Read Sleeping with the Fishes Online
Authors: Mary Janice Davidson
"You are my subject," he said, looking even more wide-eyed. "Of course you will open your home to me."
Jonas snickered. "Fred, meet
Artur
.
Artur
, meet Fred."
"I do not know what you—"
"Fred doesn't 'of course' do anything."
"There's a Marriott right next door," she forced through a tense jaw. "We'll get you a room. You might be in town for a while."
"The Prince of the Black Sea has an American Express?" Jonas asked gleefully, being more annoying than usual. Then, before
Artur
could ask what he was talking about: "You got any money on you?
Dough?
Moolah
?
Treasure?"
Artur's
red eyes actually glowed with comprehension. "Ah!
Treasure.
Yes, of course. The sea is generous. But I—"
"No pockets, huh?
Left all your doubloons at home?"
"Yes."
"I'll put the room on my Visa," Fred gritted.
"You refuse your home to me?"
"Yes."
"You may not."
"It's a one bedroom apartment. Just watch me."
Artur
glared at her. She glared back. Jonas watched, enjoying himself far too much. Then they both glared at him.
"Well, I'm sure you two will work it out." He coughed. "I'll just, you know, hit the trail. Call me tomorrow," he said to Fred.
"
Nuh
," she said, fumbling through the papers on Pearson's desk. The guy had been in town less than three days and his lab looked like a tsunami had hit it. How he could find anything, much less research his little problem, was beyond her. "This is hopeless.
My dumb idea of the year.
I'd better see to the fish." She thought of something and looked up at
Artur
, who was still looking at her with narrowed eyes.
"You any good with fish?
I mean, do they listen to you?"
"Of course."
She sighed.
"Of course."
"Of course," Jonas called over his shoulder as he left.
"Well, suit up.
Or whatever you do."
"Summon an underling to tend to your chore," he said, waving her responsibilities away with a hand the size of a baseball glove. "Greater problems require your attention."
"Around here,
I'm
the underling," she snapped. "Some of us work for a living, Prince
Artur
."
He
blinked,
his eyes like banked coals in the poor light of the lab.
Creepy eyes.
But kind of interesting.
Hard to look away from, really.
"I can assure you, setting out from the Black Sea to find you
was
considerable work."
"Good for you. Let's go."
"Where?"
"More subjects for you to meet."
"Those tiny creatures are not my subjects," the prince observed, staring down into Main One. They were at the top level of the aquarium, the observation deck, looking down into the main tank. The prince, on the way up, pronounced the NEA "acceptable," deciding it was "a miniature kingdom." She had bitten back an acid remark; maybe he'd decide to take the place over and give her a new problem to worry about.
"But they'll listen to you, right?"
"Some will. The predators will."
"And the others?"
He smiled at her with his very sharp teeth. "The others will see me as the predator, and flee."
Briefly, she imagined herself explaining the mass carnage to Dr. Barb.
"
Ohhh
…
kay
.
New plan.
How about you stay here, then? I'll do this myself."
He eyed the smelt bucket with distaste. "These menial tasks are beneath you."
She cursed herself for not having Jonas take
Artur
with him when he left. Jonas could have checked him into the Marriott, gotten the guy all settled, fluffed his pillows,
told
him all about the good bars, whatever. Now
she
was stuck with him. "Why?"
"Because—" He groped. Not literally, thank God.
"Because you are above such things."
She prayed the Marriott still had rooms at this hour. "Why?"
"Because you should be tended to and coddled and pleasured and teased."
She gaped at him. He was staring down at her, his big hands in his pockets, his eyes thoughtful and almost—dreamy? "Why?"
"Would you like to be a princess, Little Rika? I think that would suit you. I think that would suit you very well."
"
Artur
, do you have to take any medications if you're out of the water for a while?" She racked her brain, trying to figure out the poor guy's damage. "Do you need to lie down, maybe? Do you feel dehydrated? Do you have a headache? I don't think you're getting enough air.
Or probably too much air.
Yeah, that's it!" In her excitement, she reached out and grabbed his arm. He felt just right; not feverish, like Jonas felt on the few occasions she'd touched him. "Do you feel light-headed? Dizzy?"
Somehow, he had edged closer without her noticing. Now he was
very
close.
Almost kissing close.
"Yes," he murmured.
"You do? You feel dizzy?"
"Yes."
"When your king father sent you, he didn't warn you?
That you might not be able to take it?"
"As a matter of fact, he did not."
"Well," she fretted, "you'd better lie down."
"Yes indeed." His hand was on the back of her neck. He probably didn't want to fall down.
Which was too bad, because if he went, they both would.
She doubted she could keep him from—
His lips covered hers and pressed, hard. No tentative brushing of lips for
this
guy. No, his mouth was all over hers, almost hard enough to bruise, and his fingers were like iron on her neck, it was overwhelming, it was the hardest, most possessive kiss of her life and she brought her hands up in outraged surprise, tried to shove him away except, weirdly, she wasn't shoving him. She was touching, feeling… stroking?
