Roxy had no choice but to cook.
Who wouldn't when there was a predator in your nose, ready to eat you if you don't?
The second batch of scallops hit the hot cast-iron skillet with a satisfying hiss, sending another plume of garlic-infused steam into the damp air of the cave.
Roxy flipped the shellfish perfectly, but her eyes were fixed on the terrifying, pale creature sitting on the coral chair.
Nimue was waiting for her meal impatiently like a toddler. But while she waited, she was attempting to groom herself.
It was painful to watch.
Nimue had pulled her massive, floating mane of ink-black hair over her shoulder. It was a magnificent curtain of darkness against her skin. But up close, the damage was obvious. The hair was matted with grey slime, tangled with bits of crushed shell, and stiff from the relentless pressure and salt of the deep ocean.
I thought all mermaids knew how to take care of their hair?
