Meg’s eyes flashed toward the wall of the dungeon and Simeon’s sealskin hanging upon it. Her heart constricted as if a hand had reached inside her breast and clamped itself around it. Unconsciously, she reached to fondle the amulet about her neck. It trembled between her fingers, and she gripped it as if she meant to take its strength within her.
The Waterwitch slithered out of her filmy robe and entered Simeon’s cage naked. How exquisite she was with her long dark hair and perfect body, her breasts and sex and beautiful face the only parts of her anatomy not covered in shimmering green scales. A far cry from the ancient wrinkled face she’d last seen the witch wear. She was flaunting her perfection, but not at Simeon; she was facing away from him, toward the vine curtain Meg was peeking through, and Meg’s heart all but stopped when she spoke.
“Come, Daughter of the Deep,” the crone said. “Do not be shy. Step inside and watch.”
Without hesitation, Meg stepped through the vines. Simeon gave a start at sight of her. The look in his eyes was paralyzing. She avoided it, making eye contact with the crone instead.
“I have come to strike a bargain with you, venerable one,” Meg said as coolly as she could manage, for what she was about to do would change all their lives forever.
“Eh?” the crone grunted. “What have you to bargain with?” She raked Meg up and down and popped another grunt. “Once I’ve had my fill of him, I will deal with you. No tricks…Whatever you’re up to, I have magic to dispel it. So beware!”
“I have magic of my own,” Meg said, strolling closer. “But my bargain first…”
“Speak it and have done!”
“Give me his sealskin,” Meg said, “and I will give you this.” She fingered the amulet.”
“
No,
Megaleen! You cannot!” Simeon thundered. Gripping the bars of the cage, he rattled them fiercely.
Meg ignored him. “This that I wear will give you immorality without a selkie skin,” she said. “You will no longer have need of one once I give you this.”
The Waterwitch left Simeon’s cage and came toward her. “How do I know you speak the truth?” she snapped.
Meg backed toward the ledge, mindful of the pool beneath it as the crone advanced. “You are a sorceress of great renown,” she seduced. “Look closely. You cannot take it, it must be given to you, and I will give it willingly in exchange for that sealskin there.”
The Waterwitch came closer, scrutinizing the amulet with narrowed eyes. “Where did you get such a token?” she said.
“From Glenda, Vega’s mother,” Meg said. “She gave it to him before she died. Look closely. You know it is the truth.”
“Megaleen,
no!
” Simeon thundered. “You cannot part with that. No, I say! Glenda died to give you that amulet. You cannot give it to this creature!”
“It is mine to give to whomever I please,” Meg said steadily, for all that she was in shambles then. The crone was hovering too closely. Her breath was foul, like rotting flesh and dead fish. Pio’s image flashed across her mind. Could he be dead? Is that why no one had seen him? She pushed that thought back—steeled herself against the possibility. “Give that sealskin to me, and I will give you the amulet.”
The crone came closer still. Reaching with one finger, she touched the shimmering black pearl. No sooner had her fingertip made contact when she pulled her hand back as if she’d touched live coals.
“You see?” Meg said. “I speak the truth.” She reached to unclasp the silver strand that held it about her neck.
“Megaleen,
don’t!
” Simeon pleaded. “It is our lives you bargain with!”
“Silence!” the Waterwitch shrilled. “You have no say in this, fool. If you were not so drunk with love madness, you would never have lost you sealskin in the first place.”
Tears welled in Meg’s eyes as she held the amulet toward the witch. Tears for Glenda, who sacrificed herself for naught, tears for Simeon, who could not live above the waves, though he would for her, and tears for herself, for she saw what she would become if she were to stay below the waves with him.
The Waterwitch snatched at the amulet, but Meg pulled it out of her reach. “The sealskin first,” she said. “You cannot take this from me. I must give it freely, and I will, but first, the sealskin!”
