Chapter Six

" I have to let you go, honey pie," Marina whispers in my ear in the morning.

"Hm?"

"I'm late for a meeting with a friend." She kisses my cheek.

I'm wide awake at once. Muscles complain. I vaguely remember being woken up at four to Marina squirming against me, and we had sleepy, fumbling, cuddly sex that was like a dream.

Best dream ever—but now it's six. Where's she going? Who's up this early?

"I need your number," I yawn.

"Yes. Yes, let's do that, and we'll get together next week perhaps?" Marina says.

Next week? I was thinking about dinner tonight, but maybe she's playing it cool. Maybe she doesn't like to be smothered.

I don't like to be smothered. And I've never felt this kind of urgency to see someone again. It's...

Not happening.

"Absolutely," I agree. "Hey, it's Labor Day. Are you off work?" I enter her in my contacts, then text her.

I hear her phone beep and see her thumbs tap the small, cracked screen of an early-model smartphone.

"Yes. I... I'm off work." She tucks the phone back in her purse.

"I never asked what you do," I realize aloud. I feel like I tried to bring this conversation up a few times but never got anywhere.

"Part-time. Seasonal. I work at Onyx Farms in September and October, then help Kane Landscaping with their pool department. It's really only in May and June, and then at the end of the season to close everything up." Marina gathers up a small teal bag with the PR NYU logo on it and puts it over her shoulder along with her tiny purse. I guess she travels light.

Of course. She barely works. Travels light. Lives on an old houseboat. Sounds like a drifter. Or a social media influencer who spends time making content instead of working a nine-to-five job. You know, like boat life, instead of van life.

Well? So what?

My stomach sinks—and then stubbornly floats back up to the top of my ribs to nestle by my heart.

Not who I pictured myself with long-term. Maybe this doesn't go the distance.

"I... I'd like to find something for the winter months this year. Something steady would be good, I know. I just... I traveled a lot with my family earlier on, and I usually spend the winters where it's warmer—the houseboat is hard to keep warm, but I'm used to the cold—" Marina stammers and trails off. When she speaks again, her voice isn't shaking, but it's low and worried. "There was a person in my life who..."

"Your partner?" I ask gently. I wonder if they worked together. He was a fisherman. She has a houseboat. Then, he died. Maybe it's too hard for her to do what she used to do, without him.

Jealousy flares in me, even though it makes no sense. I suddenly wish I was important enough to Marina to leave that same kind of impact.

Her smile goes from nervous to sad. "My partner, Gregor, was wonderful. Very kind. He would never do what K—"

I blink. Kev ? Me ??

"You could call him Big K. Koshchei is his name in our language. He's not a good person." She shakes her head and her eyes darken, ocean blue suddenly seeming almost black. "A very bad person. Sometimes, I feel like I have to hide here, in Pine Ridge. Other times, like I need to be far away just in case his people have figured out that this is home."

"His people?" One of my eyebrows goes up. "What is he, Russian mafia?"

"Worse." The smile stays on her face, small and tight, like an animal curled up in a ball so the predator won't see it shaking in the corner.

Shit. I think she's serious.

"I shouldn't have said anything. It doesn't mean anything, doesn't matter." Marina leans forward and gives me a hard, sudden kiss. "He's not around to give orders. Won't be around for a long time."

I can't help but wonder why she told me then. I want to play it cool, but I don't. I blurt. "You need me to take care of this guy?"

"No! No, dear Lord, he would kill you without a thought. Please don't. Not that you could. He wouldn't be here—I... No." Another kiss, this one longer and deeper, one that steals my breath and my leg bones, leaving me gasping against the front door of my apartment. "I never talk about it, and I never should. It's not your problem, not yours to worry about it. You make me talk far, far too much." She shakes her head.

I can't tell if she's annoyed with herself or with me.

"You make me feel far too comfortable. Too safe."

Well, add "Strokes My Ego" to the list of things I like about this girl. "I can handle myself, baby. I went to college in Philly."

"I'm sure you can."

