The Siren

by Petra Landon

  For once, Raoul didn’t care about the how. The surge of magic in the air had awakened power in him. Suddenly, and without an explanation, he could feel the separate strands of magic in his veins — Wizard and Wyr.

  He glanced across the clearing. About fifteen feet away was the trunk with the sprawling branches he’d picked for the witchling. This time, it came naturally, exactly how she had explained it. Magic burst from him, to hit the trunk with a resounding thwack. The tree, massive as it was, seemed to creak alarmingly.

  He cocked his head, to study the results. “Not bad for a first attempt” he exulted, decidedly pleased with himself.

  A stupefied Tasia shook herself free. “Not bad at all” she agreed, wondering how he could feel the surge of her magic. “That was more magic than what I produce at our sessions.”

  He chuckled, inordinately amused. “You don’t have to stroke my ego, witchling. Not about this. I’m feeling quite smug, as it is.”

  Tasia smiled to herself. As always, the uber self-assured and fearless Wyr stayed true to form.

  Raoul studied her, his amusement abating at what he read from her.

  “Fear is a good thing, witchling” he said soberly. “Embrace it. It will keep you alive. A man that feels no fear is not to be envied or emulated.”

  Tasia’s eyes flickered to his. “What do you fear, big bad Alpha?”

  “The same thing you do, little witch” he said easily. “Being held back by chains I cannot wrench free of; restraints that leave me unable to choose my own destiny.”

  Tasia stared at him silently. This man continued to surprise her, when she was least expecting it. But after the initial astonishment, she brooded over what he meant. This intrepid and dauntless man had become a redoubtable Alpha Protector, with a reputation for not taking any prisoners, while at odds with his beotan. How could anything shackle him from picking his own path? This man would face down the devil himself if he were barred from doing what he wanted.

  CHAPTER 8

  Both the Alpha and Tasia break cover

  She trudged along in a haze, oblivious to the beauty around her. The plains stretched as far as the eye could see, untamed and spectacular. Under other circumstances, such wild country would excite and thrill her. Yet, overcome by melancholy, she trod the miles, blind to everything. The bus had deposited her at the end of the lonely road, fifteen miles from the property. She’d exited it with a spark of anticipation, hoping a brisk walk through the flowering valley would prove a welcome distraction. But it had fallen short. Like everything else since the bereavement.

  The pendant around her neck felt strange and alien. Yet, oddly reassuring. It was a piece of him. For as long as she could remember, he had worn this pendant close to his heart. While they had never spoken about its significance, she’d always known. With each step now, it thudded softly against her chest. She welcomed the kiss of metal on her skin. It was an anchor to hold on to, when she had lost all others in the last month.

  Thanks to the deep well of goodwill for the Were-Alpha, a short reprieve had been offered to her — some time to get her head back in the game. The gift had been a godsend. Bereft and overwhelmed, she’d wanted away from home. A change of scenery, without regular reminders and constant memories, might help assuage the heartache. The invitation had arrived at an opportune moment. At first, it had astounded her. No member of her mother’s family had ever evinced any interest before. But in the end, after some reflection, she’d accepted the invitation. The other side of the country, far from everything familiar, might allow her to come to terms with her profound loss.

  The sun beat down on her, harsh and warm. It was spring with wildflowers rioting in the valley cradled by mighty mountains, their peaks still blindingly white from unmelted winter snow. But she had no eyes for it, or much awareness of her environs. She put one foot before the other; oblivious to everything, except her grief. Slowing down only when a dwelling loomed in the distance — a cottage with a well-tended garden and a barn-like structure behind it. That was her destination. Though modest and old, it was well kept. Evidently, the owner enjoyed the isolation and the wilderness. She paused briefly, to breathe in the crisp air and soak in the vista of distant mountains and undulating plains, before making for it. Now that she was here, she felt a reluctance to leave the freedom of open country for the confines of a cottage.

