Chapter 12

Rose

I t was a beautiful day.

The siren sat on a bench, book in hand, as the breeze off the ocean ruffled their hair. They'd just finished reading a really sweet minotaur romance a few minutes ago and had moved on to the first book in a series about a murder circus. Life as a siren was great. They could finally be themself, as they wished to be. What was better than reading books on the beach?

A quarter of the way through the book, there was a tap on their shoulder. When they looked up, a woman stood before them—I recognized an adult Molly Young, whose belly was full and round with child. Their power told them that she was one of the merfolk, just like them, so they smiled at her, feeling an instant kinship.

"Hey," said the woman, "I was wondering if I could sit here for a minute? The other benches are full."

Looking around, they saw she was telling the truth—all the other benches were full—so they nodded. "Sure! Let me move my things."

They moved their tote bag between their feet so Molly could sit before going back to their book. They paid the pregnant woman no mind as she plopped down next to us, heaving a big, relieved sigh as she did so. Her power prickled against their skin, but they ignored it. It was probably rude to poke and ask about these things.

"Have you been one of our kind long?" she asked in a whisper after a couple of minutes.

Looking up from their book, they did some mental math. "Only about three months, actually."

"What happened?"

She was not the first to ask. It seemed all merfolk were interested in the turning of sirens, as if they wondered what gave them the fortitude to defy death and seek a new life as a changed thing. Sometimes, the soul wondered if it was a judgmental thing, as if the merfolk thought they could discern whether new sirens deserved their new lease on life.

Then again, that might have been their own bitterness and cynicism coloring their outlook.

"It was after an argument with my family… I was getting some fresh air on a cliff by the ocean. I fell and hit my head on a rock and drowned. I was brought back due to spite, I guess. I just couldn't let my family win." Not that I spoke to them after I died , the soul thought. They meant to… eventually. They just weren't ready for that yet.

"I see," Molly said, lifting one of her legs to rotate a swollen ankle, then the other. "Are you enjoying your new life?"

"I am. I'm finally free, and I can do whatever I like now. It's amazing how dying really puts things in perspective."

"I'm sure it does."

Her voice held a strange, inscrutable inflection, but she said nothing more. With nothing more to say themselves, they went back to their book. The premise was so good, and the prose was so interesting that they couldn't stop, not even when they felt a little tugging on their aura.

Then the world went dark.

The soul's hand gripped mine a little tighter, and immense sadness filled me. They'd only just begun their life as a siren, and to have it cut short so mindlessly? My heart cried for them.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice a mere whisper in the wake of my sorrow.

Daniel Mason , came the voice in my head as the soul before me coalesced into a young man who looked no more than seventeen with a halo of curly dirty blond hair.

"Okay. Let's send you home."

Thank you, Rose McKenzie. Thank you. The sincerity in his voice brought tears to my eyes.

"Daniel," I started, the words I'd learned from Tisa tumbling from me clumsily, "I see you. I see you and witness you as your spirit passes from one plane to the next. You will be one with the sea once more, and you shall find your rest. Let's take your final steps in this life together."

The vibrant yellow of his soul glowed brighter, shining like the sun as the little piece of divinity floated from his chest to mine. Just as before, a reaper appeared—this time a woman around my age, who wore bright red Converse. She smiled softly at Daniel and held out her hand. He pulled his hand from mine, took hers, and they walked away without another glance back. I was left alone to writhe on the ground in pain, my soul split asunder once again.

The scent of cooking meat teased my nose and enticed me to open my eyes, but I didn't want to. The bed was warm and soft around me, cocooning me in safety. For the first time in ages, my body felt rested, energized, like the pieces of my world were starting to come back together again.

Last night had been intimate, the cracking open of my chest and showing Milo parts of my heart just as he showed the entirety of himself to me. Even after showing me Beastie and where he kept his pelt, Milo hadn't let me close back up like I was wont to do. He'd drawn us a bath—as promised, using bath oils that filled the room with a warm vanilla and cinnamon scent—and he'd washed me, his hands tender and reverent. Afterwards, he'd made love to me so sweetly that I cried before holding me throughout the rest of the night.