"If he ever bugs you, you call me, okay? Or just come here." I cup her cheek, looking right into her eyes—and for a second it looks like her pupil is a dancing flame. I blink and it's gone, back to a black dot in a sea of blue. "I'll keep you safe."

"I am no damsel in distress," she tells me, mirroring my gesture, one soft hand sliding over the stubble on my jaw.

"So? You're the history lover. I don't know much, but I know one thing—the great queens didn't fight their battles alone. They had their knights. You can be the queen, baby—and you've got me."

Marina makes a little wet sound in her throat before she hugs me hard, and kisses me harder. "Thank you, Kev," she murmurs, accent thick and smile trying to smooth out.

Then she's gone, running down the hall and trotting down the stairs.

Stupid, isn't it?

I've known her for less than twenty-four hours, but it feels like she left with a piece of my heart.

I DON'T KNOW WHY I told Kevin anything. Any. Thing.

I've never had such a verbal explosion with a lover.

I told him about Gregor.

My chest hurts, like it just happened. Like today is the day his boat didn't come back to the tiny lodge we shared, where rows of dried, salted fish hung from the ceiling, and everything smelled of smoke and the homemade soap I made at the end of summer.

I dive into the river and don't surface for a long time, taking solace in the places where the water is crisp and deep. I don't blink, afraid that when I do, I'll find Gregor's body there, cold and lifeless beneath thick sheets of ice.

I've always wondered if my "sisters" had anything to do with it. Did they finally figure out that I was changing, that I was going "soft," and that he was the reason why? Did they pull him overboard and tangle him in his own net to break me of my habit... Or just to break my heart?

Rusalkas can scream underwater. We can cry. Suddenly, for the first time in years, I'm doing both.

I rocket up with a gasp and flop on the bank, chest heaving like I need air, but I simply need to stop crying over things I can't change.

My heart hardened long ago. Healed, I thought.

Letting someone else in... Hurts. And it's too dangerous

So don't let him in, fool. He's a human, and humans will never be enough for you. Not one, anyway.

I ignore the fact that Gregor was enough for me, that regular coupling with him, every night or two, kept me fed. I tell myself that the fullness was an illusion, brought on by something else. Peace. Happiness.

Whatever it was, for two years, one human was all I needed.

Could it be that way again?

My phone pings beside me, and I retrieve it from my bag.

Kev: Sunday is technically next week. Dinner?

Yes! I want to say yes, with a giddy swoop in my stomach.

But I don't.

Don't get attached, Marina. Rusalkas don't get to love, don't get to be happy—and you've experienced both. Hoping for it again is only greed.

Marina: Labor Day weekend is busy in town. There's a big picnic at the park off of Pine Crest, and I promised I would go.

It's not exactly a lie. It's not exactly true, either. I told Janet and Cindy I would be there, but they wouldn't mind if I skipped. They wouldn't mind if I brought Kev, either.

Kev: No worries. When's a good night for you?

Never. Never is a good night for me. I shouldn't see him again. I can't believe I told him about Koshchei.

I can't believe he offered to help me. Protect me. Of course, he's a puny little human next to the demon overlord who spawned my race.

But I will need to eat again, and... I rub my hand ponderously over my middle. Normally, I remember the beginning of the academic year as being a long binge, a few weeks of gluttonous desperation as I tried to repair months of lean times.

There's no burning, gnawing ache today.

My fingers type fast before my brain reasserts control.

Marina: How about Friday night? Friday nights are usually free for me.

They're not. They're party nights, nights where I can have a freaking buffet of men. The fact that I picked that night makes me cluck my tongue in annoyance as I blink into the mid-morning sun. It means I'm relying on him. Wanting him to be my main meal for the week.

Wanting him. Period.

Kev: Friday nights are now officially date nights. Have a good day, queen.

Oooh, that man. My insides tingle. My heart does a happy dash like an untamed horse, and my thighs squeeze shut as I recall last night. He wants to do it again. On a regular basis.

That's not okay. Not what I want.

I will tell him no.

Like a good girl.

But I'm a bad girl.

Marina: That sounds nice. Have a good weekend, knight.