Page 36 of Edge of Stars

How?

It’s worth giving myself the leave to repeat, even a few more times, as Maximus voices it in a better way.

“What the actual fuck?”

We’re done riding Poseidon’s jet-powered wave out of the church, off the hill, and across Palos Verdes Drive. We’re now nearly past the nature reserve and heading straight into the moonlit waves of the world’s largest ocean.

And now, suddenly…under them.

I’m ready to add my echo onto Maximus’s words but am too afraid. Instinctively, my lungs clench tighter on their air. As soon as Maximus clutches me closer, I know we’re on the same wavelength.

We’re in survival mode, pure and simple, latched with a wild what-are-you-thinking glare at Poseidon. I don’t foresee an overt reaction from the sea god, considering how calm he remained even when facing Hecate’s temper. Exactly like then, his Bali-blue eyes are twinkling. His Oahu-worthy smirk is steady.

“Okay, the point is to get you both away from the actual fucks.” He swoops in his hand, visually commanding us to breathe in. “Though it’s probably okay to say cluster fucks by now.” He continues, nodding toward Maximus. “Though, thankfully, you gave enough of all your fucks to flood me back into consciousness, so you have my thanks. That was impressive. Guess you’ve truly decided to go for the big waves with embracing the other half of the DNA.”

“Wasn’t exactly a decision.” Maximus’s retort is more a growl, though the whole line is clearly an afterthought beneath a more pressing subject for his uncle. “Though that’s not what this all is. You going to lift the curtain, or the wave, or whatever the twisted Nemo is going on here? Should we be speed training to tread water over the Mariana Trench, hoping we make it to Guam by morning?”

Poseidon’s tawny brows do mini dolphin leaps. “Well, there’s an image. A wrong one, but still.”

“So explain.”

I swipe a hand over my stomach, relieved when the god looks ready for just that, until his gaze darkens.

“And there’s more of that Z-train DNA,” he jibes, adding a smirk. “Though I suppose the boss bitch streak is a plus for your profession.”

“Especially the part that suffers no dawdling,” Maximus counters.

The smirk is abandoned. It comes as another unexpected relief. “Usually, I don’t suffer mortals who forget that commanding the seas means commanding water, down to its basic molecular form. But we’ve all had a day like none other…”

The break he takes for an explanatory exhalation is perfect timing for my breath in, recognizing the snap of science logic in my mind. Weird science, to get eighties-style trite. I’m the girl who can quote Sophocles but usually has to ask if osmosis is a new eye shadow line.

“Basic molecules,” I reiterate. “So you’re breaking out the oxygen from the water to create a…what…breathing bubble for us?”

In the pause I now create, Poseidon drops a steady nod. “Your scientists have called it electrolysis since seventeen eighty-nine, but I’ve called it necessity for much longer.”

Maximus jogs a brow. In the wavy liquid light, it changes his face in entirely new ways. I feel guilty for ogling his gorgeousness when so much of our fate—and everyone we’ve left behind—is still unknown. Thankfully, he’s locked down better than me on the conversational focus.

“So you do this a lot? The mortal transpacific line?”

An interesting hitch of a shoulder from the sea god. “It’s better than a seat in coach between here and Tokyo.”

“Well, I hope we clear customs too,” Maximus returns. “Left my passport in the other ruined wedding tux.”

My bone-deep fatigue moves in on the self-control, yanking out an inelegant snort. At this moment, though Maximus clearly doesn’t want to hear it, his wry streak is my soul’s savior.

His uncle also turns down a chance to bite at the sarcastic coax. If his plan is to ultimately drop us off in Japan, he doesn’t confirm it.

Instead, with his features warming, he looks over our shoulder at a passing bull seal and says, “Ah, you made it back. Hello there, filos mou.”

The salutation is barely finished before the massive creature somehow passes through the odd bladder around us. No way will my science synapses jump in to help with an explanation for this part, so I’m captivated when the blanks are swiftly filled in for me.

The seal never makes it to the point of flopping on the floor. Its beefy tail section splits into a pair of hard-muscled legs while the fore fins follow suit, becoming brawny arms. All the human’s middle parts start to fill in too.

And it—he—is definitely a man.

“Oh…my.” I close my eyes and push my face back into Maximus’s sternum.

“Damn it,” he mutters, whipping off his soaked suit jacket. His frantic toss is fielded by an apology-muttering Proteus.