Downside Rain: Downside book one by Linda Welch Page A

right.
    The
other half of Angelina’s space is designed for recreation and to accommodate
her special needs. Her “tub” is a glass tank the size of a public swimming
pool. Small round drains riddle the cool tiled floor. Angelina floats in water
made slightly murky by bath salts which infuse the air with the scent of
anemone and ginger. Her long, bright, gleaming copper hair cobwebs on the
surface. Overhead lamps like giant pearls bathe her iridescent scales as her
tail arches gracefully from the water.
    She
lifts a milk-white arm and says languidly, “Rain, how nice of you to call.” Her
pale skin is flawless. Thick copper lashes dip over huge almond-shaped eyes the
color of a deep Upside ocean when sunlight first bursts on it. “ Entre, my dear. Make yourself comfortable.”
    I
need information, else I would not be here. I avoid Angie as much as possible.
She’s one of the most dangerous type of Mer: a Siren. Male, female, Angelina doesn’t
care. If she gets you into bed, you eventually leave it as a shadow of
yourself, both physically and emotionally sapped.
    I
perch on a white leather stool. “How are things, Angie?”
    “Fabulous,
darling.” She rolls in the water, under, over and up. “You look somewhat
tense.”
    “I
do?”
    A
flurry in the water and a male head and shoulders emerge. He thrashes his long dark-green
hair, scattering beads of water, and smiles at me.
    “I
didn’t know you have company. I can come back later.”
    Angelina
waves a slender hand. “Nonsense.” She glides through the water and puts her arm
along the guy’s shoulders. “Rain, meet Micah. Micah, meet Rain.”
    I
know of Big Micah. He leads the Wain pod down in Belladonna. He doesn’t look
big to me, tall and slender, with marvelous hollowed cheeks and dark skin with
a barely perceptible green tinge, but I imagined a bulkier guy. “No really,
I’ll come back when you’re not . . . busy.”
    Angelina
swims a few strokes from Micah. “Rain, you are so prissy.”
    I
almost miss the glint in her eyes, but not her tail rising from the water.
    “Angie,
don’t you dare!
    I
dive off the stool as Angelina’s tail slaps down and water geysers everywhere.
On my belly on the tiles, drenched, watching water trickle over the floor and
down the drains, Angelina’s laughter tinkles in my ears.
    I
can remain wet or fade out. But I’ll come back naked, which will delight Angie
and give Micah an eyeful, so I sit up and try to squeeze water from my hair. My
clothes cling like a second skin.
    Still
chortling, Angelina glides to the side of the tank, grasps the top rail and
hoists up using the power of her arms alone. Although not a shifter, as in the
family of shapeshifters, Angelina and her people do change their physicality,
part lamnidae when in water but totally human on land. Instead of a tail, two slender
shapely legs support a sensual body. As she stands on the steps, water dribbling
off her trickles in thin rivulets from the top of her head down to her toes. She
is dry by the time her delicate high-arched feet step to the tiles.
    As
rain is often my companion and I’m therefore frequently wet, I envy how water
evaporates from a mer’s skin when they are on dry land.
    Angelina
walks down the three shallow steps as Micah surges from the water and hauls
himself out. Grinning at me, he steps over the pool’s rim and postures on the
top step.
    Now
I know why Angelina calls him Big Micah.
    Mer
folk have no shame, but Micah goes one step beyond, he flaunts his considerable
endowments like he expects me to applaud.
    Angelina
throws a towel at him. “Shame on you, Micah.” But she follows up by giggling
behind her hand.
    Still
grinning, he catches the towel, wraps it about his loins and leaves the room,
no doubt heading for Angelina’s bedroom.
    Angelina
languorously sways into her living room, where she drapes her long body on a sofa
upholstered in tufted rose silk. I slop from the tub room behind her. Her
finger- and toenails look