Chapter 17

Alba dreamedof hands touching him all over—gentle and fondling, between his legs and down his chest, combing back through his hair while lips pressed tender kisses to his cheeks, his temples, his ears, his neck.

He dreamed of hands sharp and tearing, grabbing and twisting him into whatever shape they pleased, shoving fingers into his mouth and drowning him beneath a constant stream of saltwater that choked him, that slowly turned him to salt from the inside out. Drenching him over every inch, enough that even upon waking—there was wetness between his legs.

The breath he inhaled was sharp, tugging the rest of his body to the surface with it. Quick and instant, he stared at the ceiling for a long while before ever realizing he was awake, eyes open. Only then did he exhale what was stored in his lungs, long and drawn-out and exhausted. He took stock of his surroundings, then his body, realizing with a silent grimace how every part of him ached. It was a wonder he wasn't discolored over every inch of skin once he lifted his arms to search for bruises.

Sitting up, he realized the wetness between his legs wasn't only a remnant of the dream, as fluids dripped from inside of him. His face rushed with hot embarrassment, leaping to his feet to rush for the washbasin beneath the window, only to collapse to his knees with a groan as a sore ache bolted up his spine. Christ—what had that siren done to him?

Finally regaining enough composure to remain upright, he gripped the edge of the washbasin, first throwing handfuls of water over his face before grabbing the hand towel draped over the side. Propping a foot on the edge of the bowl, he grimaced again at the sore, swollen redness more evident than ever once exposed, throbbing and hot from all the merciless abuse earlier that morning. Still vivid in Alba's memory as he gently wiped himself clean, biting his lip as even the slightest recollection made his heart race and his insides squirm.

Despite the roughness of it all—there was no regret, no resentment that laced the memories. In fact, his squirming insides even traveled lower below his navel the more he remembered, enough that he had to stomp his foot back to the floor and shove the images away before he made another mess of himself all over again.

His neck, shoulders, collarbones burned like he'd been bare in the sun too long, and Alba peeked at himself in the dirty mirror on the wall to see if he'd actually been torn open a second time. His skin was adorned with red spots, bite marks like collars of bruised crimson jewelry, and he had to trail fingers over them more than once to fully accept they were real and couldn't be wiped away. For a moment he wondered if that was all it meant to be claimed as a siren's favorite—but then, in the dim afternoon light, a tousle of silver in his messy red hair caught his attention. Running fingers back through it, his mouth dangled open in silent shock when strands as stark white as Eridanys' spilled from the hairline over his right ear.

A caller of the shore. That was what Eridanys had called him.

Alba touched the silvery piece of hair again, enchanted by it. How it shined slightly even in the low light, like the siren had implanted a handful of his own hair into Alba's scalp. A sign of ownership, most likely. A sign of warning to anyone who saw, perhaps. Alba was accounted for by something they wouldn't want to cross; something more dangerous than the image of merely a protective braid in his hair behind his ear. Something anything of the sea and anything of the land might know to stay away from.

It was enough to make his insides burn hotter, finally turning away and hobbling to the other side of the room. To yank on clean clothes—specifically a shirt with a high enough collar to cover the markings on his neck—and get to work prepping the lantern. To give himself anything else to think about, unsure how much more remembering he could take.

Steppingout into the wind as the sun set, Alba squinted toward the water lapping against the rocks, surprising even himself when he smiled at the sight of a white moon-spot floating above the surface. It gazed back at him, just long enough to confirm Alba was up and alive, before plunking back down under again. Why did that make Alba chuckle? Why did his smile remain half-quirked all the way to the lighthouse door, all the way up the winding stairs with his cane in one hand and a book in the other? He must be going mad.

How would he ever explain what he'd done to his mother? What in the world would she say? Would she smile and congratulate him; would she sigh in exasperation, unsurprised her touch-starved sailor son had been so willing to open his legs for the first thing to call to him? Alba's face boiled in embarrassment for a handful of reasons, deciding right away that when he did eventually meet his mother again, there may simply be some things he would never share of his time in Moon Harbor.

Such circling madness continued through the night, constantly forcing himself to push away any sudden memories of the morning before. How it felt to be held so tightly in such imposing arms—how it felt to shiver and go numb beneath the cold, crashing waves. The taste of Eridanys' mouth, salty and sweet; how many times he nearly drowned during their ritual.

He didn't expect Eridanys to be there again when the next morning came, waiting outside the lighthouse door as Alba emerged. Scaring him enough that he screamed and had to bend over his knees to catch his breath. Eridanys laughed—a sound that edged too closely to casting a spell. The man even bent over to pick up the book Alba dropped, naked and dripping like every other time he'd only just emerged from the sea. Alba's eyes accidentally slid down his body to where the glamoured human-anatomy lacked the same impressive display as he'd come to know, quickly glancing back up again when he realized he stared.

