2. Isla

Isla

2

No forecast could have predicted how quickly the storm rolls in from the ocean. Pop-up tents billow in the strong breeze as shop owners hustle to pack their wares. Thunder cracks overhead, sending most rushing for cover.

Not me, though. I won't leave without my necklace. Summer storms like this one can stir up enormous waves and destroy all the sculptures by tomorrow. I refuse to lose my necklace to fluke weather.

Fortunately, the rain hasn't started yet, but flashes of lightning brighten the sky, competing with the setting sun as it dips below the clouds and kisses the horizon. There's something hypnotizing about the untamed beauty of it all.

My trance is broken when a giant red and white striped umbrella tumbles towards the line of sculptures. I freeze in place as the pole lodges straight into the eye of the tiger that belongs to the Dune Dreamers. Frantically, I look around to see where Billy is, hoping either he saw what happened or that there are other witnesses to this debacle.

The beach is nearly deserted now, but I see him ushering people inside The Clammy Pearl, the beachfront bar he owns. He turns, notices the umbrella sticking out of the sand like the topper of a pi?a colada, and scowls.

I mouth the words "I didn't do it," shaking my head vigorously in my defense.

But before I can look for support, a bolt of lightning pierces the sand just a few meters off. Way too close for comfort.

I stare in shock at my Poseidon. The necklaceI lovingly decorated on top of the coronet was the perfect conduit for the storm's wrath, hardening the sand into smooth black glass where the lightning struck. Swiveling back to see if Billy saw what I saw, I'm met with uncaring eyes. Large dark spots appear on the back of his teal shirt, signaling the arrival of rain. With one last warning look in my direction, he turns away to head inside with the flock of patrons. A whole group of beachgoers crammed into his bar is exactly the type of thing he loves. It'll keep him too occupied to notice if I slip over to my sandy statue.

The solid form of my statue stands tall and erect, beckoning me like a lighthouse. The torrent of rain coming in and the chaotic waves rising behind him make Poseidon look every bit the formidable deity he is. A flash of light from the sky illuminates the metal chain still dangling from his molten crown. It's now or never. If I don't save my keepsake, it will be gone by the time the storm clears.

Rushing to my sculpted sea god, I weave past a dragon that doesn't look completely finished and a collection of sunscreen bottles with faces. Both are eroding from the rain, but my Poseidon stands as strong as ever.

When I reach him, I'm caught off guard by the subtle differences I see. I don't know if it's the fading daylight, but something seems like it's changed. The curve of his smile—that seemed sardonic when I first gave it to him—now seems predatory and dark. Like he's daring me to take back the trinket I entrusted to him.

I lift on my toes to grab my necklace. It's a little higher than I remember. Either the sand has washed away at his base, or the sculpture has grown in the storm. Eyes locked on my prize, my fingertips brush the cockle shell. It swings back and forth on the hardened coronet, but I can't quite reach it to take it off. I lean a little farther. Then fall.

In the time it takes for me to register that I'm about to smash into my creation, I'm suddenly caught around the ankle and lifted into the air. Suspended upside down, I look in the face of my sculpture.

"And what do we have here?" my sandcastle Poseidon says.

The tide churning wildly beside us is nothing compared to the roiling in my stomach. Did he really just speak to me? His lips curl as if he can read my disbelieving thoughts.

"B-but—? H-how–?" Feeling like a fish out of water, I stutter over my words and drop my eyes. Faced with the detail I put into carving his rock hard core, I'm more than a little distracted from the impossibility of what's happening right now. The fact that my line of sight is perfectly aligned with that space where his v-shaped abs lead to his girthy tentacles doesn't help.

His chuckle is as deep as rolling thunder. "Were you trying to take my crown, little island?"

"Necklace," I manage to say as I tick back and forth like a pendulum.

"Ahh yes," he croons. "I suppose I owe you my thanks. After all, it was your talisman that allowed me to inhabit this form."

Breaking away from the sand below, his giant tentacles unfurl themselves. Thick and meaty, two gently wrap around my dangling body, cradling me softly. Slowly, he turns me upright, allowing the world to come back into balance.

As I reorient myself, it's hard to tell if I'm woozy because of the blood rushing from my head, the shock of talking to a sand-man, or the heat thrumming through my core. Either way, this sculpture has me swaying on my feet.

His eyes shine like sea glass as he leans down to whisper in my ear, "Do you want me to give you a necklace of your own, Isla?"

The way he says my name has my panties flooding like it's high tide.

It's raining, beyond dark, and storming furiously, but I'm almost certain he can see my cheeks redden as I blush at his words. My sculpture chuckles again darkly before using one of his tentacles to draw me in closer. Wrapped in his firm embrace, I'm enamored with the way I can feel his grip pulsate around me, rhythmically tightening and loosening like I'm being held by a heartbeat.

My own heart falters, skipping a beat when Poseidon brushes the wet hair from my cheek.

"I know your panties are wetter than the rain pounding down around us, Isla. I'm the king of all things water, and you're hiding an ocean between those thighs."

The tickle of his tentacle tracing up my leg is all I need to know about his intent. And the fact that I'm not retreating at his advance is all he needs to know about mine. But if he needed any sort of confirmation that his touch is welcome, the soft moan that escapes my lips speaks volumes. There's no doubt in my mind that I want the king of the sea to be the king of my P.