  A woman in threadbare attire, a severe expression and penetrating blue eyes opened the door. The blue eyes shot to the pendant at her neck and emotion flashed in them, a mix of shock, rage and something darker. Under normal circumstances, her Shifter instincts would kick in and put her on her guard. But the crushing weight of despondency and misery overrode it. She failed to note her host’s bizarre reaction. That one omission was to doom her, pushing her to the brink of losing everything.

  “You have nothing of her in you” the woman noted, her voice sharp. “You are your father’s son.”

  The acerbic remark managed to penetrate the miasma of indifference and lethargy, to leave her frowning silently. Her father had never indicated any mingling with the Wizards. But she let the comment pass, to follow her host in. Inside, the cottage felt claustrophobic with its low ceiling and small rooms. Her first impression was that the dwelling was both sparse and cozy at the same time.

  “I’m brewing tea” the woman announced. “Then, I will show you to your room.”

  Unslinging the rucksack that carried all her worldly possessions, she made for the window that offered a vista of the plains. The sun was about to begin its descent and the lonely landscape provided a vivid background for its final journey of the day. The clinking of cups behind her had her turning. It struck her that the woman was an unwelcoming and ungracious host, despite having extended the invitation. But she pushed the thought away. For the first time in her short life, she was a free agent, shorn of all responsibilities and duties. Without a Pack to call her own, she’d have a huge problem on her hands. But the Alpha Protector had not exiled her from his Pack and that allowed her a certain latitude. If this still felt wrong in the morning, she would thank her host and be on her way. She might even live rough for a few weeks or months. The isolated valley that stretched for miles offered an appealing prospect.

  The woman set down a cup by the couch. Not a fan of tea, she stared at the steaming mug without a word.

  “It’s from my garden” her host offered, in the same gruffly wooden manner. “The tea will help you sleep well tonight.”

  Too apathetic to work on refusing the hospitality graciously, she made for the couch. Sleep had been the first casualty of grief. A good night’s rest would rejuvenate her, enabling her to make some decisions about moving forward. She took a few tentative sips of the hot liquid. It was strong with a bitter aftertaste, but not unpleasant.

  “Your father had the temerity to reject me” the woman declared abruptly.

  She almost spit out the liquid at the remark. Gulping it down, she glanced up. Unforgiving blue eyes met her gaze. This time, there was no hiding the resentment and fury in her host. The wheels in her mind began to turn. This time, her well-honed Shifter instincts kicked in. There was something underway here — this was no simple invitation offering her a temporary haven, to mourn a devastating personal loss. On her guard now, she shoved her sorrow away. This was not the time to wallow. She must tread carefully with her host.

  “Why?” she questioned bluntly, determined to uncover the old resentments at play.

  Her host shrugged. “I warned him that Wizards do not mingle with his kind; that he would be ostracized by the Chosen. He laughed in my face, retorting crudely that he’d never given a flying fuck for the Spell Casters and wasn’t about to start now.”

  That sounded very like father, she reflected. Yet, he’d never spoken of meeting any Wizard kin.

  “My sister was blinded, dazzled by the animal magnetism that he possessed in spades, like all you creatures. At your core, you are the beotan, though you cloak it by taking your other form�
� her host spat out the words, making no attempt to hide her animosity.

  The sense of impending threat grew, taking root in her. Her body buzzed, coming alive as instinct and adrenaline took over. She made to stand, but the effort had the room close in on her. Puzzled but not yet alarmed, she made a second attempt to rise. This time, the room spun violently. She staggered, collapsing back onto the couch, as darkness beckoned her. With an effort, she raised her eyes to the woman. The hard blue eyes watched her clinically, as if she were a specimen under observation. Belatedly, her gaze swept to the still steaming mug of tea by her.

  “What have you done to me?” she demanded, her voice a hoarse croak.

  “I haven’t even begun yet, Umrajid.”

  As she fought to stay conscious, her host leaned forward to yank the pendant off her neck.

  “It is sacrilege for this to touch your skin. You’re no Wizard” the witch hissed.

  That was all she heard as oblivion claimed her.

  Witchling.

