Lords of the Deep (22 page)

Angie cast a look around to see who’d spoken and instantly spied Miles standing beside an older woman just inside the kitchen. She let go of Damien abruptly at the look of rage on Miles’ face.

Or maybe outrage?

Nope. He fanned his fins.

The woman dug her elbow in his ribs. “Behave!”

He grunted, rubbing his stomach and still glaring at Damien.

“Deirdre!” Damien greeted the woman uncomfortably.

She beamed at him. “Hello Damien! How’ve you been, sweety?”

“Don’t call that gods damned bastard, sweety!” Miles growled. “Did you see what he was up to? And
that
after he’d told me to keep my hands off ….”

Apparently, he noticed Angie was wearing the translator about that time. “How’s the translator working?”

“Not worth a fuck, if you want an honest opinion!” Damien growled.

“If I wanted an honest gods damned opinion out of you, I’d fucking beat it out of you!” Miles snarled back at him.

The woman tsked. “You’re scaring our little visitor! My, isn’t she a pretty little thing! Are you sure she’s a terra—a—whatsitcalled?”

“Terrabiped.”

“Human,” Angie contradicted.

The woman blinked. “Oh, that sounds much easier to say! I’m Miles’ mother,” she added, beaming at Angie. “I didn’t believe him when he told me, to be honest with you. I mean, everyone always figured the terra –uh–humans were myths, you know!”

“She can’t understand one word out of three you’re saying to her,” Damien said dryly. “The translator doesn’t work worth a fuck and when it does, she sounds like Miles!”

“Oh,” Deirdre said, disappointment evident in her voice. “Well—how have you two been talking to her?”

“We haven’t.”

Deirdre frowned. “Well … how do you know she’s a terra … uh … not mer from some other kingdom?”

Miles looked at her with a mixture of resentment and irritation. “Does she look like a mer to you?”

Surprise and impatience flickered across her face. “She looks different. I can’t quite place why that is … beyond the caplet, of course, but …. Wait! There’s something missing,” she added, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. Her brow cleared. “No. Can’t think what it is, but I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually. These things usually do.” She paused again, sniffing. “Is that
bocite
? It smells very good!”

“Actually it does,” Miles agreed.

Damien shrugged. “We were just eating if you two want to join us.”

“Yes, but what?” Miles muttered, narrowing his eyes at Damien as he was abruptly reminded of the scene he’d stumbled into with his mother. “Maybe I’ll just have some of what you were having?”

Deirdre chuckled, wagging a finger at him. “Ohh! You two are so naughty! Now, Miles. Behave yourself! That’s what you brought me here for—to make sure you did!”

“Actually that isn’t ….” Miles broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind, Mother. Let’s eat and then we can discuss the situation.”

Angie studied the female surreptitiously as the four of them settled to eat the food Damien had cooked. Miles had said it was his mother, but she had a hard time reconciling that in her mind. She didn’t look anything like him in the first place—at least not at first impression. Her hair was blue, not black as Damien’s was, but midnight blue …certainly not blond. She hadn’t really given a lot of thought to Miles’ age, but he seemed to be a scientist of some note, so he couldn’t be very young, she reasoned, and yet he didn’t look old either. She decided he must be at least thirty five even though he could’ve easily passed for twenty five and, if he was, then Deirdre didn’t look old enough to be his mother. Her face certainly had a mature look about it, but she would have to be nearing middle age, at least, Angie reasoned to be Miles’ mother and she didn’t appear to be that old.

She was very smiley and bubbly, though, so maybe that accounted for her seeming young?

Her body didn’t show any more signs of approaching middle age than her face, though. Her breasts were firm, despite being very full, and the skin and muscles on every part of her body that she’d glimpsed were as taut and youthful as her face.

It was hard to say whether her behavior was motherly or not. There was certainly nothing about her that reminded Angie of her own mother, but then her mother had been nothing like her aunt, whom she’d gone to live with after her mother’s death when she’d been in high school.

