Page 13 of Song of Lorelei

The sun had set, and a chill, summer night’s breeze blew through the open window, rustling the gauzy curtains that draped either side. Cloud cover hid the stars and moon overhead, so Killian lit several candles around the room while Lorelei got situated and found a music streaming playlist on his phone that played spa music. Whatever that was. But the soft and soothing instrumentals lulled Lorelei into a puddle face-down on their bed.

Stripping down to his boxers, Killian climbed on top and straddled the backs of her thighs. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and squeezed a generous amount of lotion into his palm.

Starting at her neck, Killian massaged lotion into her skin, and worked his way down her back, kneading the tension from her muscles. Eyes drifting closed, Lorelei buried her face into a pillow, her muffled moans a song of pleasure. After paying an excessive amount of time on the globes of her ass, he gently maneuvered Lorelei’s arms above her head and rubbed the lotion all along their length, paying particular attention to her hands and elbows.

Lorelei transformed again, right on top of their bed. That sometimes happened when she was relaxed or aroused.

Her emerging scales tickled Killian’s inner thighs. He might have thrilled at the sensation were it not for the shimmery silver-blue scales flaking off and sticking to his skin. He shifted his weight off her. “Are you going to stay away from the ocean forever?” He hadn’t meant it to, but his tone had a testy edge.

Twisting her head to the side, Lorelei cracked open one eye to see what had irked him. “I don’t know,” she muttered under her breath.

Killian frowned. He’d asked in frustration, but that she seriously considered never returning… He’d have to talk to Lila about this. Perhaps stage an intervention. If Lorelei continued down this path, she might not survive. Resisting the ocean’s call could kill her.

Peering down at her battered, ailing tail, he corrected himself.

It was killing her.

Chapter Five

LORELEI

The fog enshrouding Lorelei’s mind lifted.

Not quite clear skies, but it dissipated enough after an evening of relaxation and a good night’s sleep that she didn’t need two cups of coffee to propel herself out of bed the next morning. But as soon as she sat down at her desk at the research center, and turned on her monitor, the fog rolled back in thick. Yesterday evening, she’d been given a glimpse of the sun. Having to continue without it settled heavy in her chest.

For several long minutes, she stared numbly at the screen and the pile of work in front of her, unable to string two coherent thoughts together. She breathed in deep and counted to ten before exhaling, but the tightness in her chest didn’t go away.

Start with something easy. Clear out your email inbox.

She had so much work to do, but there was no shame in starting off the day with light-lift tasks. Some days just required starting off simple to get the ball rolling. Her momentum would pick up…

Rubbing circles into her temples, in a failed attempt to ease the headache forming there, she leaned forward in her chair and squinted, really trying to focus on distinguishing junk emails from the important stuff. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? But as Lorelei reread the same subject line over and over, the words blurred into digital mush. Nothing held meaning.

Nausea followed in the wake of her sharpening headache. Lorelei sat back and closed her eyes, hoping to quell the riotous pitch of her hastily eaten breakfast. Looking away from her screen helped. When she thought she had her stomach under control, Lorelei peeked open one eye and all the nausea came rushing back.

Fuck. She couldn’t afford to waste a day, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere with her mountainous to-do list feeling like this. Pushing back from her desk, Lorelei buried her face into her hands. Who the hell did she think she was to take this job? It sounded great on paper, but, in practice, it was sucking the life out of her. She wasn’t cut out for this.

Switching off her monitor, Lorelei rose from her desk and walked down the hall to Lila’s office. Through the glass door, she saw Lila typing away at her computer, tongue tucked between her lip and the corner of her mouth. Her long brown legs stretched out in front of her beneath a mauve pencil-skirt, crossed casually at the ankles. Busy, but relaxed.

Open file folders full of papers were scattered across her glass top desk, stuck with hundreds of multicolored sticky tabs. To those who didn’t know her, it looked untidy, but there was complete order in the chaos. Everything had its place, and Lila never lost track of a single item, her mind a sponge for details both great and small.

Amongst the clutter sat frames filled with pictures of family, potted plants, and two tiny metal sculptures that always sat side-by-side, as if one might protect the other: one of Yemaya, the Goddess of the Oceans and Mother of the Orishas, and the other, a North Atlantic right whale, one of the world’s most endangered large whale species. There was a stack of books, too, piled on the corner of the desk, and although the spines faced Lila, Lorelei knew from her time working alongside the marine biologist that they all featured Black marine scientists: Ernest Everett Just, Roger Arliner Young, Joan Murrell Owens, as well as contemporaries and colleagues. Their stories, their work always within reach. Lorelei rapped on the door twice before entering.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lila looked up from her screen. Beneath her makeup, there was a faint outline of bags under her eyes, but her smile was bright, and aside from a little tiredness, Lila seemed to be in a pleasant mood.

Lorelei slumped in one of the two chairs situated in front of Lila’s desk. These days, as lead researcher in the mermaid lab, the marine biologist regularly took meetings in her office. “I’m sorry to take up your time like this.” Pain hammered against Lorelei’s skull. How had it gotten worse? She bent forward and buried her face in her hands, surprised by the tears rolling down her cheeks. But now that they’d started, she couldn’t get them to stop. Was this what the breaking point felt like? “I need help.”

Wheels rolled against tile as Lila scooched her chair back. The clack of her heels retreated across the room, and Lorelei heard Lila draw the blinds to her office. Then she returned and sat in the chair beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders. Lorelei snatched a tissue from her desk and leaned into the embrace. Her chest felt even tighter than it had in her own office.

“I know what I have to do,” Lorelei began, letting out a shuddering breath. She used the tissue to dry her eyes, but the tears just kept coming. This whole past year. It was too much. And was finally catching up with her.

Lila hugged her tighter. “Just let it out, Lorelei. And then we can talk.”

A choked sob escaped her lips.

It was permission she didn’t know she needed. She rested her head on top of Lila’s shoulder and pressed the ragged tissue into the corners of her eyes, trying to keep her tears from staining Lila’s blouse. It was a good, ugly cry. One that shakes the whole body from the shoulders down. Everything that she bottled inside—every little thing compounding over the last year, the guilt, the self-doubt, and self-loathing—came flooding out. Her problems weren’t yet solved, but this was catharsis.

Sniffing, Lorelei straightened once her body rung out every raw emotion. She laughed a little at herself. “Wow, I needed that.”