Alba thanked Eridanys as the book was handed back, only to be interrupted when a mouth was suddenly on his. Stumbling back into the rough exterior of the lighthouse, Eridanys pressed into him, chest to chest and soaking Alba's shirt, a knee tucking between his legs. The book and his cane tumbled to the grass a second time as Alba instinctively butterflied his hands over Eridanys' chest, not pushing him away, not pulling him closer, just—feeling him. Feeling how the siren's heart pounded in excitement. How his face moved as Alba's hands traveled higher, to Eridanys' shoulders, then his neck, then to cup his jaw. Kissing him back before he realized what he was doing, caught in the rapturous sound of a song no longer being sung.

"Damnit," Alba finally gasped as a single sense of reality sparked in the back of his mind. "What—do you want?" He meant to say more, breathless with hands still on Eridanys' face, but the man was pulling down the high collar of his shirt and kissing under his ear, down the side of his neck.

"You. Again."

"Why—?" Alba couldn't believe it. He inhaled sharply, embarrassingly when Eridanys' thigh between his legs shifted, grinding into him, making his sore insides glimmer like sunlight. More sensitive than ever after everything he'd been through the night before. "N-not on the rocks again, though, right?"

Eridanys smiled—Alba heard it in his breath—pulling away to look at him before kissing the roots of Alba's hair where the silver strands grew. Not in affection so much as—possession. Alba was owned, accounted for by something of the sea, and Eridanys was clearly satisfied with knowing he was the one who placed the mark. It compelled Alba to rake fingers through Eridanys' hair in return, frowning as there was no ginger-red streak to match.

Eridanys kissed him again just as Alba noticed two rowboats on the water, headed in their direction. Inhaling sharply, he beat his fist against Eridanys' chest until the siren finally growled a complaint and pulled back. As soon as he did and Alba could grab his stubborn face and turn it, his demeanor changed in an instant. His arms around Alba's body tightened, as if he thought they were on their way to take him.

"It's probably Mr. Michaels to take me to town," Alba explained. Not wanting Eridanys to get the wrong impression. "You should get back in the water?—"

But Eridanys ignored him, suddenly taking Alba's hand, scooping up his cane and book from the grass, and hurrying to pull him back to the house. Alba limped after him, snapping not to move so fast, only for Eridanys to growl in annoyance and turn to scoop him up in a single arm, instead. Alba's face flared hot, cursing and whacking him with closed fists again, all the way to the house where Eridanys finally put him back down.

"No, no!" he protested, smacking the man on the shoulder with his book. "I said go get back in the water, damnit!"

"And what if it's someone else come to beat you within an inch of your life?" Eridanys snapped, eyes still sharp, jaw still clenched. "You're not any good to me if you're dead. Not even a useful meal once your heart stops." He jabbed a finger into Alba's chest.

"Oh—we'll talk about that later!" Alba shoved the prodding finger away with his book, using his cane for another hit when Eridanys snatched the book away. "At least hide upstairs where no one will see you! I don't wanna to have to explain you to anyone either, you know!"

Eridanys' expression tightened, furrowing in every way to say he wished to fight about it more, but by then knew Alba was as stubborn as he was. He turned and stomped up the stairs, reaching the top just as the incoming rowboats clunked against the rocks outside.

Alba barely managed to rip fingers through his braid and re-plait it to hide the white streak, barely tying off the ends when a knock came to the door. Inhaling a deep breath, shaking out his hands, he made one final adjustment to the collar of his shirt before going to the door to answer, even managing a smile and a greeting and a believable show of surprise to find Eugene on the other side. Behind him, three other men made their way up the grass, not to the door, but in the direction of the lighthouse. Alba recognized one of them as someone who'd sat in the net-repairing circle on the dock the last time he went into town.

"Mornin', lad," Eugene said with a smile and tip of his cotton hat. Alba's racing heart relaxed just slightly at how normal it was, how the old man clearly didn't see a moonlit naked stranger running around the house hand-in-hand with his wickie. "Glad to see our last guest left you be. Assumed as much when the lamp kept gettin' lit—hope he didn't rough you up too much."

It took Alba a moment to realize Eugene was referring to Marco, barely managing an awkward smile and nod before he continued: "Thought I'd bring you your over-pay while the boys are getting things from the old lamp."

"The old lamp?" Alba asked as Eugene handed a rolled wad of cash over, leaning through the doorframe to look, watching as the others were indeed at the door of the retired larger lighthouse and letting themselves in. He remembered himself, then, jumping and stepping back. "Sorry, you can come in. Bein' out here all by myself has me forgettin' my manners, apparently." He barely heard the man's reply upon glancing down at the cash, only half surprised when it wasn't standard dollars there waiting for him, but rather dully printed paper with blue ink swirling around the corners, and what he swore had to be a peek at a mermaid under the rubber tie. "I thought the older sister was locked up for good?"

"Think I mentioned once that we store festivity goods in her belly." The man grinned, jokingly smacking Alba on the stomach and making him wheeze. Alba managed a polite, breathy little laugh in return. "If you're wantin' a ride back t'shore for supplies today, you'll be there with us 'til Thursday. New moon pulls the tide out too far for boats to leave the docks, so there won't be any activity in the harbor. Won't need to tend to the lantern 'til then, neither. If you wanna make a few extra bucks, some captains might need a hand gettin' bigger boats out to anchor at sea for the time, too. Gotta scoot them from the dock so there's no damage when the water shallows out."