She supposed, since Miles was obviously a full grown man and no doubt had been living away from home for years, it was conceivable that the relationship between them had changed to more of a friendship than a mother/son relationship, but she found it confusing. The woman acted friendly and affectionate, but far more like a friend than a mother—and she tended to behave pretty much the same way toward Damien.

The more she watched the woman, though, the more certain she became that she actually was Miles’ mother. They shared certain mannerisms and, beyond that, she discovered Miles had his mother’s eyes, something she hadn’t noticed at first.

It wasn’t until she found herself relaxing that she realized that she’d not only been suspicious that Miles was lying about the woman being his mother, she’d felt ‘threatened’.

The realization that it was possessiveness that had aroused her suspicions didn’t make her feel particularly comfortable.

She was attracted to both men. She’d actually discovered she liked them, regardless of the circumstances, and she’d not only thoroughly enjoyed the physical relationship that had developed between them, in a sense it had strengthened her growing sense of security around them.

The sex was something she could understand, something ‘known’ and ‘normal’ when virtually nothing else was. It was the one thing that seemed typical and human, and she’d found it comforting on more than one level.

The two ‘worst case’ scenarios had been surmounted. She’d been taken against her will, but she hadn’t been subjected to rape, torture, or death. They were pretty vigorous lovers, but they
behaved
like lovers, not rapists. They could’ve easily forced her if they’d been that kind of men, but they hadn’t.

The possessiveness, though—that was disturbing. It suggested an emotional attachment, or at least the beginnings of one, that went beyond ‘friends’, even fuck buddies.

When they’d finished eating, they left the kitchen together and, after a brief debate between the other three, headed into what she’d decided must be Miles’ living room, although the room hadn’t seen much if any use that she could tell.

Deirdre immediately went to a piece of furniture that looked like a cross between a chaise lounge and a couch and curled up on it, propping her arms on the rolled end and studying Angie with frank curiosity that made her feel self-conscious and a little resentful, particularly when she realized that she was expected to stand for inspection.

Damien had paused in the doorway, folded his arms, and leaned against the door frame. Miles was pacing around her, talking and gesturing animatedly and seemed to be wavering between excitement and anxiety—neither of which she understood since she only managed to catch a word now and then that she understood.

She gathered, though, that he’d started by explaining how she’d come to be with them. From there things became less clear, but he mentioned the
mertiz
Damien had told her about and something about mating grounds and seasons.

Deirdre nodded, exclaimed, fired off rapid questions too fast for the translator to catch anything and studied her and gestured at her pretty much the same as Miles.

Angie sent Damien a bewildered look when Deirdre finally got up from the lounge and moved closer to look her over.

“No fins!” Deirdre exclaimed abruptly and beamed at Miles. “I knew it would come to me—not but what her coloring is very unusual, as well—and she is the same everywhere. Why do you suppose her tail is the same color as her upper body?”

“Because she isn’t a mer?” Damien volunteered dryly. “And that isn’t a tail. They’re legs—which, I suppose, is why the term terra-bipedal was used to describe them.”

Deirdre turned to him, blinked a couple of times, and then looked at Angie again. “You’re certain?” she asked a little doubtfully, crouching down to look at Angie’s legs a little more closely. “Oh my! That is a problem. How will she swim?”

“That’s only
one
of the problems!” Miles said a little testily. “I told you, she’s an air breather. She has no gills.”

Deirdre straightened, a look of horror crossing her face briefly before pity contorted her features. “Poor little thing! She’s so pretty, too. It’s such a shame that she’s so defective!”

