Undertow Page 7

  “I gave it to Tad,” Derek pointed out. “As a symbol of our love—”

  Kellen’s voice raised to a high, chirping pitch. “A symbol of our love,” he mocked. “Please, give it up.”

  Derek wanted to kick him, knock him flat on his ass and pummel him into the sand, but Kellen stood just out of reach and any move Derek made to push himself up off the ground would be anticipated and deflected before he even managed to stand. His hands fisted, closing around handfuls of the fine sand beneath him, and he pictured chucking a blast of the sand at Kellen’s eyes, blinding him, though the wind would probably whip it away. He was caught—he had no options left, nothing he could do except give into Kellen’s carnal desires and hope that, once the merrow was satiated and had had his fill of Derek’s body, somehow he’d be kind enough to retrieve Tad.

  It was a long shot, and one Derek couldn’t quite bring himself to believe in.

  Still, he wasn’t finished fighting yet. Tamping down the fear that quivered in his voice, Derek tried, “If the talisman no longer works for me, why can’t you give it back?”

  “Why do you want it?” Kellen countered.

  Derek gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Sentimental value—”

  “To give back to him, I bet.” Kellen’s sneer told Derek what his old friend thought of that. “But he’s not here, is he? And right now, you’re all mine.”

  A chill ran down Derek’s spine at the smile that accompanied those words. “Kellen…”

  The merrow closed the talisman into his fist and squeezed. A pained expression flickered across his face as his grip tightened. “Kell, no,” Derek tried—he reached up, fear closing around his heart as if Kellen’s fist had grabbed him there, throttling the pulsing organ, willing it to cease its endless beat. “No, you can’t…stop!”

  A heaviness filled his chest, seizing his heart. With the tips of his fingers, he managed to snag the cord that dangled from Kellen’s fist and tugged it free from Kellen’s grip. But the talisman was no longer fastened to it—a fine red powder sifted through Kellen’s relaxing fingers. One or two larger pieces of shell fell to the sand and were lost. “No,” Derek breathed.

  Around them the wind picked up, stiffening, until it shrieked across the cliffs, wailing and scratching at the rocks like a caged dog. What remained of Derek’s talisman swirled with the breeze, mixing with kicked up sand that scoured Derek’s exposed face and hands. A faint ache began in his ring finger on his left hand, where Tad’s golden band rested. As the wind picked up, the ring seemed to shrink, tightening around Derek’s skin, as if trying to disappear into it. Fiery pain shot through him—with a cry that was lost in the wind, Derek cradled his hand to his chest, trying to hide it from the world and the wind, as if that alone would stop the crippling pain eating into him.

  He held the cord in his right hand; when it touched the gold ring, flames erupted along the length of the necklace. Derek fell back and tried to drop the cord, but it burned so fast, it turned to gray ash in his hands. The ring continued to sear him—his finger throbbed with an ache so acute, Derek was surprised it wasn’t red and pulsating. As the ashes of his necklace fell through his hands, he tried again to pull the ring off his finger, but only managed to hurt himself—where his fingertips touched the gold, fine white blisters erupted along his skin.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had blown up, the wind died down, scattering the remnants of Derek’s talisman before it like an offering. The blisters popped, clear ooze slicking Derek’s fingertips as the burns faded and healed. The ring flashed once—Derek saw it, like sunlight winking off the gold, and felt a surge of energy ripple through him like the blast wave following on the heels of a nuclear explosion—then the pain receded and the glow dissipated, leaving behind a memory of the fiery ache. Derek sat forward, once again cradling his hand close to his body, his mind awhirl. His talisman was gone, forever. He was trapped here in this dry, hot world, where he’d always wanted to be, but he’d had a way back before. Now he was stuck here, with Kellen, and Tad had never seemed so far away.

  The sound of a belt unbuckling pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Kellen’s hard cock pointed down at him, the flaring tip peeking from its foreskin like an inquisitive blind eye, a translucent bead of cum set like a pearl at its center. As Derek watched, Kellen dropped his jeans to the sand and fisted his dick, pulling the foreskin back to work himself harder. His balls hung heavy below the thin blond hair at his crotch. “Come on, Dere,” he purred, squatting. “We’re wasting time.”

