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“Yes, but you did not teach them to hate,” he argued.
“I’d wonder if we could stop their envy, reverse it somehow. But I feel what they do, and they are all so far gone,” Willow whispered.
Poseidon nodded. Some of the feelings Willow had experienced were awful, the worst. But he couldn’t protect her. He had to let her experience each emotion and show her strength to the sea life. Even now, he knew Willow’s reputation grew. When it came time for her to be his mate, she’d have already earned the respect of the creatures she would rule over.
“Siera’s hate and jealousy infected many people,” he agreed.
“The Sea Dragons held court yesterday. They have found her guilty and sentenced her to death. First, she must remove all scales from the statues and wrap and return them to the Sea Dragons.”
“A just sentence,” Poseidon confirmed.
“I never thought I’d vote for the death penalty, but she does deserve it. I wonder what else we will find,” Willow mused.
Poseidon knew where her attention had gone. They’d discovered a child’s slave camp, children working chained up in a local mine. The youngest had been three. They’d stumbled upon a prison where people were thrown down a hole and left there too.
It didn’t matter if they were men or women, Atlanteans or Sea Dragons; they were people who’d disagreed with Siera. When rescued, they were in a critical condition, and not even Poseidon was sure they’d all live.
He wanted to protect her from whatever horrors Siera had done, but he recognised he shouldn’t do that. To do so would undermine Willow’s strength. She would require that when interacting with the inhabitants of the Seas and Oceans.
Even though he accepted she was his mate and was resigned to her being so, Poseidon didn’t push anything. He had listened to his brothers and sisters, and his hate towards Willow lessened, but Poseidon still struggled. Her race was a murderous bunch of thugs who were nothing more than a pestilence on the planet. But he understood the rare human could be different. Emmaline was an example of that.
Poseidon’s emotions were torn between hate and longing. Hell, he loathed his own human shifter side at times. Poseidon did recognise the irony in that, even though he did prefer that form. It was impossible to navigate the castle on a fin. And he hated being away from his brothers and sister; who knew when they might need his sword arm?
However, like Vladimir, Poseidon needed time to bond with his mate. He didn’t see an all-encompassing love like Vladimir and Emmaline’s. But he did hope for a strong relationship based on respect and friendliness. If he and Willow could plod along and, maybe once the bond was formed, meet once a month to strengthen their ties, that would be wonderful.
Poseidon briefly considered Vladimir’s and Emmaline’s bond. It shone brightly between them. They were so in sync with each other that it appeared unnatural. He’d be satisfied to gain just a smidgeon of that with Willow. However, his mind moved away from the actual fact they needed to mate.
Even though Willow was comfortable around his Uber merman form, she’d had to experience all three of his forms for them to mate. He couldn’t see her agreeing to that. It was way past kinky to expect Willow to take him in his shifted shapes.
And how the hell could he consider subjecting her to that? The realisation that his bond might never fully form stunned him. That hadn’t been something Poseidon had considered. He gazed across at Willow as she bent to speak to Crackle and the crab clacked his claws in merriment. Willow was strong, and a warrior, but no woman would let a monster in her. Not one.
Emmaline had, the traitorous voice in his head whispered. If Emmaline had, and Vampire was far nastier than his shifted form, he had a chance. Or was this just false hope, and him fooling himself? Poseidon did not know. Willow had turned him inside out, and he didn’t know which was up anymore!
Willow
Even as she bent and spoke to Crackle, she saw Poseidon in the corner of her eye.
“King watches,” Crackle murmured.
“Yes.”
“King wants.”
Willow reared back and shook her head before bending again. “No.”
“Crackle knows. King desires,” he insisted.
Willow ran a finger over his forehead, and Crackle shuddered in pleasure.
“No. Crackle imagines,” she argued, and Crackle snorted.
Willow grinned because a crab snorting was extremely funny. He clacked at her for her giggle before they both settled down.
“You queen, he king. Mate,” he said.
Willow blinked. That could have two meanings.
“Um…”