Sputtering a spate of what could only be a string of blasphemies, the Waterwitch waved her hand toward the wall behind, and the sealskin dropped in a heap on the floor. Meg thrust the amulet toward her, and raced to the wall. Snatching up the skin, she froze as the Waterwitch screamed, and spun around in time to see Pio break the waves. Seeming to dance upon the surface of the water, the battered summoner leapt toward the ledge and ran the Waterwitch through with his long, sharp sword. It speared her, impaling her, piercing her heart, as Pio fell back into the pool, taking her with him.
Meg caught a glint of light as the amulet fell from the crone’s hand and disappeared beneath the water. There was no time to mourn its loss. From behind, the rasp of metal against metal echoed. Then Simeon was holding her, his sealskin between them. Clutching the skin, Meg stepped back and made her decision. It was the second time she’d held his fate in her hands—held possession of that sealskin. Looking him deep in his anguished selkie eyes, she handed it to him.
All at once, the ledge was swarming with selkies, some in their skins, some without. Vega climbed up on the ledge, and Simeon thrust the sealskin toward him. “Hang on to this for me,” he said.
“You still trust me with it?” Vega replied.
“Of course I do. What kept you?”
“These pools are all crosshatched with traps,” Vega said. “She caught us in one of her nets. It fell away the minute she died.”
“And Pio?”
Vega shook his head. “I haven’t seen him, Simeon.
Vega’s words were scarcely out when the summoner broke the surface of the water, leaping and dancing on its surface, the amulet dangling from his sword.
Simeon dove into the water and snatched it from the swordfish who skipped and leapt and plunged back beneath the waves. Climbing out again, Simeon took Meg in his arms and fastened the amulet around her neck again.
“You little fool,” he murmured. “You love me that much?”
Meg couldn’t speak. She nodded against his shoulder.
“Go with Vega into the water,” he said. “I will join you in a moment. There is something I must do here before we go back to the palace.” He turned to Vega. “Have no fear,” he said. “I think you will find Risa restored when we return,” he said. “Take her.”
Meg slipped into the pool with Vega, watching while Simeon stalked through the Waterwitch’s rooms, scattering her lamp oil, paying special attention to the cages. Then, taking rush candles from their sconces, he tossed them down, stepping back as the rooms burst into flames, and dove into the water.
Meg was in his arms once more, the thick bulk of his arousal leaning heavily against her mound. Those arms…Those wonderful arms! She would never leave them again.
“D
o all your residences have such pools?” Meg asked. She was in Simeon’s arms, where she had been for the most part since they’d left the Waterwitch’s cave. He hadn’t let her out of his sight. But they weren’t at the palace. This pool was in the depths of the Pavilion. Fed by warm mineral springs on the mainland, the steamy water laved them seductively, lapping at Meg’s breasts, barely covering her nipples. It buoyed Simeon’s erect shaft, which nudged her as they bobbed with the current. It felt like silk nuzzling her thighs, leaning against her belly, teasing the V between as it nestled in the cushion of her pubic curls.
“Most all the subterranean chambers here and at the palace have such pools attached,” he said. “The underwater air pockets were formed when the great cataclysm split the mainland and created the archipelago. You bathe, my lady, compliments of the gods. It is one of the great mysteries of the deep.”
“Um,” she hummed, crowding closer in his strong arms. “Praise the Powers! Delicious…”
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall and above the waves on the rocks and natural jetties, the creatures of the sea reveled, celebrating the Lord and Lady of the Deep. Merfolk of all descriptions mated, sang, and danced to the Otherworldly music of flute and lyre. Above it all, the voices of the sirens, plaintive and ethereal, drifted out over the water. It echoed all around them, strumming chords born deep in the mists of time. It was an event of lavish celebration, something that had not happened at the Pavilion in eons.
Simeon took the black pearl amulet in hand and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “Elna is gone,” he said, “but others will come, Megaleen. It has been thus down through the ages. Vega will keep the Scroll of Arcan Rite, and I must know now that you will not ever take this from your neck again.”