She frowned as Miles and Damien exchanged a look. “
Why
do you want to take her to the gathering again? I don’t mean to be cruel, but she’s so
very
unsuitable,” she added in a whisper. “Don’t get me wrong! She’s very pretty with her unusual coloring, and I’m sure she’s very sweet, too—she’s been remarkably patient! But the coloring is so unusual that’s bound to put at least some off right away. Then, too, she’s a bit undersized, you know, and that isn’t a trait very many would want to risk passing on to their young. I suppose we could come up with something to hide the fact that she has no tail and no fins, but it would really be completely unfair to both her and whatever males such a deception fooled. She’s bound to pass on her defects to her young!”

Damien rolled his eyes. Miles struggled with his temper. “She isn’t defective, mother! She’s a terra—She’s human. She isn’t a mer. She isn’t supposed to have a tail or fins. Furthermore, it’s very unlikely she could successfully crossbreed with us. I don’t know that because I’ve barely begun to study her species—or race. They appear to be very close to us, but it would take a great deal more time and study to determine that kind of compatibility—which I don’t have!”

Deirdre gaped at him. “Well! You don’t have to shout at me, Miles! I’m not deaf!” She frowned thoughtfully and finally shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense at all Miles! If you don’t even know if she
can
breed, why would you want to take her to the breeding rites? I must say if this is your idea of an experiment, I don’t really care for it! I hate to say it, but it’s downright unethical!
Think
of the males who might be duped!”

“Mother …!” Miles ground out impatiently.

“We have to take her,” Damien interrupted him. “It isn’t a matter of wanting to take her. Neither of us want to, especially when it’ll require such a deception—and it could be dangerous for her, particularly if we can’t pull it off.

“It could be
more
dangerous not to take her, though. Everyone of prime breeding age is expected to take part and she’s been seen. The enforcer made it clear he expected to see her at the gathering.

“Of course, if we didn’t go, we might be able to use that distraction to get her out of here and return her to where she belongs, but we don’t know that we could. She’s been down here a long time. It could complicate returning her in a lot of ways. And if we then discovered we couldn’t return her, or at least not quickly and easily, we could be looking at
more
problems.”

“Oh, I see,” Deirdre said after a prolonged pause, although both men could see she didn’t actually understand at all. She tapped her chin. “I don’t suppose if she isn’t able to breed that it would be terribly unethical—although I have to wonder why she’d have any interest in taking part if she can’t!”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Since we haven’t gotten around to explaining to her what we’re going to have to do, we don’t know whether she actually wants to or not—though if she’s in season, she’ll certainly feel the compulsion to
try
to breed whether it’s successful or not.”

Deirdre nodded. “There is that.” She smiled at Angie. “We’ll have to see if we can make her more presentable! I wonder if I might find something that would, at least temporarily, change the color of her caplet and nipples? It would keep her from being quite so noticeable, you know.” She surveyed Angie again and paused when her gaze reached her mound, her eyes widening. “What is that?”

“Her genitals,” Miles responded dryly. “They look much the same as our catkins’—except for the color—and in any case the okeans at the breeding grounds aren’t going to be examining it too closely!”

“Yes, yes—but what is
that
!” Deirdre said testily. “
On
her genitals!”

“I don’t know,” Miles admitted. “It matches her caplet.”

Deirdre sent him a look. “I noticed that—and what’s more everyone else will. It’s got to go! It … draws the eye!”

Miles studied the little triangular patch with a mixture of dismay and reluctance. He liked the little caplet over her sex—maybe because it
did
attract the eye, but he wasn’t in favor of removing it. Still, he could certainly see his mother’s point. No one else had anything like that. “I suppose, if we absolutely have to, I could deaden it and cut it off,” he said a little sickly.

Deirdre looked at him in surprise. “You think it would be painful?”

“Of course it would be painful to cut something off of her!” Damien growled irritably. “And I’m sure as hell not allowing either of you to start ‘removing’ things from her!”

Angie looked from one to the other, struggling to follow the discussion. They seemed to be arguing about the hair on her mound—which didn’t actually surprise her. Neither Damien nor Miles had any pubic hair—actually, no hair at all anywhere on their bodies except for their head—and Deirdre didn’t either.