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Sitting so close to him made it impossible not to touch him. God knew she tried. But every so often, his arm would brush hers or his thigh would press into her leg, and her body would tingle with anticipation. Of what?
Had he actually offered to show her his penis? Or were they really talking about shells? Oh—or was he offering to show her his penis because Pherusa was close enough to hear and he hoped to make her jealous?
Christina’s food went from spicy to bland in the time it took that thought to form. She pressed her legs together, so she wouldn’t feel the warmth of his skin through the robe, and tucked in her elbows. The thought of being used as a prop for him to show off to another woman—a very taken woman—raised her hackles.
She managed to make it through the rest of the meal with minimum contact. Thankfully, with so many people at the table, she could socialize without talking to him. The Nereid beside her was full of questions about life ashore. King Nereus would have trouble keeping this one in Vythos, if he didn’t already.
Christina tried to keep her sigh of relief inaudible when the king rose from his seat, signaling the end of dinner. Christina hurried to stand and bow her head along with the others.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight.” Nereus nodded toward the double doors of the ballroom, and two servants hurried to the table. “Please show our guests to their rooms.” To Christina, he said, “It was a pleasure meeting you. I will see you at breakfast.”
Christina bit back her questions until he and Queen Doris were out of the room, and then turned to Olivia. “Rooms? Breakfast? You said it was just a visit,” she hissed.
Olivia grimaced. “I thought it was. Apparently, Prometheus and Hyperion need to talk strategy with Nereus tomorrow, so we have to stick around. I guess Palaemon could take you back tonight, if you’re set on it, but really”—her eyes glowed—“when will you get another chance to be in a freaking underwater palace?”
Christina couldn’t handle being alone with Palaemon again this soon. Besides, Olivia was right. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She wouldn’t waste it because a hot guy was messing with her head and her hormones. “Okay. One night. But we’re leaving tomorrow after breakfast.”
The servant girls—one with purple hair and matching eyes, and one whose hair was a light-teal color and her eyes the orange of corals—led Hyperion, Olivia, and Christina out the gilded double doors of the ballroom and across a shiny hallway to a winding staircase. The banisters on both sides were carved into intricate scenes of... orgies? Yes, those were no doubt bodies, twisted together. Cheeks burning, Christina turned her gaze ahead and hurried after Olivia and Hyperion, who seemed to know the way.
Christina was the only one panting after the second set of stairs, and wasn’t too shy about clutching her side and heaving for breath. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you.”
“We’ve arrived.” The teal-haired servant—mermaid?—unlocked the first door on the wide corridor and handed Christina the key. “This is your room. The guest wing was built to accommodate humans, so it ought to cater to all your needs. Should you require anything else, pull the cord by the bed. Your friends will be at the end of the hallway. The king said you might want a few sets of walls between you, to assure a quiet night.” With a beaming smile, she spun on her heel and made her way back to the stairs.
“Wait,” Christina called out. “What’s your name?” But the young woman was gone. The other servant led a giggling Olivia down the corridor, Hyperion scowling at their backs.
“Goodnight,” Olivia managed. “We’ll try to be quiet.”
Sure they would. Christina waved her off and cautiously pushed the door all the way open. Judging by the opulent ballroom, she expected the furniture to be carved out of coral, with gold liberally strewn across most available surfaces, but the humongous bed seemed made of driftwood, and the bright-blue throw pillows were the only color in the stark-white room. Despite the open space and sparse furniture—two nightstands, a vanity table with its mirror and stool, and an armchair at the far corner—it felt clean and welcoming, not sterile and faceless.
She padded to the bed, the wooden floor warm beneath her bare feet[THE FLOOR IS ROCK. FIX IT], and took off her robe. The servant girl said this part of the palace was built with humans in mind. Did that mean it included indoor plumbing? The door to her left would hopefully lead to a bathroom, where she could shower. Did merpeople shower? Did people who lived underwater need to?
Did Palaemon? She wouldn’t mind sharing a shower with him.
No. Bad Christina. She should be thinking about the awesomeness of this place and how unbelievable it was that much of mythology was true and how it only took a touch by a witch for her to be fluent in Greek now. Not pining over someone else’s castoffs, especially when there could be no future between her and the—dreamy, incredible, magic—daimon.
Like, what would happen if they did hook up, and she fell for him? She couldn’t leave her whole life ashore to come live down here. And could Palaemon even survive on land?
She was overthinking this. Not like she’d see him again. Except maybe at breakfast. And when he took her back to shore. If he did. She was introduced to other daimons at dinner. One of them might be providing underwater-taxi services tomorrow.
A knock at the door snapped her out of her Palaemon-shaped musings. She haphazardly threw the robe over her shoulders and hurried to get it. It would probably be Olivia, come to gossip about dinner.
It wasn’t. Blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires looked down at her beneath a blue mane.
“Palaemon?” she whispered. Was he here to show her his... cephalopod?
He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for embarrassing you. It was not my intention.”
His gaze challenged her, and she never backed down from a challenge. “I wasn’t embarrassed for me. I just wasn’t sure you’d want everyone at the table—especially Pherusa—to know what you’d said.” She watched him for signs of discomfort at the Nereid’s name, and her gut soured when she caught his tiny flinch.
“Pherusa has nothing to do with this,” he said after too long a pause.
So what was this? A one-time fuck with a human chick? “There is no this. Apology accepted. Goodnight.” She made to close the door, but he stuck his foot at the opening and shouldered his way in.
“If there is no this, why are your cheeks scarlet? Why is your breathing shallow?” he asked. “I can hear the blood rushing in your veins, and I don’t even have amplified hearing. You want me, and I want you, and Pherusa has nothing to do with this.”
Her traitorous gaze traveled down the glinting metal of his armor to the muscular thighs beneath it. Was he hard now? It must be painful, pressing against the unyielding plate that encased his pelvis and hips. She licked her lips, feeling parched, and backstepped inside the room to let him enter. “Show me.”