didn’t dissuade me from winding my fingers back in her hair.
I’d tactfully escaped from more than a dozen mermaids through the years, though this angry knife-wielding thing was a first for me. There was usually only one thing a mermaid could ever want from a crown prince: a quick lay that led to a title. I was still a child myself when Father had warned me that one might try to seduce me just long enough to hope for a baby. Well, he’d been more than right. It hurt to admit it, but that was all any of them had ever wanted from me. And if ever a baby was born, the mother would become queen by default, and I would be fucked over—literally.
With a mermaid, there could never be any genuine feelings. No true companionship. Only a manipulation for power. Thankfully, Father had also shared with me his own wisdom. Appearing overly attached and eager to keep a mermaid nearby was an excellent way to have them fleeing my chambers before they ever made it to my bed. A talent I’d all but perfected.
“That’s all right.” I fought back a chuckle, combing some strands behind Claira’s ear to get a better look at her expression in the dark. My voice deepened. “Come closer, and I might still bite.”
I could just make out the shape of her lips as they drew together, the words “oh shit” practically dancing across the shadows of her face. She suddenly seemed to realize where she was and what it might look like to others ignorant of the threat of steel against my neck. I grinned in satisfaction. She was so fucking cute all flustered.
Seeing how that one line had affected her, I couldn’t help myself. I leaned up on one elbow, welcoming her and the knife even closer. A gasp slipped through her lush lips, her gaze dropping to where her blade pressed against my flesh.
“I thought you were a dream at first,” I said, cautiously brushing my fingertips along the elegant line of her jaw. The fist clenching the knife’s handle wavered. “But you wouldn’t have used my full name in a dream.”
And your sweet voice would have been more of a moan than a whisper,I added—just to myself, of course. She was a mermaid, and all of this was just a game. Plus, I wasn’t really looking to goad her into shoving the knife all the way through my neck.
The knife twisted in her hand like she’d suddenly remembered why she’d snuck in here in the first place. “Follow me,” she whispered, seething.
“Couldn’t this wait until morning?” I sighed, though it seemed my plan to get her out of my sorry excuse for a bedchamber was working. My eyes darted to the pair of pants folded neatly at the foot of my bedroll. Turquoise and black—the ones she’d given me. It was the only personal item I’d laid out aside from the cardboard box that held all my clothes. She hadn’t noticed them sitting there, had she? Just the thought aroused old fears and uncertainties. My face grew hot. I should have hidden them.
“All right,” I conceded. “I’ll go.”
“Good.” The knife slid away from my neck but lingered between us as she reached back for the curtain.
Claira lifted a finger to her lips, and I nodded in agreement. Whatever game this was, I’d play along for now. When she slid past the curtain, I threw off my blankets.
Sleeping all tangled up in clothes and blankets every night was pure hell. But what choice did I have when it was so fucking cold in here every night? An unrelenting stiffness pushed against the front of my jeans, and I reached inside with a grunt to adjust myself.
Human cocks were so needlessly showy. They got in the way too damn much, and I’d discovered over the last month that mine seemed to have ideas of its own. Some that I approved of, but others…
When I opened the curtain, I found Claira crouched in the shadows next to the king’s platform. “This way,” she mouthed, signaling with a jab of her knife. Had she already scoped out the warehouse before coming to wake me? Made sense. She had to have gotten that knife from somewhere.
When she didn’t start moving, I realized she expected me to go first. All right, I’d play.
I moved toward the far side of the warehouse and started walking down rows of compartments, eyeing each curtain down the line as I passed them by just to make sure no one was awake.
Was she even following me? I couldn’t hear any footsteps, but I kept on making my way to the warehouse entrance. There were multiple ways to get inside, but I assumed her plan wasn’t to wake the whole compound by rolling up one of the larger doors, so I walked to the corner where a simple, much smaller door sat beside the others.
My hand rested on the knob, and I turned back to look for her. She stood behind me, her boots in one hand and the knife in the other. She clearly had done some sneaking around before. Then her lips drew together, and she jabbed forward with the knife again. My hand turned the knob, and we both slid silently through the door.
“Fuck,” I breathed out as soon as the outside air hit me. Yeah, it had been cold inside, but the wind out here was brutal. Whatever she had to say, hopefully it would be quick.
She slid her boots back on, and I watched each chilled breath rise as she tightened up the laces. She looked nearly frozen. Her clothes were ripped, her bloodied knees visible through the holes, and it was all my fault. She had every right to drag me out here, and I deserved each cruel word she had to say.
She slid the knife into the side of one boot before rising to her feet, and I felt my body stiffen, preparing itself for what was to come.
“I need you to help me break into that gas station.”
I blinked, knowing I’d misheard. “You, uh, what?”
