Merciless

He lowered the phone from his ear and watched Liv saunter up to his desk with a victory swagger. She had her hair up in a clumsy ponytail, and her clothes were strange now that he thought about it, like she didn’t know how to dress herself.

  “What?” she glared at him.

  He gave her a look. “I’m simply admiring your festive attire.” Pink floral skirt with army green plaid T-shirt and flip-flops. Again, he found himself wondering if this was how Liv always dressed. He and she hadn’t spent much time together in the real world.

  “No. You’re worried again,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  He set his phone down on his desk. “I’ve just been told I’m going to be a father.”

  Was she even telling the truth?

  She walked around the desk, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss. Her lips were cool, but now he was beginning to wonder, was it really because he’d been running hotter? Why would he feel hotter? He’d had the island’s water before. He didn’t recall Liv’s kisses feeling anything other than warm and wonderful.

  All right. He had enough to suspect something wasn’t what it seemed. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Liv did not know how much longer she could hang on or continue trying to break through. She spent each night screaming at Dana, just hoping her sister might hear. It had worked, but not on a conscious level.

  And now her sister was sleeping with Lyle? Dear Lord, Dana really knew how to pick ’em.

  He’s way better than Shane, she thought, arguing with herself. And way better looking, too. But Lyle was…well, he was fucking huge. His muscles were like those big wrestler dudes on TV who spent eight hours a day beefing up. The first time she’d seen him, she’d almost wet herself. No. Not in a good way.

  Yet, obviously he wasn’t as vicious and cruel as he appeared. Or maybe he used to be and had changed? Because anyone who ruled this island of mermen—as Lyle once had—didn’t gain control by being nice.

  Although, things had definitely changed since Crazy Dirt’s departure. There was a new sense of calm and peacefulness that hadn’t existed before. And in the early mornings, when everyone slept—except for the mermen who patrolled the beaches or the few remaining maids who came ashore in search of animal meat—Liv could hear the faint sound of her own heart. Somehow, it kept on beating, despite the fact that it was broken. But every pump was filled with hope for Roen, that he would somehow fix this and free her.

  Where is he now? she wondered. Hong Kong? Shanghai? Maybe he was in his luxury penthouse overlooking Seattle. She tried to imagine him happy and safe, even if the woman he was with was a strange, evil creature from hell. And an imposter.

  Liv imagined Roen gazing into her eyes and noticing that the soul looking back wasn’t Liv’s. It’s not going to happen. Fucking Crazy Dirt is too sneaky. Which was why Liv felt her will to continue hoping diminish with each passing day. And then your heart’s going to give out.

  She remembered reading a study in her human psych class about how optimism, the sheer act of believing in a positive outcome, reduced the likelihood of heart disease by double-digit percentages. Hope mattered. It was like a vitamin for the soul. Hope was how she’d once survived ten days on a life raft in open waters. It was how she’d lasted five days without water under the intense heat of the day. She remembered thinking how her hope to see her family kept her going, until she realized there would be no rescue. That was the day she gave up. That was when her body began giving out. That was also the day she met Roen and her life changed.

  It was kind of ironic, wasn’t it? Had she given up sooner, she never would’ve met the island. But then she never would’ve gotten to meet that tall, fearless, sexy, stubborn man who melted her heart, melted her everything. Just when she thought life couldn’t be worse and she had been at the end of her rope, the most wonderful, beautiful thing of her life had been waiting for her on the other side: Roen.

  She sighed. She just needed to find the strength to carry on. She just had to believe that the most wonderful, beautiful thing in her life would be waiting at the end of this nightmare, too.

  Keep hoping all you like, Liv. Crazy Dirt won. She got everything she wanted. And even if Roen figured out something was wrong, what could he possibly do about it? He couldn’t get her heart back. It was gone forever, absorbed by this place.

