Commander, Please Spare Your Little Merman

Pain greeted Nolan Shaw when he woke.

His lower back hurt. So did his ass, his tailbone, his chest, and his neck.

"Ah..." he hissed.

He was tangled in the sheets of a five-star hotel suite. Strands of pale pink hair showed beneath the white blanket. As soon as he opened his eyes, he remembered what he'd done last night.

He'd forced himself on a human man.

He flung the covers aside and saw a shimmering pink fish tail.

Morning light fell across it. The pale pink fins were translucent, and their colors shifted whenever he moved. Sunlight caught the scales and made them sparkle.

Then the tail changed before his eyes. It became two long, straight legs with smooth, unmarked skin.

Delighted, Nolan raised one leg. "I can change back whenever I want now. Mating really does help me stay human."

Beside the bed sat a tidy stack of bills. Human money.

He ran his fingers over the notes and counted them in his head. Eight thousand dollars.

The gentleman from last night must have left it.

"He even left me money. That's sweet," Nolan murmured.

Then he caught a fistful of his pink hair and pulled at it in frustration.

He hadn't asked the man's name. How was he going to find him again?

Mating with a human let a merman keep his legs on land, but he had to do it regularly. If his tail returned, the Zenith Research Center could catch him and do cruel experiment on him.

Its researchers would inject serums to force him to shift. They would peel off scales, gouge out tear ducts, cut away webbing, and breed new species...

He'd escaped that lab only yesterday. The memories came rushing back, and he shivered.

"I need to find him once a week," Nolan muttered. "I didn't even get his number!"

Despite the ache in his body, he got out of bed and put on his shirt. He was about to grab his pants when footsteps sounded outside the hotel door.

Tactical boots. Their measured tread was too faint for a human to hear, but Nolan was a merman.

Every instinct told him to watch the door. He went rigid.

Bang! The walls shook.

The front door burst inward.

Wood from the heavy security door and pieces of the entryway decor flew across the room. Fine white smoke billowed in. The curtains whipped about, and the crystal chandelier swayed overhead with a frantic clink.

Nolan stood in the middle of it all. Black figures advanced through the smoke and blocked his way out.

Six people came through the doorway.

They wore black capture gear, riot helmets, and heavy tactical vests. A gold-plated wolf and hawk insignia shone on each chest. All six guns were aimed at him.

Red infrared beams caught his eyes. Before he could move, three sights fixed on his forehead.

Two more pointed at his heart.

"Put your hands on your head!" a deep voice instructed from the doorway.

Nolan's stomach dropped as he stared through the smoke. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

Click!

Someone had chambered a round.

His own heartbeat roared in his ears.

He remained beside the bed with his bare legs exposed. He hadn't managed to put on his pants.

They'd come so quickly that, for a moment, he couldn't make himself move.

Then he looked down at his legs, and the panic eased a little. He slowly straightened his back and tried to steady his breathing as he reassured himself.

Right now, he looked human.

There was no tail to give him away.

"Let us search, and nobody gets hurt," a rough voice called out.

"Check every corner!" the adjutant yelled from the front. His team spread out from the doorway and passed Nolan as they searched the suite.

Still beside the bed, Nolan gripped the stack of cash. His breathing came fast and unevenly.

Could he kill all of them before they had time to react?

If even one survived, things would get worse.

He stayed where he was and made no move to hide.

The fear was real. So was the urge to strike before they did.

Minutes later, the team returned. "Commander Watson! No sign of the merman." They reported together.

Boots thudded across the threshold. Nolan felt the room grow smaller as the commander entered.

"Secure the intel. Keep looking," the commander, Vincent Watson, said in a low, rough voice.

"Yes, sir!" the team replied.

A sharp trace of freshly extinguished cigarette smoke reached Nolan first. He looked up at the smell.

Vincent stood near the entrance. Unlike his team, he wore no heavy bulletproof vest. His black shirt fitted close beneath a shoulder holster, and he pressed the gun in his hand against a nearby tabletop. He looked almost bored, which only made Nolan more afraid.

Vincent had a face that was hard to look away from and harder to trust. His eyes reminded Nolan of a wolf watching its prey. Even while he stood there doing nothing, he seemed ready for violence and untouched by it. His hair was neatly cropped, and a faint scar near his brow gave his good looks a dangerous edge.

Once Nolan saw his face clearly, he stumbled back. His fingers loosened, and the eight thousand dollars scattered across the floor.

This was the man he'd mated with last night.

And that man was the commander of the Protection & Control Bureau.

The realization left Nolan close to breaking.

He'd slept with the person he feared most.

His hands tightened into fists.

Vincent narrowed his eyes. Silence settled over the room.

Nolan met his gaze for a second, and then looked away. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking.

What was he supposed to do now?

With Vincent silent in front of him, Nolan felt as if he were waiting for a death sentence with a blade against his throat.

Had the commander forgotten him?

Nolan looked up, though he could barely hold Vincent's gaze.