Even now, the bed still smelled of him, though the place where he'd slept was growing cold. A not-so-small part of myself wanted to call out to him, to beckon him back so he could wrap his pelt around us and protect us from the world. I wanted nothing more than to stay there forever. To pretend like nothing but us existed.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans.

My stomach growled in protest, screeching at me to go eat whatever he was cooking, and after several long minutes trying to ignore it, I lost that battle. Thoroughly. So, I got up and trudged toward the kitchen.

Sizzling filled the quiet as I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, passing doorways to rooms I'd never been in. Perhaps later I can go poking around… after eating. As if my insatiable appetite would allow me to do anything otherwise. A rare bit of sunlight streamed in through the windows. Milo stood in front of the stove with a spatula in hand, wearing nothing but a frilly white apron and cooking something I couldn't quite see—sausage, if my nose was correct. My mouth watered.

Padding up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, slipping my hands beneath the apron to touch his skin. I squeezed him tightly and buried my face into his back, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Being so close to him, having his skin pressed against mine, had that odd tug in my chest begging me to melt into him. My whole body flooded with warmth and contentment.

This was where I was meant to be. This was home .

"Hello, love," he murmured.

"Hi," I whispered back, practically purring.

He captured my hand to kiss and nibble it. "Sleep well?"

I nuzzled the space between his shoulder blades, placing a kiss there. "I'd have slept better if I'd woken up in your arms."

"Aye, a travesty to be sure," he said, laying on a British accent thickly. "But how could I sleep when my love's stomach was bellowing like a whale, demanding to be sated?"

I blew a raspberry where I'd just kissed, making him chuckle. "I'm sure I could have found other sustenance that would've kept you in bed with me."

To punctuate my point, I took Milo's half-hard manhood in hand, stroking it in the way he liked… but only twice. My fear of him getting hot oil on one of my favorite parts of him was greater than my desire to be a tease.

Still, he groaned in that sexy way that made my toes curl.

"Should I abandon breakfast, then, in favor of your preferred nourishment?" he asked, a little breathless.

"Hmm… pork sausage or boyfriend sausage? It's such a hard choice."

"‘Mate' sausage, dear. Mate. A crucial difference."

I smiled into his back. "Well, in that case, I shall be a little selfish and demand both. Mate sausage can be my dessert."

"A fine choice, my love." We devolved into a fit of laughter. He turned off the stove and moved the pan to another burner before turning in my arms, looking down at me with a mischievous grin. "I do hope you're hungry. I've made a feast for my ravenous darling."

Milo gestured towards the table. It was already set for two, a plethora of dishes under glass domes to preserve the heat between the place settings. Aside from the sausages he'd just finished, which he was now busy plating and bringing to the table, there was a pile of bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs with what looked like red and green peppers, onions, and mushrooms, perfectly golden toast, and a pot of fragrant tea. I had to force myself not to drool.

I let him guide me to the table, where he pushed my chair in like an old-timey gentleman before taking his own seat. He signaled for me to help myself, and I made sure to have a little—okay, a lot—of everything on my plate. My immediate thought was that it was too much, that I'd gone overboard with my own serving, but as soon as I started to dig in, my appetite was enormous. I'd never been one to hold back on eating, but my stomach felt like a bottomless pit. Milo had to remind me that I was feeding my magic as much as I was my body as he was putting more food on my plate.

The sense of normalcy was something I desperately needed. My life had always been routine, and I liked it that way. Wake up, shower, eat breakfast, go to work, eat lunch, close the shop, eat dinner, and go to bed to start over the next day. For a while, it was the only thing keeping me tethered together. I hope that this is the beginning of a new normal for me .

Once I'd cleared my first plate of food, Milo spoke, his eyes lifting to catch mine. "If you're up for it today, since the rain seems to have eased, we can bring your boxes in from your boat."