"Oh—um, alright. Maybe. I'll come to town, though, sure," Alba wasn't exactly sure how to answer, though talk of the new moon's far tide reminded him of how high the full moon's king tide swelled in comparison. Apparently there were a lot of reasons the place was called Moon Harbor. He'd have to ask Eridanys if merrow magic had anything to do with it. "I'll grab some things and meet you by your boats. Do you need any help gettin' supplies from the old lighthouse?"

"Nah. Brought some of my biggest guys to do all the heavy-liftin'. You just mind your things and meet us out there." He pinched Alba's arm as he said it, a silent comment on how flimsy he was in comparison to other sailors who still wrangled fishing nets and giant crab pots day in and day out. Alba frowned, swiping himself away, which only made Eugene bark another laugh before seeing himself out.

Tucking the strange money into his pocket, Alba climbed the stairs to the upper loft. He nudged Eridanys back from where he crowded the passageway with head stretched out to listen to the conversation below. Only at the sight of claw marks in the railing did Alba realize how well Eridanys did resisting his urge to leap down the stairs and cause a scene.

"I'm gonna go into town with them, I think," Alba explained in a low voice, just in case any of the others were in hearing range. "God knows I could use a drink after what you did to me last night. Or ten. Oh—did you mate with me on the new moon as part of the ritual or somethin'?"

"The new moon isn't until tomorrow night," Eridanys argued. "And no, I could have mated with you whenever I liked. And I will continue to in the future."

"Apparently the low tide makes it impossible to sail in and out of the harbor," Alba ignored that last comment. "So they move all the boats out to sea before then… Why do you look so annoyed? You didn't already know that? You used to live here."

"I… knew that," he muttered, but averted his eyes as he did. "I only wasn't considering it in terms of sailboats, obviously… Traditionally, during neap tides, merrow would join humans on land to celebrate the new moon anyway, you know," he added, as if to prove it.

"You don't have to get defensive. I believe you."

"I'm not defensive," he practically growled. Alba still laughed under his breath.

"Whatever you say. Seems you get to continue that tradition this year, with the legs you can use on their shore thanks to me. You can't join me on the boat over, but if you wanna meet me on the other side, we can go see what's singin' in the woods together. Assumin' our little ritual last night worked like you said it would."

"It most certainly worked," Eridanys muttered, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed as Alba went about finding clean clothes to pack. "Did they invite you to join them for anything else while you're there? New moon celebrations used to be quite the spectacle, with food and dancing and rituals."

"What kind of rituals?"

"Merrow worship the moon, so when she's grown tired and fades from the sky, we dance and sing and make merry to draw her back out again. Making offerings to try and draw her back out again, gifts to show how much we miss her. How we noticed her absence. To remind her there are beings down here who would miss her beauty if she sleeps any longer…" He trailed off like such things were pleasant memories, and Alba said nothing to interrupt. Appreciating that rare, brief moment of contentment on Eridanys' normally harsh expression. "Makes me wonder if they've kept it up since my kin left."

"Seein' as it affects the tides so much… I have to wonder the same thing," Alba said with a tiny smile. "I imagine the townspeople would have their own reasons for wantin' to draw the moon back out again, considerin' she takes the sea with her when she goes."

"Hm…" Eridanys mumbled, like he hadn't thought about it that way. Like he was surprised at such a sincere response.

"And if they don't, well, you and I will just have to do somethin' ourselves, won't we? I'm sure we could make enough noise and offer enough attention to bring her back out, just the two of us. Does she also like licorice? I'll buy some in the general store with my first payment."

Eridanys didn't scoff; he didn't laugh or shake his head or mutter to himself in annoyance. He just looked thoughtfully at Alba for a long moment, like there was something else he wanted to say. Or he was waiting for Alba to add something else, something that would have been more expected than whatever foolishness he'd just rambled on about. Eventually the silence made Alba itch, and he tossed the bag over his shoulder with a change of clothes inside.

"Well—are you gonna join me or not?"

"I'll join you," Eridanys answered, shaking his head. "I'll join you! So stop asking. Just don't get into any trouble until I meet you, alright?"

"Where should we meet?"

"Where were you lured by the voices in the trees?"

"Erm—on the edge of the cemetery. But I don't think…"

"Then meet me at the cemetery. Tonight, before the sun sets."

"But—"

Eridanys was already getting back to his feet. He approached where Alba lingered at the top of the stairs, tugging on his braid before cupping the back of Alba's head to pull him in and kiss where the silver strands of hair were hidden beneath his natural red ones.

"You will not fall victim to the song of anyone but me," he reiterated. "So stop doubting my promise. Before I get annoyed."

Alba frowned, pulling away. Eridanys had indeed explained that already, but it didn't do anything to ease his nerves when reminded of how he'd been lured previously without even knowing it. Instead of arguing, he just closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"Wait here until we leave. Don't let anyone see you."

"I've gone this long."

Alba rolled his eyes, adjusting his bag. He offered Eridanys one last glance over his shoulder, before reclaiming his cane from the foot of the bed and making his way down the stairs.