Page 12 of Siren Problems
“Luna! I cross-referenced the aura spikes from the cliffside recordings with last night’s scanner bursts—look.”
She flips open her data tablet, and yep. Spikes. Deep, harmonic ley pulses. All matchingCalder’s presence.
“Mira,” I say, carefully, “have I told you lately that I love your graphs?”
She beams. “Three times, but not with this much emotional sincerity!”
“Great,” I say. “That’s the potion talking.”
And because my luck is pure garbage—he’sthere.
Calder steps into my periphery, all tall shadow and tide tension.
“Luna.”
I turn. My mouth’s already open with something flirty or sharp or stupid. But the potion grabs it first.
“You sing in your sleep,” I say.
He freezes.
Ohhell.
“I mean,” I backtrack, “that wasn’t what Imeantto lead with—what I meant was you’ve got a...very loud aura.”
His brow arches. “Loud.”
Mira tries to fade into the sand, but not before whispering, “Oh my gods.”
“And complex,” I add quickly. “Your aura’s complex. Like a depressed thunderstorm.”
Kai is behind me somewhere laughingway too hard.
Calder’s expression doesn’t change, but something behind his eyes flickers. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” I say, entirely too fast. “Just emotionally compromised.”
He steps closer. Close enough that I can smell salt and something darker—storm magic maybe, old and bitter. “What do you want from me, Luna?”
And that’s the thing. I don’tknow.
I want to understand why the ley lines curl around him like vines. I want to know what’s buried under the waves near his cove. I want to stop thinking about how it felt when he caught me last night.
But what Isayis: “I want to do my damn research without you looking at me like I’m a threat.”
He leans in. “Youarea threat.”
The air between us hums. The potion buzzes in my veins. I want to punch him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
“Fine,” I say. “Then I’ll be the most professional threat you’ve ever met.”
I storm off.
Mira follows me a minute later, breathless and vibrating with gossip.
“Okay,” she says. “On a scale of one to magically bonded, how cursed do you think your love life is?”
“I’m not in love,” I groan. “I’m infieldwork. This is just proximity hormones and bad potion planning.”