At first, his words didn't compute. Boxes? Boat? When I realized what he was saying, surprise overtook my confusion. In my head, when I'd found the house and the shop nothing more than a pile of ash and rubble, I'd lost everything. I hadn't been in my right mind to think about my boat at the time; I hadn't even looked for it. To learn it had survived, though? I didn't quite know how to feel.

Milo must have mistaken my silence for something else, as he added quickly, "But only if you're up for it. I know moving in might not be at the forefront of your mind right now."

"No, we can," I replied hastily. "I just… I just didn't expect my boat to have survived Joseph's wrath."

The tension in his shoulders eased. "It almost didn't. We had to use it to help get Violet to safety. But I've kept it safe and cared for in your absence."

My feelings bubbled up so fiercely that, "Thank you," was all I could say.

"We will need to replace what you lost in the fire and get you new copies of your birth certificate, bank cards, and such, but we can do that after we take stock of what you need. I think you'll feel more settled once your stuff is here and you have a routine again." He said it so casually, but I could tell he'd taken a great deal of time to think this through.

I hesitated. Sure, the novelty of being with Milo day in and day out was sweet, but when that wore off? Would I feel like an intruder?

"I'd love to get officially moved in with you," I replied at long last. "I'm just sorry in advance if I get weird."

"You're allowed to have feelings, even if they're negative or messy," he reassured me, his gaze catching and holding mine to emphasize his point. "I'm here, and we're going to get through this together, okay? We can take all the time you need for everything."

That he'd heard me last night, remembered my words about my upbringing, made me fall in love with him all over again. "Thank you."

"It's my honor, Rose."

The rest of breakfast went quietly. When we finished eating and cleaning up, he took that adorable frilly apron off and hung it on the pantry door handle. "Alright, if you're up for it, I'm going to start bringing in your boxes," he said, brushing a quick kiss on the top of my head.

"Okay," I said, but when he went to leave, I grabbed his hand. He gave me a questioning look. "Would you like to, uh, put on some pants first?"

Looking down at himself, then up at me, he chuckled. "You remember that Otherkind aren't too hung up on nudity, yes?"

"As if I could forget," I replied and gripped his cock again, giving it a stroke that made his eyes flicker color. "I just wouldn't want you to hurt this."

A rumble came up from his chest. It was Beastie who spoke. "Mate, for you, I shall put on pants."

I smiled innocently. "Thank you."

Beastie gave me a purr, then, in a blink, threw me over his shoulder. Again. I squealed, "Beastie!"

He walked us back to our bedroom without another word, and I expected him to drop me on the bed and start ravishing me, but instead, he slid me down his body to my feet. After a peck on the lips, he went to his dresser, grabbed a pair of gray cut-off sweatpants, and pulled them on, tucking away his half-erect length—a shame, really. Then he took one of his T-shirts and pulled it over my head. His scent enveloped me, and I smiled, comforted by the fact that it was basically a dress on me.

"For my shy darling," he said, kissing my nose before tugging me toward the closet.

The closet was another new addition since my departure, but I wasn't sure what I expected. Certainly not a room large enough to fit the clothes of four or five people, with ample hanging space and drawers both. His clothes took up part of the left side, but the right was empty, as if waiting for someone else to come occupy it. The blush that crept into his cheeks was adorable.

"This whole section is for your things, as well as the second dresser in the bedroom." His blush burned hotter. "I've been preparing the house for you since I met you. If there's anything you don't like or you want to change, just let me know, and I'll do it. I want you to feel like this is your space, too. I know you haven't had a chance to really have a space of your own, outside your boat."

A lump formed in my throat, and I turned toward him to nuzzle my face against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." He squeezed my hand. "Let me go grab those boxes."

Milo kissed me again, then walked out of the room, leaving me alone. I stepped back into the bedroom. It was both so very easy and so difficult to imagine this being my space as well. Of course he'd made room for me, as was evident with the bathroom, closet, and extra dresser. But could I make this my home? Or would I always feel like I was stepping on his toes?

