Smitten: Part I-Zerrin

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  Even with all of the doors and windows open in the house, the smell was overwhelming. A trail of blackish blush liquid stained the newly scrubbed kitchen floor, from the back door all the way down the hall to the bathroom where I’d discarded the ruined comforter. The salt blocks I left to dissolve in the tub were mere lumps by the time I’d wrestled Jonas into the water, his body filling and overflowing what I’d considered to be an oversized bath. His tail hung limp and lifeless over the edges, its fanning tip brushing the bathroom floor. He remained in the position I’d left him an hour before, his head propped against the pealing pink tiles, his arms folded over his chest. I’d hoped that he would have come around enough to talk, but his eyes hadn’t opened since I’d gotten him out of the river, and I worried now that they wouldn’t again. I had less than an hour before Roman would be home, and I knew there was no lying my way out of this one.

  I was too exhausted to clean after I finished preparing the Pernickle’s bed for Jonas, putting on fresh sheets, and setting up the nightstand with anything medical I could find in the house. It wasn’t much, but I’d managed to locate a first aid kit under their bed that contained two huge rolls of gauze, antibiotic ointment, and salve. Alcohol, I found in the bathroom, and a needle and thread in the junk drawer in the kitchen. I’d never sewn a stitch in my life, but from the looks of some of the cuts on his body, he would need some sort of stitching to keep from loosing any more of his essence.

  From where I sat on the bathroom floor, I had a clear view of his face, and for the first time I realized that he wasn’t really a man at all, but a boy about my age, no more than a few years older. Where pain had been etched into his exotic features, they were now relaxed, peaceful almost. His hair was stained a dark hue of blue, undoubtedly from floating in his own essence for so long, but I could tell that once dried it would be much lighter than it looked now. It was hard to imagine him smiling with his face set so seriously, high cheekbones and a strong jaw line boasting his masculinity.

  My eyes wandered lower as I observed him, slowing over the cuts on his chest as I counted them, losing track at fifty. There was no need for the blush that crept into my cheeks as my gaze fell to his waist, but I blushed still the same as I took him in. Just at his hips, his flesh suddenly deepened in color to an emerald green. There, the patterned shape of the scales intensified, coating his torso, hips and lower region in a thick shell, shaped like a mermaid’s tail. If he had legs within, I couldn’t tell, the lines smooth enough that I could almost imagine the sheer power the muscles within it held when he was healthy. It was massive, spanning wider than his entire body at the top, thinning near the bottom, but still flat and wide.

  I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but I didn’t want Roman to see him how he was now, dirty, and covered in the grim and sludge of the river bottom. His cuts needed to be cleaned, and his body washed. I had a brand new salt block sitting in the hall, ready to be put in the tub, once I ran some fresh water, but first things first. My legs cursed me for forcing them out of their relaxed position so that I could retrieve a towel and washcloths, but I ignored the pain, anxious to see Jonas awake and talking again. Somehow I’d become his guardian, drawn to him by something I could not yet explain, and although I’d did my best to rescue him, it still called to me, wanting more. He was mine and mine alone to save, and even if I wanted to, I was past the point of letting go. Roman would just have to understand.