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Excerpts from
Turbulent Seas Digest
Drowning At Sea
Denise Jeffries
Chapter
One
Quiiton’s eyes clouded over with anguish.
One more minute and he would have made it. The portal closed as he swam
to it. The sizzle and pop of it disappearing could have stilled his
heart if it wasn’t for its pounding in his head. He paused in mid
stroke, attempted to gather his wits, his bearings and cried out the
distress song of his people. The sounds of the sea assailed his senses.
His mind riled. The storm above raged, slamming water against his
already exhausted body. If only he hadn’t been so tired.
What now?
The portal was closed for forty hu-man
years. He couldn’t go home. Would they, the Merfolk, even look for him?
Would they send out a search team? Probably not. His trickery would
be the end of him and he could only blame himself. If only he hadn’t
tricked his sister’s intended. He could still hear his mother’s sob,
realizing Lia was trapped on land, alone, her intended trapped under the
sea. But he did rectify that, didn’t he? King Neptune made sure of it.
Now, he was trapped under the sea. No family or folk or his world.
Quiiton would never forgive himself for his actions.
Quiiton dove deeper in an attempt to avoid
the crashing waves. Staring upward, the rain pummeled the ocean surface,
giving the illusion of boiling water. His father was right; it does look
like the undersea volcanos right before they erupt.
Storms of this magnitude endangered all that
were near. Again, he glanced toward the location of the portal. Nothing.
No light. No crack. There would be no getting home.
Again, Quiiton swam deeper, to no avail.
Water crashed against his body tugging and ripping the energy from his
core. Is this what happens to the lost Merfolk? The ones who never come
back? Does the sea, their bodies wrapped in a cocoon of water and flung
out to the sea, drown them?
He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Young.
He hadn’t even found his mate, his intended. He shook his head to remove
the thoughts of mates and family and life. They were futile thoughts.
Another glance toward the surface sent him swimming to the top.
His body sliced through the water with
renewed strength. He broke free of the current and gasped as the air
slammed into him. He didn’t know which was worse, drinking seawater or
drinking air. His chest hurt. His head pounded. Darkness soaked with
storm enveloped him, pulling fear from the depths of his soul. He
thought if he concentrated, there would be a connection to something of
the Merfolk. Nothing. Forcing his eyes to focus against the raging
weather, off in the distance the blinking light of a beacon fractured
the darkness.
A beacon for the lost.
Quiiton dragged his body atop the base of
the buoy. Another minute and he would have perished. His only hope, now,
was to pray that his body wasn’t swept away or smashed against the heavy
steeled buoy.
“No more!” Quiiton yelled to the open sea.
“Please.”
Quiiton scanned his surroundings. He had to
think of something. There had to be something he could do other than
die. He didn’t want to die. Closing his eyes, his mind filtered back to
his family. Lia. If only he could get back to where he’d last seen her.
Maybe he could find his sister. Surely, she would forgive him and not
shut him out. Surely, she would not turn her back on him, regardless of
what he’d done. He had, after all gotten her intended, Paul, back to
her. There must be some forgiveness in that, the fact that he was not
lost to their world…forever.
* * *
Turbulent Hearts
Mae Powers
Chapter One
Like a sleeping beauty, she lay in the
coffin-like escape pod, only it was closed, and her mind and body were
numb, while her body started becoming soaked. She felt the dampness
around her, tingling her skin faintly. It seemed like she drifted on a
turbulent ocean of endless waves. Dark, sporadic thoughts filtered
through what consciousness she had left, and the lurking danger of
insanity and drowning floated nearby.
She couldn’t think coherently, the numbing
from the low oxygen took over her body slowly. She hoped she died before
she drowned. The metallic, oblong vessel that had become her coffin in
space and now at sea, rocked within the waves, shifting her body side to
side within the deadly enclosure.