“Simeon…”
“I must be certain before we can go forward. If I were to lose you again, I…”
Her finger laid across his lips stilled his tongue. “I will never do anything ever again that would part us,” she murmured. “You have my word. I could not live without my soulmate.”
He kissed her fingertips and drew her closer, the hard bulk of his erection anxious against her belly. Meg trapped it between her thighs and clenched them. Simeon groaned, pumping back and forth along the lips of her labia. His hard shaft rode her slippery wetness, unlike the salty mineral water all around them, from the hard nub of her clitoris to the tender skin between her vagina and anus, teasing the tight rosette.
Meg leaned into the friction that sent shivers of pleasure along her spine, trying to trap his shaft and guide him inside her, anything to stop such torturous ecstasy. But he was too quick for her, sinking deeper with each thrust, but not deep enough to penetrate.
“I want you to beg me to enter you,” he murmured against her hair. “I want you to ache for my cock to fill you. Then…when you are ready…”
Meg was ready. Her quim was singing—tingling with the vibrations of her arousal, her hard bud crying for release. Waves like silken fire were riding her sexual stream, just as the little waves they were making in the pool rode their bodies.
“Take me now, my lord,” she murmured, gazing into his shuttered eyes. They almost seemed to glow with the phosphorescence of the sea dancing in the reflection of the rush lamps shimmering in them.
Simeon spread her legs and salt water rushed inside her. She leaned closer in anticipation of his rock-hard bulk filling her, but only the head slipped inside. She could feel the pulse throbbing in it, trembling at the edge of her slit—tormenting her. Why wouldn’t he give her what she begged for?
Instead, he shut his eyes, his head thrust back, and stood perfectly still. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were dilated black with desire and every corded muscle in him was flexed taut.
“Do you trust me, my Megaleen?” he murmured.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied.
“The ancient one in the tree has joined us in the eyes of the gods, but now we must be joined in the eyes of the people for you to rule beside me as Lady of the Deep. Are you ready for the ceremony?”
“What ceremony?” She’d heard no mention of a ceremony, only a celebration.
“Our marriage ceremony, Megaleen,” he told her. “I have had consorts aplenty over the years, but I have never married. This union between us is forever. Since time out of mind all Lords of the Deep have performed the ceremony, just as my father did before me. Are you ready to become my lady?”
He could have asked her to walk upon live coals and she would have, and gladly, to join with her soul mate for all eternity. “Yes, my lord,” she said.
But then he did a curious thing. While she expected him to pound into her, to give her what her body begged for, he withdrew himself, took her hand, and led her to the stairs hewn of stone leading up to their chamber.
“Where are we going?” she queried.
“To the ceremony,” he said.
Meg stopped to pick up her frock neatly laid over a rococo bench.
“You will not need that,” he said, leading her into the corridor.
Meg glanced over her shoulder at the frock they’d left behind. “You’re used to going about without your clothes,” she said. “I am no selkie. I am accustomed to my body being covered.”
He laughed, the deep burr bubbling up from the guttural depths of him. The sound of it took her breath away. Simeon had the power to seduce with the sound of his voice alone. “That will change,” he chortled.
Diving into the water that surrounded the subterranean cave, they swam toward the surface. Meg was unaccustomed to the terrain at the Pavilion. She had no idea where he was taking her until they broke the waves. It was the midnight hour. Above, the bright misshapen moon beamed down, hung like a lantern in the star-studded indigo vault. It was low tide, and they appeared to be in the center of an amphitheater made of stacked stone benches studded with shells. It was filled with spectators all around, their cheers amplified by the water as the bride and bridegroom approached a large flat rock in the center. It was draped with all manner of sea plants and covered with a bed of sea grass, night lilies, and lotus blooms, their combined fragrances threading through Meg’s nostrils on the gentle midnight breeze.
“The ceremony?” Meg murmured.