  And now, I’m the island. My absolute worst nightmare.

  ~~~

  Roen knew that this was not going to be easy and could backfire on him. But he simply lacked a better plan and needed to know if something truly was wrong with Liv. If there wasn’t, then he would beg her forgiveness. If there was, he wouldn’t know what to do, but he’d cross that bridge later.

  He sat at his desk, signing a stack of legal papers Phil had sent to confirm Roen’s temporary authority over his holdings. His mind spun in dizzying circles. A few weeks ago, he’d just assumed he’d leave everything in Liv’s name. After all, they would be married soon and the assets would belong to them both. Of course, he hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, and now he wasn’t certain if he would.

  He signed the pages with the sticky arrows and slipped out his phone to call Liv. He’d sent her home—to his penthouse—and told her they’d meet there after he finished some work.

  The phone rang a few times before she picked up. “I hope you’re almost home. I’ve been waiting here for hours,” she whined.

  Roen’s heart sank for what he was about to do. “Actually, I’m hungry, and you’re not much of a cook. Think you can be ready in forty minutes?”

  “I cannot argue. Cooking isn’t one of my finer qualities. But going out sounds wonderful—we can celebrate the news.”

  “I’ll send my driver to get you. We’ll go to the place around the corner from my office.” It was a five-star steak house three blocks away. It was just the sort of place he would take Liv if they were really going to be celebrating.

  “See you there, merman.”

  “Are you stupid?” he growled. “Do not call me that anymore. Someone might overhear you, woman.”

  There was a long moment of silence at the other end of the line.

  “Did something happen after I left?” she finally asked with restrained agitation in her voice.

  “Yes. We can discuss it over dinner. Wear something presentable, please. You dress like a child.” He hung up the phone and blew out a breath.

  That felt so wrong. The irony was that not too long ago, he had no issue behaving like a colossal prick with women. Or with men. He didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself or his money.

  He grabbed his briefcase and the suitcase he’d packed this morning and then called Cherie to send his driver to get Liv.

  “You want the driver to get Liv and take her to the restaurant, but you’re going to the airport?” Cherie questioned. “Is she meeting a friend there? Because I should change the reservation name.”

  “No. Leave the reservation in my name. And you are not to answer any phone calls from Liv. Are we clear?”

  “Uh…yes, sir.”

  “Great. Call me a cab and tell my pilots I’m on the way.” Roen’s gut was already trying to tell him something. Something not-good. It was that he’d been too quick to believe that the nightmare was over. Who could blame him? After everything he’d been through, it was a normal reaction. But he should’ve known better.

  An hour later, his plane was already up in the air, heading to Chicago. His phone rang, and he mentally prepared before answering. “Yes?”

  “Roen, it’s Liv. Where are you?” She sounded extremely upset.

  “On my way to Chicago.”

  “Excuse me? But I’m here at the restaurant, waiting for you.”

  “Something important came up. I’ll be home tomorrow,” he said coldly.

  “Are you joking?” she hissed into the phone. “We spoke an hour ago. We made plans. And couldn’t you have at least called to tell
me there was an issue?”

  “Liv, I suggest you learn your place in this relationship. You are a woman, and I do not answer to you. I do not call and explain. I do not ask your permission. Your job is to look pretty and make me happy, which you’ve failed at. I suggest you get your ass home and think long and hard about your tone with me. You also might want to consider doing some exercise since fat asses don’t get my dick hard. We clear?”

  Roen held his breath, waiting for Liv’s response. If there was one thing he knew about the woman he loved: She did not take shit from anyone. Not him. Not a deadly, psycho merman, and not a crazy island.

  “Why this sudden change in attitude?” she asked calmly.

  “You’re pregnant. The courting phase of this relationship is over. Now we’re moving on to the phase where you stay out of my hair and take care of my children. Why is this a surprise to you? It’s how my people have done things for thousands of years.”

  Liv did not respond.

  “I asked you a question, woman,” he barked.

  “I understand,” she said, clearly pissed as hell, but refraining from telling him to go to hell, which was exactly what his Liv would do.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “It’s not Liv,” Roen said to Lyle over the cell phone, still a few hours out of Chicago.

  “Are you sure?”

  “If it is, there’s something very wrong with her.”

  “Or,” Lyle offered, “perhaps the island is holding something over her.”

  No. Now that he’d started to think about all of the small inconsistencies—the way she dressed, her callousness with her family, her lack of kindness—and the fact her body felt cooler, he suspected the issue was far greater than the island’s usual blackmail schemes.

  “There’s one other complication,” Roen added. “She says she’s pregnant.”

  “Fuck.”

  It was just one more red flag he should’ve seen but had not wanted to. Liv was all heart. She cared deeply about those she loved, and he had to believe that she would not jump so quickly and carelessly into motherhood. She would want to give their relationship proper attention before bringing a child in. She’d want to make sure she and he were ready. That didn’t mean that Liv had never had the urge to go at it. Like him, she found her mate irresistible. But her obsession with getting pregnant so quickly should’ve been a red flag.

  No, but you’re an egocentric bastard and just thought your mate was so into you that she couldn’t wait to have a little Roen running around.

  All right. He wouldn’t lie. He liked the idea of being a father—it fit well with his need to protect others.

  Idiot. You’ve been played.

  “Foke is right,” Roen agreed, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

  “She could be lying about the pregnancy,” Lyle pointed out. “If the island is involved, that would be my bet.”

  “No, she probably isn’t. Goddammit!” he barked at himself. Why was I so naïve? A foking idiot. “I should’ve known the island wouldn’t give up so easily.”

  “I think you should bring her back here,” Lyle said, “while we try to figure out what’s going on.”

  Roen sipped his scotch and glanced out the small window of the plane, thinking about what to do next. Not that he gave a crap about his money, but he needed to speak with Phil about how to work around this. “Liv” couldn’t be left in charge of the lives at his company. “I’m going to continue on to Chicago to meet with Phil. I’ll have the pilots fuel up, and then I’ll head straight to the island. I’ll be there at first light, but I’m coming alone.” He needed to learn what he could first before deciding what to do. Still so many questions. Never enough answers. “And Lyle?”

  “Please don’t get fucking sentimental on me. Because that sounds like where you’re going.”

  “You and I don’t do sentimental. Remember? We’re mermen,” Roen replied.

  “True.”

  “I wanted to ask you something, and do not dare respond with a snide comment. If anything happens to me, Lyle, and for some reason Liv really is pregnant, promise you’ll take if from her the moment it’s born. Promise that you’ll—”

  “Roen, I can’t—”

  “You foking promise me, Lyle. You take that baby. You run. You do whatever you have to, but promise me it will be free from her. She plans to hurt it, use it, kill it, whatever… But no child of mine will suffer at the hands of that sadistic, psycho bitch.”

  There was a moment of pause. “I will do everything in my power to protect your child. If there is one. But for the record, brother, I’d like to say that you are a Doran. You come from an ancient line of the toughest men known to creation. Your name is the definition of strength among our people. I believe if anyone on this earth can conquer this demon, you can. You were born to remove this curse that’s plagued us for thousands of years.”

  Roen took in his brother’s words, wanting them to fuel his resolve to finish this nightmare hanging over their heads. But the truth was, fighting an enemy like this—one they never understood, shrouded in mystery—felt nearly impossible.

  “Thank you, Lyle. See you in the morning.” Roen ended the call, his mind furiously attempting to make the pieces fit.

  The phone in his hand vibrated, signaling a text had just come in. He held it up and read: Your urgent translation is done. In your email.

  The text was from Cherie.

  Roen opened his email with his phone and stared at the tiny screen. His eyes skimmed. One page. Two. Three and four.

  “Holy foke.”

  It sounded like a Grimm fairytale written by the devil himself.

