Page 43 of Wicked Tides
A wave of water washed over him and covered his face in red sea foam before reclaiming him and taking him away from the beach. I watched his body drift away before returning my attention to Vidar only to see his eyes piercing right into me. The dead look on his face was gone and he was very much alive with a look of dull shock in his eyes as if he recognized me. As if he no longer saw through me.
~ 17 ~
Dahlia
The depths make mad minds
Mad minds seek out the dark
~Unknown
It was easy to know how long I’d been in the holding cell. The tide spoke to me through the wood of the ship, swaying and whispering to my thoughts. It had been little more than two days and the visions of that dream trembled through my mind. I hadn’t slept since I woke from it. I didn’t dare until I could figure out what to do about it.
What happened was not unheard of, but it was rare. Most men bitten by a siren didn’t live to have dreams let alone get close enough to the offender to allow us to walk in them. Most sirens saw to it that they finished their meals. When I swallowed Vidar’s fingers, I hadn’t intended to eat him. I intended to kill him. It didn’t occur to me at the time that we’d ever meet again long enough for me to see the tangled thorns of his mind.
I didn’t like it.
It meant we were close. Connected. It disgusted me.
Then again, if I wasn’t going to get another opportunity any time soon to finish what I tried to do as a child, perhaps I could use my newunwanted gift to my advantage. Vidar’s dreams were haunted. I was about to take the twisted vines and tie them in knots, strangle them, and set them ablaze.
The ship was consumed by a familiar chill that carried a particular scent. It was morning. The sun had just risen which made the salty smell of the ocean breeze more potent. And rain was coming. I could smell that too. I could hear it in a distant rumble from the sky. I sat up on my flattened bedding and leaned against the wall, flexing and stretching my wrists to relieve some stiffness from the cuffs. It was then that Vidar finally returned to my cell gate. He had a wooden bowl in his hand containing a slice of stale bread and some kind of brown stew.
He stopped to regard me for a while, eyeing my thigh where my wound was no more than a light pink line. It would barely scar by the end of it. Not that I cared. Every scar was a symbol of how the world had tried to murder me and failed.
When Vidar’s eyes lingered too long on my leg, I cocked my head a little, watching him. My dress was made of thin, pliable leather and laced down the front. There was a space between my breasts where it was bound loosely and it extended to my navel. The uneven, raw hem was slanted, leaving my wounded thigh completely exposed. Human women were always covered in layers and layers of stifling fabric.
I was in no way the typical sight for a human man.
Vidar, however, had killed so many of my kind I doubted my exposed skin was what he was staring at. Still, I wanted to gauge his thoughts and slowly extended my long leg out further, giving him a better look. That made his eyes snap up toward mine and he let out a breathy laugh.
“I assure you, I’m not looking forthat,” he rasped.
“All men are looking for that,” I replied. “They just don’t always say it out loud.” I parted my knees, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth and catching it on one of my fangs. Vidar didn’t look away from my eyes, though. “It’s a cruel, cruel world. I could give you the most wonderful bliss. The greatest pleasure. You wouldn’t even know youwere dying until it was over. You’d get what you want. I’d get what I want.”
“You think I want to die,” he said flatly.
It wasn’t a question.
“I think you didn’t fight very hard when I was going to kill you.”
He swallowed. It was the first tiny reaction I noticed from him. But he recovered quickly and sighed, leaning forward on the bars. He hung his arm through and relaxed against the gate, pushing the meal toward me.
“We don’t have human meat on board. Only beans and bread,” he said.
I let out a deep breath and slowly closed my legs, glaring up at him. Gradually, I stood and walked over to the bars, expecting him to recoil once I was close, but he didn’t. He just kept looking me right in the eyes, unafraid and betraying nothing about what he was truly thinking. But I knew from that brief glimpse into his mind that deep within the thick bones of his skull were echoes of guilt and destruction.
I needed to weave some kind of net that could capture all of it and turn it against him. It wouldn’t take long if I was focused.
I moved closer to him than I needed to to take the bowl. I cupped my hands around it, intentionally touching him when I did. His skin was rough and well-worn. He was accustomed to physical labor. His blood ran hot, scalding my naturally cold flesh. And when I pulled the bowl from him, I saw the slightest dilation in his eyes. The lantern above swung as the ship swayed and made shadows dance back and forth across his face. He’d be terrifying if I hadn’t been eaten, chewed, and regurgitated by a thousand horrors over and over since I was born.
“We don’t have to eat men,” I spoke softly, the corner of my mouth quirking. “We just enjoy it.”
It was the truth… mostly. Sirens could eat anything. We could enjoy it, so long as it had a pulse. But man… man had a particular effect. One that made us stronger. Faster. It made us live longer. Feel deeper. See further. It was exhilarating and potent and nothing compared to the taste.
I hadn’t eaten many men since that bloody island. I’d been saving myself for Vidar and the thrill of his capture. I’d fantasized about devouring him since the bones of his fingers cracked between my teeth. Since his blood dripped down my throat.Hewould be my prize for finally setting it all right.
But years of hatred had led me down a dark path. One where my teeth had ripped into the flesh of many foul men.