Faintly, she recalled the meteorite shower
which hit the side of the science vessel she worked upon for the last
few months. Then the alarms went off and sections of the space ship
started to explode. She vaguely remembered people running to the escape
pods; those that hadn’t already died in the first explosions.
She’d been near one when a wave from an
explosion in her sector sent her reeling against a wall. Dazed, she
automatically dragged herself to the nearest escape pod. All she
remembered was it closing over her and shooting out automatically from
the ship. A planet loomed in her hazy mind and she went into blackness
for a while.
Then she felt the bumps and heard and
experienced the hard splash of the water when the pod landed. The
rocking of thunderous splashing waves, and the water creeping into the
cracked escape pod made her mind start to wake ever so slowly. She still
couldn’t move, couldn’t think coherently more than a few minutes. She
wished it would all end now, before the water sucked her down into its
murky depths.
Just as she started to drift into
unconsciousness again, she felt a sudden thump and then the coffin-crate
stopped moving. It jerked to a dead halt, bumping her head side to side
for a few deadly minutes.
Darkness engulfed her mind temporarily, then
motes of light particles crashed in on the blackness. Irregular
breathing spurts made her chest ache. She wanted to just sleep and never
awaken again. But the fates had other plans for her, she believed. It
seemed like hours went by and all she heard was the gentle wash of the
waters splashing against the side of metal.
Something suddenly pounded on the outside of
the pod. The noise broke through to her consciousness and then sounds of
peeling metal screeched through her ears. The agony was soon replaced by
light and darkness.
She hazily blinked and looked upwards as the
metal was literally peeled back from the hatch of the pod. Above her she
saw the night sky and a view of the stars filtering in as the wrecked
hatch was peeled back even more. Then a shadowy face partially blocked
out the night sky.
Soon, large hands pried her free of her
former coffin. The being was large and her mind barely took in details
of a gaunt face, dark green hair and the most incredibly beautiful
star-gold eyes she’d ever seen. A worried look marred his handsome face
for a moment. She reached up to touch his face and smiled.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, before she lapsed
into total, blissful unconsciousness this time.
* * *
Forever
Laura Kitchell
Chapter One
Gavin finished his meager meal, which
didn’t agree with the knots in his stomach. He glared at a thin
lighthouse manual someone had left him on the kitchen table. It appeared
to be leftover from the nineteen-fifties. Yeah,
I’m way over my head here. What was I thinking?
The night promised to try his patience. He
didn’t look forward to it.
Around the curve of his lighthouse, wild
wind created an ominous howl. His lighthouse. Good Lord. How hard
a time would the county board give him if he asked them to release him
from this job? He sighed and walked his dishes to the sink, the window
above showing nothing in the deep, fathomless night.
Gavin’s heart skipped a beat. The lighthouse
beacon was out.
He dropped his plate and fork. They missed
the basin and slid to the floor with a loud clatter. Not bothering with
the mess, he grabbed the manual and raced for the stone staircase. He
took steps two at a time, wishing he had less to climb. Every second
counted when the lamp went out.
He snatched a heavy-duty flashlight from a
hook at the top of the winding stairs then headed up a ladder to a
hatchway. Gulping, Gavin pushed open the trapdoor. He didn’t mind the
height. He didn’t mind the darkness, either. But the thought of entering
a room made entirely of glass while lightning flashed, thunder boomed,
and wind shook the wooden house below made him pause.
Closing his eyes, he braced a hand on the
opening’s edge. Visions flashed through his mind of shattering windows
and driving rain. For a moment, his ears filled with screams and the
deafening boom of thunder. He shook off the terrifying memory with some
difficulty. He had work to do.
Releasing a long, slow breath, he climbed
the three remaining steps. He flicked the flashlight’s switch and willed
his heart to slow its rapid tattoo. He could not afford this weakness.
Lives on the popular shipping lane depended on him.
