Free Waterborne by Katherine Irons

her fever-racked nightmares. The idea still made her uneasy. Gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck as she stared at the beautiful creatures.
    “Very dangerous.” Alex gestured to the right, and Ree saw perhaps a dozen more. “Their stings are deadly to any other species but Lemorians,” Alex said. “No antidote.”
    “Lemorians. And you and the Amazon woman aren’t Lemorians?” Another jellyfish, more salmon-colored than orange, drifted into sight. This one, if possible, was ten feet from one end of the umbrella to the other, and its dangling tentacles were deep crimson while the center trailing comet flashed a sickly violet light.
    “Actually, Anuata is a Lemorian. But, I’m not. And neither are you. Which means those things”—he nodded toward the nearest cluster of jellyfish—“could be unpleasant for us.”
    She held up her hand. “I thought we’d already established that I’m human.”
    “Do you want the truth, Ree?”
    She wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded. What was there about this man that radiated sensuality? Just being near him made her uncertain of everything she’d ever known and believed.
    “All right.” A jade flame flickered in the depths of those beautiful eyes, and his voice deepened to a husky timbre. “The truth is that I’m an Atlantean.”
    “As in from Atlantis?” She shivered and forced a small sound of amusement. It wasn’t possible—was it? And yet ... “I suppose that isn’t so strange,” she admitted. “Since we’re under water, and I haven’t drowned yet.”
    A muscle twitched in the sinewy column of his throat, and she thought again how much she wanted to run her fingers over his neck and chest ... to tangle her fingers in that golden hair and feel the controlled power beneath those faintly blue scales. Blue scales? Had she lost all reason? Where had she gotten that notion from? Alex wasn’t blue. And his flawless skin was bronzed from the sun and wind. No, not totally flawless. A few scars marked his chest and magnificent thighs and legs, but they only added to his sense of virile mystique. He looked like some ancient Greek warrior come to life from a marble statue.
    “I’d love to continue this conversation with you”—Alex said—“but our friends over there are hungry. I’d rather not end up paralyzed and eaten alive by anything. So, come with me willingly, or stay here and take your chances.” Again, he offered her his hand. “Your choice, Ree.”
    “An Atlantean?” Her mind raced to keep up with the pounding of her heart against her ribs.
    He nodded.
    Stop it! Stop thinking of having sex with him and concentrate on finding out what’s going on! “What were you doing on Varenkov’s boat?” she demanded sharply.
    “Your employer is a very nasty piece of work.”
    Alex wasn’t telling her anything that she didn’t already know.
    “He’s responsible for wholesale destruction of some of the most fertile sections of the oceans, and he profits from the slaughter of fur seals, dolphins, and endangered whales. I was sent there to put an end to his career.”
    Her eyes widened. “You went to the Anastasiya to kill Varenkov?” Of all the explanations he could have given her, this was the most far out—and made the most sense. Alex, whatever else he is, is an assassin. How could I have missed it?
    “And I would have completed the mission if you hadn’t been on deck. You weren’t supposed to be there, Ree. I don’t make war on civilians. I feel responsible for what happened to you. That’s why I couldn’t leave you there.”
    “Couldn’t leave me to die?”
    “Technically, you were already dead. Or, as good as. But I thought I could save you ... at a price.”
    “And the price?”
    “Complicated.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Another score or so have joined the pack. Can we elaborate on this later?”
    A look confirmed what Alex had just told her. “All right,” she said. “I don’t trust you, but ... as you said, I don’t