“You’re staying at the Tres Sirenas?” Her words seemed to swim together. The room swayed, and all I could do was nod.
“Señor, would you like to charge it to your room?” She removed her hand. “We have that capability.”
I shook off the stupor I seemed to have tripped into. “Sorry, yes.”
“I just need your room number.”
“Room three twenty-six.”
“I’m Monica, by the way.” The hostess took the room key from my wallet and swiped it in the card reader. I didn’t remember pulling out my wallet. I looked back at the table. The girls were all giggling, Sirena included.
How many drinks had I had?
“Mr. Martin.” Monica laid her hand back on mine, and the warmth retraced its path up my arm. This time the world seemed to come into focus. Her long black eyelashes batted in my direction, and when she knew she had my attention, she turned the full force of her brilliant blue eyes on me.
“I’m sorry, you were saying something?”
“I was asking if you were busy later this evening.” She smiled, and it was like the dawn broke on still waters.
“Rick!” Roxy hollered across the restaurant. “Don’t pay yet! We’re going to do a shot of Pitorro.”
Monica handed me back the bill. “Con quidado. Pitorro is the drink of a lonely siren.”
“Thanks for the warning.” I pushed off the counter, sparing her a second look. “And, I’m sorry. I’m busy for the rest of my stay in Vieques.”
Three shots later, we staggered out of the restaurant. “I should get you back to the hotel.” Sirena wrapped her arm around my waist. “I knew the Pitorro was a bad idea.”
“That’s all we are, Sirena,” Roxy yelled. “Bad ideas and fun times. Where to next?”
I looked back and found the three musketeers with their eyes barely open. The fuzzy feeling of a buzz coursed through my system. Sirena was right, the Pitorro was fast and deadly. If my head was swimming, I could only imagine what the trio of hundred-pound-lightweights were feeling. We needed to get them back to the hotel.
The girls followed us, never questioning where we were going. Being a few doors down from the hotel, they never even questioned what we were doing when we took the elevator to our joined rooms. It didn’t take long for the girls to crash. One by one, they seemed to succumb to the melodic tone of Sirena’s voice. We recalled her favorite spots on the island, and like mine, they were all in the water. Roxy whined about not being able to dive before she finally fell asleep.
Beth was the final holdout.
Her eyes narrowed, taking in Sirena and me. “You two look really good together.” She took another sip of the Pitorro Roxy ordered while I was in the bathroom. “Sirena, don’t hurt his heart.”
“Be nice,” I playfully warned.
“I’m just sayin’, Rick.” Beth laid her head on the pillow next to Roxy. Her eyes shut, and I thought maybe the rest of her warnings followed her to sleep. “You’ve been through hell, Rick. You deserve a little slice of happy.”
Sirena’s eyes met mine.
I shook off the warning, pushing my finger to my lips, before pointing to the door.
“C’mon,” I mouthed.
Sirena regarded my extended hand, wiping her palms on her dress before standing without my help. She seemed to glide across the room and through the door between my room and the girls’, before I could recover from the slight of her not taking my hand. Either I was reading this girl all wrong, or she was playing a game I had no chance of winning. Whatever it was, I’d wait for her to take the lead.
I carefully shut the girl’s adjoining room door behind us, turning and leaning back on the heavy wood. Sirena stood by the balcony, a slice of moonlight cutting through the darkness in the room. While her shoulders were pulled back, eyes focused on me, it was the nervous wringing of her fingers that spoke to how uncomfortable I made her. And that twisted like a knife in the gut.
“You want to go downstairs? Grab a drink?”
Sirena shook her head.
“You want to sit out on the balcony and people-watch?”
A smile pulled at her red lips, releasing an overwhelming flush of need in me.
“The balcony it is.” I turned, hoping to maintain my gentleman status and not sweep her up in my arms and kiss that smile into a permanent state. “I think Roxy left some fireball and Rumchata in my fridge. I’ll make us a cocktail.”
I turned to make sure she was still in my room and found her standing on the balcony. Wind fluttered the loose strands of hair from the bun she’d fashioned, and that need inside me, the one only Sirena seemed to find, stirred.
It wasn’t normal for me to want a girl like my soul wanted Sirena. I loved women. I didn’t ever see myself needing one single woman. I grabbed the two bottles from the mini fridge and went to making our drinks. Somehow Sirena changed that.
Maybe it was the fact she didn’t need me either.
Maybe it was exactly how Mom said it would be. When you found the right person, life just didn’t spin right without them in your world.
When Mom had said that, I thought she meant our dad, but since I knew Roxy had a different father than mine … maybe she meant Roxy’s dad, Edward, and not my father, Tim.
I shook the drinks and then poured them into two glasses. We didn’t have ice, and I wasn’t about to risk Sirena bolting while I went and grabbed some down the hall. I pushed back the gauzy curtains and stepped out on the balcony and felt all the breath in my body leave.
