Page 81 of Rise of the Siren Queen
“That dream was about the night they got murdered.” Her breathing became ragged and shallow, and soon after, I heard a soft whimper escape her lips.
I pulled over, turned off the engine, the city lights fading into the background as the silence enveloped us. My heart raced as I reached for her chin, gently lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Fuck, princess.Come here.” I pulled her into my arms.
Her vulnerability lay bare before me, and the pain etched in her watery eyes. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much,” I added, my voice steady but filled with concern. Once in my arms, her tears flowed freely down her cheeks, each sob striking me like a physical blow, the slice of a knife tugging at my heart. The anguish in her cries felt like my own, resonating deep within me as I held her close, stroking her back and wishing I could erase the pain she carried.
I never detested a creature as much as I despised that triton. It was clear now that he was someone she had trusted, someone who had shattered her heart. A cold, shimmering rage ignited within me. If I had the opportunity, I would make him pay for the pain he had caused her.
I am making him pay.
I promised myself as I gently stroked her soft, silvery-white wave locks. Her sobs eventually subsided, and I realized she had cried herself to sleep. Carefully, I laid her back against the seat and buckled her seat belt before turning the engine on again. The night was quiet as I drove home, a place where she could find some rest.
Once I parked in the underground garage, I glanced over to ensure she was still asleep. Her face was peaceful, but the faint remnants of pain lingered in her expression. I slipped out of the car and walked around to her side, gently lifting her into my arms. She stirred slightly as I carried her toward the private lift that led directly to my penthouse.
As soon as the elevator doors slid open to my spacious living room, she shifted in my arms, a faint murmur escaping her lips. I carried her to my room, her delicate frame in my arms. Gently, I laid her on the bed, pulling the covers over her. For a moment, I stood there, watching her against the dark sheets. The sight of her resting in my space stirred pleasure through my body. Adjusting my pants pushedthe thought away. This wasn’t the time.
I flicked the lights off, leaving only the soft glow of the en-suite light to cast its warm hue. Closing the door quietly behind me, I quickly sent a message to Luke, asking him to reschedule my reservation for tomorrow.
Making my way to the kitchen, I look at the fully stocked pantry. Cooking seemed like the right distraction, so I pulled out vegetables, pasta, and lamb, deciding on a hearty meal: Yiouvetsi and Briam. The act of preparing the food felt grounding, a welcome escape. But not enough to stop the assault of memories on my mind. Even as I cooked the tender lamb, seasoned with herbs and seared into a perfect golden brown, I’m pulled back to the car ride and the night she visited the moon pond. She still had nightmares about him. She broke down in my arms, and even if I’m her soulmate, I’m still a stranger to her life.
I need to focus on something else, so I started making Briam, a traditional vegetable bake. As I sliced the eggplant, I wondered where the triton was now. All her painful sobs and cries weren’t from someone who had closure—they were from someone who needed vengeance.
To accompany the meal, I chose a rich red wine with deep notes of berries and spice—its bold flavors balanced perfectly to complement the savory lamb and roasted vegetables. If it weren’t for the dark cloud that convoluted my thoughts with the need for blood, this would be a perfect distraction, but even cooking couldn’t chase away every menacing thought of what I would do to that bastard if I ever saw him.
18
The prince
Iryen
I woke up in an unfamiliar bed. The room bathed in shadows, with only the faint warm light spilling from what looked like a bathroom. My heart quickened as flashes of earlier crossed my mind, my breath hitching.
Shame washed over me. I had never shown such rawness before. Tears had always been a private matter, reserved for the solitude of my bedroom.
Even royalty breaks. We just do it in silence.
I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not to anyone. Not even Sienna or Elora had seen me like that.
But Adrian… he had.
It had to be the bond. There was no other explanation. I would never display that much vulnerability otherwise. Lying here, I couldn’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the way I broke down in front of him. It wasn’t like me to lose control, to allow someone to see the cracks in my soul. But something about him… it was like he drew the pain from me, like I had no choice but to let him in.
The way he cradled me until I fell asleep. It had been so long since I had felt so cared for. The memory of his muscular arms around me, the gentle strokes of his hand in my hair, stirred something deep inside. It was unsettling, unfamiliar, and yet… comforting. I wasn’t used to this. To letting someone see me like that, to feeling protected instead of being the one who had to protect everyone else.
But as my thoughts wandered to that moment, memories of another time flooded my mind. My first trip to the city was with Draven. Hope had filled my heart then, a naïve belief that we were on a noble mission to find the lost princess. He was a scout sent by King Orion, my companion and soon after my confidant. We had laughed and chased leads through the city, his presence a soothing solace for my anxious heart. Those moments felt like a dream. I confided in him, sharing fears and dreams, feeling as if someone truly understood me.
But now? Now, I saw him for what he is—a bastard hungry for power. How stupid I had been. The one I trusted would become the reason for my greatest agony. A shiver ran down my spine as if my body remembered the betrayal before my mind could fully grasp it. I felt the instinctual urge to fortify my defenses, to retreat into the fortress I had built around my heart.
Pushing aside these memories, I inspect the room. Light gray walls created an intimate atmosphere that felt both modern and bold. Sleek dark wood furniture contrasted with the color palette, giving the space a refined, masculine edge. A large window with heavy black curtains framed the view of the city skyline, the distant lights flickering like stars against the darkness.
As I glanced over the minimalist decor—framed artwork depicting ocean scenes and a few well-placed books on a polished shelf—I couldn’t help but wonder what Adrian was like beyond the moments we had shared. When he had held me, itfelt so natural, yet I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of vulnerability. There was something about this place, about him, that made me question everything I had built around myself.
As I pushed myself out of the bed, the lingering warmth of the blankets slipped away, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room.
My dress got ruined, hem torn, dirt streaked along the fabric. I looked like I’d crawled through a battlefield, not walked through a forest. Typical.
I stripped silently, gathered a clean set of clothes and stepped into the ensuite bathroom. Sanctuary. That was the only word for it. Marble floors, rainfall showers, and a tub with a view of a city I wasn’t sure I could ever belong to.
The water was an instant relief. Heat poured over my shoulders, washing away grime, tears, memory. I let my eyes close, muscles slowly unclenching. I wasn’t soft, at least not anymore. But here, in this small slice of quiet, I let the façade crack.