"Thinking about all the changes you're planning to make already?" he asked when he returned, the first round of boxes in his hands.

I chuckled. "No. I was just thinking about how I love everything. It's very… you."

He set the boxes at my feet, and when he stood up, I could have sworn his chest was puffed out a little with pride. "And you like me?"

"I love you," I replied.

Now he was very chuffed, a pleased purr vibrating from deep within him. He held his head a little higher, grinning, and left again to grab more boxes. I couldn't help but smile, too. He always works so hard to make sure I'm well taken care of. I need to be better about making sure he's taken care of, too.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the box closest to me and began to put things away. A bitter sort of upset burned in my gut as I opened the first box—what was supposed to have been our supplies on the cross-Pacific trip to Malutaga. We'd been mere hours from setting sail before I'd been abducted, tortured, and murdered. It took more effort than I cared to admit not to mourn what should have been the trip of a lifetime with my mate and Will. But once I cleared my mind, it was easy to relax into a mindless flow as I sorted through everything.

I put my clothes away in the right side of the closet, my toiletries in the bathroom, and whatever I wasn't sure about on the bed to ask Milo for input later. My new body was much faster at doing things, and I zipped around the house, much to Milo's amusement. I was just coming back from putting things in the kitchen, ready to grab another box, when I stopped short. One of the things on the bed that I'd tossed in the "I'm not sure" pile caught my eye.

My cell phone.

Still in the same waterproof baggie, it almost blended in with everything else, but its sparkly case glinted in the soft overhead light. I picked it up with shaking hands, a spike of anxiety shooting through me. It was in perfect condition, the same I'd last seen it in, and when I pulled it from the bag and tapped on the screen, I found that it was fully charged. I sank down onto the bed and put my password in.

My home screen popped up, a picture of Milo and I from the Fourth of July Fair at Nora Port. Everything was just as I'd left it, aside from the multiple red dots that indicated unread notifications. Messages, voicemails, app notifications… there were so many. My finger hovered over the icon to my messages which had "99+" in the upper righthand corner, but I hesitated as my heart rate doubled. Was I ready for this?

"Hey, sweetheart," said Milo as he entered the room. "This is the last box…" He trailed off when he saw me sitting on the bed. Setting his box down, he kneeled in front of me. "Are you alright?"

"I have so many messages," I said dumbly.

"Ah." He nodded, taking one of my hands in his as the screen went dark. "We didn't talk about this before. I wasn't sure how to handle your phone, or if you would even want me to. Since I don't know your password, I couldn't get into it anyway. So, I just kept it charged for you."

"Thank you." I put the phone down. I'd deal with it another day. "And I'm sorry this all happened this way. I wish it hadn't."

"There's nothing you need to apologize for. None of this was your fault. At all." Shifting a little, he pulled me down into his lap, urging me to straddle him. "I'd follow you into death if I had to."

The sincerity in his words, in his eyes, tugged on my very soul. Nothing I said could adequately express that I returned those feelings, that were anything to happen to him… I couldn't even entertain the thought.

Sitting up a little, I slipped one hand in his hair and cupped his cheek with the other. I tipped his head back and kissed him, hoping to give voice to all the feelings I couldn't express with my words. I kept the kiss slow and languid, sweeping my tongue into his mouth to tangle with his, and he responded in kind. His love for me sparked between us, and my heart fluttered sensing it. When I pulled away, I kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, and finally his forehead before wrapping my arms around him again. Milo breathed heavily now, his heart pumping hard in his chest. I smiled against his hair.

"I love you, too, Rose," he murmured as he caught his breath. Before I could reply that he had my whole heart, a knock at the front door derailed my thoughts. He sighed. "I'll get that."

With one last kiss, he shifted me back off his lap to go get the door, trudging out of the room reluctantly. In the spirit of wanting to finish unpacking, I was about to grab the last box of stuff when a familiar voice echoed through the house. My heart stopped. Before I knew it, I had made my way to the front hall.

Standing there in the doorway, an awkward smile on his face, was Will.