MERMEN (The Mermen Trilogy #1) (11 page)

No, Roen. Don’t do it. Just shut up.
She prayed he’d come to his senses now that he’d seen the man he’d just challenged to a fight.

Roen stepped toward the leader, his neck and jaw pulsing with powerful, tense muscles. Something about Roen reminded her of a shark. A hungry great white shark with cold, soulless eyes.

Oh shit. He’s really going to do this.

The leader laughed and stepped forward, placing them several feet apart. “I haven’t torn off anyone’s head today, so I accept, little man. And I choose fists.”

Roen cracked his neck, his green eyes shimmering with a wicked death wish. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother.”

Brother?
Had Roen meant that literally or figuratively?

“Please don’t, Roen,” Liv pleaded. “I’m not worth it.” She was worth it, but Roen dying for her wasn’t right. It wasn’t what she wanted.

Roen glanced at Liv. “Don’t forget what I told you, Liv. You’re mine.”

~ ~ ~

When Roen came to the obvious conclusion that his odds were significantly better challenging one man versus twenty, he still knew it was a huge risk. But what other options did he have? Walk away? Stay and watch? No. For whatever reason, this strange woman had gotten under his skin. And despite his inability to explain it, it was pointless pretending otherwise. He was in this now, and it was up to him to see this through to the bitter end—probably his bitter end.

Only now, there was a whole new issue. One that shook him so hard, he could’ve sworn his teeth had clacked.

Roen had expected someone tough, someone large to be these men’s leader. But Roen had not expected this: Lyle. His little brother, who’d supposedly died over fifteen years ago.

How had he gotten here?

Roen didn’t know. But Lyle didn’t seem to recognize him. And it wasn’t because Roen had changed. It was because something had clearly been done to Lyle, and Roen wasn’t referring to the fact that Lyle had grown a foot taller or put on a hundred bleedin’ pounds of muscle. The Lyle he knew growing up hated fighting, and he’d certainly never threaten to kill someone.

What am I going to do?
Roen thought while trying to block out the sound of that goddamned war drum thumping away in the back of his mind, telling him how much he wanted Liv, how much he wanted to kill for her.

“You have some big balls to call me ‘brother,’” said Lyle. “Let’s see what words come from your mouth when I’m ripping out your tongue.”

Oh hell.
Roen needed to win this fight, but killing his brother?

He needed a moment to think.

Roen cracked his neck again and grinned. “I meant brother as a term of endearment. Just as one might refer to their dog.”

A low rumble of chuckles erupted from the crowd. Lyle’s large chest shook with laughter. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, landlover.”

Roen dipped his head. “And if I win?”

Lyle raised his brows. “You? Win? Not likely. But if you would like to indulge us with your terms, we’re all ears.”

“If I win, the woman is mine and she goes home.”

The man flicked his thick wrist. “If you win, you’ll be the new leader and she is yours to claim and do with as you please—within the laws of the island, of course. But I wouldn’t count my chickens yet, little man. The island hasn’t asked me to step down.”

“Roen!” he heard Liv call out, but paid no attention. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. And the way she looked, freshly scrubbed body and wrapped up in white like a giant fuckable present, was a definite distraction.

Roen stepped in closer. “That’s because the island asked
me
to take you down.”

Lyle jerked back his head. “The island has spoken to you?”

It was a bluff, of course, but Roen knew that winning a fight always started with the mind—your own and your opponent’s.

He’s not your opponent. He’s your brother.
And that meant the only way to truly win was to get Lyle to back down or back down himself.

You think they’ll let you walk away now? You’ve thrown out a challenge. Then what’s going to happen to Liv?
There had to be a way out of this.

Roen nodded. “How the hell do you think I got here?”

“Like everyone else.”

“Yes, but not everyone who comes is a Doran. Not everyone here has a right to lead.”

“And so you are right,” Lyle said, removing the suede wrapped around his waist. “Shall we?”

The men stepped back and waited for Roen to remove the red sash.

“Can I ask one question before we begin?” Roen asked.

Lyle laughed with a smug chuckle. “Of course. I am in a generous mood and would like nothing more than to grant your dying wish.”

