MERCILESS (The Mermen Trilogy #3) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Read Free Book Online

years of studying cultural anthropology and sociology, the island’s tactics—the way she manipulated and tried to keep the mermen from leaving at any cost—smelled suspiciously close to dependence. Then, during her last “visit,” she’d been reading through one of the many, many books in their archives. There was a story about how Roen’s people once had gifts and abilities that were strangely similar to the island’s—the ability to manipulate the environment around them, for example. Liv suspected that the island was more like a parasite and needed them to survive. Not the other way around.
    So was the island dying of starvation somehow? And what had happened to all of the men? She had yet to see one single merman. For the record, these were not the sorts of men you’d stumble past and not notice. Most were around seven feet tall, and they had stunning green eyes and huge, chiseled bodies. Some had their unbelievably ripped torsos covered in tattoos—fish scales, sea monsters, tridents, and other symbols—and they didn’t wear a stitch except for a piece of cloth around their waists. As for hygiene, they didn’t care much for that. Not that they smelled bad—to the contrary, they smelled…well, pretty enticing, actually. All part of their “charming” attributes meant to lull and seduce human women. Nevertheless, they weren’t too big on cutting or brushing their hair and they swam a lot. Dreads were the standard look. It all combined into one very intimidating and noticeable package.
    You could spot a merman from a mile away.
    Liv arrived at the bottom of the steps that led up to Roen’s modern-day palace perched on a hill. Please, please, please let him be okay. Flashlight shaking in her hand, Liv cautiously climbed and then approached the front door. A sliver of light came from a small crack underneath the thick, hand-carved door embossed with symbols of serpents and fish.
    She carefully opened the door and noticed that everything looked just as clean and absurdly stylish as the last time she’d been here. The air, however, had a different vibe.
    Despair. The house was filled with it.
    Liv tiptoed through the opulent foyer—expensive crystal chandelier and brown-and-white marble flooring—and up the stairs that led to Roen’s master suite.
    There wasn’t a sound in the home except for the wood floor creaking beneath her feet as she made her way down the long hallway lined with doors. Most led to very nice guest rooms, one of which she’d stayed in with Roen once.
    She turned the corner and found Roen’s double bedroom doors wide open, the space dark inside. She flipped on the lights and saw his bed—a huge extra-long king-sized thing with four posts—covered in dried blood. Oh shit. Her heart constricted with painful worry. The rest of the large suite—rich upholstered furniture, dark stained wood flooring and stone fireplace—looked immaculate.
    No struggle. Nobody home. Nobody dead either—thank goodness. But where had they all gone?
    She pushed the heels of her hands against her lids, trying to fight back her tears of frustration and worry. Perhaps they were in the Great Hall at the heart of the mountain.
    Either that or in their homes. There were a few hundred cottages and cabins sprinkled around the island.
    I’ll start with the Great Hall . Much more preferable to running around in that Tim Burton forest at night.
    She turned to leave and heard a faint groan. What was that? She held her breath, listening for the source, but the sound didn’t repeat.
    “Roen? Roen! Is that you?” She sprinted down the hallway and began pushing open the doors to the guest rooms, turning on all the lights. She found room after room empty.
    “Roen!” Frantic, she ran back to his room and then heard the groan again. It was coming from the bathroom.
    Fuck. Fuck. Please be him. She rushed inside and flipped on the lights. A large form lay face down in a pool of dried blood. She quickly kneeled and