Necessary Doesn’t Equal Right

The Mouth on the Otherside of the River, Present Time

Lyric woke and realized that Niarthen was not with her. The Mer’s version of a tent was a moss-lined nest with a stretch of dried and woven seaweed overhead. It was surprisingly very quick to erect and rolled into something the size of a sleeping bag. The moss insulated against the ground, and the seaweed protected the occupant from the morning dew, creating a snug little place to sleep. Usually a little too snug, with Niarthen’s big frame tucked around hers as the tents were not made for multiple occupants, but both Lyric and Niarthen turned the proximity to their advantage discovering just how many sexual positions they could take within the small enclosure.

The sex normally sent Lyric into a deep sleep afterward, but even then she was always aware when Niarthen moved. And he did. He had not slept the full night through since leaving the island, rising to pace around the tent, a restless sentry during the night, returning with ha