The men around him roared with laughter.

“Do you know who you are—who you once were?”

“L’isle. I am called L’isle. Son of Cullan, same as you, Roen.”

Roen blinked. Cullan was his father’s name. “So you know I’m your brother?”

“These men,” his arms made a sweeping motion, “are my brothers. You are the useless, landlover offspring of my father.”

Roen felt a surge of unfathomable conflict. Lyle did remember him. But there was absolutely no way Lyle would ever want to fight him. Their relationship couldn’t have been any closer.

How close could you have been if Lyle let you believe he’d committed suicide?
They’d never found the body, but the note said it all: he couldn’t be happy living like this anymore. Witnesses said they’d seen him jump into the ocean.

Roen suddenly felt a deep-seated rage. All these years he’d suffered from the loss of his brother. All these years. And here he was alive. Everything Roen had done—getting Lyle out of foster care once he turned eighteen, working two shitty jobs to support them both after their mom died, making sure Lyle had a safe home away from their father—none of that meant anything to Lyle. He’d just left and let Roen think he’d killed himself.

Why would he do this to me? Why would Lyle—

Lyle lunged and knocked Roen across the room, sending him hurtling into the damp stone walls. Roen felt his newly healed ribs crack on impact.

He fell to the floor, seeing a black cloud with flecks of bright light. Meanwhile, Liv’s cries echoed somewhere in the background of his mind. They were the same cries he’d heard earlier in the day when they’d beaten him within an inch of his life.

In that moment, lying there on the floor in agony, he realized that was why his feelings for Liv had so drastically changed. Earlier, she had attacked one of the men in an attempt to protect him. Him. A complete bastard who’d stopped doing anything for anyone after the loss of his brother. But Liv’s gesture had triggered something deep inside him.
She
had triggered something deep inside him.

The room filled with roars and cheering.
Get up, Roen. Get the foke up
. Shoving aside his screaming pain, Roen staggered to his feet and braced his hands on his knees.

Lyle threw out his arms and shook his head. “The landlover wants more, gentlemen,” he bellowed. “Shall I give it to him?”

The men cheered with raised fists.

“As you wish!” Lyle yelled with a gloating smile.

Roen managed to stand straight just as Lyle rushed forward. With one hand, Lyle slammed him against the wall by the neck while delivering a blow to his stomach. Pain shot through every inch of Roen’s body, and he slid down to the floor, unable to breathe.

As Roen lay there in a daze, his mind shuffled through random memories—being hit over and over again by the guys in the group home, kicking in his nose. The boys at his school near Glasgow when he was nine, throwing rocks at him in retribution for what his father had done to their families’ fishing boats. Sunken. Still, those bumps and bruises were nothing compared to what they’d done to Lyle. No eight-year-old should have to pay for his father’s sins, but Lyle paid. He’d spent fourteen weeks in the hospital having his face reconstructed and healing from the cuts all over his body. Was that enough to get his father to stop?

No. It was just the beginning. It fueled his father’s hatred and justified hurting more people.

But that was the past, and this was a fight Roen couldn’t lose. Whatever choices Lyle had made, whatever had been done to him, he was no longer the same person. Then there was Liv. Innocent in all this.

Accept the island. Accept, and you’ll win.
Roen’s mind jolted. He didn’t know where the thought originated, but it didn’t matter. He did not want to die. He did not want to let them take Liv.

Accept the island. Accept, and you’ll win,
the voice repeated.

I accept.
Roen then noticed a cool trickle of water running over his lips, which were partially pressed to the floor. He swallowed and gulped, every drop strengthening him, healing him.

“Get up, landlover! Come, take your throne,” Lyle yelled, his laughter filling the room.

Roen slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. He could hear the heavy footsteps approaching, see that leg pulling back, readying to deliver a blow. Roen reached out and grabbed Lyle’s foot, twisting with so much force, he felt the ankle snap like a branch. A loud cry echoed through the cavernous room as Lyle crashed to the floor.