There was no sign of recognition in Vincent's eyes.

That settled it. The commander really didn't remember him.

But how could he forget? Was he pretending?

Vincent glanced to the side before Nolan could think any further. The men beside him took the hint and moved toward Nolan.

They meant to search him. He knew it at once.

Right now, he had no way out.

Killing them would only make it harder to stay hidden.

He'd have to let them search him.

"I want..." Nolan stared at Vincent, who stood near the doorway.

Vincent held the gun at his side, his demeanor a chilling blend of gentleness and ruthlessness.

"You. I want you to search me," Nolan said again, steadier this time.

Vincent narrowed his eyes and studied him more closely.

The two men stopped short. Neither seemed to believe what Nolan had just asked.

People throughout Dwarlen feared Vincent. He was ruthless and hard to approach, and most knew to keep their distance. Now this stranger wanted Vincent to search him himself.

The commander had no reason to bother with someone like him.

That pink-haired punk must have wanted to die.

Once the men recovered and started toward him again, Nolan's eyes hardened.

He backed away until his shoulders met the corner wall. He made no effort to hide how much he wanted them to stay away.

Black boots struck the floor. Vincent came over.

The men who had been about to search Nolan stepped back behind their commander.

Nolan caught hold of the heavy curtain behind him and tried to steady his gaze as Vincent drew near.

He caught a faint smell of tobacco and gunpowder on Vincent. Danger seemed to follow him wherever he went, and it suited him.

Panic caught in Nolan's chest. His breathing grew uneven.

Vincent closed the gap one step at a time. At last, the toe of his boot nudged between Nolan's legs.

They shook.

"Have we met?" Vincent asked coldly. Nolan shuddered at the sound of his voice.

His heart pounded so hard that he wanted to press a hand against his chest.

"I... don't think so," Nolan stammered.

The oversized white shirt Nolan wore barely reached the tops of his thighs. His legs were bare, and fading purplish-red love bites marked every patch of visible skin. His wavy pink hair was mussed, and his clear eyes gave him an innocent look. There was something submissive about him, too. He looked like a little fox backed into a corner.

Vincent put a hand on his waist. Nolan flinched.

"Hold still." Vincent's face remained cold, and there was something predatory in his eyes.

His hands moved slowly over Nolan's body. Vincent searched him with a serious face and practiced care, as though the touch meant nothing beyond the job.

Then one hand slipped under Nolan's shirt.

The thin leather glove felt cold against his skin.

Nolan gasped.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Vincent warned without sympathy.

The steady, unreadable way Vincent looked at him left Nolan shaken. He felt as if he were falling with nothing to catch him.

A gloved hand moved up Nolan's spine.

Vincent searched him by the book from start to finish. Every movement was careful and impersonal. Even so, Nolan felt as though those calm eyes could see every secret he was hiding.

When Vincent drew his hand away, he kept watching Nolan. His broad frame blocked the rest of the room from seeing Nolan in his half-dressed state.

He missed none of Nolan's panic.

Nolan still couldn't seem to draw a full breath.

Vincent moved a step closer.

Nolan quickly stepped back.

Neither looked away. Each waited for the other to give something away.

Cold window glass met Nolan's back, and he had nowhere left to go.

Vincent's brow twitched, and a hint of mockery crossed his face. Nolan felt as though Vincent could see straight through him. Vincent controlled what happened here. If he decided someone was guilty, that was enough.

"What are you so scared of?" Vincent seemed to look at Nolan properly for the first time. His manner stayed calm, and his voice was almost gentle, but Nolan flinched under his stare.

"I'm not scared..." Nolan muttered.

Pain shot through his wrist.

Vincent had seized his right hand. He spoke so quietly that Nolan found it more frightening than if he'd shouted. "Show me what you're holding."

"You already checked that hand." Nolan looked away, and his breath caught.

Vincent had caught him.

"Open it," Vincent instructed. For once, something slipped into his voice.

"There's nothing in there..." Nolan swallowed. His Adam's apple rose and fell. "Ngh..."

Vincent tightened his grip without mercy.

Pain flashed through Nolan's wrist. He thought the bones might break.

Nolan panicked. Vincent squeezed until his fingers gave way and his hand opened against his will.

A pale pink merman scale lay in his palm.

Its surface caught the light with a watery shimmer that was almost impossible to look away from.

It was a soul scale. Every member of merfolk lost it only after their first intimate union, and merfolk saw it as a symbol of purity and devotion. They were meant to give it to their one partner for life.

Nolan looked up at Vincent.

The scale belonged to this commander.

He tried to tear free and slip past Vincent.

Click.

Vincent pulled the heavy handcuffs from his belt and snapped them around Nolan's wrists. The look in his eyes made Nolan dizzy with dread.

Then Vincent took the scale from Nolan's shaking hand.

"Get him out of here," Vincent instructed.

The team brought Nolan into an interrogation room and sat him beneath a lamp that shone straight into his eyes.

Beyond its harsh circle of light, the room was almost black. Vincent sat across from him with two other interrogators in uniform.