Simeon nodded. “Do not be afraid,” he said, pulling her closer in his arms. “It is a beautiful thing to mate so—to show our subjects that we are one so there can never be a question.”
“But…in front of all these…” Meg said, her eyes snapping around the arena.
Again, Simeon laughed. “Do you remember the first time you saw me?” he said. “Do you remember watching me and my consorts shed our sealskins on the beach on the Isle of Mists and mate before your very eyes? Do you remember how that mating excited you—made you long to be the woman in the waves, the woman underneath me—how you touched yourself in the dark until you came, pretending you were that woman writhing in the surf impaled upon my member?”
“Yes, but—”
“You are that woman now,” he whispered, sweeping her into his arms. “You have your wish, your ultimate fantasy, my Megaleen.”
Meg said no more as Simeon carried her to the marriage bed and laid her down on it. He was fully aroused standing over her, just as he was when she saw him that first time. Bruised flower petals beneath her spread their scent, and their precious oils caressed her skin as Simeon crushed more, letting them rain down over her, massaging their fragrant dew into her body. He lingered over her nipples, then rubbed the petals down the length of her torso. When he reached the V of pubic curls between her thighs, she groaned and spread her legs for him to work the petals silken magic into her bud and quivering slit, front to back. Rubbing some the length of his hard-veined shaft, he groaned, then brushed them all away, exposing their white bodies to the moon glow.
Mesmerized by the scent, by the sight of him naked beneath the moon, and the sounds of the cheering crowd, Meg arched herself against him. Spreading her legs wider still, he guided them around his waist and slid between them, taking her lips with a hungry mouth. She came the moment he thrust inside her. His skilled fingers fondled her nipples, circling the pebbled areola without touching the hardened buds until she begged him to end the agony of anticipation, and she came again as he scraped those buds against his fingertips.
Still inside her, he rolled on his back taking her with him, and cupped her breasts in his hands, rubbing her aching nipples, pushing deeper into her as she straddled him.
“Ride the storm, my Megaleen,” he murmured.
His hands circling her waist raised her up and down, slowly at first, then harder, deeper spiraling thrusts that took her breath away. Her knees bit into his sides as she took all of him, again and again, in mindless oblivion. Milking him of every last hot-lava drop of his seed, she pumped him dry.
Though the spectators were there still, Meg saw them no longer, nor did she hear their cheers. In that glorious moment, she and Simeon were the only two people in existence. They made love until the dawn breeze brought in the tide. They lay enthralled until whitecaps rose around them, laving them where they lay joined together in their conjugal bed, creaming over them like the surf had creamed over the selkies on that first night. The fantasy was complete.
The spectators began to slip away then, leaving them alone at last, all but one. Meg hadn’t noticed him until then, and Simeon hadn’t noticed him at all, but over her bridegroom’s shoulder, Meg glimpsed a lone figure standing upon a tall, phallic stone at the edge of what she now perceived to be a stone garden opposite the amphitheater. Boulders, some low and flat, some tall and sculpted by the sea like round doorways stood there, silhouetted black against the sky as the last of the night’s indigo gave way to the dawn. Standing tall on the loftiest stone, Gideon, Lord of the Dark, spread his wings and took flight. He soared off and disappeared in a blink as if he’d never been there. How lonely he’d seemed standing on that towering column apart from the rest, but that was the nature of the dark lord. He was an enigma steeped in the mystery of the night.
But Meg wasn’t given long to probe that mystery. Simeon withdrew himself, let all his breath out on a ragged sigh, and pulled her close in the custody of his strong arms.
“Good morning, my Lady of the Deep,” he murmured in her ear. The touch of his hot breath puffing against her skin threatened to arouse her all over again. “There are so many delights I long to show you,” he said. “So many pleasures I long to introduce you to, my love…”
“So you keep telling me,” Meg said playfully. “But I cannot imagine how you will ever top this!”
Simeon laughed. “Well, you’ll have eternity to see now, won’t you?” he said.
And lowering his mouth over hers, he said no more.