MERMEN (The Mermen Trilogy #1) (7 page)

Where were they taking him? What were they going to do to him? She’d only just met Roen, but the way he’d stood up to these horrible cretins left her feeling…well, she didn’t really know. Loyal, attached, indebted, turned on, shocked as hell? All of the above?

Roen was not the depthless, coldhearted playboy the media portrayed. He was altogether something different, almost another species of man entirely—the sort that exuded a fearless, raw, masculine energy that could just as easily scare the crap out of you as it could leave your body breathless with need.

No wonder women trip over themselves for a night with this guy
. Just one look at those piercing green eyes, just one glimpse of that strong jaw and broad shoulders and you wanted to be anything, say anything, do anything to be his even if only for a few hours. Not that she wanted that. Because…they didn’t know each other. And it would be insane to have carnal urges for a man she barely knew. During a life-or-death situation. When she hadn’t showered in over ten days and suffered from dehydration.

But Holy Christ, that kiss.
It was only a peck, but it left her wanting and needing so much more.

Then he’d thrown himself to the wolves in an attempt to set her free. No one had ever stood up for her like that—not that she needed a man to protect her, but still. She couldn’t remember anyone ever really trying. Not even her ex, some loser named Dan she’d dated during her second and third year of college, lifted a finger when they’d been at a bar one night and some drunk jerk grabbed her ass on the way to the bathroom. She’d confronted the guy and told him to keep his hands to himself, to which he’d responded, “Wow. You’re a real bitch. Someone needs to give you a good fuck.” Furious as hell, she slapped the dipshit and then went back to the table and told Dan she wanted to leave. Later, Dan would mention he saw the entire thing from across the room and thought it was funny.
Funny? He saw the entire thing and did nothing?
Not that she wanted Dan getting into a barroom brawl, but not giving a crap wasn’t the correct response either, which was why she dumped Dan that same night. Strong woman or not, she could only love a man who…

Acted like Roen just did?

Okay, she didn’t love the man, but for whatever reason, she’d been unable to run when he told her to. All she’d thought about was how she had to stop those pigs from hurting him and how they were trying to take something away from her—a prized possession she had every right to keep.
Just like right now.
The idea of anyone laying their filthy fucking hands on that man sent her into an epic womanly rage.

“You can’t take me away. I belong to Roen,” Liv blurted out. She had no clue if that might persuade him not to separate them, but it was worth a shot.

The blond man chuckled. “Now, now. We both know
that’s a lie.”

Barely able to support her own weight, Liv stumbled behind him over fallen branches, slippery pine needles, and mushy leaves, trying to keep pace with the gargantuan man. “But you heard him say it,” she panted.

“Trust me; if you were really his—or any of ours—we’d know.”

“How?” she asked.

He laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough, darlin’.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “You mean, I’ll know after I’m claimed by one of you?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s going to be done to me?” she panted, hoping it might help prepare her to fight.

He laughed. “Oh. Well, that depends on what you like. Most of us are game for anything, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman. Although, I did have a woman once ask me to wear a Little Bo Peep costume, so I had to draw the line. But the Zorro outfit was fun.”

This conversation was not only surreal, it made no sense. He spoke as if
she
would be asking one of these men to sexually role-play. They were all completely out of their minds, but pointing out that fact was useless.

She was about to ask if Roen would be all right and where they were taking him when she suddenly felt a black curtain pull over her eyes, her body slamming into the ground.

“Woman, wake the fuck up.” A sharp slap across her cheek jolted her into consciousness.

She sucked in a breath and saw the blond man kneeling over her.

“What happened?” she muttered. The canopy of deep green trees above were no longer visible—too dark now—nevertheless, the world seemed to move in one giant nauseating wave.

“You passed out. Didn’t Shane give you the sacred water?”

She rubbed her eyes. “You mean that weird stuff laced with speed?”

“Yes. Though, there are no drugs in it.”