  ~~~

  Sons of the Sea:

  I write this story in hopes that one day my mermen brothers will read it and learn from my errors. For I have undoubtedly cursed our people for eternity and unleashed evil upon us all, upon our children, and upon their children. I know not what can be done to correct such a grave mistake, so I pour my knowledge onto these pages in hopes that the gods will guide it into the right hands.

  It began when a wooden vessel carrying a large group of men—all with hair and beards the color of flames and skin the color of snow—spotted one of our women in the ocean among a school of dolphins. Our group often followed these creatures because their ability to sense sharks and other dangers was far superior to our own. We, on the other hand, are skilled at killing such predators. Hands are useful tools and our long tails give us speed.

  I recall looking over my shoulder at the worried face of my mate, Salla. We’d been fleeing from these hunters for over a week, unable to eat, sleep, or rest. The men had the advantage in their numbers and their ability to rotate men to sail the ship. We both knew the humans were getting closer despite our efforts to lose them in a storm that had rolled in. The waves and vicious winds blowing against us made it difficult to swim any faster.

  Soon the men would capture us in a net and take our tails, believing them to be magic and the means to everlasting life.

  “Keep swimming, Salla!” I yelled, hoping that the violent winds, which inhibited our speed, would also slow down the humans who chased us, if not deter them altogether.

  Fortunately, the turbulent waters had separated us from our group, and the connection we shared in our blood and hearts told us they were safely ahead. A blessing, I’d thought, because Salla and I were now the only ones being pursued.

  However, as we swam, holding hands and moving toward an island up ahead, where we hoped to lose the hunters in the shallow waters filled with sharp volcanic rocks, a giant surge of seawater caught us both. It pulled us down so deep that our eardrums screamed. Just as I thought our bodies would surely give way from the pressure, a force of nature spit us out. Our bodies rose and rose until we not only reached the ocean’s surface again, but we rode a cresting wave high above it. The wave carried us over land and then crashed with such force that I blacked out.

  When I awoke face down in the mud, I panicked. Salla was no
longer grasping my hand. I lifted my body and looked around, finding only dense forest.

  “Salla!” I yelled.

  But my screams were unnecessary. For when I glanced up at the form standing above me, I realized it was her. With legs.

  “What happened to you?” I stammered.

  Salla looked down at her body. “I-I do not know.”

  “You have legs.”

  She nodded in astonishment. “Indeed, I do. You as well.”

  I looked down at the length of my body and realized she spoke the truth. I too had humanlike legs.

  “How is this possible?” I wondered aloud.

  “I do not know, my merman. However, we should seek shelter. The hunters might be on this island.”

  I agreed with my female and proceeded to stand. The awkward feeling was exhilarating. Legs. I had legs. I could propel my body over rough terrain—rocks, hills, and even climb trees if I so desired. But how? How could this be?

  “Do you recall anything, Salla, of how we came to be like this?”

  “We were in a small lagoon with bright glowing water. You crawled out, but I was far too weak to follow. Then I felt my body burning with fire, and I realized I could walk out. As soon as I made my way to you, the transformation had taken place in your body as well.”

  The water was magic. Salla had once been a human, but it was unheard of to change back after being claimed. I, too, remembered having legs as a child, before the ocean called to me. “It is a gift from the gods.” I felt tired no more. I felt strong and my mind felt sharp.

  Salla kissed my lips and smiled. “The gods are looking out for us, my love.”

  By the time the sound of approaching footsteps caught my attention, it was too late. The human man had come from behind and pressed a knife to Salla’s back.

  It was one of the men from the ship, who’d been hunting us. The barren look in his blue eyes told me he was without a soul or heart.

  “What do you want?” I said, but the man did not speak our language. He yelled and screamed, pushing the knife into Salla’s skin, causing her to yelp.