Rising (17 page)

“Does it matter?”

“Xanthus…” Sara said.

He paused as if to brace
himself for her reaction. “I’m a hundred and sixty-four.”

“
A hundred and sixty-four? How can you be a hundred and sixty-four? You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“Sara, we
Dagonians are immortal. I’ll look exactly this way for the rest of my life.”

“What do you mean,
you’re immortal?”

“
We don’t get old, we don’t get ill, and we only die from serious physical trauma.”

“So
I’m half-Dagonian right? Am I immortal too?”

“I don’t know.
” Xanthus shrugged. “Since you’re half-human, you may suffer from human ailments. Have you ever been sick?”

“
I had food poisoning when I ate some bad chicken.”

Xanthus s
hook his head. “That doesn’t count. That was your body’s way of getting rid of rancid food. But you’ve never had a cold, flu, fever?”

Sara
shook her head.

Xanthus sighed in relief
. “That’s a good sign.”

Sara
nodded. She was having a hard time accepting what he was saying. Could she really live forever? Was she one of them? Then a thought struck her.

“H
ow did you know I was a Dagonian?” Sara turned, leaned against the corner of the couch, and tucked her fin up underneath her.

Xanthus
looked embarrassed at her question, but still he answered. “I could smell you.”

“Smell me? Why
? Do I stink?” she asked, appalled.

“No
, you smell good. Beyond good.” The last part he spoke so low she’d almost missed it.

“
So, do all Dagonians smell like I do?”

“Only females when they
are… fertile. It is a very compelling scent. You actually smell quite different from the typical female, although it’s much more appealing to me than any other I’ve come in contact with. It must be the human in you.” Xanthus cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable with these questions.

“How often are we fertile?”
Sara didn’t care whether these questions were embarrassing to him. This was her life, darn it.

“Once a year, for about two weeks
.”

“Oh. That’s why I only have
a period once a year.” Had she just said that out loud? That would go under the heading “TMI” (too much information).

“
So, I really am half-Dagonian?” Sara asked. “I actually come from the sea? Oh my gosh, my mom isn’t crazy. She really was trying to send me to my father when she tossed me off a cliff.”

“She did what?”
Xanthus shouted. Sara was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“I
t was years ago,” she said, trying to shrug off what had been the most traumatic day of her life.

“Tel
l me what happened.”

Sara
was a bit irked at his tone, but she answered anyway. “My mom couldn’t handle the pressure of raising me and tried to send me off to live with my father.”

“
So she tossed you off a cliff into the ocean? How old were you?”

“I’m not sure
. I think I was four or five.”

“
No wonder you were afraid of the water. How long was it before she returned for you?” Xanthus’s voice was strained.

“It seemed like a very long time
, but it must have been less than a day. I didn’t have to spend the night clinging to that rock, thank goodness. To my mom’s credit, she did have to climb down some very jagged rocks to retrieve me. We both ended up with quite a few cuts and bruises.”

Xanthus growled. “The more I learn about your mother, the less I like that woman.”

“Yeah, she’s not the
sanest person. She is beautiful though, which is probably why she attracted the attention of a Dagonian. I wonder who my father is.”

“I have no idea. Most
Dagonians avoid humans at all costs. I’m shocked one of us got close enough to father a child. But whoever he is, if he’s found out, it will mean a death sentence. Intentional contact with a human is forbidden and carries with it a capital punishment. Procreating with one would be much worse.”

“So where does this leave me? What will happen to me if I’m found out?”
A worried crease pinched Sara’s forehead as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

“Nothing will happen to
you,” Xanthus said in dark, even tones. Sara heard an unusual popping sound and looked down. Xanthus’s fingers were gripping the couch cushion so hard that he’d ripped the fabric at the seam.

“
But how can you be sure?” His reaction was scaring her.

“Because, they’d have to kill me first
,” he said.

Whoa
. She hadn’t expected that answer.

S
ara looked at the large Dagonian, his black hair still wet, curling around his chiseled face, and his broad shoulders framing a formidable physique. Why would he be so protective of her? She wasn’t anything special. There must Dagonians that were more appealing. He shouldn’t be giving her the time of day.

“
Do I look like other Dagonian women?” she whispered.

“No
.” He shook his head.

She
knew it. Judging by how gorgeous he was, Dagonian women would have to be beyond stunning. Sara furrowed her eyebrows, disappointed.

He
lifted her chin and raised her face to meet his eyes. “You’re much more beautiful.”

Sara’s heart fluttered at his words.
She thought a stupid grin might have spread across her face, but she wasn’t sure. She was too preoccupied with being flabbergasted.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Xanthus’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Still, you could pass for a Dagonian if it weren’t for the eyes. A Dagonian’s eyes are only ever dark brown.”

