Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [61]
“Would you like to take a walk with me?” he asked. “I will cancel my hunt this afternoon and stay with you. Would you like that?”
She looked up, met the eyes of Katrina and some of the others. They were all smiling, listening intently, though by now some of the other diners had gone back to their meals and the king seemed to have forgotten them altogether.
“Go,” Katrina said. “Do not feel obligated to remain with us. My brother will take good care of you.”
Lenia smiled, ecstatic. She nodded. Yes. He was right there, next to her, looking at her in wonder and delight. It was as easy as she’d thought it would be. He was hers. His soul was her soul.
And this body! The feelings running through it. It was like lying in the water and watching the sky as the clouds moved across it, constantly shifting shape. Brewing storms, unleashing them on the earth, going calm as if nothing had happened at all.
Her body was breaking open now, and storms moved across it.
WHEN THE MEAL was over and everyone dispersed, Christopher led Lenia up a winding staircase, into the recesses of the castle. Walking along the stone corridors lit dimly with torches, she felt as if she were swimming through sea caves. Her legs were almost numb by now, the pain a constant she was learning to ignore. The torches caused their shadows to flicker against the walls, like silent fish.
“I do feel I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Yet I know I have never looked upon a woman like you.”
He stopped and reached out to touch her face. He held her chin in his hand, stroking her with his palm.
She was at the mercy, now, of this strange body. Every touch made her want to disappear into him. Her breathing grew heavy, and she could not bear it when he pulled his hand away.
She took his hand and put it to her neck. He watched her, bewildered. “You like being touched,” he whispered wonderingly, opening his palm slowly, softly, on her neck, moving it up to her chin, back down to her collarbone. Moving the chain of her necklace back and forth across her skin. “You are not afraid to let me see.” His fingers pushed back, to her hair, and ran through it. It sent a shiver through her, his touch. It was wonderful. She moved into his hand, automatically.
Marry me, she thought.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she opened her mouth to let him move into her, fill her with his soul. He pulled away in surprise.
“You have no tongue.” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Is that why you are silent?”
She nodded, running her hands along his chest and stretching them around to his back, his neck and hair. She could not stop herself, this new self that was a vessel for him now. There was nothing she could do. She had given up everything for him. She had been made anew for him, in every way possible.
She felt he wanted to ask more, but he was not able to focus any longer on his thoughts. “You are …,” he began. She could see she was shocking him, but she did not care. “Most women are not like you.”
He put his arm around her waist and led her to the end of the corridor, past a group of guards, and finally into a large room with tall, diamond-shaped windows overlooking the sea.
He was flushed, his eyes dark now, as if he were drowning. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over her lips, and she bent forward. His lips on her neck and his hand running over her chest, down to her breasts.
“You’re a goddess,” he said, over and over. “Your hair, your skin. I’ve never seen anyone like you.”
She felt like her body was dropping open. His fingers in her mouth, feeling for her tongue. “Yes,” he said. “Someone has taken your tongue.” And then he kissed her more intensely, his mouth warm on her skin, sending shivers through her body.
His hands worked at the back of her dress, unlacing it, and as her dress came off she thought how delicious it was, shedding this unnecessary layer; she was happy she had skin and not scales, and even her soft, mussel-like body did not seem naked enough now. He shed his shirt and his pants, until all she could feel was his