by May Sage
“Ah. My bloodthirsty siren would have preferred a head on a spike, rather than letting that coward go.”
“I would, actually.”
He smiled and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his frame.
God. That felt good. As in, really, really good; until she stiffened, recalling what he would soon ask.
As though he’d been reading her mind, he told her: “I’m not going to demand an explanation. You can tell me when you’re ready, love.”
After a full minute passed, she realized that he really wasn’t going to ask. Seriously? She’d prepared herself for the conversation, and for the following accusation: why hadn’t she confessed, stopped the silly conflict between every country? Was she that selfish?
“I do, however, have a question. I’ve heard sirens could actually read someone’s mind?”
She nodded; it was true, to an extent.
“It’s more about your feelings. I can follow one particular feeling and see glimpse of what has caused it at any point. With enough work and patience, it does mean that an experience siren can actually see all of your past, all of your thoughts.”
Freak out incoming in three, two, one…
“Sounds tiring. But nevermind. I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not going to believe me. But instead of telling me off, I’d like you to do your thing, and work out if I’m lying.”
She nodded slowly, yawning again. What time was it? They’d celebrated with the mers, then the civilians had come back from mainland and the party had picked up; they’d returned to the palace and had another blast there. She had been supposed to fight all day, but the only fight had been about the last piece of cake. Cinderella won. That woman took desserts very seriously.
All thought of that exhausting day fled out of the window when Erik moved his mouth close to her ear and whispered the thing he needed her to check – or to believe.
She couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. There was no reason for it.
However, she couldn’t check it either. Not because she was worn out – all thought of tiredness had completely disappeared; but because no one, no one, in the history of the freaking world had ever volunteered to have their minds opened up by a siren.
He wasn’t lying; he wouldn’t have offered if he had been.
Which meant that little as she might believe it, she trusted it. Trusted him.
He loved her. Her. Silvia Undine was loved by Erik Gryffon.
“Fuck.”
“That’s always on the cards.”
“How… Why…”
“I’ve probably wanted you the moment I saw you. But I only started loving you five hours later, when you pulled me out of the water. I’m slow like that.”
“Shit.”
“You have a dirty mouth on you, darling.”
“Why…”
“Well, we could discuss the how and whys, of course, but for now, I’d rather you just shut up and kiss me.”
Epilogue.
He was invited to stay for the wedding, surprisingly. Hell, he’d even had a place on the principal table.
Sandro knew he didn’t deserve it.
The last three weeks had taught him a lot, humility, for one.
He’d been wrong about so many important things in his life, stupidly jumping to conclusions.
His sister – his incredibly beautiful, powerful, talented baby sister – had forgiven him; they might even build some sort of a relationship, eventually, but the other errors weren’t as easily mended.
He’d decided to ride back home by himself; family was good, and all, but he’d taken about as much as he could of all the mushy stuff. There was so much love around them, he was constantly reminded that he didn’t have that – never had.
Never would.
“Stop being dramatic,” he told himself. He would meet someone, eventually. There were other pretty, nice, intelligent women in the world.
However, he’d also learnt that he was entirely, utterly, completely wrong about something else.
There was such a thing as the one. The merfolk swore to it, and a quick text to Skinny had confirmed he believed as much, too.
Had Blanche been his? Was that why he’d felt so immediately drawn in? Why her lips had felt like nothing else he’d every experienced before or since?
He decided to ride on the road cutting through the fay lands; it was always humbling to travel through a land so full of things that were infinitely bigger than his little problems.
To the left, there was Alenia, and right, the Woodlands. Technically, the road belonged to the Woodlands now, but he didn’t think he’d encounter many issues as the two countries were allies, at the minute – and regardless, that evil queen of theirs was rather keen on him.
He was deep inside the woods when he felt the familiar noises; horns, horses, shouting and dogs, too. A hunt.
What the hell? It came from both sides, although it had been outlawed years ago in Alenia. While he had always been indifferent to that particular law, it was Silvia’s pet peeve. She hated pointless hunts. Right now, respecting her was first and foremost in his mind. He owed it to her.
He parked on the side of the road, removed his helmet and walked into the wood, determined to discover who was so carelessly breaking Alenian laws.
“Not here,” a gruff voice bellowed. “Up in the trees.”
Sandro’s head jumped up to the long slim chains and he freaked out.
They were moving. Not in a way that was in any way normal, gently swaying with the wind. The branches were actually fucking crawling, twirling, aligning to meet and form bridges, traps.
What the hell!
He was stunned.
And stunned, in the middle of a manhunt, also meant dead, the arrow flying straight at him when his foot snapped a twig was a testament to that.
“No!”
Alerted by the scream, he turned and saw the weapon aiming for his heart, too quickly for him to do anything about it, but over a dozen branches had suddenly appeared between him and the arrow, blocking its path.