Was
she
getting too little air?
She managed to tear free and leaned on Pearson's desk, gasping. "That's—don't do that."
"Oh, I think I will, Little Rika. It was far better than I imagined, and I have a
large .
. . imagination."
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open, and her brain once again erroneously reported that the planet's spin had sped up. It was all—it was just too much.
It was
too much
, really!
For anyone to deal with.
Her mom on all fours.
Her dad not being her dad.
Her dad being
dead
.
Pearson showing up.
This one showing up.
Somebody poisoning the harbor.
This one sticking around.
Pearson waving at her—following her all the way down the tank to wave at her.
This one all grabby.
Pearson all chatty about her hair.
This one—
"Are you well, Little Rika?"
"No."
"I did not think so. You look odd."
"I have to go to work," she said, feeling stupid. That wasn't what she had meant to say.
At all.
Why couldn't she think of what she meant?
He shrugged, turned his back, dismissed her, started heading down the stairs. "Then work. I will view the displays, like a good biped
termist
."
"Tourist."
"That, yes."
"Don't eat any of the exhibits," she couldn't help adding,
then
fled.
She hopped on one foot, struggling out of her stubborn shoe, and it seemed as if everything was fighting her: items of clothing, the doorknob,
the
packets of smelt. Breathless, she hit the water and grew a tail.
Fish girl bring fish.
And realized she was still gasping from the kiss. Jonas's inquisitive comments about how mermaids breathed without gills—
Fish girl bang
bang
fish girl bang.
—flitted past her brain and she realized her mouth was closed. So she was gasping in her brain.
Fish girl bring bang
bang
thud
thud
.
Or thought she was gasping.
Fish girl bring bang
bang
thud
thud
.
Or—
Fish girl bring BANG
BANG
THUD
THUD
.
EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!
Startled, an angelfish swam into a chunk of coral reef, reeled dizzily for a foot, then straightened and darted away.
She took a deep breath. Or thought she did.
And tried to think.
Yes, get
Artur
into the
tonight
, then get
(
sneak
)
—the hell back to her apartment on
How she would keep a strong-willed, large, immensely powerful man at arm's length was tomorrow's problem. She just—didn't he understand? This wasn't how things were supposed to be.
She offered fish to fish, and some of them, cowed from her mental screeching, actually fed. Distractedly, she fed several reef fish and a couple of the turtles. The sharks grinned as they swam by, and ignored her offerings. That was all right, though. She had plenty of other problems right now. So many that she couldn't be elated that some of the fish had given in without her having to blast "West End Girls" over the PA system.
For example, the tourists and what they'd think if the sharks turned on, say, the eels at exactly the wrong moment. Like the guy she could see through the window. He'd probably freak out at a feeding frenzy. Or maybe he'd get off on it; you never could tell. A bigger problem was that the guy was here wicked late—the place had closed a couple hours ago. Did they even
have
security guards in this place anymore?
And what
was
he doing? Leaning on one of the fifty-two windows and staring at her. Like there weren't 650 other fish in the tank to glare at. No, he had to gawk at her. When were the tourists going back to wherever the hell they spawned? Wasn't it autumn already?
Well?
Wasn't it
?
She irritably tossed another smelt and glowered at the dark-haired
gawker
, then realized with something like relief that it wasn't a tourist, it was Thomas Pearson. Hmm, another geek with no life; he'd fit right in at NEA. Why else would he come back to the aquarium in the wee hours of a Friday night?
And he was looking right at her. Guess he was giving the toxins a rest. Was that flattering or annoying?
You have a tail right now.
She had a tail right now. She'd been so distracted from
Artur's
top tank pawing that she'd completely—
Their eyes met across a crowded tank of fish. Thomas's face was actually squashed up against the glass, "the better to see you with,
my
dear." His hands were plastered flat. His breath fogged the pane.
Then he vanished.
She dropped the
smelt,
put her arms over her head, and with a powerful flick of her tail shot to the top of the tank. She thought,
Right this minute he's sprinting up the stairs. That's three flights he's got to go up. I can
—
What? Haul her big white butt out of the tank, dry off, get into her clothes, and pretend it was some
other
green-haired mermaid in the NEA tank?
She grabbed the edge of the tank and flicked her tail, just as Thomas galloped into the observation room. He was breathing hard and his dark hair had tumbled into his eyes. He jerked his bangs back and clutched his collar, actually yanked at it until the top button flew off and exposed his throat. He gulped air and she thought,
Good thing he wasn't wearing a tie or he might have been strangled
.
He pointed at her, his big dark eyes practically bulging from his head. "I knew it!" he practically screamed. "I knew you weren't like all the others!"
"Dr. Pearson," she began, but trailed off in mystification as he ran to her, lost his balance, actually slid on his knees until he was leaning against the top of the tank, and then he leaned over and kissed her
spang
on the mouth.