  Tasia blinked awake, her heart pounding. It took her a moment to shake off the strange dream and the fear it had invoked. Though unlike the agony or horror of the nightmares where the beast under a Shifter’s skin fought to overpower her, the dream had nonetheless terrified her. Yet, it also puzzled her mightily. She recognized the witch — the same one from the nightmares, with merciless blue eyes that watched as she writhed under dark magic and a surging beast. Plus, there had been a siboyik around her neck — the pendant that had raised the ire of the blue-eyed witch. What use would a Shifter have for Wizard tradition? Very strange, Tasia reflected, pondering the odd connections. Since the cage, those nightmares had vanished, to be replaced by the dreams where she roamed freely under a gleaming moon in the wild. The only similarities that linked the new dreams with the old nightmares were the occasional appearance of the black bear as her protector, and the rage and bitterness from the memories of torture in the shed. But tonight’s dream had been very different, while still hinting at the nightmares and the Wizard responsible for them.

  Witchling.

  The call echoed in her head, loud and clear. Startled, Tasia shot up in the bed. Her eyes fell on the clock by the bedside. It was a little after midnight. Exhausted from the rainforest hike, she’d turned in early. Somewhat to her surprise, Sienna and Jason had opted out of the excursion. In the end, only Nandini and she had accompanied their knowledgeable guide.

  Witchling. Come to me.

  A picture rose in her mind of the dark forest under a plump full moon. Much like the small glade the Alpha had ushered her to, the night before. Wide awake now, Tasia allowed her sixth sense free rein. The Shifters were back in the resort after two days of being beotan in the forest. But her magic senses told her that the only man in the world to call her witchling was not in the lodge.

  Rolling off the bed, she made for the window. The view from it was different than the image in her mind. How was he doing that, Tasia wondered bemusedly. She was always conscious and, occasionally freaked out, about his uncanny ability to read her. But this was something else. He seemed to be projecting his thoughts, as if summoning her.

  It took her a few minutes to change and head downstairs. Familiar with the lodge now, she was soon on the path that marked the perimeter of the resort. She walked the rough pathway, lit by the tiny lights, until she stood beneath the window of her room. An aura drifted in the air towards her. Tasia stepped off the well-trodden path, allowing her sixth sense to guide her. Walking the short distance to the edge of the rainforest, Tasia plunged into it with a last glance at the lodge behind her. Apparently, she was meant to be out of auditory range of the Shifters in the resort. Tonight, the full moon lit her way brilliantly. Like the night before, the forest echoed with its unique musical composition — the croaking of frogs, the hum of insects, the rustle of leaves and the distant slurping of water. Their guide had explained that occasionally, an animal ventured close to the resort and was rehabilitated back to its natural habitat. But the prospect did not alarm Tasia. Somewhere close by was a Shifter with unparalleled senses. She was in no danger tonight.

  Soon, she came upon an expanse enclosed by trees. Tasia gasped, stumbling to a stop, her eyes held by an astounding sight. Under the bright starry sky, sat a hulking magnificent beast. After the first shock, Tasia tried to make sense of the fantastic spectacle. The absence of any fear allowed her to think clearly. The aura she’d followed into the forest was near, a sure sign that the imposing beast barring her way was no danger to her. Her guardian angel would never allow her to stumble upon anything that posed a threat to her.

  Burnished skin gleamed under the luminescent moon, the dark stripes on its fur pronounced. Moonlight danced over rippling sinews and corded tendons under the golden skin, highlighting the brutal strength and ferocious power under the majestic presence. The pale light haloing it served to emphasize and accentuate the lethal and dangerous creature lounging in the glade. Tasia drew a silent breath. In this lush rainforest, pulsating with vigor and life, she was the interloper, not this commanding and beautiful creature. The animal watched her, head cocked at an angle, its face shadowed. Hunkered on its powerful haunches, it lounged indolently, at home in its habitat. A scruff of whitish fur, around the neck, glinted as it caught a shaft of light. She watched with bated breath, stunned and floored by the magnificent beast. It seemed to be waiting for her to make the next move. But Tasia was not that intrepid. She might be complacent in her Shifter protector’s proximity to defend her, but she wasn’t foolhardy enough to approach the animal. One swipe of those deadly claws and she’d be done for. Also, she had no intention of deploying magic against this glorious creature with the noble mien, for merely laying claim to this patch of the jungle. It had every right to this. She was the intruder on its turf.

