Page 22 of Siren's Treasure

His heart skipped at the fire flashing in her narrowed eyes; they were far more captivating than all the cheap gilt surrounding them. Yeah, he was a monster. His lips curved, despite himself. Teasing her was irresistible. How could he bring back that dreamy look in those captivating eyes after he’d kissed her on the sandy beach?

Was finding the way back to her heart such a mystery? She was only a breath away from him, close enough that he could count the droplets of seawater clinging to her dark lashes. The contrast of crimson velvet drapes—heavy with mildew behind her—made her all the more ethereal.

“Aye, sirens be wicked luck! Dirty bilge-rat!” Sterling’s raucous voice cut through the tense atmosphere. “Drag a man down to the deeps. Bad luck!”

The parrot’s squawk made Raggon twist around. “Sterling!” If the bird was here, perched against the porthole like some colorful harbinger of doom, Tobias wasn’t far… and if the young prince had seen even a smidgeon of his brother’s bad behavior? He’d disown him. Worse, he might blame himself for making Raggon lose his head like this.

But there was only one reason for that.

Don’t forget who she is, you dirty bilge-rat!She’d dropped from the heavens to help them collect the Undine Blade, and a gift like her was far too convenient to be chance. Raggon wouldn’t be surprised if Circe had something to do with this.

Tearing away from the alluring creature and the temptation to finish what they’d started only that morning—thoughts that had no business in his head—Raggon lunged from the bed and peered past the closets lined with Maddox’s ideas of necessities. The vanity was on full display in the gilt-framed mirrors. On closer inspection, gaudy gold leaf peeled from the carved surface, revealing cheap pine.

“Tobias?” he called out He pushed past the massive mahogany desk, its surface scarred by neglect and stained with spilled wine. Something on the desk rattled around then made a strange whirring pop. His eyes narrowed on the compact oil cloth package left behind there.

The pint-sized gift he’d presented Raggon for his birthday this morning had been rescued from their abandoned ship… or stolen more likely! Maddox loved the unusual, and the sounds emanated from there would’ve piqued his interest. Now the box rested on the desk like a powder keg ready to explode. Raggon warily kept his distance from it, still not sure if the one who’d made it wasn’t in here too. “You there?” When there was no answer, Raggon straightened.

A violent tremor ran through the girl sitting miserably on his bed, her soaked form dripping against the ridiculous gold coverlet embroidered in squids. She had to get dry. That was all there was to it, but what could possibly replace that strange getup she wore? Her mermaid gown was possibly the oddest thing he’d ever seen a woman wear—and they showed off those glorious new legs of hers. No wonder his men had been fighting over her like wolves over fresh meat.

Biting his tongue from scaring her further by blurting out any of these scandalous thoughts, he dug through Maddox’s heavy dresser, the painted drawers protesting with each pull. Like everything else the man had owned, it was more about showthan function. Inside was Maddox’s usual mess of maps and weapons.

He glanced back at the dripping girl, seeing another raised brow. “Sorry, Clam, I’m a little low on beautiful ball gowns, but…” he spied a chest full of more practical clothes on the other side of the room, past all the useless bric-a-brack, “you’re in luck.” He went for it. “I might have something warm for you to wear.” He tugged out a loose-fitting cambric shirt and threw the soft fabric across her lap. “I think that might cover you more than that—uh… frock.” He ripped his eyes away from her legs and dragged out some breeches. “Maybe these too.”

She stared at the clothes as if they were jellyfish washed up on shore. “You put your legs into them,” he explained, gesturing awkwardly at his own. Behind her, their reflections multiplied infinitely in the wall of mirrors, making him feel like a fool a hundred times over.

Her chin lifted at an angle that spoke volumes.

“You’re right,” he said with a laugh that came easier than it should. “The breeches will slip right off you. They’re huge. We need suspenders or something.” And who knew he’d be so good at one-sided conversations?

He sat next to her again, the wood of the bed creaking beneath him, and he felt her body tense at the motion. He tried to lighten the mood. “They’re not bad legs. Where’d you get them?”

She stiffened. Wrong thing to say, but neither of them could run from this awkward conversation, and now he was faced with a new dilemma. She was tied up for good reason, and he couldn’t very well dress her, now, could he?

The spark in her eyes challenged him more than pushing him away. Well… maybe he could layer these over what she already had. The lights from the chandelier catching the graceful line of her neck made his mouth go dry. A few errant drops of seawater tracked down her beautifully smooth cheek.

Stop looking so closely, you swab!

He picked up the shirt, feeling the soft cotton under his fingers and feeling like the greatest fool to ever sail the seven seas. This close, he could smell the sea on her skin, mixed with something sweeter he couldn’t name. After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the collar over her head.

This was ridiculous! The shirt was only getting wet over that glittering spectacle, but he never backed away from anything, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Her hair was caught under the collar, copper strands that felt like silk beneath his fingers as he freed them. He muffled a curse. Yeah, no siren voice needed—this mermaid made his heart pound louder than a Sylphorian bong-gong drum! He shimmied the cotton over that barbaric sheath dress, trying to ignore the alluring sparkle of the fabric.

Now what? How could he get these sleeves on?

Her hands were still tied behind her. He reached around her to get at the knots, swallowing hard when her forehead scraped against his chin. That scent on her was sea lavender and it was making a mess of his head, far more intoxicating than the stale perfume clinging to Maddox’s heavy draperies.

“No fast moves,” he warned her, his voice rougher than intended.

Her breath quickened. His did too. What in Poseidon’s Sea had possessed him to try to help her? He should’ve backed away!

Somehow, he got her hands loose.

His fingers on her were far clumsier than any of his nursemaids back in the day. She stared up at him, her dark eyes even bigger than when he’d started. “I’m just trying to get you warm,” he muttered, but he couldn’t have her singing at him either. He was pretty sure the first thing she’d do was order him to dunk his head in a barrel and drown after his clumsy attempts to be a good host.

While he slipped her arms into the sleeves, their reflections in Maddox’s tarnished mirrors made the two of them look like figures in the overhead painting—the captured mermaid and the unworthy pirate.

No, no! That wasn’t who he was! The poor girl was shaking harder now. Undine’s curse! She made him feel like he was a mean old dragon. And why not? Sylphs were supposedly close ancestors to the ancient skyborne.

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