10
Sirena
I closed my eyes, undid my bun, and let the wind brush across my face and tangle in my hair. Under the sea, the water in my hair always felt like angry tugs at my scalp. Each wet yank a reminder that, for some reason, I did not belong there. On land though, the soft wind in the same strands of hair was like a gentle caress, a welcome home. Another warm gust kissed my cheeks before getting lost. This reminder was so painful because home came with a price.
I knew what I had to do.
If touching Rick was any indicator, the act of consuming him would be pleasurable, desirable, and probably a feeling I would want to recreate over and over again. It was the aftermath I was not particularly ready for. I had heard the betrayal in his voice when he and Roxy were talking about her lying to him, and I did not think I could bear to hear it directed at me.
It was almost too much. I did not know if that tone, that anguish in his voice, was something I could live with on a daily basis. Which is exactly what would happen, too. Monica and the others my age all said they could still hear their first consumption’s cries of ecstasy and wails of contempt.
My grip on the railing tightened, but it was the small gasp of air and the man it came from behind me that had my pulse racing.
I turned and leaned against the railing as Rick stepped out onto the balcony. I recognized the hazy look in his eyes.
It was already happening.
He was already under my spell, and anything he said would not be of his own free will. I felt my shoulders sag under the disappointment. It would have been nice to know how he felt about me, if he felt anything.
Not that it would last.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
I pulled a strand of hair behind my ear and cherished the compliment. “So you have said.”
Long strides closed the short distance between us, and before I knew it Rick stood toe-to-toe with me. Deep blue eyes looked down at me with a passion that was almost too much to take. If I did not have a conscience, I could consume him right then, and this would be my first night of freedom. I could go home with him and Roxy and force them to take me as their family. My mother had done exactly that with my father. But eventually the enchantment wore off. My father saw her for what she truly was, a vindictive shrew who never stopped consuming.
“I didn’t have ice, so it won’t be entirely awesome.” Rick handed me a drink with a smile. A smile I wished I deserved.
I took a sip of th
e cinnamon-flavored alcohol and cherished the burn as it slid down my throat and sat in my stomach. “What is this?”
“Roxy calls it an Enchanted Heart. One sip and you’ll lock eyes with your true love.” Rick took a sip. “I think it’s more like your true love for the night, if you toss back too many. If you order it in a bar, it’s a cinnamon toast crunch.”
I took another sip, loving the first bite and then the bliss it left.
We matched each other sip for sip, letting the drink fill the silence. I could tell he had questions to ask. Things he wanted to say. All of it things I did not want to answer, because each time I opened my mouth, each time he heard my voice, the deeper under the siren’s toxin he fell.
Finally, Rick broke the silence. “Roxy said your family life is a lot like ours.”
“Crazy sister and a dead parent.” My eyes flared, matching Rick’s. “Sorry.” I nearly threw the drink on the table. “I do not drink often. Hardly ever. That was so rude of me. I should go.” I pushed past Rick, but he snagged my arm and pulled me into his side.
“Don’t worry about it.” He swiped a piece of my hair from my face. “I’ve wanted to do rude things to you since I stepped foot on your boat.”
His eyes burned with an intoxicating desire that set off an eruption of cravings inside me. Rick’s gorgeous face swam in and out of focus. Each breath I pulled into my lungs only seemed to intensify the warmth pulsing through me, the warmth making my knees weak, my teeth feel fuzzy, and the urge to touch the man uncontrollable. I wobbled forward, keeping a tight grip on the chair with every inclination to leave and go home. Every step I took seemed to draw me closer to him. Each ripple of muscle under his white t-shirt mesmerized me. My blood seemed to thicken in my veins. When I stood next to him, I swore I had every inclination to thank him for dinner and the drink, but that was not what happened. Instead, I met his gaze with mine and felt something lock into place between us.
“Was that too forward?” Rick trailed his finger across my lips.
I opened my lips and pulled his finger into my mouth, sucking on it before letting it slip through my lips.
“Oh, fuck,” Rick gasped.
He might have wanted to say more. I would never know because I grabbed his face and planted my lips against his.
Somewhere in the distance I heard the crash of glass. It did not matter. His hands were in my hair, massaging my scalp while his lips pressed against mine. When he swiped his tongue along the seam of my lips and I let him in, the world collapsed to just him and me. The next thing I knew I was pinned up against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist as the hard part that made him all man pressed into the center of me. Each shift of his legs drove that hardened piece of him against me, making my blood run hot and building a delightful pressure inside me I had never known existed. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to me. His fingers kneaded my backside, finally slipping under the strip of fabric that separated my flesh from his.
“Sirena,” he whispered before he trailed his tongue down my neck, ending with him taking a small bite of the flesh on my shoulder.
I gasped as he slipped his finger into me, kicking up that delightful pressure to a devastating need to release. In and out he played that part of me like this was not his first time, still never knowing this was mine. He bathed me in kisses while he pleasured me.
“What do you want me to do, Sirena?” Rick gasped. “I’ll do whatever you want.” His words were like a cold current in my system.
It was happening.
What I wanted was for him to be inside me. Not just his finger, but all of him. I wanted all of him. My fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt as I struggled between what I wanted and what I needed.
What I wanted was for this to be real.
I wanted to be a human.