"What's your name?"

"Nolan Shaw."

"How old are you?"

After thinking hard about it, Nolan answered, "T-twenty."

"You're sure you didn't see a merman, sir?" one of the interrogators asked with a stern look.

"I didn't see one." Nolan picked at his fingers.

"Who was with you in the room yesterday?" the interrogator asked.

"Some gentleman."

"What were you doing together?"

With a hard swallow, Nolan responded, "Having sex."

For a moment, the interrogator could only stare at him.

Human shame meant nothing to Nolan. His blunt answer made him seem naive.

Vincent had no patience for talk about sex. He wanted answers and had no interest in Nolan's private life. "How do you know him? Did anything about him seem strange? What's his name, and where does he live?"

The questions told Nolan that their suspicion was turning toward the man.

He faced Vincent across the interrogation table. "I have no idea who he is."

Fear had Nolan in its grip.

Once a merman mated with a human, he needed that person's scent. If he went too long without it, he could have trouble breathing. And if they didn't mate again, his tail would come back.

That man, though, was the senior commander here. Getting close to him was out of the question.

Nolan might need this man to stay alive. The thought made his scalp prickle.

"I don't know who he is. I don't even know his name," Nolan muttered. "I'd been drinking."

He kept his eyes on Vincent. "He forced me. Then he left me 8, 000 dollars. You saw the money yourself, sir. I guess you'd call it payment for sex. He gave me the merman scale, too."

Every answer was meant to pull suspicion away from him.

If lying kept him alive, Nolan would lie.

Vincent got up and came toward him. His tall frame blocked the light as he drew closer, one measured step after another. "He gave you the merman scale?"

"Yes." Nolan drew a shallow breath, and his chest rose.

Vincent set both hands on the edge of the interrogation table and leaned in. Their shadows met across it. He spoke gently, but Nolan felt as if a wolf had cornered him and was waiting to draw blood.

"Then why didn't you call the police?"

"He was scary."

"So you were too afraid?" Vincent tapped a finger on the table in front of Nolan.

"Yes. I was." Nolan clutched the table's edge and tried to steady himself.

"Why would you think he was scary?"

"He said he'd come back and bully me again if I called the police."

"That's a lie," Vincent blurted out. He slammed a hand on the table, and the crack rang through the room.

"I'm not lying!"

"You were scared of him, so you stayed quiet?"

"He had a gun. That's why."

Nolan met Vincent's eyes. His palms had gone numb. "And I... I want to stay alive."

Vincent fired one question after another, giving Nolan no time to breathe. His presence seemed to fill the small room.

Less than half a minute had passed. Nolan felt as if the exchange had taken half his life.

He balled his hands into fists. A commander like Vincent could find out who had been at the hotel room with him. Nolan needed some way to get ahead of that. The commander didn't remember him, but perhaps he could make the man feel guilty once he learned the truth.

Without warning, Vincent seized Nolan's arm and drew a vial of blood with practiced ease.

"Run a genetic test on this," Vincent instructed, handing the vial to a nearby lab technician. "I want the results in five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"Find out who he went to the hotel with last night, too," Vincent added.

"We'll have the results shortly, sir." The technician took the blood and left.

The room went quiet again. Nolan stayed at the table, his hands red from how tightly he'd clasped them.

Vincent kept his eyes on Nolan. "You know what happens if you lie to a commander?"

"I do," Nolan answered, though his voice shook.

"You said he forced you. If we find him, do you want to press charges?" Vincent asked.

"And if I do... what happens to him?" Nolan asked. His fingertips trembled.

Vincent looked down at him. He didn't make a show of being cruel or try to intimidate people. He believed he was mild-mannered. But most people knew him for his cold reputation.

A lot of them feared him. Nolan did, too.

"Only Protection & Control Bureau personnel can carry guns in Dwarlen. If one of our people did this, he'd face serious consequences," Vincent explained evenly. "Prison at the very least. He could even be hanged."

Uncertainty crossed Nolan's face. "Even if he's high-ranking?"

Vincent answered at once, "He doesn't outrank me."

A frantic knock at the interrogation room door cut Nolan off before he could reply.

"Sir, we f-found..."

The technician's eyes darted around the room. He seemed to have uncovered a shameful secret and couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't dare to act like a coward in front of Vincent, but his legs were shaking.

"Why are you stammering?" Vincent had no patience for timid subordinates. His voice turned sharp. "Say it."

Nolan watched them both.

The technician gripped the test results and moved closer to Vincent, as though he meant to whisper the answer.

Vincent held up a hand to stop him.

The look he gave the technician was cold. At the Bureau, everyone knew what that look meant. Vincent was close to losing his temper.

He rarely said much when he was angry. Even so, no one at the Protection & Control Bureau wanted that stare turned on them. To them, it felt worse than having a gun held to their forehead.

The technician shut his eyes, bowed his head, and mumbled his answer. "Sir, the person who got a room with him last night... was you."