“Here, she’s on your nine! Follow me.”
Sandro’s head snapped left and he completely froze in shock.
She was some distance away, but there was no possible confusion.
Hair black as night. Lips red as blood. Running, jumping from one tree to the next, controlling the enchanted fay lands as only a Wood could.
Fuck.
Blanche was alive.
The child was a sneaky little thing; as soon as his mother turned, he was dashing out towards the sea, fully aware that going in without his parents wasn’t allowed.
She waited, watching as he dived in, laughing his heart out.
She’d call back her father’s ugliest pet for that particular test; she knew he would fail. Every single one of the Denkerian Kings had in over three millenniums; she had grown rather tired of trying.
The first hundred meter was rather shallow, the kid could swim leisurely, but quite suddenly, the oceans became deep and dangerous – one hundred thousand times more so than whatever his parents had implied when they’d told him he should never reach a point where he couldn’t stand up in the water.
Especially today.
The child stopped at the very edge of the dip, looking down; his eyes bigger than saucepans as he thought he discerned the silhouette.
He was right. There was a Kraken there. A beast that could kill him with a flip of a tentacle.
His father had started crying. His grandfather had turned around and run. Some before had tried to jump in or had fallen in the depth without meaning to; there had been thousands of reactions.
None of them had been that respectful fascination. After a long time, Erik Gryffon slowly reached out, a hand held out towards the most humongous thing he’d ever encounter his existence, and the tip of a large, threatening tentacle came out, slowly gliding towards him.
Amphitrite walked out of the shadow. She’d had to
interfere a few times. The Kraken wasn’t what one would call a nice lad, when he was just awakened; he’d been known to kill anything he’d deemed… well, killable.
The worn appendage wasn’t moving anymore, though; it had stopped just below the child’s hand, allowing him to touch it.
Wow.
It certainly had taken a while, but finally, here he was.
The little man who would be good enough for a daughter of hers. She supposed it was time to go find a potential mate.
I really hoped you enjoyed a little Siren.
Just so you know, leaving me a review is the equivalent of sending me a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne.
Just saying ;)
Note from May.
I am fully aware that everyone wants to know about Sandro and Blanche, but I’m a cruel witch – or something that rhymes quite well with that – so next, it will be:
Beauty and the Beast
30/11/15
White as Snow
24/12/15
Then:
Rumplestilskin
Bluebeard
The Frog Prince
The twelve princesses
The Skin dress.
I do intend to write a novella finishing off the few loose ends in a little Siren, such as Vanessa and Morgan’s fate, the fact that Silvia was created for Erik, Amphitrite’s story… And that little story will be free. Keep in touch with me on facebook, to ensure you aren’t missing it, or any other of my giveaways!
Also, read my other series:
Step In.
Here’s a little preview of Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 1:
The thief.
She rose her ass in the air and attempted to release a scream. Fruitless endeavor: her mouth, wrapped around one of his guest's shaft, was otherwise engaged.
Aiden didn't take his time – he relentlessly pounded inside her until he came in his condom. There were other matters to take care of tonight.
Slapping her ass, he withdrew from her warmth before walking away, leaving her wet sheath free for the use of the next guy in the line.
Aiden had been the first – there wouldn't be much point in owning a select club without perks such as having dibs – but Tina would be busy tonight: twenty eight VIP customers had signed in so far, and it was only ten.
Each of them was entitled a free round with the girl of the day in between their games and they usually cashed in. In addition, standards customers were welcome to pay for the privilege; most generally chose to do so.
It was good for the workers: they earned every single penny of these requests, as well as a generous cut of the membership fees. Aiden wasn't a pimp; sure, he benefited from their trade, because his casino wouldn't be nearly as popular without them, but they were freelancers.
His club, built in one of the most majestic townhouses in the capital, was the epitome of elegance. The principal rooms were vast, with high ceilings and long velvet curtains, and the large table around which the patrons converged were carved and sculpted in polished mahogany. A choice of classical music or blues played in the background and his staff was wearing quality clothing – labeled dresses, designer suits.
Even the sex was classy. Tania was elevated on a circular platform in the middle of the floor and completely surrounded by soundproof glass. The fact that over twenty guys were waiting in line around her obstructed the view from anyone outside their little bubble of sin.
In any other country, the authorities might have had a few things to say about it regardless, however they were citizens of Jereena, the Anarchy. Their pathetic excuse for a government did manage to handle things such as alliance, threats, external liaisons, but the running of the state had gone to hell since the disappearance of the heir to the throne; the King was useless – or "depressed," as he liked to call it - and the subjects were left to live their lives as they saw fit.
