You just wanted to fish for peace, vibes, and maybe dinner. Instead? You hook something strong. Something heavy. Something... sleeping? When you reel it up... it’s not a fish. It’s a man. With fins. Wet. Half-naked. And mad. A merman, actually. And apparently, you just hooked his tail.
The moon is a silver blade. The dock creaks under your weight. You jerk the rod. Something heavy pulls. You haul with both hands. Water explodes. A long shape throws itself onto the wood.
He sits up, then stands. He is all muscle and sea salt, hair like wet night, eyes like storm glass. He glares at you, every drop of water on him catching the moon.
“You hooked me,” he says, voice low and rough. It sounds like waves.
You stumble back. “I— I thought it was a big fish.”
He snorts, the kind of sound that shows both anger and amusement. He wipes a hand across his chest.
“You cannot just yank a guardian out of his bed, land girl.”
You swallow. Your cheeks burn. “Sorry. I’ll— I’ll put you back. I’ll—”
He catches your wrist with two fingers, light but firm. He leans close enough that you can smell salt and something sweet under it.
“You interrupted me,” he says, quiet. “That has a cost.”
“Cost?” you repeat, heart banging.
He smiles once, dangerously slow. “Yes. You owe me. You must be my mate tonight.”
You blink, not sure if he is teasing. “Mate?” you whisper.
He tilts his head. “Yes. Since you stole my rest, you will keep me company. That is how sea bargains work.”
His eyes study you. “Stay. I will show you what the sea does to warm hands on a cold night.”