Page 26 of Song of Lorelei

The Walshes no longer stared at her with fear and disappointment, turning all their attention to Branson instead to scold him for his insensitivity. Lorelei could have hugged him. She wasn’t the one who brought a gun to a cookout.

While they were distracted, Lila snuck over and whispered, “I think we should get Nireed back now.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t feel more like garbage. Maybe if she’d shown a little more restraint in the Carrie-situation, Nireed could have had more time to spend in the water. They wouldn’t have to whisk her away from all the family drama.

Slipping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing, Killian said, “Branson and I’ve got this.”

She slumped against his side. “Are you upset with me, too?”

He leaned in, warm breath caressing her ear. “I’m something but not mad. Far from it.” The words, rough and rasping, scraped like sand on skin—burned like swallowed seawater—drowned with a deep, primal yearning. She looked up, startled by the tempest swirling in his eyes. His gaze fell to her lips. “Hurry back, okay?”

Chapter Thirteen

LORELEI

After hours, the Haven Cove Marine Research Center should have been dark and quiet. But the whole building shone with florescent light. Past the front entrance glass doors, Lorelei saw a security detail waiting for them—six stocky men standing in front of the reception desk with grim expressions and noise cancellation headsets covering their ears.

Lila clenched her jaw as she slipped out the back passenger door. Though she stood tall with her head held high, her hand shook opening Nireed’s door. This little field trip would cost her.

Groggy and nauseous, Nireed exited the car with a moan. She stumbled across the asphalt and caught herself against a nearby light pole, taking in deep lungs’ full of air. Before they left Killian’s, Lorelei had given the siren a dose of Dramamine, and Lila her front seat, but it hadn’t been enough.

Lorelei held back the siren’s hair as she began to heave.

When the worst of the sickness passed, Nireed sighed with relief, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “I feel better now.”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that.” Lorelei removed a spare hair tie from her wrist and pulled the dark strands of Nireed’s hair, sticky with sea salt, into a hasty three-strand braid. “Motion sickness happens fairly often with humans, too.”

Nireed side-eyed the car. “It is awful. Why do Two-Leggers torture themselves this way?”

Despite the gravity of their situation, Lorelei couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “It allows us to travel further, faster.”

Nireed grimaced, but she kept her opinion on the matter to herself.

Lila was unusually quiet.

As they strode across the parking lot, Lorelei took her hand. The marine biologist met her eye and relaxed her jaw a bit. Raw emotions—fear, anger—churned in that look, but were restrained by grim determination. Lorelei squeezed. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

Jittery with nerves, Lorelei steeled her spine and her expression, and opened the front door. Security swarmed them the moment they all stepped inside.

One of the security guards reached for Nireed. No sooner did his fingers close around her upper arm, did the siren rip it out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me Two-Legger,” she spat. “I can walk.” Sparing a glance in Lorelei and Lila’s direction, her fierce expression briefly softened as she signed, “Thank you.”

The guard reached for her again, but she flinched away and hissed a warning. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the aquarium. “Move it.”

Nireed sneered but marched down the cold tile hallway, her chin high and proud. Four of the six guards trailed behind her at a distance. The siren’s confidence almost made them look more like a celebrity’s security entourage, rather than guards taking her back to a watery prison.

Lorelei took a step to follow, but one of the remaining guards stiff-armed her. He removed his headset. “You need to leave, Miss,” he said firmly. “But you, Dr. Branson, need to come with us. Director Simmons would like to speak to you in his office.”

Tapping the employee badge hanging from her blazer lapel, Lorelei reminded them, “I work here, too. I’m going with Dr. Branson.” She was not going to let Lila face whatever repercussions awaited alone, even if she had to compel the guards to let her pass.

The guard looked to the ceiling as if a higher power would give him strength. “Fine,” he grumbled. Under his breath, he added, “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Security escorted them both to Phil’s office.

The director paced in front of his desk, wearing his usual uniform of tailored dress shirt, slacks, and bespoke shoes, with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Scotch maybe. He paused when he saw them, and if the color of his cheeks weren’t rising to a ruddy red, she might have chuckled at his tie—the thing was designed to look like he’d hung a whole fish around his neck. Lorelei had never seen him so pissed.

Security hadn’t even left yet when he began yelling. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking a prize marine specimen out like that?”

In a split second, Lila’s nervous expression transformed into mama bear ferocity. The scientist placed her hands squarely on her hips. “We weren’t sneaking. We walked Nireed out the front door!”

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