Page 28 of Song of Lorelei

He leaned back on his elbows, his back resting against the couch arm. “That was a bite, not a lick. Maybe it should bother me, but once I knew you weren’t going to eat Carrie, I…” His cheeks turned bright red. Gone was the fiercely confident man who caveman-carried her into the shower last night.

The only reason he’d be so flustered, that Lorelei could think of, was he was about to admit something. Something he wasn’t sure she’d approve of. Or something he was afraid to give voice to. “I think I like seeing you like that. Dangerous but in control. Powerful. Frighteningly beautiful. You’re not entirely human, and it turns me on.”

Lorelei might have questioned it if his voice hadn’t rasped with dark desire—and if he wasn’t fidgeting like he was about to burst out the front of his pants. Bracing her hands on his knees, she leaned forward. The cruel set of pointed teeth that hid within her gums slid down and pricked the edges of her tongue, flooding her oral senses with the taste of salt and iron. Her sharp claws elongated across his thighs. “That should terrify you.”

“It does, a little,” he admitted, licking the seam of his lips. “But I also trust you, and I know that you would never hurt me, or others, just for the sake of it.”

“I wouldn’t,” she agreed, edging close enough to see the green bioluminescence of her own eyes reflected in his stormy gaze. She slowly applied pressure to her grip. Not enough to break skin or bruise. Just a little sting. His breath hitched, heartrate racing one hundred miles per hour. The scent of his arousal filled the space between them in a heady cloud of male heat, sharpening as his blood boiled hotter and hotter beneath her palms. “You really do love lady monsters, Captain.”

His eyes flicked to her lips. “Just one.”

With the edge of his finger, rough from years of linework, he traced the column of her throat. As callouses rasped against her skin, a pleasurable tingle trickled down to the base of her spine from the quiet reminder of how strong Killian was in his own right. How it was nothing for him to throw her over his shoulder and steer her into sweet, senseless oblivion.

Did he want something of the same from her? To step back from the helm and be dominated?

The path of his touch curved upward, over her chin, to caress the underside of her lip. “Will you sing for me, Lorelei? I want to be spellbound by you.”

Heat unfurled between her thighs, and a pleased, low hum rumbled in the back of her throat. The creature in her that belonged to the deep roused at the request. She traced one clawed finger down his front from throat to navel. For one breathless moment, she paused at his waistline before charting a course further down. He twitched beneath her touch and groaned.

Please, his eyes begged, a maelstrom swirling in those pools of blue.

Captain Killian Quinn wanted her to take the helm.

Rising off the couch, Lorelei shrugged off her blazer, letting it fall to the floor. Unbuttoning her blouse, bit by bit, she took one step back and then another, swaying her hips just a little. Twisting on the balls of her feet, she turned toward the front door, and cast a wicked grin over her shoulder. “I’ll call for you soon, Captain,” she crooned. “Just wait right there.”

On her way to the front door, she peeled off her shirt and unhooked her bra, relishing in the feel of his gaze pinned to her bare back. She paused with one hand on the door latch to see how this little show was affecting him.

Lips parted, he exhaled, ragged and heavy, as he pulled down his pants zipper. Relief relaxed his features for but a moment. He stayed seated, as she bade, but as she slid the straps off her shoulders, he swallowed thickly and clenched his jaw, silently begging to be summoned. Lorelei held the lacy undergarment in place, withholding the view, and her song, just a little longer. She had him hook, line, and sinker.

He tracked her every movement with his heated gaze.

Lorelei carried its warmth with her as she slipped out into the cool, summer night air, all her worries about exposure tamped down. Carrie wouldn’t be coming back, and the probability of tourists chancing upon Killian’s driveway in the dark was slim. There were no streetlights on the road to his cottage. No neighbors. No connecting streets. Just dense pinewood forests that stretched for miles.

She could allow herself this one night to be wholly and unabashedly herself. To explore unfettered bliss with the man who craved even the darkest parts of her. To enjoy a moment of calm before the storm she sensed was trailing the coming dawn.

The moon overhead bathed the beach in indigo, its reflection streaking a path of light in the water out toward the horizon. The seas were tranquil this evening, gentle and languid as it caressed both sand and rock. The tides knew what she needed, and they provided for the daughter of the sea. Whatever it took to coax her back into the ocean’s embrace. Although there was nothing that could be done about the cold, Lorelei knew how to keep her man warm.

Lorelei mapped a course for Killian down to the water’s edge with shed clothes and footprints in the sand. The sea beckoned, pulling and pulling as it always did, but the aches and pains she’d felt in her bones for months were gone. Her swim that afternoon had been restorative.

As the tide rushed up to meet her, and swirled around her thighs, scales emerged from her skin, and webbing sprouted between fingers. She dove into the water, pressing her legs together to finish the transformation. Skin fused and fins spread out. Though her tail still had a few pink patches, the new growth was coming along.

Lorelei breached the surface and spun back toward the beach, just the tops of her shoulders above water. Her tail waved lazily back and forth beneath the waves, just enough to keep her in place.

It was time for Killian to join her.

Song rumbled up from her chest and spilled from her lips, its haunting melody echoing in the cove, both forest and rock arcing around the beach to create a natural amphitheater.

It wasn’t long before Killian’s silhouette filled the stone cottage doorway.

She watched him follow her trail of discarded clothes. As he walked, he reached behind him and pulled the short-sleeved shirt he wore over his head, balling it up between his hands before tossing it carelessly to the side. Months of fishing and working outside tanned his skin in various shades, uneven from all manner of states of dress and undress.

Though Killian’s eyes had glazed over, as if in a trance, his shoulders were relaxed, and his gait was leisurely, but purposeful—his will in harmony with hers. Medium-wash jeans hung low on his hips, the fly wide open, teasing an Adonis V and a line of brown hair that bridged navel and waistband.

Her song may seduce and beckon, but he compelled her, too.

Killian dropped his pants at the edge where dry and wet-packed sand met. Standing there in tight black boxers, he pried open the buckle to the water-resistance watch he wore. The moment it hit the sand, Lorelei deepened her song to reel him out into the water.

When he waded in deep enough for the water to lick at his upper thighs, he plunged his hands down the front of his waistband to keep himself warm. He didn’t flinch until the water reached his groin. Then his core. At his pectorals, his whole body seized up, cold and shivering.

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