Aiden liked it that way. You have a problem with your neighbor? Sort it out. You desire something? Earn it. You've been wronged? Get revenge.
Their system meant that women and men were free to bend over and get screwed by a hundred strangers once a week for a seven figure annual income if they damn well felt like it.
He employed Tina, Grace, Suzie, Julia, Marie and his favorite, Stella, Tuesday to Sunday; Monday was Christian, Greg and Julian's turn. From time to time, Julia and Julian gave the ultimate twin combo.
If there was an old law against it, no one cared; the presence of three government officials holding their cocks inside proved as much.
Aiden's presence was as necessary to the functioning of the club as Tina's and her peers. There was an awful lot of cash walking through those doors and thugs might have been tempted to try their luck with it, if it hadn't been for him.
He wasn't exactly what one would call a pretty boy. Not anymore.
"Boss? We've found him."
He lifted an eyebrow, relatively surprised. He had expected that the man would have left the country by now.
There weren't many options as to whom they could have referred to. Aiden wasn't looking for anyone, save for him. The one person who'd been bold enough to take something from him in five years.
To an extent, he admired him.
Aiden was seven feet tall. His skin was eerie – so white it often seemed somewhere between blue and grey – and his eyes were completely empty, a crystal blue cold as stone. There wasn't one hair on him, not even on his lids, and he was smooth, luminous. Clearly not human.
The rumors said he fed on blood, skin, virgins and one look at him was enough to decide that they were correct. Those who met his gaze without shaking were suicidal, insane or very, very powerful themselves.
Yet the geek had gone and actually stolen from him.
Aiden hadn't looked for him because of the cash – he made several millions in a good night; the hundred grands had been nothing – but because he couldn't afford to be seen as weak. Some had heard about the hack in the underground; how long would it be until someone else tried?
He needed to send a resounding message to all of those who would ever contemplate messing with him.
The room was one of the dungeons where the girls held their occasional theme parties; there were chains, crosses, spreading bars, dildos and other tools. Hugo had made good use of the large cross, locking their prisoner's wrist and ankles; he was gagged and wore nothing but his boxers.
While Aiden's frequent participations to the girl's line ups – and his conspicuous absence when it was the guys' turn – might have made his sexual orientation clear, the thief seemed rather anxious at sight of the toys. Ah.
It had taken a while to get used to his enhanced sense of smell; after half a decade in this form, he was an expert in detecting various nuances through an individual's scent: Benjamin reeked of fear.
So sexual abuse was one of his triggers, then.
"I'm not going to use this on you," he reassured him, picking up a cane. "That wouldn't satisfy me in the slightest. Now, if we're talking about one of your sisters..."
Aiden had learnt from his mistakes: he researched his enemies thoroughly, now. The thief's parents were gone, but there were sisters, both of age, single and alone in the city.
Easy preys.
"Little Fiona would look good on here," he said, caressing the polish wood of a long, hard spanking horse. "I'll personally take care of her: I've always preferred blondes. Sibel will be there."
He was pointing towards the sling on his left.
"These are great for upright double penetration. We'll have an awful lot of fun, don't you think?"
There was so much rage in those eyes. Benjamin Thornton pulled, kicked and screamed while Aiden just laughed.
He had no intention of involving the girls, but the fact that he had taken the time to learn about them should be enough of a motivation.
"Here's what's going to happen, dipshit. You'll bring me seven times what you've taken by the end of the month. That's three weeks: I'm b
eing generous here. Or, if you can't, you will bring me one of your sisters. Fail to do so and I'll take both."
Aiden pulled the contract he'd prepared from the inner pocket of his jacket and made a show of uncuffing one of the thief’s wrists, before handing him his best pen.
He didn't even have to reiterate his threat: Ben just signed.
"You're a monster," the guy dared uttered – or at least, that's what Aiden made of it. The ball gag made him rather unintelligible.
Now, that was funny. As if anyone needed to actually be told; one look at him was enough to realize that.
•
There were simpletons, idiots, stupid little shits, and then, there was their fucking brother.
"You've stolen from the Beast."
There was exactly one person whom was referred to as The Beast in whole of Jereena and everyone knew better than to cross him. Everyone knew better than to fucking walk on the same side of the road!
Bel didn't attempt to tell him off about the stealing side of things; it would have been a pointless endeavor.
Thievery had been part of the three of them – a part Fiona and she had overgrown.
They'd been raised in a home where they had had exactly two choices: steal or die. Food wasn't given; it was earned, by bringing back enough full wallets.
They'd been orphaned young, but one look at their carer and they'd resolved to keep quiet about the house they owned, so the day Ben had turned eighteen, he'd walked in the first lawyer's office with a lump of cash he'd taken from the orphanage’s coffers and sorted it all out.
He'd retrieved his right to the house, and adopted them both.