Page 64 of Siren's Kiss & Feral Beasts
A chorus of chants, their song threading into the walls the closer they get. And unlike our last encounter, this time, it’s all women.
My pack members are in danger. My ship is in danger.
Their songs grow louder, rousing my mate from sleep, and she hums a single note before rising to kiss my lips. Soft and private, the note is meant only for me, until the tip of a blade is pressed against my chest.
My knife. A clear quartz handle with a four-inch blade I keep close to my pillow every night.
Right against my heart, she whispers:
“The captain always goes down with the ship.”
24
KAI
“The captain always goes down with the ship.”
Threat. Promise.Seduction.
A low moan that settles on the tip of my throbbing cock while the pleasurable vibrations slide across every nerve ending like a filthy caress. Something she’s aware of as her lithe legs wrap around my waist—her delicate fingers slipping into my hair and tugging hard—while her plump lips hum against my throat.
Her siren song.The cadence is sweet yet volatile—a provocative tease meant to heighten her delicious betrayal and my unwavering compliance. Because that’s what this is: a play for power and revenge as she walks me out of the room, tip of the knife now pressed to my throat.
This is for control over what’s been given and taken by her people more than once.
History repeats itself, and yet the players are a little smarter now.
I don’t stop Nerissa as one of her hands leaves my hair and cold metal slips around my wrist a few seconds later, the loud click of the mechanical lock like a gunshot in the night. Firm.Sensual. Foreplay.Every muscle in my body contracts, the act painful as the animal—the beast within me—fights for control as she binds my other clawed hand to the large mast.
She planned this and somehow studied my ship; the proof is my now shackled arms.
The bindings are heavy and solid metal, not silver. Those are kept in the captain’s desk.
These, though, are breakable. If I wanted to, I’d be out and mounting my siren, but I don’t move. Instead, I let her play her game and set the trap, butI’mnot the end target and we both know this.
Beautiful, cunning female. Mine.
Blood drips from my fingertips and onto the ship's deck. It marks the start of my hunt, and I snap my teeth playfully at her when the same dainty fingertips slide across each pointed tip of my right hand.
Back and forth. Gentle sweeps.
“You’re such a good boy for me, Alpha. So sweet to his mate.” Nerissa rolls her hips teasingly, almost lazily, while her sharp nails rake across my chest. No hurry. No self-awareness—acknowledgement of lighting my world on fire. Instead, the pointed yet delicate nails dig in deeper while the biting cold rain strengthens, stinging the newly made welts. A few tips break through my skin; I feel each drop and revel in the way she spreads my blood across her palm and my bare chest.
“And you’re playing a dangerous game, my little treasure.”
“Maybe I am...” she shrugs, a small tilt to her lips “...or maybe I’m too much for you, Alpha Daire.”
My response? I buck my hips against her. The act causes Nerissa to let out an involuntary gasp, the knife slipping from her grip, but there’s no fear there. No. The bond thrums between us, the high frequency demanding that I do just that...claimher.
Goosebumps rise across her skin, and her cheeks grow flushed. Moreover, it has nothing to do with the current humidity or the angry waves below us. The water crashes against the side of my ship, its power turning us, and there’s no getting control of the helm when the heir to the merpeople’s crown names me theenemy.
Taking in a deep breath, I hum as her scent envelops me. Owns me.
That delicious mix of orange blossoms and coconut with a hint of vanilla and something else—wilder and ancient—curls around my lungs. It hits me harder than the storm building around us ever could:
She’s etched onto my skin like a tattoo. Rewires my blood to sing only for her.
I. Am. Hers.
