Page 4 of In Violent Waves

His chest, broad and gleaming, pressed into her. His cologne—heavy with musk and sea jelly—sickened her.

“Why must everyone say the same thing to me?”

“Because you’re not known to behave.” Drystan reached for her chin like her father had done.

Lyra snapped her teeth in close proximity to his fingers. Barely missing biting them off his hand.

“Point proven,” he chuckled.

“I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

She spun, heading towards the dwindling line of maidens plucking the remaining vials, but Drystan grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her body against his. The feel of his scales against hers had her jaws snapping shut to staunch the bile that surged up the back of her throat.

Drystan leaned in close. “I will skin you alive, scale by glittering scale, if you even think about staying topside. You will return to me and be my wife.”

Lyra tugged against his hold. The sting of her hair being ripped from her scalp was nothing compared to swallowing down her words and letting him treat her with such disrespect.

Drystan let go.

“Are you an imbecile? I don’t belong on the surface.” Lyra’s chest heaved, and her eyes pierced him with the promise of retribution.

His gaze slid from the strands of hair still tucked in his fist to her face. “You belong to me, and you will come to love me—as much, or perhaps even more, than I love you.”

“You’re not capable of loving anyone but yourself.”

He smiled, tracing a fingertip from her temple to her lips. “I know that if I can’t have you—no one can. Is that not love?”

She swatted his hand away, and he gripped it, squeezing her fingers. Lyra felt her knuckles crack before he kissed each finger tenderly.

“You deserve to be loved just as violently as is your nature, Lyra. Let your monster out so that I may worship her.”

Her breath hitched, and the gold thread around her heart flared.

Long ago, Lyra had yearned for love. A folly that had since turned to silt on the seabed floor. Now, all she knew was rage. She was so very close to showing Drystan who she was and ripping his heart from his chest.

“There you are!” Marina called. “It’s time. Let’s go!”

She thrust a vial of amber liquid into Lyra’s hand before tugging her along, not once sparing a look in Drystan’s direction.

Marina’s jet black hair, like a pile of nets upon her head, bobbed as she led them briskly towards the exit and after the maidens who had already begun heading for the trails.

“You’re going to get yourself dragged back to the castle again if you keep running your mouth,” she murmured.

Lyra threw a glance over her shoulder to see Drystan staring after her. He winked, and she bit her tongue to keep from cursing him. She couldn’t wait to end his life.

Bioluminescent lights glowed along the lane and lit their path into the darkness beyond the kingdom. She couldn’t help herself. Lyra stole yet another glance behind her. The spires of the castle shimmered a muted gold. It was beautiful in the way the architects deemed it should be.

All that glittering gold; it veils the rotting within.

Marina hummed as they continued. Her black scales shimmered in the glow of the luminescence.

Seraphina was a few paces ahead of them, conversing with the other mermaids, her shock of white hair shifting into shades of pink or green depending on which light she passed.

Lyra’s ears pricked at snippets of their conversations. Some were nervous about what they would find on land. Others were so delighted about the promise of the tithe that it bordered on pain.

But almost too quietly to be heard were the murmurs about those who had not returned from past tithes. There was always one who did not have the stomach to complete the ritual and became cursed. However, one out of thirteen was forgettable. A fear not worthy of being acknowledged. They were never spoken of, the maidens who had failed, not even by their own families.

But a twinge of excitement stabbed between Lyra’s ribs.