  Bile rose in the back of Derek’s throat. “No.” He scurried backwards, crab-like, trying to put some much needed distance between them, but Kellen was quick—he reached out and snagged the waistband of Derek’s jeans before he could move too far away. Nimble fingers unbuttoned his fly, unzipped his jeans. Derek twisted in the sand, clawing at the ground to pull himself out of reach. His jeans slid down his narrow hips, exposing the tight black swim briefs he wore beneath. Kneeling in the sand at Derek’s feet, Kellen pulled the jeans down to Derek’s ankles, then tried to grab hold of Derek’s leg. His hand closed over nothing but air as Derek hurried away.

  The jeans hindered his getaway—Derek’s feet tangled in the thick denim and he fell to the sand, legs kicking as he tried to get free. Then he felt Kellen crawling over him, hands digging into the back of Derek’s shirt to pin him into place as he positioned Derek between his legs. Derek clamped his legs together, one word on his lips cried out into the wind. “No.”

  A hand slid over the satiny fabric of his briefs to knead his ass. Derek tightened his muscles, but one stubborn finger still dipped between his legs to rub over his sensitive hole. “No,” he said, louder this time, bucking beneath Kellen in an effort to shake him off. “Kellen, no.”

  “Relax.” Kellen leaned down over him, strong arms holding his weight above Derek’s writhing body. “You don’t really want to fight me.”

  But he did, he did. When the tip of Kellen’s hard cock touched his ass, Derek felt it through his briefs like a jolt of electricity, goading him into action. He tried to crawl from under the merrow, his legs parting to dig into the sand, and for the briefest moment, his right knee touched the inside of Kellen’s leg…

  Bright pain erupted along Derek’s leg. But before he could cry out, Kellen had fallen away, clutching at his own shin. “What the fuck are you playing at?” he howled.

  Derek took the opportunity to kick off his sneakers and shuck off his cumbersome jeans. When Kellen saw him sit up, he scratched out for Derek; his fingers caught in the front of Derek’s T-shirt and reeled him in like a prized catch. Kellen’s hair fluttered around his face in the wind, his sharp features tied in pain. His voice filled with menace. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need to see Tad,” Derek told him. The hand on his shirt slipped and found purchase in the front of his briefs, clutching at his genitals through the thin fabric. Derek gasped in exquisite pain. “Please. Kellen.”

  Kellen’s mouth twisted into a nasty grimace. “If you think I’m swimming all the way out to the Hellcat just for your peace of mind,” he snapped, “forget it. I’ll come back here and you’ll be gone.”

  With a shake of his head, Derek assured him, “No, I…”

  He trailed off as Kellen’s words sunk in. The Hellcat, his mind whispered. The waters around San Diego were rife with shipwrecks, and in the kelp beds off the coast of Point Loma, there was even an old World War II F-2 Hellcat navy fighter plane crashed on the sea floor. The merrow elders declared the wrecks off-limits because so many scuba divers visited them, but that had never stopped Dere from flitting around the old abandoned ruins, hoping for a run-in with a human while leading Kellen on a wild chase. The Hellcat had been a favorite spot of Dere’s when he was younger. He’d even had sex with Kellen there, once while he gripped the underside of a barnacled propeller blade, another time when the two of them had stretched out along the remaining rusted wing. There were plenty of rocky reefs
along the seabed there, full of tunnels and caves, any number of which Kellen and his mate could’ve called home.

  Tad’s at the Hellcat.

  Now he just had to find a way to get there.

  Clambering to his feet, Kellen stripped off his shirt, popping the buttons in his haste to undress. Then he grabbed Derek’s jacket, twin fistfuls of material at his shoulders, and hauled him to his feet. “I want you in the tide line, at least,” he commanded, glaring at Derek as if daring him to speak. “It’s too damn sandy up here.”

  When Derek didn’t move, Kellen gave him a rough shove. “Go.”

  Derek dragged his feet through the sand, shuffling down to the water’s edge like a condemned man. In his mind, he played out a vivid daydream where he somehow got away from Kellen, raced back up the steps to his car, and called the local Coast Guard to help him rescue Tad. Divers would search the wreck of the Hellcat and find the soul cage, whatever it might look like. They’d have an extra tank of oxygen so Tad would be able to breathe once they freed him from his prison, and Derek would be waiting on the deck of their ship, watching the churning waters below, waiting for his lover to surface.

