I woke up to the sound of something crashing, sharp, like glass splintering, followed by hushed but frantic movements outside my room. For a moment, I thought I'd dreamed it. But then I heard water sloshing and the muffled shuffle of bare feet on tile. I bolted upright.
Delmar's mattress in the living room was empty, the sheets crumpled, cold. The bathroom light glared through the open door like a beacon of trouble. My heart slammed into my ribs as I rushed across the hallway.
I pushed the door all the way open, and the sight inside made my breath catch in my throat.
Delmar was seated on the tiled floor, cradling K'liira in his lap. Her skin, usually glowing with that strange, otherworldly iridescence, was pale, almost translucent, perhaps with shock. Blood trickled down her leg from a deep gash in her knee, staining Delmar's arms and the edge of the tub. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder as she whimpered like a wounded animal. The vanity mirror had been shattered into a thousand glittering shards across the tiles, some of them gleaming with droplets of crimson.
"What happened?" I gasped, stepping inside, my slippers crunching lightly over a few scattered fragments.
Delmar looked up at me, his face tight with concern but composed. "She saw something in her sleep. A memory, maybe. She tried to bolt out of the tub before her legs had formed. Lost balance. Hit the mirror."
I stared at the cut, deep, angry, raw. My stomach clenched.
"That looks bad, Delmar. We should call 911. Or take her to the ER. I mean...she could have glass in the wound—"
"No," he interrupted gently but firmly. "We can't take her to human healers. One look and they'll know."
"But... that injury—"
"She'll be fine. She's strong. And we heal faster than you think," he said, brushing K'liira's damp hair from her face, his voice softening.
"I have a first-aid kit," I offered helplessly, scanning the room, needing to do something. "I can try...clean the wound at least..."
Delmar's gaze lifted to mine again. There was something intense in his expression...not anger, but a quiet insistence. "Kash... she'll be okay. I promise. Just give us a moment."
I swallowed hard, throat tight. K'liira's small frame trembled in his arms, her breathing sharp and irregular, like she was struggling to stay grounded.
"I'll... I'll be outside," I said quietly, backing away, giving them space.
But my chest felt tight, my feet too heavy as I stepped out.
Time passed in strange, heavy minutes. The apartment had gone still again, but the earlier tension clung to the air like static. Half an hour later, I found myself drifting back to the hallway, the bathroom door still cracked open.
I peeked in.
Delmar was in the tub holding K'liira on his lap, her cheek pressed against his chest. And both of them were unclothed...bare in a way that felt...jarring. But again...this was their natural state of being. This is how they stayed in their natural habitat. Not with restrictive clothing but like this...free. I bet the clothes they wore around the house was just to make me feel comfortable.
Delmar's arms were wrapped tightly around her, his fingers trailing soft, rhythmic patterns across her back as he rocked her gently. I could hear the low, melodic clicking sounds from his throat...his language, his lullaby. It was calming, intimate.
There was nothing overtly sexual in the scene, and yet it stirred something uncomfortable in me.
Because I was human.
And in my world, naked man and woman—pressed skin to skin—meant something. Even if they didn't kiss. Even if it was innocent. My brain couldn't help but impose the only context it knew. It ached in a confusing, petty way.
But they weren't human. This was their way. Their instincts. Their comfort. Delmar wasn't thinking of her body like I was.
Still... I turned away quietly, heart buzzing with a dozen emotions I didn't know how to name. Jealousy? Maybe.
I told myself it meant nothing.
And yet... I couldn't unsee it.
The next morning I walked to the living room barefoot, expecting silence, or maybe Delmar sitting my the gold fish bowl, admiring the little creature.
Instead, I froze at the threshold.
K'liira and Delmar sat at the dining table like two perfectly mannered guests from some picture-perfect domestic ad. K'liira was perched primly in the chair, her long hair flowing. Delmar sat beside her, spine straight, hands clasped together in front of him, completely at ease, if ease could be bottled into something unnervingly beautiful.
"Good morning," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck and forcing a smile.
Delmar's response was immediate, a soft, genuine smile that somehow managed to hit me right in the chest. "Good morning, Kash."
K'liira, however, refused to meet my eyes. Her gaze remained stubbornly glued to her the table in front of her, the tips of her fingers nervously tracing the pattern on the table's edge.
"Is she... okay?" I asked, moving toward the counter to make myself some coffee. My voice dropped to a lower register, almost instinctively gentle.
"She's a little... off," Delmar said carefully. "Being away from the sea for so long...it takes a toll."
I nodded, the memory of blood and shattered glass flashing through my mind.
"What about her leg?" I asked, pouring the coffee, the steam rising like mist between us.
"It's healing," Delmar said softly. "It's not bleeding anymore. She's tougher than she looks."
"I know the bathroom's small," I said, my words tumbling awkwardly. "And the tub...it can't be comfortable. I wish I could do more."
Delmar stood then, the scrape of his chair quiet but somehow final. He crossed the space between us and took my hand, gently squeezing it. "Kash, you've gone beyond what anyone would do. You opened your home to us. I was the one who brought her here, who pulled her out of the water and into this world. If there's blame to be placed—it's on me. Not you. Never you."