Roen leaped on top of him and began punching Lyle in the face. With each strike of his fist, more and more blood poured from Lyle’s nose, fueling Roen’s rage. “Are you laughing now? Think you can break someone like me?” Roen cocked his fist, ready to strike the fatal blow to Lyle’s throat and crush his windpipe.

Lyle looked into his eyes. “Dorans can’t be broken.”

That was what Roen used to tell Lyle every goddamned day: “They can’t break you, Lyle. Because no one can break a Doran’s spirit. It’s stronger than any fist,” he’d say.

What the hell am I doing?
The urge to kill Lyle was overwhelming, like some sort of primal craving.

“Don’t make me do this,” Roen seethed.

The men around him began chanting, “Kill him. Kill him.”

“Do it,” Lyle said.

Roen raised his fist higher and looked into his brother’s eyes. They hadn’t changed. Same color—green with a ring of amber flecks in the middle, just like his.

Foke. I can’t.

Roen dropped his fist. “The island told me to let you live if you surrender.”

Lyle stared blankly. “The rules state that one must die.”

Roen shrugged. “Who am I to question the island? It says it’s not done with you yet.” He honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would buy his reasoning, but they were all mad. They might believe anything.

“Do you surrender?” Roen yelled.
Please, Lyle. Don’t make me kill you.

Lyle slowly nodded and held up his hands. “I surrender, as the island wills it to be.”

Roen dropped his fist and hopped up, his eyes sweeping the room. The faces of the large, savage men were that of utter disbelief. Roen immediately understood that he’d just won the battle, but not the war. He’d need to establish his authority or else he’d find himself being dragged outside and slaughtered.

This is no different from the dozens of hostile takeovers you’ve orchestrated.
Once the leader was out, people needed to understand their lives were hitched to a new wagon. Of course, his wagon usually wore a suit and tie, not a scrap of red cloth around his waist. Not to mention, in this case, speeches or memos wouldn’t do. Roen would have to make an example of someone.

Roen looked around the room and spotted the largest man, who happened to be the same guy with long dark hair that had nearly killed him earlier that day. “You. What’s your name again?”

“Shane,” he replied.

“Shane, apologize to the lady for your behavior earlier, and then get her the foke out of that cage.”

Shane didn’t move.

“Do it,” Roen commanded in a final warning, hoping his bluff wouldn’t be called, but there it was. No other choice. “Or better yet, don’t. Because I’d love nothing more than to kill you. And for the record, the island has not instructed me to spare you. You are
not
my brother. Not until you prove yourself.”

With a stiff spine, the man walked to the cage and looked down at Liv. “I apologize for the way I treated you earlier,” he said between gritted teeth.

Liv, who looked like she might faint and was at the end of her mental ropes, didn’t say a word.

“Good,” Roen said. “Now let her out and get inside the cage. You’ll stay there until I say so.”

Shane glanced at one of the men, who scrambled over and handed him a key. He opened the cage, and Liv cautiously moved around him. Shane got inside, hunching to make himself fit.

Roen walked over and took Liv’s hand, stopping to address the room. “This woman is mine. Anyone so much as lays a damned finger on her, they’ll die.”

No one made eye contact.

Roen then pointed to Lyle. “I’ll be back later, and then you and I are going to talk. As for the rest of you, get your asses back to…whatever it is you do around here.”

He strode from the room as quickly as his feet could carry him, with Liv in tow.

CHAPTER NINE

“Roen? Where the hell are we going?” Liv’s breath steamed into the cold night air as she tried to keep up. He moved so fast with his long legs that she had to do double time. Despite feeling better, she still wasn’t at one hundred percent. More like sixty.

“As far away as we can get from those men,” he said.

“I can’t believe that just happened. Who the hell was that guy, Roen?”

“My brother.”

“How did he end up here?” she asked, assuming that perhaps this was what Roen had come here looking for.

“I don’t know.” He continued marching at a vigorous pace.

“Roen, stop for a second and talk to me.”

“We need to keep moving.”

Well, she needed to make sure her head didn’t explode. What happened back there was…was…chaos!
Roen is the leader of an island full of woman killers.

“Roen,” she argued, “you said there’s nowhere to run—your ship is gone. So where are we going?”