“He gave me a whole pouch of it.” She left out the fact that she’d taken another small bottle of it from Shane’s home. “What’s in it?”

The man frowned. “And you still do not feel well?”

Why wouldn’t he answer her damned question? “No. I’m dehydrated. I need water. Real water.”

He scratched his jaw. “I think you need to see our doctor.” He scooped her up into his arms.

“Is he a real doctor, or do you just call him that?”

He marched through the forest at a swift pace, ducking beneath small branches, unaffected by the waning light or carrying her.

Must be that water.
That and like the other men she’d seen, his height easily pushed seven feet. His arms and legs bulged with taut tattoo-covered muscles. Also like the other men, he was unusually handsome despite the bushy beard and unkempt hair. No. She wasn’t attracted to him, but it struck her as odd. All of the men seemed to be cut from the same fabric—large, built, better than average good-looking, and green eyes. There was something very, very different about this lot.

“Our doctor went to Harvard,” the man said.

Harvard?

“Though these days,” he continued, “he spends most of his time fishing—not much healing to do around here except when the women come. Then there’s a hell of a lot of broken bones.”

Oh shit.
“Broken bones?”

“Never mind. You just watch your manners.” He gave her a little squeeze to remind her that he was in a position to inflict serious damage.

Regardless, she couldn’t “never mind” that. She was scared out of her ever-loving head.
I need to find Roen and get the hell out of here.

“Will Roen be there, too?” she asked.

“Why would he be?” he said.

“He’s bleeding. You kicked his nose in and God knows what else.”
Kidneys, broken spine…

“We were just playing around. He’ll be fine,” the man said casually.

They sure as hell were
not
playing around. They’d meant to kill him. “You’re going to give him that water, aren’t you?” It had healed her cuts, so she had to assume it would heal his, too.

The man glanced down at her disapprovingly. “You ask a lot of questions. Maybe I won’t put my name in the hat.”

Woe is me. A huge loss, surely
. “If asking questions is a turnoff, then what’s your name? Who are you people? Why are you such assholes who feel the need to beat up on women?”

“We don’t beat up women.” He seemed genuinely offended.

Like hell they didn’t. In fact, she had a lovely sore spot on the back of her neck where Shane had grabbed her while he’d been shoving her head under water. “You just told me you have a doctor for their broken bones.”

“That’s for our men. Bones need to be set properly before they drink the—You know what? Never mind. Stop talking.”

Okay.
Liv wondered why the men would be breaking each other’s bones for the women that came there. It had to be part of that “claiming” she’d heard Shane speaking of earlier. But what sort of women would want to come to this place?
Maybe they’re all insane women with nowhere else to go. Or maybe they don’t come here voluntarily.
Now that she could believe.

“If I weren’t so dehydrated, I’d spit on you,” she said.

The man shook his head and kept walking through the dark forest. Meanwhile, she tried her best to keep her head on straight. Not easy to do given how badly her body ached and her stomach hurt. She truly needed to be in a hospital. Her heart fluttered away, working overtime to pump the overly thick blood and carry oxygen to her vital organs. And the temperature of the air had dipped about twenty degrees in the last thirty minutes. She’d grown up in the small town of Wrangell, Alaska, where peak temperatures ranged in the low sixties, but despite being accustomed to the cold, she couldn’t stop shivering.

Just hang on.
If there was a real doctor on the island, he might help her. Then again, maybe not. He was a doctor. On
this
island.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at a cottage in a small clearing. And while the cottage didn’t have French windows like Shane’s home, this one had lights all around the exterior and a satellite dish on the overhang above the front door.

Harvard doctor and a TV dish
.
Who the hell are these people?
They weren’t as primitive as they appeared; however, given her background in sociology, which included a master’s in cultural anthropology, she’d already noted how their pecking order and rules resembled more of a tribal society with one primary leader: this L’isle man they’d mentioned. But why would men who seemed so savage and isolated have modern equipment and speak perfect English?