  Where are you?

  She sent out a silent query, hoping he would hear her, much like she’d heard him in her room at the lodge. The Alpha would not summon her into the forest without a good reason. Yet, Tasia was curiously hesitant to call to him verbally and disturb the spectacular animal in the glade. Her magic senses confirmed that he was close. She took her gaze momentarily off the glorious beast basking in the moonlight, to glance around her, wondering where he was. A scuffling sound had her eyes flashing back to the animal. It unfurled itself slowly, fluidly coming to its feet, muscle and skin undulating as it rose to its full height; an epitome of power, grace and strength. The peerless grace, restrained strength and constrained ferocity of the mighty creature, as it stretched under the moonlit heavens, had an air of familiarity to it. But Tasia did not try to ponder it. She took an involuntary step back, readying for retreat. Hunched over, the animal had been huge, but now that it stood tall and closer to six hundred pounds, Tasia’s courage deserted her. Her wary eyes on the beast, she took another step away from the glade. But before she could flee, the animal angled its head, bringing its face into the light. Tasia’s jaw went slack as she gaped at the creature. The animal waited, with an air of patience, while she retraced her steps slowly until she was a little closer than before. In the luminous light of the full moon, she noted the details. Glittering eyes scanned her. For the second time that night, a gasp escaped Tasia. Cold, enigmatic and inscrutable gold-colored eyes met her dumbfounded gaze. The gold eyes were familiar, and yet not. A gobsmacked Tasia stared into the glinting eyes, questions jostling in her mind.

  Why had he taken this form, after admitting to a complicated relationship with his beast, she wondered? Was this why she had been summoned to the forest — to behold his beotan? Shifters were obsessive about keeping their beasts private. Did this mark another step in their careful dance of leaving the door ajar to let the other in? But regardless of her immense confusion, Tasia was sure about one thing. Much like Raoul Merceau, his beast was magnificent, majestic and breathtaking. And like the man, it was both brutal and resplendent at the same time; to be feared, respected and admired in equal measure.

  Silhouetted by the moonlight
, he waited, the gold eyes unblinking. And Tasia sternly reminded herself that, if the on-the-verge-of-losing-control Alpha had not frightened her in the silver cage, she could not allow this magnificent creature, with complete mastery over itself, to stop her in her tracks. Gulping in a shaky breath, she strode forward. But she had only taken a few steps when her sixth sense tingled, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The big cat in the glade came to attention abruptly, abandoning its patient and stoic stance. Ears flickered, nostrils flared, muscles flexed and the fur around its neck quivered. Tasia hesitated for an infinitesimal second.

  Run.

  The guttural command popped into her head as she turned tail to make for the lodge. Jumping over pebbles and other obstacles barring her way, she pelted through the forest into the stretch of open meadow around the lodge, through the gate into the resort and up the stairs to their rooms.

  “Duncan” she called urgently as she took the stairs, two at a time. “Duncan.”

  As Tasia burst into the corridor that connected their rooms, doors slammed open; the Shifters responding to the urgency in her voice.

  Atsá, attired in a spectacular robe with his long white hair loose around his shoulders, was the first to greet her. “What is it, Tasia?”

  “Vampires” she gasped out, breathing heavily. The Blutsaugers were still too far from the lodge for the Shifters to catch wind of them. She gestured at the woods beyond, trying to catch her breath. But she needn’t have worried. The Shifters had taken the hint. The mass of people in the corridor hastened to the stairs.

  Duncan strode to her. “Raoul?” he asked.

  “Out there” she confirmed, trying to gulp air into her starved lungs.

  “Hawk” the English Shifter directed crisply. “Stay with the ladies.”

  As the corridor emptied rapidly, Sienna’s voice rose in alarm. “Where’s Nandini?”