Then he did something that caught me off guard.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Not hungrily. Not possessively. Just... tenderly. Like it was natural. Like we were already something.
My throat tightened. I gulped down the sip of coffee I'd just made, the bitter warmth doing nothing to ease the sudden ache in my chest.
"Okay," I said, a bit too fast, a bit too soft. "So, um... I'll be late tonight. I have, uh... dinner. With Peter." I didn't meet his eyes when I said it. I couldn't. It felt like betraying something, even though I didn't owe Delmar anything. He had declared his love for me. Professed how much I meant to me...but I...I couldn't...wouldn't let myself be swayed by it. I knew I had to maintain distance for him and for myself.
Delmar said nothing at first. He stepped back slightly, just enough for his breath to ghost against my ear as he whispered, "Remember what we talked about last night."
Goosebumps raced across my skin. I nodded without turning to face him, heart pounding.
"I have to go," I choked out, all but bolting from the living room to my room. The kitchen never felt so suffocating.
The lab was no better. I tried to lose myself in work, but I contaminated the pipette twice and ruined an entire culture slide without even realizing I'd mislabelled the tray.
My phone buzzed.
Waiting to get you all to myself for dinner 😉 —Peter
I let my head drop to the desk with a dull thud.
The emoji made it worse.
"Rough day?" Karl's voice came from behind me.
I sat up with a start. "What? Oh—no. Yeah. Just distracted."
Karl looked over my disaster zone of a workstation and raised a brow. "Yeah, I'd say so."
I tried to laugh but it came out more like a groan. "Some days just suck."
He gave me a sympathetic look. "Don't let it get to you. Everyone has off days."
If only he knew why I was off. A merman was living in my apartment. A sea creature was watching coral reef documentaries in my living room. My human boyfriend was more like an obstacle. And I was pretending like any of this made sense.
When work ended, the dread settled heavier in my chest.
"Hey, baby," Peter's voice sang as he greeted me in the parking lot, wrapping his arms tightly around me. His palm lingered on my butt a second too long.
I resisted the urge to flinch. "Hi," I muttered, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably.
"You're not gonna cancel on me again, right?" he said, mock-pouting. "You promised."
"No, I'm here," I replied, forcing the words out with a brittle smile. "Didn't I show up?"
He didn't catch the tone. Of course he didn't. He grinned and pressed a kiss a little too close to my mouth. My skin recoiled.
"I want to show you something interesting," Peter whispered against my ear.
And there it was...that difference. Delmar's voice lingered on my skin like silk and sunlight. Peter's felt like an invasive whisper in a cold room. I had to suppress a shiver.
"What is it?"
"Come with me," he said, tugging my hand.
He led me around the building, through the back entrance of HMORC's B-wing, the part of the facility he worked in...the one I wasn't allowed into.
Something twisted in my stomach.
Whatever he was about to show me... it better me worth the dinner.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my steps slowing as the sterile hallways grew quieter, darker. Only the faint humming of cooling vents accompanied us.
"Shh..." Peter held a finger to his lips and glanced over his shoulder like he was doing something heroic. Then, without another word, he pushed open the door to the fire exit and slipped inside, tugging me along by the wrist.
My heart pounded. "Peter—what the hell?"
"I heard the security cameras will be off for an hour," he whispered, the dim emergency light casting sharp angles across his face.
My brows furrowed. "Why would they be off in a government-funded marine genetics facility? That makes zero sense."
"How would I know?" he snapped under his breath. "Just... trust me, okay?"
He didn't wait for a reply and led me through a maze of maintenance corridors until we finally emerged into a softly lit wing of the lab...clean, controlled, humming with machines and chilled air. The plaque on the frosted glass read: Cellular Mutation and Hybrid Analysis. I stiffened.
"This is my workspace," Peter said proudly, waving at the nameplate above his desk that read Peter Armitage – Senior Research Analyst. He straightened it with unnecessary flair. "Cool, right?"
I crossed my arms. "This is what you dragged me here for?"
He smirked like a game show host. "Not exactly. You keep asking if we've found anything new...well, guess what?" He motioned toward the sleek white microscope set up at the corner of the lab bench. "Come here."
I hesitated, then stepped forward and leaned over, adjusting the lens. At first, my eyes tried to make sense of what I was seeing...clusters of rapidly moving, shimmering cells. Not human. Not microbial either.
"What am I looking at?" I asked, breath catching slightly.
Peter leaned in beside me, peering through the other eyepiece. "We don't really know."
My spine stiffened. "You don't know?"
"I was told to count the number of cells per square millimeter," he said, nonchalant, like he was reporting lunch orders.
"You're a senior analyst, and you're counting cells?" I asked, voice rising despite myself. "No classification? No documentation? Just count?"
Peter's mouth pulled into a pout. "I thought you'd appreciate this. You always complain that I never talk about work."
