“We only spent an hour together but—but now Fred will never meet him. And I’ll never get to thank him for giving her to me.” Her mother covered her eyes like a child and sobbed.

“Okay, that’s it. Get away from her right now.”

The prince ignored her. “Our people will tell her all she wishes to know. And her sire was—he was not the type to appreciate his progeny,” the prince said carefully.

“Bio father was kind of a dick, huh?” Fred guessed.

The prince patted her mother, almost sending her sprawling, then straightened. “Shall we adjourn?”

“Now? Right now?”

“Yes. Shall we?”

Fred noticed it was a command disguised as a question. But even though they seemed to be getting along, she was wild to get this huge redhead away from her folks. “Okay. Sorry about the door, Mom.”

“It was one of your more dramatic entrances,” her mom said, perking up right away. “I kind of liked it.”

“Indeed,” the stranger murmured, and led the way to the pool as if it were his house and not the place she’d grown up.

Chapter Ten

“So. High Prince Artur—can I call you Art?”

“You may not.” The prince was—eep—stripping. The shirt went flying, followed by the pants. No underwear, she couldn’t help but notice. Then he dove into the saltwater pool, giving her a glimpse of a muscular back and taut buttocks, and then he was under. She squatted by the side of the pool. “Well, I’m sure as hell not calling you Your Highness,” she yelled to the water. “I live on land. I’m not one of your damned subjects!”

He popped up, water glistening in his beard, and grinned at her, showing a great many teeth. Almost… pointy? How had she not noticed that before? “Oh yes you are, Little Rika.”

“Fred.”

“Ugh.”

“Fred. Not Rika. Not Ugh. Fred. Not little anything. I’m five ten, for crying out loud.”

“Little Rika,” he said, and dove back down, splashing her with his tail.

His tail.

His tail?

Much longer than hers, wider at the hips, too. A much darker green than hers. The fins were wider at the base, and longer. She instantly deduced he was a faster, stronger swimmer—and she’d never met anyone or anything, land or sea, that could beat her in the water.

Well, shit.

“So why are you here?” she said to the water.

He popped up again and blew a stream of water at her. She ducked, cursing, and nearly fell in. “Come in and we will talk about it.”

“I’m—” Not getting naked in front of you, was her first thought, which is when her mom spoke up in her head: nudity is beautiful and natural, blah-blah.

It wasn’t getting naked. She didn’t have much modesty. She always swam in the nude, unless she had to wiggle into that awful scuba suit. It was swimming with a merman. Someone like her. Except not like her: she hadn’t inherited the strong, pointy teeth (doubtless for chomping through raw fish and bone), or the more powerful tail. Did she want to invite comparisons?