S
ara began to consider the possibilities. Did they have white picket fences in the ocean? She couldn’t ask him that, so instead she asked, “Are there colored contacts I could wear underwater?”

“I don’t know
. Dagonians don’t have a need for them. There’s another problem. I doubt you know how to speak Atlantian.”

“Oh
my gosh. There really is an Atlantis?” Sara leaned forward.

“Yes
. It’s a bit run down and outdated.” Xanthus leaned toward Sara and rested his arm on the back of the couch. “But it still has a sizable population. I’m from the much more modern city of Corin.”

“How many Dagonians are out there?” she asked, leaning her head against his arm.

“Total?
”

Sara
nodded.

“
About eight million.” Xanthus stroked her damp hair.

“Do they live in all the oceans?”
She leaned closer to absorb his body heat.

“Yes, but most
live in the warmer climates of the Atlantic.”

“
Wait a minute.” Sara’s head rose. “How did you learn English? Are there a lot of Dagonians here on dry land? And what
are
you doing here?”

“Slow
down, Sara.” Xanthus draped his arm around her and nudged her back against his side. “I was one of a few Dagonians who studied English as part of my job. To protect ourselves from human discovery, we have to know about them, learn how they think, discover their weaknesses and strengths. It was necessary for me to get to know them and to know them I had to speak their language.

“And I’m the only Dagonian on land. Dagonians as a rule stay far away from humans. I have no idea how your father got close enough to a human to father a child, but obviously he did.”

“So what
are
you here for?” She curled up into his side.

“Triton sent
me. And you don’t need to know more than that.”

Sara
yawned wide. The evening was catching up to her. Her eyes were feeling heavy. “How in the world could I be tired at a time like this?”

Xanthus chuckled softly.
“It’s the after-effects of adrenaline.” He leaned back, propped against the plush arm of the couch, and pulled her down to lie across his chest.

S
ara wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against him. Once again, she heard the beating of his heart. She wanted to ask him what he would do if he found out who her father was, but she didn’t think she wanted to know the answer.

***

Sara’s breathing deepened and her body sagged, limp against Xanthus’s chest. He looked down on this slip of a woman who had effectively woven herself into his heart. Her heart thumped softly against his stomach and her warm breath breezed against his chest.

He leaned forward
and pressed a kiss on her head. His heart clenched as he realized how much he loved her.

He would kill for her
.

H
e would even die for her.

At the same time, he
was tearing apart at the seams. He was having an identity crisis. He’d lived his entire life ruled by duty and honor, but now, he’d turned his back on those rules—all because of this woman. Truth be told, he began to doubt even before coming here. Even now, the council continued to debate whether to declare all humans who ventured into the sea, free game. That was something he would not be able to accept, regardless of what the council decreed.

Xanthus’s
belief system was being ripped apart. He’d lived by the system that said laws and rules must be followed, without question. Now he was plagued with doubt and uncertainty. How could you call someone a criminal when they never voluntarily committed a crime? How could being born be a crime? How could he continue enforcing laws when he questioned the rightness of them? Who was he to pick and choose which laws were enforced and which were not?

But
if he hadn’t questioned, if he’d blindly followed, Sara would be dead right now, and that would be the true crime. Of that, he had no doubt. Then there would be no one to provide justice for her.

Why
had he hesitated to kill her in the first place? Was it truly because she had a pretty face? If he’d found a burly, half-human man instead of a delicate woman, would he have completed the execution?

Xanthus had to admit
he would have. And wouldn’t that have been just as much of a crime as killing Sara would have been?

Yes,
it would have been.

So who
was the guilty party here?

H
e was.

Sara sighed
. Her face scrunched up as if she were having a bad dream. Xanthus whispered words of comfort to her and stroked her head. Her face relaxed. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she hummed in contentment. Xanthus looked down on her and knew his life would never be the same.

A cool breeze brushed Sara’s body like a caress. The bed surrounded her in a warm embrace. The glow of daylight seeped through her eyelids. They were especially hard to open this morning. There were no pressing deadlines ahead—they could stay closed for a while.

Wait a minute
. Her bed was never this soft.

Sara’s
eyes flew open.

She
lay in the middle of a king-sized bed, centered inside a room with wooden-planked walls and two portal windows. A plush, maroon blanket twisted around the end of her fin and draped off the side of the bed. The robe she wore gapped open. Underneath the robe, her clothes were a wrinkled mess. Sara flicked her tail and the blanket slipped off and fell to the floor.

S
ara looked around. Memories from the previous night flooded back into her mind and the surrealism of the situation overwhelmed her. She was in Xanthus’s houseboat. He was a Dagonian and she was half-Dagonian. And fairy tales were true—well, at least mythological ones were.