I blinked. Right. I was supposed to be grateful. That's what he wanted. My gut churned, but I forced my irritation down and softened my tone.
"You're right. I'm sorry." I offered a shallow smile and pressed my hand to his cheek, giving him a quick peck to keep the peace.
His arms immediately wrapped around my waist, pulling me in tighter than I wanted. I could smell the cologne on his shirt...too strong, too artificial. His lips brushed the side of my face before I turned away.
"I can show you more," he said, his voice dropping lower, like we were about to exchange secrets. But there was something smug behind his tone...like a child dangling candy.
My stomach twisted. "More?"
He grinned. "Depends. What's in it for me?"
I stared at him, stunned. Was he really trying to trade information?
"You're baiting me," I said, blinking at him.
He shrugged, smug. "Let's call it... negotiation."
"Tell me," I said, softening my voice to a flirtatious whisper. I toyed with the buttons of his shirt, suppressing every instinct that screamed at me to back away.
He leaned in closer, all too eager. "Only if you let me kiss you," he said, lips brushing mine as he spoke.
"Wait," I said quickly, pressing a hand against his chest. "I want to know first."
He exhaled dramatically and flopped back in his chair. "Fine. But you're so uptight sometimes."
I forced a smile, arms crossed, stomach tightening with unease.
"There's something," he began, glancing around like someone might be listening. "My supervisor mentioned a project. Off-the-books. There are whispers that the government's funding a secret program—something about hybridizing humans. Playing with DNA. Modifying actual people."
My heart stopped. "That's bullshit."
Peter snorted. "That's what I said. But... rumors are rumors, right?"
I nodded slowly, trying not to let anything show on my face. But something in my blood turned cold.
His little revelation gave me no concrete lead...just a vague whisper of something buried deep in the facility's underbelly. But the microscope sample... that might be something. The twitching, luminescent cells were unlike anything I'd ever seen. My gut told me they were important, though I had no way to prove it. Not yet.
"Now kiss me," Peter said, leaning toward me.
I froze.
His mouth crashed into mine...sloppy, urgent, and completely devoid of finesse. His lips were wet, aggressive, sliding against my face more than kissing it. I didn't even kiss back. I just stood there, mentally counting down the seconds like it was a bad vaccine injection.
He pulled back, breathless, clearly pleased with himself. I couldn't breathe. My face felt like it was coated in spit. I held my breath, fighting the bile rising up my throat.
Then—
BANG.
A loud, metallic rumble echoed through the floor, followed by the growl of a heavy vehicle. My head snapped toward the source.
"What was that?" I asked, heart skipping a beat.
Peter turned too, frowning. "I don't know. Sounded like a truck or something."
I narrowed my eyes toward the corridor. "Since when do trucks pull into restricted government research buildings?"
Peter suddenly looked uneasy. "Let's just get out of here," he said, grabbing his bag.
We slipped out the way we came, back through the dimly lit maintenance hall. But as we turned the corner near the south exit, I froze. Two guards stood by the emergency stairwell. Their posture alert, their rifles—rifles—hung low and ready.
Not the standard facility rent-a-cops I was used to.
They wore Marine Facility Security shirts, but there was something different. Their uniforms were darker. More tactical. Their eyes tracked us like hawks as we passed. I pretended not to notice. But my palms began to sweat.
"Did you see them?" I whispered once we were safely in the parking lot.
"Who?" Peter asked, already unlocking his car.
"The guards. The ones near the fire exit."
He shrugged. "Didn't notice. Probably just new hires."
"No one carries semi-automatics inside a research facility, Peter," I snapped, but he didn't seem to care.
"Will you be okay to drive behind me?" he asked instead, all casual as if he hadn't just brought me into the heart of a conspiracy.
I glanced up at the sky, searching for divine intervention. Anything. A lightning bolt, maybe. A sinkhole. Something to save me from what was coming next.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I muttered.
Dinner was a disaster.
He had promised to cook something special. Instead, he ordered lukewarm pad thai and stale egg rolls. The conversation was forced...he talked about himself, his promotion, and how he thought he could maybe move into molecular analysis soon "if the boss stops being a bitch."
Then came the inevitable: the slow inching closer on the couch. The hand that crept across my thigh. The lips that came down again, open-mouthed and eager. I stiffened. This time I had to physically push him back.
"Not tonight," I said, more sharply than intended.
He looked wounded. "But... I showed you the lab..."
I clenched my jaw. I hated that part of me...the part that felt guilty for denying him. So I let him kiss me once more. Just a brief, reluctant brush of lips so I could escape the evening without another argument.
He smiled again. As if it meant something.
When I finally stepped out into the cool night air, I exhaled for the first time in hours. My shoulders slumped. My skin crawled with the residue of forced affection. The kiss, the dinner, the guilt...it all clung to me like a film I couldn't scrub off.
I drove home in silence, windows down, letting the wind whip away the suffocation I hadn't realized I was drowning in.
Delmar's face flashed in my mind.
"Don't let him touch you."
I didn't know if it was guilt or longing, but my chest ached the rest of the way home.
***
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