I wanted a chance to live a life with Rick in Texas.
I wanted to feel dry dirt between my toes.
To do that, I needed to consume Rick.
I needed to betray his confidence.
I needed to deliver the key to Critias.
“I need you to stop,” I gasped, feeling his finger still inside me and then the pain of its absence. I lowered my head, not ready to see the heat leave his eyes. Not able to watch this moment, however unreal it was, end.
I could not take Rick.
Not this way.
There had to be a way to fulfill my contract with Critias without consuming Rick.
“What?”
“I need you to stop, Rick.”
Rick leaned his forehead against mine, my ragged breath matching his. “Did I do something? Did I hurt you?”
I pushed against his chest and hated the extra weight I seemed to carry when my toes touched solid ground.
“Sirena?” Rick pulled me into him. He lifted my chin so my eyes met his. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I do not want to hurt you.”
A crooked smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “You never could.”
“I could.” I ran my hand down the side of his face, cherishing the rough prickle of hair on his face under my palm. “I would.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
“I have to go, Rick.”
He held me a second longer, the confusion of my statement battling with the siren toxin in his blood. His eyebrows furrowed, the muscle in his jaw ticked, and then he released me. Like I knew he would. Like I hoped he would not have.
Was it possible to fall apart like sand in a current? Have your heart pulled in two directions and know both were what you wanted?
I rubbed at the spot where his hand last touched my arm, gathering the courage to leave before the need inside me took over. I put my hand on Rick’s chest, my fingers tightening around the fabric to both pull him close and push him away to safety. They never told us the desire that came with the act of consumption went both ways.
I did not know how long we stood there with Rick’s hand on top of mine while he waited for me to take the lead. I knew what it cost him. While I had not consumed a man, I knew the pain it caused them to not partake of us. My sister made it a sport. She would give him the breath of life—allowing the human to live underwater for hours, sometimes days—taking a man to the threshold of his pain tolerance, laughing as he writhed in agony as desire consumed him. When he was about to break, she would make him swear his love for her and then she would take his soul.
I bowed my head, feeling the weight of guilt pull on my shoulders before I could move my feet, grab my purse, and leave. I walked out of Rick’s hold, hating how much I missed the warmth of his touch. Hating how I could not be a part of his world without taking him from it. It was the cruelest of situations, and Critias knew exactly what he was doing when he signed our agreement.
I pulled the door shut behind me, feeling the connection Rick and I had already formed heaving me back toward him. The door across the hall opened, and the most beautiful woman stepped into the hallway.
Her blonde hair hung in waves down to her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face. Bold cheekbones and a perfect nose sat between the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
“I’m Kat.” She smiled, closing the door behind her. “You look like you could use a friend.”
I stood still, not sure who she was or what she wanted. She must have read this on my face because her smile grew, filling her eyes with a warmth I desperately wanted to achieve.
“It’s okay, Sirena. I’m one of the owners, and I can help you.”
My heart fell flat. I pushed off the door, needing to escape the help she could provide. I was not ready to take Rick. I did not know if that made me like Monica, but I knew I needed to find a way where both Rick and I walked away from my deal.
“Everything is good. I have to get back to my boat.”
“Sirena,” Kat called out. “I know a way you can be with him without taking him.”
I did not stop. If she was an owner of Tres Sirenas, then she was a siren and all si
rens had a self-serving agenda. I pushed through the door to the stairs, taking them two at a time, and hit the lobby in a near run until I was outside.
“Sirena,” Kat called again, from the balcony above me. “When you’re ready, find me. Catch.” She tossed something in the air, and I caught it without hesitation. It was an old film canister, I used to collect them and store my forbidden treasures in them until Monica found them—all but one.
I looked back up at the balcony, but Kat was gone. I slipped the canister into my small purse and headed back to the Iara. I had learned from an early age, a siren bearing gifts was a siren you needed to steer clear from.
* * *
I tossed and turned in my tiny bunk, my gaze always landing on the purse that held the canister. By the time the sky went from inky black to a purple, I gave up and tossed the blankets off my legs and continued staring at the purse. Curiosity finally won out as the purple sky turned red and my clock read four in the morning. I hopped off my bed, grabbed my purse, and popped open the canister. Inside was a tattered portion of a sea scroll—ancient paper crafted in Atlantis.
* * *
With the taste of lust you can consume a soul.
With the consent of adoration you can be with a soul.
With the declaration of love you can free a soul.
The breath of life will set you free.
* * *
“More of what I already know.” I sank back into my bunk, ruffling the paper between my fingers. Why would Kat give this to me? Every siren knew the three ways to be with a human. We all seemed to get hung up on the consumption and forgot about the adoration and love. I did not think they even taught young sirens about the declaration, and I had never heard of the breath of life setting a man free. Just the opposite, the breath of life was the first act of consumption.
I rolled the paper back up and started to put it back in its container and toss it at my purse. Whatever Kat was trying to tell me it probably would not help Rick. I tipped my head, wrapped my hair in a tight bun, and grabbed the canister and purse all in a fluid motion that would have impressed any seasoned siren or minch.
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