With renewed purpose, he ignored the eerie
screech of gale-force winds whipping along the topmost ridge of the
lighthouse’s glass dome. He followed illustrated instructions in the
manual to find the off switch on the ancient lamp’s gas-powered pivot
motor. He located a spare bulb in the adjacent cabinet. The last spare
bulb. He swore under his breath.
“Temporary insanity. That’s it. I
temporarily lost my mind when I agreed to take this job in this stinkin’
lighthouse.”
The manual showed him how to switch out one
of the burned bulbs for the last replacement, and a bright glow rewarded
him for a job well done. Turning off his flashlight, he topped the fuel
then nudged the pivot motor switch with his foot and waited a moment to
make sure everything worked.
Shuddering, he went to the far wall of glass
and gazed at the raging ocean. He refused to let the storm get the
better of him. Rain blew in sideways sheets, battering the thick windows
to no effect. At first, nothing beyond the rain and an occasional leaf
held much interest. The light swung around, however, and shot through
the darkness to reveal a merchant tanker laden with cargo and rocking on
dangerous seas perilously close to craggy boulders on the shoreline.
Crewmembers sprinted along the ship’s deck,
and the light on the bridge blinked twice before a long, low horn
sounded. Gavin waved, acknowledging the ‘thank you.’
He let his gaze drop, contemplating an early
night, but before he could turn in retreat, he caught a movement where
crashing waves pounded the rocky shore. He squinted. Had he imagined it?
Then a pale, thin arm shot into the air.
Delicate fingers grappled for an outcropping but missed and slid away.
Gavin’s breath caught in his throat. Heaven
help him, somebody had gone overboard.
* * *
Laura Kitchell
Sea Angel
“So you don’t have to die?” He moved
closer. Behind him, the filmy wing-like membranes gently waved and lent
him a gracefulness at perfect odds with the sheer strength exuding from
every line of his body.
Fury over the injustice of her impending
painful death and anger at his persistence sent her into a rage. It
built, heating her face and forming a knot in her stomach. With a
powerful swish of her tail, she charged him. Speeding past, careful not
to make contact, she pushed a wall of water that shoved him hard.
“All you do is ask questions!” She
spun to face him. Pointing an accusing finger, she said, “You treat me
like a freak. Like I’m here as a cure for your boredom. You’re
pathetic.” And beautiful. “You’re the freak, out here by yourself
so far from shore and others of your kind.” And
if you were a merman, I’d beg you to take me.
He recovered, giving his head a vigorous
shake. “All I did was ask you a question.”
She planted a fist on her hip. “All you
do is ask questions.”
“You’re wrong, by the way.” The corner of
his mouth quirked in a half smile, but his eyes held a profound sadness.
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
I need to stop staring at his sexy, kissable lips.
“I’m not far from shore.” He pointed toward
a long line of rocky outcropping. “We’re ten miles out in forty feet of
water.”
What?
Brandine glanced up, trying to discern the wavering barrier between
water temperatures. She couldn’t. Even in the shadows cast by the storm,
she could tell no thermal layer existed. “But that means I’m a
hundred miles from home.” How was that possible? It explained why cooler
waters hadn’t eased her pain. There weren’t any.
“Afraid so. Now will you talk to me?”
Her senses whirled. Magic was at work. No
way could she have traveled a hundred miles in minutes. “Talk? I’ve
probably only got a few hours to live, and you want to talk?”
He inched closer. “You said you could be
helped. How? What’s killing you?” He glanced around as if searching for
a threat.
Real hopelessness overwhelmed her. Averting
her gaze in shame, she whispered, “I’m in heat.” If he laughed, she’d
make him pay…somehow.
He didn’t. Tilting his head slightly, he
asked, “Where’s your mate?”
Oh, God, I’m really not going to
make it. I don’t want to die. “I haven’t been
called.”
The light faded further and thunder found
its way through the ocean in a muffled rumble.
He went utterly still. His expression
changed, but she couldn’t read it. “Well, I’m not going to bond with
you.”