  Hands eased around his waist, and Kellen’s erection prodded the small of Derek’s back like a loaded pistol. Beneath their feet, the sand had turned dark, damp, but the tide had receded and water no longer swished this far inland. In his ear, Kellen sighed, “Right here.”

  Derek stopped. He stood still, like one dead, as Kellen stepped around in front of him. Those hands trailed over his stomach, the touch ticklish through his shirt. When the merrow leaned into him, Derek felt that hard cock rub against his crotch with a sweet ache he told himself he didn’t feel. But there was no denying the way his body once again began to respond to Kellen’s—his own erection throbbed as if trying to beat its way from the confines of his briefs, and the muscles in his ass clenched in anticipation of entry.

  No, he told himself as Kellen eased the jacket off his arms to fall at their feet. His thumb touched Tad’s gold ring, and he closed his eyes when Kellen leaned against him, setting his head on Derek’s shoulder, stroking his chest. His touch burned through the thin T-shirt Derek wore. No.

  Then Kellen stepped back, caught the hem of Derek’s shirt, and pulled it up over his head. Derek raised his arms so he could take it off but Kellen stopped halfway and held the shirt over his head, pinning his arms up out of reach. Blinded by his shirt, Derek shivered when he felt hot breath on his mouth, his chin, his neck; a wet tongue licked out to taste one nipple and a buzz ran through Derek’s body, sizzling, like a mild electric shock. He heard Kellen gasp, as if he too had felt the sensation, and when the tongue tasted his other nipple, the same brief buzz shot through him, energizing his blood, invigorating his already stiffening dick.

  “Kellen,” Derek protested.

  His old friend laughed. “That’s something else,” he joked.

  Releasing Derek’s shirt, he wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist and grabbed at Derek’s round ass as he rubbed his cock against the front of Derek’s briefs. Derek struggled to get the shirt off as Kellen ground into him, nibbling and teasing Derek’s nipples. Each touch jolted him, an unpleasant shock that roiled through him until even his hair seemed to stand on end. He pulled off the shirt, tossed it aside, and tried to step back from Kellen, only to have the merrow hook his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs. The next move Derek made to distance them resulted in his swim briefs being tugged down; on its own accord, his dick swung up to meet Kellen, the tip already weeping from their earlier contact.

  The grin on Kellen’s face turned into a devilish leer. “Kellen,” Derek tried, hoping to buy himself some more time before he had to betray Tad yet again. “Please. I want—”

  “I don’t care what you want.” Kellen sank to the wet sand, mouth open, tongue licking out to taste the tip of Derek’s dick.

  The briefs rolled down to Derek’s knees, the fabric twisting in an uncomfortable tangle. Derek tugged at them in an effort to pull them up, cover his nakedness. He glanced around, hoping someone somewhere would see them and they’d have to stop…

  Then Kellen’s tongue touched the underside of Derek’s cockhead and pain shot through him, so acute he swooned from it. “God,” he gasped, taking a step back. The briefs snared his legs and he fell to the ground, hands clutching at his crotch, God. An ache that had nothing to do with the need for sexual release burned through him, a pain so hot, so real, that Kellen might have crushed a lit cigarette onto the bulbous tip of his dick instead of just his tongue. Derek rolled away, gasping for air, God. Oh, God, oh, Jesus, that hurts, that hurts, that fucking hurts.

  Undeterred, Kellen grabbed for Derek’s briefs with one hand, the other angling between Derek’s legs to poke at his trembling anus. Where his skin brushed Derek’s, more pain erupted, and this time Kellen cried out as well. From the corner of his vision Derek saw the ring on his hand glowing with a golden light that seemed to envelop him, deepening the color of his skin yet again. A strange thought flittered through him—I’m the gold now. It’s in me.

  When his talisman had broken, the gold must have absorbed some of its magic because now Kellen, with his merrish blood, couldn’t seem to touch him.

