Page 34 of Siren Problems
Rain falls soft on the water.
She doesn’t speak. Just climbs onto the boat and peels off her mask, face drawn and wet.
I join her a moment later, unsure of what to say.
What todo.
She towels off slowly, then looks up. “So... shipwreck second date?”
I stare.
She shrugs. “What? It’s romantic. Death, danger, emotionally unavailable men. Real classic vibes.”
Despite myself, I laugh. Just once.
And she grins like she won something.
Because maybe she did.
Because this time, I don’t feel completely alone in the deep.
The crate pulses again.
Once. Twice.
Thensurges.
A violent spike of magic ripples through the water—sharp and wrong, like a heart skipping a beat. The pressure shifts instantly, crushing in on us like a whirlpool wrapped in static. Luna jerks backward as the seal flashes from gold to a deep, angry red.
“Move!” I shout, grabbing her wrist.
We launch upward in tandem, the water vibrating around us like it wants tokeepus. I yank her behind the wreck’s hull, shielding her body with mine just as the relic bursts with a wave of raw energy.
Stone cracks. Currents whip. The wreck moans like something alive and betrayed.
I hold her tight, one arm around her waist, the other braced against the hull.
Her chest heaves against mine. Her fingers clutch my side.
And for a second—for one dangerous, fleeting second—I forget everything.
I forget the curse.
The wreck.
The centuries I’ve spent coiled in silence and shadows.
Because she’s here. Warm and furious andso realit burns.
And gods, I want her.
Not like a prince.
Not like a siren.
Not like a broken thing desperate for absolution.
But like aman.
