Page 8 of Siren's Treasure

Oh, storms and tide! Her father most definitely would not like that! To say such—such a thing after such a pure moment? She’d saved a womanizer, but was he truly? He could still be out ofhis mind from his near-drowning. How could she know? And what was her excuse? His hands had caught at her hair now, running the copper strands through his fingers. The morning sun captured the wet strands with its glimmering rays.

Thessa swallowed in an effort to control the rise of heat in her cheeks. No, no! Humans and merfolk were at war! She wasn’t some mere damsel to be charmed by a handsome face and—and a sun-warmed touch, no matter how her heart raced against her ribs like he’d caught it in a net.

The lady and her entourage were drifting closer. The boots of soldiers crunched into the sand. Thessa must go! Bracing herself for a separation that already tore at her soul, she moved away, the tendrils of her hair sliding from his grip. With a whip of her tail, she took one last look at the man’s penetrating expression before retreating to the sea. The waves crashed over her shoulders as she swam quickly through the glistening waters.

Her back bristled and fairly sparked with that kiss! She could still feel the strength of his lips against hers, the way his hands had held her like she was something precious rather than deadly.

Enough of that! Her father was waiting for her.

No more distractions, though those same electric pulses ran through her, making her tail flash silver in the depths. Dah! He really was more electric eel than human. Yes! Somehow, he’d used her siren’s voice against her and had put a spell on her instead. That’s how it felt! His voice wouldn’t leave her mind—it was smooth and strong like polished stones.

What sort of human was he? The question tortured her as she raced away. No mortal had ever made her feel so strange—she’d never felt so—so mortal! So weak! A part of her had stayed behind with him, which was unthinkable.

Time to forget him and those startling touches! They were nothing… and everything.

Chapter five

Why was she leaving?

Raggon’s heart lunged from his chest as he watched her go, the salty breeze whipping his dark hair across his face. The mermaid’s graceful swim as she moved through the frothy waves captivated him—each movement as sweet and delicate as she’d been. The rising sun caught the droplets cascading from her fiery hair, creating a shower of crystals in her wake.

No one had said anything about mermaid’s lips being as soft as moonlight over still waters. He’d wanted to find out more before she’d slipped away from him.

The rhythmic crash of waves against the beach mocked his loss.

He never should’ve let her go, but his mind was a dizzying blur of fire, swords clashing, and Maddox! Those thoughts had scattered like seabirds the moment her arms slid across his neck; her body pressed against his. His fingers unconsciouslytouched the silver buckle of his weather-worn leather jacket where she’d gripped it.

Now she was gone, ripping his soul from his chest. How had she done that?

She’s a siren, you barnacle-brain!

He groaned. Where had she dropped him? Was he on the land of his ancestors? It would be crawling with Circian forces!Wipe her song from your mind… except he didn’t care about her song. He just wanted to kiss her again, to feel that impossible softness against his skin.

Oh, this was so bad!

A sudden jingling of weapon-laden belts and thudding boots cut through the crash of waves. Before he could react, sand exploded beneath the approaching intruders behind him. His heart jumped to his throat as massive, mottled hands materialized from nowhere. Heavy manacles snapped over his wrists. The metal felt wrong against his skin—colder than it should be, with a subtle vibration that made his flesh crawl. The rough edges bit into his skin, already raw from the salt water that soaked his black shirt and clung to his hair.

He tried to shift, reaching for that familiar sensation of becoming one with the sea spray, but nothing happened. The power that usually flowed through him like a tide was gone, blocked by the strange metal encircling his wrists. Why couldn’t he use his powers?

“The Typhon’s Kiss never releases its prey, pretty prince,” a female’s voice licked over him, smooth as honey laced with poison. The manacles pulsed in reaction to their master’s voice.

Bestial growls roared over him, more animal than human. Oversized hands, covered in patches of scales and matted fur, clawed at the front of his jacket, jerking him to his feet. Sand cascaded from his dripping breeches and leather boots.

The soldiers surrounding him were the things of nightmares, twisted mockeries of the men they once were. Their eyes gleamed with predatory intelligence beneath heavy brows. Tusks, claws, fangs, even scales. These were Circe’s army. They moved on him with tortured limbs.

A sudden movement caught his eye. He spun around, his breath freezing in his chest. Circe was here! Her skin was pale like a statue carved from the moon. The breeze didn’t touch the silky curtain of her straight black hair as she advanced on him through the morning mist.

He stumbled back, chilled to the core by the gleam in her blood-soaked eyes. How were those real? They glittered with the translucence of a jellyfish. Crimson paint dripped from those eyes. The woman must’ve gutted a strawberry bush for such appalling cosmetics.

She was a shock to the system after beholding the wholesome face of his angel mermaid. The memory of her sweetness burned through his mind like the fire that had devoured his ship, and he clung to the image of her in the face of this evil.

And why was he wasting another minute thinking about that little jade? The siren had delivered him straight to the Land Witch—had that not been her assignment from the beginning?

“Ah! The Shadow of the Tide has finally graced us with his presence!” Circe moved on him in all her terrible beauty, her shadowsilk dress whispering secrets across the sand. The woman didn’t age—she was still the same majestic terror who had run a bloodbath through his country, starting with the execution of Raggon’s parents.

Her hand snapped to the leather cord carrying the gold coin of his countrymen around his neck. “It has been too long since we’ve welcomed you to your homeland, my dashing prince.” Her fingers caressed the necklace, and then his throat like she was playing the strings of an instrument, and leaning over him, sheplaced a whisper against his ear: “It is true your people come from the sea. Is that why the waves have delivered you to us?”

It had everything to do with that whimsical mermaid; more fool was he! He’d fallen for their lure—hook, line, and sinker; and still, he tried to act like it was nothing by throwing on a lopsided grin. “I couldn’t wait to pay you all a visit.”

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