Her jaw dropped. “I didn’t ask you
to.” Out of the question.
He raked her with his stare. “If I bonded
with you, I’d be stuck with you following me everywhere.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she said with
indignation. “Krispins don’t life-mate. You’re always looking for the
next female, for something better to come along. I wouldn’t have
you, even if we could.” Though the longer she stared at him, the more he
appealed to her.
No, stop.
It was just her desperation making him seem appealing. And her state of
heat. And his graceful, sensual presence. And the way he made her feel
like the most important female in the ocean when he stared.
No, stop.
One touch from him would make her take human
form. She’d drown without her gills. Definitely not appealing.
“What makes you think we can’t? What are
your options, mermaid?”
* * *
A Prince’s Tail
Sara Murphy
Chapter One
“I’m not running away from my problems,”
Maggie said into her cell phone headset as she wrestled trash cans into
the storage area under her porch.
“You ran away from your wedding.” Her
mother’s shrill voice made Maggie want to remove the headset. It wasn’t
the first time.
Instead, she latched shut the storage area
door and said, “I caught him cheating on me with Angela. In the coat
room. At our rehearsal dinner.”
“Yes, but didn’t he apologize?” Her mother
believed that any man was better than no man at all.
Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Sorry doesn’t count when you say it with your pants down.” She kicked a
small statue of a fish. The little figure rolled down the slope to the
brush that lined the beach front. Sighing, she trudged to retrieve it.
“Honey, I don’t like the idea of you staying
in that shack of yours with a hurricane coming in.” Her mother was
running out of options so she’d pulled out the safety card.
“Mom, it’s more than a shack. I’ve lived
here for years. My studio is here.” Having given up too much of herself
during her time with her ex-fiancée, Maggie was glad to return to her
passion.
“Don’t get me started on your career.”
“Fine. I won’t.” Maggie picked up several
more lawn ornaments and placed them in a cart. “So how’s Dad?” Her
mother couldn’t pass up a chance to complain about her father.
“Oh, instead of canceling the caterer, he
decided to cut the order and have it delivered to the house. He said it
was to keep me from having to cook. Just looking out for me.” She
scoffed. “He just wanted an excuse to not follow his diet.”
Since the diet was imposed by his wife and
not a doctor, Maggie didn’t worry over her father’s antics. “Did he have
anything to say about what Steve did?” Maggie asked, not sure if she
wanted the answer.
“He sent the bill for the deposits on the
band and the hall to Steve along with a warning to stay away from you.
Honey, your Dad would forgive Steve if you did.”
“Why do you want me to marry Steve so much?”
“You could use the security. The financial
security.”
Maggie looked over her empty yard then at
the horizon filled with clouds. Her mother just wanted the best for her.
Too bad hers was the way of the nineteen-fifties—marry well and act
happy. But they’d gone around about their differing approaches to
marriage before.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, dear.”
“I need to finish boarding up the windows.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll let you go. But what
should I say to Steve if he asks about you?”
“Tell him I’m glad he cheated before we got
married rather than after, saved me the hassle of a divorce.”
After hanging up with her mother, Maggie
turned to her home. Her little cottage at the entrance to the inlet
wasn’t much. Certainly not something her mother would see as worthy of
being called a summer house. For Maggie, it was a perfect fit.
The siding resembled dark wood shingle and
stood out against the bright grasses and sand dunes behind the house.
Situated at the end of the beach and set back from the road a bit, most
times she could imagine she had the entire beach to herself. In the
off-season, it was true.
However, this wasn’t the off season. It
smelled as though the family renting the house south of hers was cooking
out.
Tempted to ignore their stupidity, she
almost went into the house. Then with a sigh, she walked to the sand and
along the beach until she spotted their deck. Sure enough, toys and
chairs remained strewn about the yard. The mother and father kissed
passionately at the grill while three children aged between thirteen and
eight ran past her to and from the water.
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