  Ignoring the pain that wracked his body, Derek crawled out of his briefs, away from Kellen. As the merrow writhed in agony, cursing his name, Derek wondered just how much of the talisman’s power now resided in his ring. A few yards away, low waves topped with white foam crashed to shore, the ceaseless surf a roar in his ears. Derek’s mind whirled—could something in the gold somehow help him get to Tad?

  He had to do it—he had to at least try.

  Scrambling to his feet, Derek left Kellen behind and threw himself into the rushing tide.

  Chapter 9

  When the first low wave washed over his ankles, Derek flinched, expecting more pain shooting through him. Instead he felt a warmth spread up his legs, so unexpected, so at odds with the cold water swirling around his feet, that he stumbled and fell into the tide. Spray splashed his chest and throat and mouth; he licked briny water from his lips, the savory taste as heady as the first sweet drop of drink to a former alcoholic. Without thinking, he plunged his head into the water, let the waves crest over him, buried himself in the rush that struck the shore. For the first time since Kellen had come back into his life, he relaxed—letting go of the sandy bank beneath him, he let the water flow around him, pulling him along with it back out to sea.

  A few yards from the shore, he broke through the water and gasped in the twilight. His throat felt parched and his mouth worked around air he could no longer breathe. The hands that flew to pat at his neck were webbed, and their flat, suction-like tips skimmed over gills slit into the sides of his throat. Ducking back into the water, Derek felt the water rush over his gills, wetting his throat and filling his lungs with salt water that flowed like nectar through him. Underwater, he opened his eyes and found the once-familiar world of his youth faceted before him in cool shades of blue and green. His heart swelled with sudden love for a place he’d never believed he had missed.

  Mananan, it was good to be home.

  Derek dove in a circle, trying to look at every spot on his body at once. The fins were back on his arms and legs, and his feet unfurled into flat, leaf-like flippers. Iridescent scales covered him, but instead of the greenish shade he used to be, they now sparkled like burnished gold, winking in the fading sunlight that pierced through the water, turning his every move into a flash of light.

  Then a pulse shot through him, like sonar. No pain this time, but the beat stemmed from the ring on his finger—as Derek held it up before him, he saw it pulse again, felt it roll over him as it traveled through the water, rippling the undersea world.

  This time, it ricocheted back to him with a warning. Kellen.

  Plunging down toward the seabed, Derek pushed into the water. It flowed around him, parting as he swam and closing behind him in his wake. His arms and legs recalle
d the strokes that pulled him along. Much as he’d like to dawdle, swoop down among the fronds and grasses on the sea floor, dance among the fishes, the pulse on his ring sounded again and this time came back faster than before. Derek knew Kellen had entered the water, and was even now swimming after him.

  Derek pushed past the nostalgic urge to linger and hurried out to sea. The ring’s pulse grew stronger, more frequent, as if it weren’t a gold band but a homing device targeting what Derek sought.

  Targeting Tad.

  * * * *

  Several miles offshore, the kelp forest began.

  Tall, dark leaves of kelp swam before Derek like a primordial wood, swaying in the currents and obscuring all visibility. The kelp grew in thick masses, thin roots covering the sea floor and anchored by air-filled bladders, some as big as Derek’s fist, to broad leaves that reached up to the surface of the water, where they created a canopy hiding the flourishing world beneath the waves. Many creatures called the forests home, including the merrows, who used the kelp beds as cover from humans who dove or boated close to shore. It would be easy to get lost among the kelp, Derek knew from experience, and it’d been years since he’d visited last…

  But as he approached the forest, he saw an old barnacled rock he remembered from his childhood. How many times had he raced through these strands of kelp, Kellen at his heels, the two of them laughing like water sprites, hands stretched out to be the first to touch that rock? In the map of his mind, that rock was a cornerstone, the starting point to a maze that ended at the Hellcat and Tad. Derek swam over to the craggy stone and ran a hand across its rough, scarred surface, as if touching it was the beginning of his quest.

  Then he pushed away from the rock and parted the kelp closest to him.

  The ring’s next pulse reverberated back to him quicker than it had before. As Derek turned to glance over his shoulder, he felt a firm hand close around his leg, just above his flipper. Derek’s mind clouded over in pain sparked by that single touch, and the sea around him grew dark, menacing. His consciousness threatened to slip away. Thrashing through the kelp, he pulled free from the grip and cried out, “Kellen!”