Page 11 of Song of Lorelei

She chewed at her lower lip again, even though it was cracked and sore. If only it were that simple. “The exhibits are ready. It’s the rest of it—the marketing, ticketing, event planning, staffing, and half a million other things—that I’ve got to get ready in time for the opening.”

While Killian gently brushed her collarbones with his thumbs, the look he gave her was stern. When it came to self-care, Lorelei had a bad habit of letting it fall to the wayside. If it weren’t for him, she would have burnt out long ago.

“You’re just one person, Lorelei. You can’t sustain this. Could you maybe talk to your boss about hiring more staff? And not interns or other entry level folks. Someone mid-or top-level who can help you do the heavy lifting. If I didn’t have Branson helping me run Dawn Chaser, I would be drowning in work.”

Lorelei swiped a hand over her face. “I know. It’s just I’d have to go through the whole process of hiring and training someone and that takes time. Time, I don’t have. But maybe I should make time and a new hire will make up for what I lose. The grand opening date isn’t exactly flexible, but you’re right. This is becoming too much for me to handle on my own.”

“So, you’ll take a break this evening?”

Lorelei nodded, a smile cracking across her face. A real break. She hadn’t had one of those in…she couldn’t remember when.

Killian grinned. “That’s my girl.”

She soaked in that smile, a beacon of light that always kept her from crashing upon the rocky shores of life. Reaching up, Lorelei brushed through his crop of dark brown hair threaded with grey and trailed her fingers down his cheek. “How about you—how was your trip?”

Killian didn’t stop smiling, but his eyes dimmed a bit, the dimple beside his left one twitching. He didn’t answer right away, and that hesitation was worrisome.

“Killian, what happened?”

“I don’t want to worry you.”

“You can tell me. I’m not fragile.”

“Far from it, I know. But you’re overwhelmed and stressed out enough as it is.”

She crossed her arms. “When it comes to my kin, I need to know.”

Killian sighed. “We had a bit of a situation,” he began reluctantly. “A group of sirens came onboard the boat—there were seven of them. They didn’t hurt anyone directly, and everyone’s mostly okay, but they did compel Ian to knock out McAdams and shut off our engines.”

Anger flared through her. What the hell, Undine? That wasn’t part of their deal. “What did they want?”

“I don’t know. They just ate as much of the potted meat as they could. No intent to share with the rest of the merfolk. I can’t be sure, but it seemed like they might be a rogue group. Undine wasn’t there.”

“What did they look like? I can ask Nireed tomorrow about them. She might be able to provide some insight into who they are, and what they want.”

Killian described their coloring. When he mentioned silvery scales slashed with orange, Lorelei straightened. That sounded like Nireed’s coloring. A relative perhaps, which could point to motive—revenge for Nireed’s captivity.

Or maybe they were trying to get her back.

* * *

Swishing her hand through the water, the bath bomb fizzled and swirled across the surface. Notes of sea salt and kelp rose with the steam, but it had the clean, fresh overtone of a bathing product rather than nature. The reminder was both ecstasy and torture. It gave Lorelei the barest taste of what she could not have, but it did nothing to quell the longing in her heart, nor negate the magnetic pull on her bones.

She rubbed her aching joints.

It was the kind of ache that comes with changing seasonings and fluctuating atmospheric pressure, only it never went away. The ocean always beckoned. And resisting its call hurt.

Lorelei glanced out the window at the sky streaked in orange and purple. The sun would be setting soon. As the tub filled with hot water and sea-nostalgic scents, Killian busied himself with lighting candles and poured Lorelei a glass of red wine, smokey and bourbon barrel aged. She accepted it from his outstretched hand, sipping it before setting it down on her bath caddy alongside her body scrubs and shampoo.

Rising from her perch on the bathtub’s edge, Lorelei hummed a tune. Nothing noteworthy, just something low and wistful to fill the silence as she unbuttoned her blouse. Killian stepped forward, his eyes dark and glittering, but also with the unfocused quality of dream walking or trance.

The hum died in Lorelei’s throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Killian blinked once, then twice. “It’s all right.”

Lorelei shook her head. For a siren, she sang terribly, and while it still drew him near, it was never this compulsory. It was her hummed tunes that affected him the most, and she needed to remember that. “But you don’t have a choice.”

He leaned against the wall with his arms folded and a smile cresting his lips. “I like listening though. And the power you have over me,” he trailed, gaze dipping to the swell of breasts beneath black lace. “It’s intoxicating. I like being pulled toward you.”

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