“What?” The front door flew open, and the man who answered was just as large as the rest, about seven feet tall, but with long, wild curly red hair and pale green eyes. He wore a red—not black—cloth around his waist and had no body art.

“What the hell do you want, Jason?” said the redhead.

So blond-guy who’d been carrying her was Jason.

“Hey, fucker.” Jason set Liv down on her feet and gripped her arm, pushing her forward. “This landlover drifted ashore during Shane’s watch. She’s a companion of Roen Doran—he’s here on the island.”

The redheaded man’s expression soured. “Another Doran? Is here?”

With the driest tone known to man, Jason said, “No, Holden. I just said that name because I’m a joker. Next, I’m going to juggle. Your spleen.”

The man standing in the doorway, Holden, scratched his short, scruffy, red beard and ignored the threat. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen this happen.”

Liv was careful not to move or breathe or do anything to stop their conversation. She wanted any information about these guys she could get.

“What do you think it means?” Holden added.

Jason shook his head. “Having two chiefs on the island at the same time can only mean one thing.”

Chief.
They thought Roen was one of their leaders.
What the hell?

Holden bobbed his thick head of wild red hair. “It means war.”

Jason grinned. “About fucking time.”

“Why would you say that?” Holden replied disgustedly.

“Some of us have been training for hundreds of years,” said Jason. “What’s the use of owning party clothes if you’re not going to the dance?”

Hundreds of years
, Liv thought.
That doesn’t make sense.

Holden folded his thick, ripped arms, and Liv noticed him pushing out his chest. “If the scriptures are correct, we all die. Not just the men and our maids, but the landlovers, too.” Holden took a step outside his cottage, just inches from Jason. “So think long and hard, Jason, about what you’re rooting for.”

“I root for anything that will end my suffering,” Jason said.

“She can be brought back,” Holden replied. “You simply have to be patient. And everyone must do their part to avoid a conflict when the time comes.”

Jason shook his head. “You’re wrong. She’s gone. And there’s no point hoping for anything else. No one will be free until we’re all dead and this goddamned place sinks to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Only a selfish asshole would wish his people dead, Jason.”

Jason pushed Holden, and Holden stumbled back a few feet into his doorway.

Shit.
Liv felt her knees wobbling and her vision blinking out. “Hey,” she coughed out. “If you let me die, Roen won’t be happy.” It was a gamble that these men would even care, but they did seem to think Roen was someone important. A chief.

Both men stopped and looked at her.

Ohmygod. It worked.

“Please, I just need help,” she said.
And I need to find Roen. Please let him be all right.
Of course, she also knew she needed to be careful around Roen, too. The way he’d looked at her before those men had shown up set off alarm bells all over her body. At the same time, there was something about his possessive, hungry gaze that…that…
did
something to her. It was the strangest damned thing.

“Get the hell back on your side of the island,” Holden said to Jason, and then he grabbed Liv’s wrist and pulled her inside the cottage before slamming the door in Jason’s face.

Holden’s bare, chiseled chest rose and fell rapidly while he spewed profanities at the shut door.

“Do you have any water? Real water?” she asked.

Holden shook his head from side to side to compose himself. “Yes, of course. Right this way.” He led her into a small, but modern kitchen—granite counters, stainless steel appliances, glass cooktop.

This looks like my mom’s kitchen.
Right down to the gray frosted-glass tile she’d had put in a few months ago as an early anniversary gift from her father. The puzzle of who these men really were kept getting bigger and messier.

He gestured for her to sit at a round breakfast table in the corner and then brought over a glass pitcher from the counter. He poured her a mug and handed it to her. Of course, she emptied the thing in one giant swallow.

“Can I have more?” She held out the empty mug with her shaking hand.

He refilled it, and she greedily drank it down, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Water had never tasted so sweet.

“Thank you.” She set the empty mug down and then licked her lips.

Holden simply stared at her with curiosity. “So what brings you to our island?”