The scratching came again.
I ran to the window and flung back the curtains. Persephone clung to the frame, grinning in at me.
I barely recalled opening the window; it seemed the next instant, we were in each other’s arms. I clung to her, pressing kisses to her mouth, her throat, anywhere I could reach. “You’re alive,” I whispered, over and over again.
“Very much so,” she agreed.
I leaned back to look at her. “Oh no. Your poor face!”
She had not escaped unscathed. A deep scar marked her forehead, where the cabochon had seared her. More scars surrounded it, in the shape of the rune that had burned on the mask. Though closed, the skin was pink and tender looking, and yet scabbed over in places.
“Yes.” Her grin faded. “Brother said we’re both marked now.”
“Dr. Whyborne found you, then?”
“Yes. I made him tell me where you were.” She scowled. “I went to your old room last night, but you weren’t there. The woman inside was very surprised to see me.”
I laughed. “I bet she was.” Then my laughter faded. “What of your other wound?” I touched her belly; a small scab still showed where the bullet had pierced her. “You’re all right, then? Truly?”
“Yes.” Her fingers stroked my cheek. “Thanks to you. If you hadn’t killed the siren…”
I shuddered at the memory. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. But I didn’t have a choice.”
“You saved my life.”
My heart beat very hard in my chest. But I’d spent too much of my life waiting for someone else to act, and it had almost cost me this chance. I couldn’t become paralyzed, wondering if we had a future, or fearful of what might happen if Dr. Whyborne somehow found out.
“As I said, I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t let them kill the woman I love.” I glanced up at her uncertainly. “That’s…that’s all right, isn’t it?”
Her grin returned, the one that made her eyes shine with delight. “I love you, too, cuttlefish.”
I pulled her close. Her mouth tasted of salt and the ocean. Her tongue probed the seam of my lips; I parted them, and she tasted me deeply. Her arms went around me, pulling me close. I slid my hands up her back. She didn’t really have hair for me to sink my fingers into, and I wasn’t certain if tugging on the tendrils would hurt her.
She withdrew a little, dropping her head and nuzzling my neck. “Maggie,” she whispered. Her hold on me tightened, the tips of her claws pressing lightly against my skin. “I missed you, these last few days.”
“I missed you, too.”
Her hand skimmed my side, down over my hip. “Would you take a lover from the sea?”
I was wet now, and a fierce ache had settled between my legs. Her breath came short against my skin, and it seemed impossible I could so affect someone like her. My whole body trembled with desire, but nerves churned my belly. “Persephone, I…” I swallowed, feeling desperately uncertain. “I do want that. Want y-you.” A hot blush crept over every inch of my skin. “I…I’ve never…not with anyone, at least. I don’t wish to disappoint you.”
She released me, though she didn’t move any farther away. We stood looking at one another, her dark eyes startling in her inhuman face. Our breasts brushed each other’s skin with every breath, through the layer of my nightgown.
“You could never disappoint me,” she said. “Even if you do nothing but let me make you feel good.”
“No! I mean—I want to make you feel good, too.” I put my hands over my face. “Oh God. I must sound so ridiculous right now.”
“Not at all. Look at me, Maggie.” I let my hands fall, and she caressed my face, then slid a finger down my throat, to the edge of my nightgown. “I want to strip away these coverings you land dwellers hide inside, so I can see you.” She leaned in, her lips almost but not quite touching mine. “I want to touch you until you sing my name.”
I felt dizzy, my mouth as dry as other parts of me were damp. “Th-that sounds good,” I stammered. “Let’s do that.”
Persephone laughed—then caught me up in her strong arms. I let out a surprised squeak. Grinning at me, she carried me to the bed and deposited me on it. “This is right, yes? Where land dwellers make love?”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask who had told her that. “Yes,” I managed to say.
She unhooked the gold mesh of her skirt and draped it over the chair. Not that it had hidden a great deal, but it became easier to admire the roundness of her bottom, the curve of her hip. And to trace the dark whorls that marked her pearlescent skin, centered on her spine and covering much of her back.
“I think you’re, um, beautiful,” I said, because it only seemed polite.