Page 27 of Siren's Treasure

Chapter thirteen

Raggon blocked the door with his body, trying to catch some sleep while he pillowed his head with Maddox’s blanket—a gaudy monstrosity of crimson silk embroidered with golden squids that winked saucily at him through the folds. Any last plans for counting sheep were banished as the first rays of the sun invaded through a crack in the thick draperies. He’d hoped to be refreshed before facing Morris’s lecturing looks.

Not scudding likely with that vision sleeping in his bed across the room. Thessa—a name never fit a sea maiden so well… even if he preferred the sweetness of Clam. Her copper hair flowed around her face, each strand becoming more interesting as the morning light filtered through the windows and set them on fire.

Something tightened in his chest as he watched her breathe, a strange longing he hadn’t felt until this moment. There was a time he’d hoped for love, family, a castle of his own. Those fantasies dimmed as the years passed, as he began to realize thatCirce had destroyed more than his home. He’d lost all hope of his heart working until now.

Was Thessa actually sleeping? How could she, with her enemy lying in wait only a few feet from her? Her father had guarded Undine’s Blade from all human interference until he lost his strength, and now she showed up when Raggon was sailing full speed for the isles?

No, not sleeping… and no matter what she said, the last thing she’d do was to help him get to the blade—not when her mission was to cut him off from it.

That presented a problem.

He ran the back of his hand against his stubbled jaw, trying to work out a plan to turn her to his way of thinking. She wasn’t completely unaware of him or that kiss they’d shared on the shore—her lingering gaze when she thought he wasn’t looking, the way she leaned towards him before catching herself, the flush that crept up her neck when their eyes met. If he played into her weakness, it wouldn’t be long before she was melting into his waiting arms.

Hadn’t Morris even commissioned him to call her his betrothed? Fake a marriage? He caught a smile playing on his lips at the thought, and the next instant, rolled his eyes at himself.

Ah, Raggon—you really are a swarthy pirate! Is stealing her heart the best you’ve got?

He’d fallen far from the gallant prince his parents had raised. What kind of king would he have grown to be had Circe not run roughshod through his lands and destroyed everything he cared about? What if he’d been able to show this little sea creature a world worthy of her?

What if? What if? Such luxurious contemplations were for coddled weaklings.

Thessa let out a sigh, turning into her pillow. His stomach constricted at the innocence against her profile, the gentle part of her lips. The urge to reach out and brush away the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek was almost overwhelming. He curled his fingers into a fist, forcing himself not to be a fool.

Raggon was running out of ideas. Last night, his soul had been torn to pieces watching Tobias tug at the Typhon’s Kiss. Though his brother had tried to hide the movement whenever he caught Raggon watching, it was getting worse.

That dagger had better be as powerful as Circe promised.

Thessa’s legs twitched, as if in remembrance of what she’d done to get them. What desperation would drive a creature of such haunting beauty to forsake her own world? This blade must be critical to her people for her to follow in Undine’s footsteps—quite literally.

No, the usual tricks to force an alliance wouldn’t work. He’d have to gain her trust instead. An almost impossible task when every instinct urged him to slide her into his arms and break all the codes of being a gentleman. The thought of her lips against his made his breath catch.

That was it! He rolled away from her to face the wall. His foot met a square box with a dull thud. That was followed by a crack and an unearthly shriek that made his fingers grapple with the dagger at his side. Whirrs, groans, and bells pierced the room loud enough to wake the slumbering creatures of the deep.

Right before his eyes, a strange coppery contrivance blasted from the birthday package, a bizarre apparatus of tubes, bells, and spinning metal pieces, gyrating wildly in the air. It hit the grotesque painting, taking out a patch of the pirate’s colorful jacket from the ceiling before raining down a waterfall of plaster, paint, and wood onto the bed.

Thessa shot from the blankets, eyes wide with confusion and terror. Seeing the coppery tubes dancing above her andwhistling—a cacophony somewhere between whale song and tempest winds—she half-scrambled, half-fell to the rug, and backed into Raggon. With a cry, she turned and wrapped herself into his arms with a shudder.

She was coming to him for protection? Astonishment fluttered through him, even as he ducked his brother’s odd flying contraption. Thessa let out a shriek and kicked out. “What was that?” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck.

Ah—that sea lavender was making his head swim.

“My birthday present.” His eyes were only on her, drinking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the thickness of her lashes, and Tides, take him… those lips!

“Oh!” She still didn’t let him go. Her arms tucked through his felt like she’d come home. The thought struck him like a blow to the chest.

Earn her trust.

Taking a slow breath to gather his self-control, he peeled her fingers from his neck, his heart a rapid staccato against his ribs as he met her eyes with a reassuring, though perhaps strained smile. “My brother is something of an inventor—I’m sure that contraption is supposed to be a harpy’s mating call.”

A small dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “An inventor?”

Could it be she didn’t know what that was? “He thinks the natural world could use some improvement,” he explained. His fingers brushed her knees. The contact sent a bolt of warmth up his arm, and he quickly removed his fingers with a clearing throat. “Maybe he can invent something to get you on your feet again. We’ve got to work on those sea legs of yours.”

“Yes… how else will I get you that Undine Blade?” Something flickered in her eyes—defiance, perhaps, or deception. And beneath that? A vulnerability that tugged out his heart like the strings of a violin.

Uneasiness gnawed at his stomach. “That’s the spirit,” he said. With difficulty, he resisted the urge to tease her by tweaking that cute little nose.

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