love.
"Will I ever see you again?" she asked shyly.
Danyl's grip tightened before he released her. Turning, he stepped into her space and cupped her face. She stared into his eyes and for the hundredth time decided she could easily live an eternity in them. "If ever you need me, ever, for anything , stand at the ocean's edge and call my name. I'll come back to you."
That knowledge should have made her overjoyed, but it simply wasn't enough. She didn't want to release him back to the sea, probably never to see him again. Besides the millions of questions she wanted to ask about mermen and mermaids, the fact of the matter was, she didn't want to lose him.
"Anywhere?" she asked, pulling her chin from his grip. Her gaze dropped because she didn't want him to see the stupid tears she held back.
Tears? Had he even earned them?
She held back a sigh too. Since the effort to keep the moisture from spilling down her cheeks burned her eyes now, he must have.
His thumb caressed her cheek and then caught a drop of moisture that managed to escape from the corner of her eye. His touch was gentle when he lifted her chin again.
The kiss he pressed to her lips was as soft as a cloud. "Anywhere."
He walked deeper into the water, but her feet remained rooted to the sand. She sucked in her bottom lip, worrying her teeth along it. There had to be some reason for him to stay a little bit longer, right? By now, her boat was a total loss. She really had no reason to scamper away herself.
"Danyl," she called. The water level splashed above his knees now. There was no telling how much further in he would venture before changing back to a merman.
A merman. Dang. She still had trouble with that one.
"Danyl," she said again. Don't go. Those two words lodged in her throat, locked behind a voice box that refused to budge. It had taken one look into those soulful eyes when he'd turned to make her lose her nerve. Thinking quickly, she added, "What did that word mean?"
He knitted his eyebrows together before recognition flashed across his face. The smile he gave her could have melted ice. "The next time I see you," he said, backing deeper into the tide, "I'll let you know."
But what if we never meet again? The thought flickered in her mind before being squelched by the surety in Danyl's tone. He knew they would meet again. Everything in his voice said he counted on it.
"Until the next time then," she whispered. Still, her eyes burned while watching the water rise the deeper he went. When at last the water hid his waist, Danyl did an impressive backwards flip into the water to disappear from sight.
Her mouth fell open of its own accord before he'd completely submerged. Gone were his lean, muscled legs that wrapped around hers as they lay on the beach. In their place, a tail of blue-green hues extended. Its ends tapered into a flare tipped by delicate-looking white. There were no scales to speak of, but the pattern swirled in a unique decoration that could understandably be mistaken for individual scales. Her background in marine biology and the play of burgeoning sunlight helped distinguish the outlines, however. She also couldn't prevent herself from reflecting how the ventral portion of his tail now lacked one very important, titillating detail.
Oh well. It showed up when it counted.
Amused by her own disturbing, sex-laced concerns, her heart lifted a fraction and a smile threatened to form. She would see him again. She was sure of it, too.
It took only a few minutes to gather what gear she planned to take and locate the trail leading to the private beach area for the local hotel. Once there, she'd borrow a phone and make arrangements for her next moves. She'd need to replace her trusty steed as soon as the insurance money arrived, speak with her university contact and then once everything was settled, crawl into her bed for a month-long sleep.
After about a quarter mile of walking, she frowned. Lifting her head, she turned to face the