Page 15 of Siren's Kiss & Feral Beasts
“By yourself,” he thunders, his hand slamming atop the carved coral table. A crack forms, and Orion shifts closer, but my grandfather turns his head and stares him down. His general falls back immediately, his head lower, but I still catch the way his hand clenches when our king turns back to me. “Answer me, Nerissa. Who gave you permission to get close to those filthy mutts?”
“Did you or did you not want me to find it?”
“Yes, but?—”
“I saw it.” Immediately, pride dances across his features, but I catch the undercurrent of calculation beneath it. “He has it.”
“Are you sure you saw it?” It says a lot that he didn’t reprimand me for cutting him off a few seconds ago. “Who has it now?”
“Yes.” Behind my eyes, I see it again. Alpha Kai Daire. The stone around his neck. Those blazing eyes looking out towardthe sea, unable to find me. “It called to me yesterday, this unexplainable pull, and I followed my gut. They were on the Isle of San Tico?—”
“Who wore it?”
“Kai Daire.”
“Where?”
“On a chain.” Do I omit mesmerizing the rogue and sending him in on purpose? Yes. The less he knows, the better. “But I left before any wolf could pick up my scent.”
“You’ve done well, my child.” His once tense fingers start drumming on the table. There’s no anger on his face, but more of a calculated expression. “You’ve surpassed my expectations. You notice things others don’t, more so than your grandmother.” For a second, I feel a sharp pang of pain in my chest, and I know it’s his. Why he’s projecting, I don’t know, but it runs deep. As king, he has the ability to absorb and exude emotions. To help his subjects when in distress, but right now, I feel him. “She’s getting weaker, Nerissa. Every day she’s without that stone—the magic stolen—her soul and body wither. I’m worried about her.”
“I am too.”
“Blessed be the gods who illuminated your way.”
“We need it back before it’s too?—”
“Already harassing my daughter, Atlas?” Orion bristles at my father’s lack of proper address, but knows his place and stays quiet. Or it could be jealousy. While he’s reminded not to step out of line, we don’t adhere to the same rules. Dad heads toward me then, stopping to kiss my forehead before swiping one of my cakes. He pops it into his mouth, sending me a wink before I can complain. “At least let her eat before the interrogation.”
Grandfather’s in such a good mood now that he pushes the plate closer to me. “My apologies, sweetheart. Please eat.”
“Thank you.” Picking up a piece, I chew slowly, savoring the rich balance between salty and sweet. It’s a perfect consistency,not too moist, even though we’re underwater and its exposure should ruin the pastry. The cream filling is a mix of seafoam and sea grapes, giving it a gentle, lingering sweetness with a kiss of salt. Then, there’s the delicate shell leaf wrap holding it together. It’s soft yet resilient, and a favorite of mermaids.
“Your grandmother’s waiting for you,” Dad says after I’ve eaten two palm-sized cakes. I’m already pushing back before he can finish, rushing to give a quick bow and grab the plate as I head out of the room. All I catch at the end is, “…sitting room.”
5
KAI
“She was here,” I say, staring out at the crashing tide. It’s bright out, the sun high overhead, and I watch the wolfen pack ships become smaller with each passing minute. The island’s empty now; all attending leaders and their vessels are gone, including my pack members and new prisoners.
I couldn’t leave, though. Not when there’s a small possibility thatshecould return.
My wolf is restless. A little angry.
He’s fighting against my tight hold—wants to tear free and find the owner of that decadent scent:
Orange blossoms and coconut, edged with sweet vanilla.
Unique. Enticing. Mouth-watering.
We’ll find her,I console him, but the rumble that builds inside my chest and slips through my lips is not one of appeasement. It’s a demand, and I nod, promising to hunt her down. That scent is woven into my genetic makeup, impossible to forget, and there’s nowhere in this world she can hide from me.Could she be…?
A warm breeze drifts across my bare chest, and I smell the traces of blood and salt dried on my skin. It disrupts my thoughts, but this time, the scent is different. Familiar, but not the one I want.
“I thought you might want some company, Son,” my father says from behind me as we overlook the ocean from a small cliff. It’s close to where I’d seen her silhouette pass, one I need to appear again. He takes a seat beside me on a weather-worn stone overlooking the beach and passes a black-labeled bottle of rum, which I take. “What’s bothering you?”
“I scented her.”
