Drowning Mermaids ~
Blitz
By Nadia
Scrieva
Paranormal Romance - Epic
Fantasy
Date Published: January
2012
She
is an elegant princess displaced from her home. He is a rough sea
captain with a heart of gold...
To
escape the war in her underwater kingdom, the noble daughter of a
murdered king must flee to Alaska. Doing all she can to keep her
younger sisters safe, Aazuria tries to assimilate and work among the
Americans, with her feisty red-haired bodyguard at her side. This
refuge holds pleasant surprises, for the princess meets a somber
gentleman in a dark corner who promises to show her his world.
Trevain
Murphy is a successful crab fisherman who has spent his life building
an empire above the sea, but knows nothing of the greater empire
beneath the surface. When a graceful dancer captures his attention,
he becomes fascinated with her old-fashioned speech and unique
mannerisms. Learning that her father has recently died, he cannot
resist extending his kindness in offering to guide and protect her.
As
it becomes clear that the dark-haired woman is much more than she
seems, Trevain is unprepared to uncover the staggering secrets behind
her innocent facade. Neither the captain nor the princess can imagine
that their lives will become forcibly entwined as a common enemy
threatens both of their worlds...
EXCERPT
“Why
are we here, Brynne?” Trevain asked, leaning against the wall
angrily.
“I
wanted a snack,” she said, rummaging through the
cupboards.
“I
didn’t.”
“Well,
you need to eat dinner,” she said, with her mouth full. “We’ve
been fishing all day.”
“I’m
not hungry. Look, Brynne, is there a reason you haven’t left my
side this whole trip? Do you think that I’m emotionally vulnerable
because Aazuria left me and I’m going to fall into your arms or
something?”
“Here,
just relax and let me cook something good for you.”
“I
appreciate your concern for my health, but I already told you that
I’m not hungry…”
“Hey!
That’s funny. Why is there sound coming from this bag of rice?”
Brynne placed her ear against the bag. “Weird. It sounds like a
clock.”
Trevain
frowned and moved over to the bag of rice to listen.
Brynne
shrugged and continued gathering cooking utensils. “Reminds me of
that story about the captain and the crocodile—he could always tell
the crocodile was near because it had swallowed a clock, and he could
hear the ticking…”
“Shut
up, Brynne.” Trevain pulled a knife out of the drawer she had
opened and slit the bag open, causing rice to spill out all over the
floor.
“Hey,
Trevain! You’re making a mess!” Brynne scolded. “Just because
you don’t have to clean anything up around here since you’re the
high and mighty capt…”
“Where
the hell did you get this?” Trevain yelled, staring at the strange
homemade bomb which was nestled in the rice.
Brynne
had not turned around, and was continuing to gather ingredients. “Oh,
some sweet blond lady on the docks gave it to me…”
“Dammit!”
he cursed. “There’s no time.”
“No
time?” Brynne asked in confusion. Trevain grabbed her hand and was
pulling her into the next room. “What are you doing, Murphy?”
“Get
in the bathtub, Brynne!”
“What?
Why? I’m not into kinky…”
“Down,
now!” Trevain grabbed Brynne and dived with her into the bathtub,
covering her body with his and waiting for the sound.
The
next second, all that they heard was—nothing. The sound of the
explosion was so deafening that there was a moment of intense pain in
their ears before they lost the ability to hear. They felt, however.
They felt the intense pressure of the bomb exploding. They felt the
unbearable heat of the explosion burning their skin and singeing
their hair. They felt the bathtub being ripped from the ship, and
pieces of debris colliding with their bodies. Trevain felt large
objects colliding with his head and back painfully, and he felt his
skin being punctured in several places. Finally, he was aware that
they were surrounded by water.
It
was several seconds before the heat subsided to the cooling water,
and a moment later he was finally able to open his eyes. He could
barely make out the scared expression on Brynne’s face in the
darkness. There was debris everywhere; pieces of the broken ship. His
broken ship. Trevain was completely disoriented. It was difficult to
figure out where they needed to swim. He could tell that sections of
the boat floating near the surface were burning. He looked around for
the other members of his crew, trying to get his
bearings.
The
flames were growing stronger. The ship’s diesel was leaking from
the ruptured gas tank. They could not swim to the surface, or they
would be burned. Brynne’s face was lit by the flickering firelight
as she panicked and tried to communicate with him, but they could not
understand each other. As he frantically made hand signals indicating
for Brynne to calm down and stay close to him, he was met with only
mystification on her face. He appreciated the need for sign language
more than ever at that moment. Brynne was freaking out, and she began
swimming off in one direction. He was sure that it was not where they
needed to go. He tried to reach for her, but he was feeling dizzy
from the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain. He looked around,
trying to figure out where to go and what to do. He could not help
panicking as well.
Trevain
tried to swim away from the flames, but he could not get very far.
The burning diesel had leaked out over the surface of water for what
must already be a square mile, and he could not swim that far without
taking a breath. Without several breaths. He needed air badly, and
finally realized that he was going to drown. He could not breathe
underwater; he did not have the ability. He simply did not know how.
What Aazuria and his mother were talking about—he wished it was all
true, but it was not. Not for him.
He
knew that he was about to die. His lungs painfully begged him to take
a breath, but he knew that the moment he did, he would drown.
Although he had almost wanted something exactly like this to happen
to him when he had set sail earlier, he now realized that he had been
fooling himself. As demented as he had been feeling, as
self-destructive as his intentions, it had all been just a farce. He
did not really want to die.
He
tried as hard as he could to hold onto his last few moments of life.
A
glimmer of white caught his eye, and he saw that an exquisite
creature was suddenly before him. Long white hair fanned out around
her face, and the purest eyes of blue sapphire stared at him. The
lovely phantasm was smiling as she reached out to take his hands; he
knew it must be an angel.
It
was his angel. He knew her, although she looked nothing like before.
She was his Aazuria, his mythical heroine. In the dancing glow of the
oil blaze, she was simply too dazzling to be real and he knew that he
must be on death’s very threshold. He had heard that people often
hallucinated in moments such as these, seeing what they most yearned
to see. As she hovered in suspension before him, her skin and hair
were almost luminous in the dark water; almost phosphorescent.
Perhaps she never had been real. It did not matter—she was firmly
grasping his hands, and it sent a feeling of comfort and tranquility
through him. He knew that she loved him.
He
could see forgiveness and acceptance in her expression. None of the
turmoil between them mattered any longer in this pacific moment. In
her benevolent gaze, he could finally forgive himself. He smiled at
her. Although his vision was fading and the world was disappearing,
he could only smile. He tightly gripped her hands to thank her for
coming back for him. He could not bear the thought of letting go; he
did not want to be robbed of her touch. He tried to keep his eyes
open for as long as possible—he tried to keep gazing into the
salvation of those unfamiliar ultramarine orbs. So this was what she
really looked like, in her element. He wished he could have known her
true form. It was mystical.
Trevain
could imagine no better way to die. No better sight to see in the
final moments during which he was capable of vision. He was wholly
happy and blissfully complete. A peaceful expression descended on his
face, and the captain’s tired eyes closed for what he knew to be
the last time.
Nadia Scrieva
Nadia
Scrieva lives in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no
pets. She does own a very attractive houseplant which she
occasionally remembers to water between her all-consuming writing
marathons.
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