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4、004 英文版 ...
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Shane didn’t stop running until the trees were thick around him, until the sound of the waves was muffled by leaves and wind, until he could no longer smell that persistent, suffocating, addictive rusty iron scent.
He leaned against a tall, broad tree trunk, gasping for breath, his hands braced on his knees. His face was still on fire, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.
He couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t believe any of it.
Falling asleep on him.
Sleeping all night in his arms.
Waking up curled against his chest like some kind of… some kind of mate.
It was humiliating.
It was embarrassing.
It was unforgivable.
He was an A-level Alpha.
Proud. Cold. Independent.
He did not cuddle.
He did not lean on others.
He did not fall asleep on strangers — or on infuriating, overbearing, ridiculously good-looking mermaids who thought they owned him.
Shane squeezed his eyes shut, groaning softly.
His cheeks were still burning.
His ears were still hot.
And somewhere deep, deep inside, beneath the mortification, a tiny, stupid, traitorous part of him was…
Soft.
He could still remember the warmth.
The steady, solid feel of Tahir’s chest beneath him.
The slow, calm beat of his heart.
The gentle, secure weight of his arms around him.
The quiet, protective curl of his tail.
He’d slept better than he had in years.
Deeper.
Safer.
More peacefully.
Like he’d been held by something ancient and endless and entirely devoted.
Shane’s face burned hotter.
He was going crazy.
That was the only explanation.
The plane crash had addled his brain.
The isolation had broken his mind.
There was no other reason he would be thinking such ridiculous things.
He pushed himself upright, squaring his shoulders, forcing his features back into that familiar, cold, indifferent mask.
He was Shane Sheng.
A-level Alpha.
Proud. Sharp. Unbendable.
He would not be flustered.
He would not be flattered.
He would not be affected.
He was leaving this island.
Soon.
No matter what that mermaid said.
By the time Shane made his way back to the beach, the sun was high and bright, burning away the last of the morning chill.
Tahir was exactly where he’d left him — half-submerged in the shallow water, leaning against a rock, watching the waves. But this time, there was a small pile of things beside him: several round, sweet-smelling fruits, a pile of clean, dry leaves woven into a rough mat, and a long, thick strand of some kind of smooth, strong vine.
He didn’t look up when Shane approached, but Shane could feel his gaze.
Quiet. Amused. Knowing.
Shane’s jaw tightened.
He stopped a few meters away, stiff and awkward, refusing to be the first to speak.
Tahir waited for a long, unbearable moment, then finally lifted his head, a slow, lazy smile curving his lips.
“Back,” he said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.
Like they hadn’t spent the entire night wrapped in each other.
Like Shane hadn’t fled in flaming mortification that morning.
Shane’s cheeks heated. He looked away, pretending to stare at the ocean.
“...I was just… looking around,” he muttered, defensive.
“Looking around,” Tahir repeated, his tone rich with amusement. “For hours.”
Shane’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Tahir said, indulgent.
The infuriating agreement made Shane’s blood boil.
He opened his mouth to snap a retort, but his stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, a low, rumbling sound that echoed between them.
Embarrassment crashed over him.
Tahir’s smile widened.
Without a word, he picked up one of the fruits and tossed it lightly toward him.
Shane fumbled, caught it awkwardly, his cheeks still flaming.
“Eat,” Tahir said simply.
Shane hesitated.
He was still angry.
Still mortified.
Still determined to hate him.
But he was starving.
And the fruit smelled sweet and juicy and perfect.
He took a small, stiff bite, his gaze still fixed stubbornly on the ocean.
Tahir watched him, quiet and content.
They ate in silence.
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
It wasn’t tense.
It was just… quiet.
Calm.
Normal.
Like they’d been doing this for years.
Shane hated it.
When he finished eating, Shane tossed the core aside and turned back to Tahir, his expression cold, business-like.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“About?” Tahir asked, innocent.
“About getting off this island,” Shane said sharply. “I don’t know how you survive here, but I have a life. A family. I’m going back.”
Tahir’s smile faded, just a little. His gaze darkened, intense and unyielding.
“You’re not leaving,” he said, flat and final.
Shane’s Alpha pride snarled.
“I am leaving,” he snapped, stepping forward, his voice rising. “You can’t just keep me here! I’m not a pet! I’m not some kind of toy for you to —”
“You’re not a toy,” Tahir interrupted, his voice low and sharp, cutting through his words. For the first time, there was no amusement. No laziness. Just raw, unshakable sincerity. “You’re mine. That’s different.”
Shane faltered.
The intensity in Tahir’s eyes stole his breath.
“Mine,” Tahir repeated, softer, firmer. “Not to keep. Not to trap. To protect. To care for. To love.”
The word landed between them like a stone.
Love.
Shane’s heart skipped.
His cheeks burned.
His mind went blank.
He forgot how to speak.
He’d been called many things.
Talented. Cold. Stubborn. Proud.
But never… loved.
Not like this.
Not with that kind of endless, fierce, unshakable certainty.
Tahir stood, moving smoothly through the water toward him, his gaze never leaving Shane’s face.
He stopped just in front of him, close enough that Shane could see the long, dark lashes framing his eyes, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his skin, close enough that the iron-scent pheromone wrapped around him, thick and possessive and gentle all at once.
“I didn’t save you to lock you away,” Tahir said quietly. His voice was low, sincere, stripped of all its earlier teasing. “I saved you because I couldn’t let you die. I knew, the second I saw you in the water… you were mine. Forever.”
Shane’s throat went dry.
He couldn’t look away.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Tahir lifted a hand, his knuckle brushing gently over Shane’s burning cheek, a light, tender touch that made Shane shiver.
“If you really want to leave,” Tahir said, his voice soft, almost painful. “...I won’t stop you. But I will go with you. Where you go, I go. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Shane’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected that.
Hadn’t imagined Tahir would ever let him leave.
Hadn’t dreamed he would offer to go with him.
To leave the ocean.
His home.
His territory.
For him.
A human.
A stranger.
A stubborn, difficult, ungrateful Alpha.
Something tight and warm and painful twisted in Shane’s chest.
He looked up at Tahir, at those dark, sincere, endlessly devoted eyes, and his stubborn, cold, unyielding armor cracked.
Just a little.
Just enough to let something in.
Something bright.
Something warm.
Something dangerously like hope.
Shane’s lips trembled.
He looked away quickly, his cheeks still flaming, his voice coming out small and shaky and nothing like his usual cold self.
“...I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” he muttered, barely audible.
Tahir froze.
A slow, bright, unbelieving smile spread across his face.
He didn’t tease.
Didn’t laugh.
Didn’t push.
He just… smiled.
Bright. Happy. Uncontainable.
Like he’d been given the entire world.
Shane’s heart skipped again.
He hated that he’d said it.
Hated that Tahir looked so happy.
Hated that he was happy too.
But he didn’t take it back.
He couldn’t.
Not when it was true.
Not when, for the first time in his life…
He didn’t want to leave.
